Carrion Crown: The Haunting of Harrowstone [Archive]

Hattish Thing

2016-08-16, 01:10 AM

Ravengro - The Cemetery:

Lightning flashes, streaking across the black, storm*wrought sky above, illuminating the dozens of weathered gravestones littered about the area within the Ravengro Cemetery like so many cracked, stone teeth bursting from the muddy ground. The blistering wind blows sheets of rain down upon the muddy ground, it's howl like the lamentations of some unfortunate, long-forgotten widower, echoing through the aged mausoleums and battered crypts within the gloomy town cemetery. The small, bleak town of Ravengro is a dour, blasted place, devoid of pleasant tourist attractions and beautiful weather. Instead, visitors to the town are met with the dull thud of cold rain and sleet beating down upon cobblestone streets and muddy ground like the slow, maddening rhythm of a funereal drum. Where friendly citizens may wait in other towns, cheerfully pausing to greet passerby and peddle their wares, here, strangers are met only with suspicious looks and deep frowns. This was not a pleasant place, and as hard as you each have tried, you cannot help but feel like outsiders, though you've only been in town for several hours.

It was so lonely here, just as it was during the journey.

--

Each of you arrived in the dreary Ustalavic town after several days of travel through the murky, haunted marshlands that the fog-shrouded nation of Ustalav was known for. The journey had been long and hard on each of you, for the constant storms and undead-infested hamlets that dot the gothic countryside made travel a dangerous, and highly exhaustive process. The pleasant skies had steadily grown darker and darker the deeper into Ustalav you traveled, and with each day of travel, the rabbits and birds were less frequently seen, until simply being lucky enough to witness some frightened, half-starved animal rush through the underbrush had been the highlight of your day. During the journey, there had been only the ancient and dying trees to keep you company, visages of malice seemingly carved into their twisted bark. Perhaps it had just been your imagination, or this place. The very journey itself seemed to have had an affect on you, darkening your mood and leaving you prone to lonely, sad thoughts.

After arriving within the town and spending some time recovering from the hard, emotionally-draining journey to Ravengro, each of you sought rest. Several hours passed, until finally, it was time for the funeral to begin.

Just in time for the storm to hit.

--

Now, here you stood, the rain beating down on you as you gazed upon the small congregation of townsfolk gathered around a sleek, midnight black coffin. Tears raced down the somber eyes of each of the black-clad men and women attending the funeral, and even down the face of a young boy who couldn't be more than thirteen years of age, who stands close to his mother and holds her hand tightly.

It felt almost like a dream.

He was truly dead.

After several moments of silence interrupted only by the howling wind and sweeping rain, a young woman steps forward. Her haunted eyes are red and puffy, and she dresses in dark, conservative clothes. The trim, attractive woman sighs deeply, pushing back a wet stray hair as she collects herself. She struggles to speak for a few seconds, until she finally manages to utter a few sorrowful, grief-stricken words as she gazes at the black coffin. "It's time. T-thank you. Each of you, for being here. It's... important." She sniffs, and wipes tears from her eyes. "He would be so grateful, to each of you, knowing you came, a-and that I'm not facing this alone."

"He... h-he was a good man."

It looks as if the young woman was about to say more, however, she rapidly breaks down into sobs. After someone in the crowd wraps an arm around her and calms her down, she wordlessly moves forward, attempting to lift one side of the coffin.

As she struggles to do so, the young woman looks desperately into the crowd.

"I... Please, would anyone...?"

Frosty

2016-08-16, 02:07 AM

Peony Hills (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=910590)
Female LG Dhampir Paladin, Level 1, Init 4, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 17, Touch 14, Flat-footed 13, CMD 16, Fort 1, Ref 4, Will -2, CMB +2, Base Attack Bonus 1
Light Crossbow (Bolts x30) +5 (1d8, 19-20/x2)
Studded Leather (+3 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 12, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 7, Cha 18
Condition None

The dhampir Peony Hills has traveled a long way to reach this tiny town. This young democractic village has its charms, but she will always remember it for Professor Lorrimor, who had aided her by against would-be bandits. She had promised to help him however she can, but he never called in that favor. Well, she is back to honor him now. Besides, it was prime time to start seriously hunting undead again. She has been away for far too long with the Paladins at Lastwall. Sure, fighting orcs is necessary, but cleansing the taint of undeath has always been her passion.

But, first things first. She goes and wordlessly lofts one corner of the coffin. Peony can try to comfort the surviving Lorrimor later

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-16, 06:40 AM

Jromgar Korfark

The trip here had easily been one of the worst he had ever been on. The Professor's death had come as a shock, as he imagined, it had to everyone here. Death by falling masonry was definitely not anyone's preferred way to go. Absentmindedly he wondered if his letter had arrived before The Professor's death or shortly after. Either way he would not be getting a reply now. As he trudged through the muddy streets of the small hamlet The Professor called home he wondered if it was the weather, the funeral, or the prospect of meeting new people that kept people indoors. With his hood pulled up over his head he might have looked a touch suspicious though this seemed far stranger than he had expected of the town the personable Professor would call home.

The procession was a somber one, the silence broken only by the sound of rain and the soft sobbing of those that the loss had taken hardest. And none seemed more stricken with grief than the young miss Lorrimor, his heart went out to her but ultimately she was a stranger to him. She knew of him, but they had only just met and not in the best of conditions either. When she struggled with moving the coffin he saw a chance to prove himself useful and dutifully stepped forward taking up the front end of the right-hand bar of the coffin.

He offers the grieving Lorrimor a small smile of solidarity. "It would be my honor to be of assistance." He spares an awkward glance about the crowd hoping for another to step forth. Between them they were undoubtedly without the strength required to carry the coffin.

Bhaakon

2016-08-16, 04:29 PM

Liska squirms. She'd rather expected the Professor to have better taste than to live in a place like this. So damp and muddy. Ustalav wasn't exactly brimming with sunny resorts, but Ravengro grew mud like they were exporting it for sale. And the hair standing up on the back of her neck, tingling, was proof that the impending storm was going to be a big one.

Seeing Kendra--that was her name, right? Liska had never even met the woman before--struggling to lift the coffin just makes the squirming worse. Moving heavy loads wasn't exactly her specialty, and Lirrimor's final abode didn't exactly look light.

"Couldn't you lift it?" She hisses at Ynos, the black fox-thing sitting a discrete distance away, somehow unblemished by the mud that spatted Liska nearly to the hips.

The masked psychopomp doesn't even respond. He had no hands, of course.

"Fine..." Liska sets forward to take one of the handles. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could figure out why she'd been summoned here. Maybe even unload her debt. Sadly, bearing the coffin to the grave didn't go much towards repaying the late Professor for her freedom.

"Let me help with that." She says to Kendra as she takes a corner, trying not to buckle under the dead weight.

Desril

2016-08-19, 03:10 PM

Seras

Where the rain and funeral proceedings might have inspired a somber, sullen mood in most of those in attendance, Seras had to bite her cheek to keep from lashing out. Of course she understood why Lorrimor's daughter would be upset, in truth she had nothing against the woman, though she also didn't have any particular connection to her father save for a chance encounter years ago that he promised to repay her for. No, the reason for her foul mood was the raving voice inside her head, constantly muttering and mumbling or mentally shouting profanities at the storm, the weak-willed gawkers, and even the sobbing Kendra.

So when the deceased's daughter asked for help, though the dhampir wasn't particularly fond of getting her hands dirty with manual labor she still jumped at the chance. Anything to give her something to focus on other than the raving of the companion nestled safely inside her head. "I'll help as well, it's the least I can do."

Just let me out, I'll give them a reason to cry.

That's why I'm not letting you out. You know the deal, you're not to be seen in public unless you're disguised and the rain would wash that away far too quickly.

Biabri

2016-08-19, 06:26 PM

A woman, swathed in an amount of dark coloured clothes that'd be considered disproportionate for any sort of weather but the heart of a blizzard, steps out from the crowd, wearing a large pointy hat with a tip that looks pointy enough to sew with. Brenna Marth does not do things in a small way. She had no idea why she'd stepped forward, but something told her not to do so. So she did what any respectable, sensible witch would do. The opposite of what she'd been told.

A little black cat trails behind her.

She nods to Kendra respectfully, giving her a quick squeeze and peering into her eyes. "You'll be okay, chicken..." She murmurs, along with giving the girl a barrage of small tuts and noises, before taking her place on the coffin. The cat that had been at her feet moves to rub his face against Kendra, meowing and purring comforting words to her, in a language that not even it's own kind would understand.

She'd known the professor, been a great friend of his and had been shocked when she got the letter telling her of his death, no one sent her letters. He'd been there for her when she'd developed her powers overnight, when her dark patron had offered her power for reasons she couldn't understand. She was a sensible woman, of course, and an even more so sensible witch. She'd not cry over his death, not at all, everyone dies one day. There were no dried tears on her face, that was just a drop of sweat from the mass of clothing she was in...

Hattish Thing

2016-08-20, 12:36 AM

Ravengro - The Cemetery:

As several others in the crowd move forward to take a spot on the side of the now deceased Lorrimor, Kendra smiles weakly, her voice quivering with emotion as she quietly thanks each of the strangers. Kendra spends a moment collecting herself, before beginning to move forward along the muddy path through the Ravengro Cemetery, her father's coffin trailed along behind her by each of you.

The midnight black coffin is heavier than expected, requiring both hands to be carried along the slippery path safely. As the somber procession trudges through the melancholic graveyard, rain patters solemnly against Lorrimor's coffin, the only sounds breaking the gloomy silence apart from the occasional booming clap of thunder off in the distance.

Kendra remains perfectly silent during the march along the path.

--

After several moments of slowly marching across the path known to the locals as the Dreamwake, a streak of lightning crashes down nearby, striking the church steeple across the town. Kendra gasps and steps back, bumping into the coffin as she does so. The frightening streak of lightning briefly illuminates the ominous silhouettes of a small gathering of townsfolk just ahead, blocking the path through the Dreamwake. A great burst of thunder accompanies the bolt of lightning, and when the cacophonous roar fades, the sound of wicked, wet laughter can be heard.

"You shoulda stayed home."

A man steps forward, a chipped and oddly serrated shovel held in his hands. The old man's glittering bronze tooth shines in the dim light, his face contorted into a twisted, threatening expression of obvious hatred. He raises a hand up to move some greasy, gray hair out of his face, scratching at the side of one of his bushy, unkempt mutton chop sideburns as he does so. "Don't you take another step, woman." The man spits at the ground in front of Kendra, before letting out a dark chuckle of satisfaction as she recoils. "Now,we been talkin', and we don’t want Lorrimor buried on up here with all the rest, Restlands ain't no place for his kind. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!" The old man drawls, tossing his shovel from hand to hand in a menacing fashion as he does so.

Kendra steps forward, a fiery expression on her face. Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into righteous anger as the rain falls all around her. "What are you talking about? she cries out. "I arranged it with Father Grimburrow, he's waiting for us, the grave's already been-!"

The old man raises his shovel threateningly, causing Kendra to cower and step back. "How dare you talk back to a man like that. Why, if I... You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a damned necromancer buried in the same place as our kin, he ain't deservin' no place alongside us normal folk. Us good folk. I suggest you move on out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now. Ain't we?" The old man licks his lips as six others wielding rusty farmer's tools approach from the crowd with the darkest of intentions clear upon their minds.

Kendra seems quite shaken by the threat, responding in a weak tone. “Necromancy, Gibs... Are you truly that ignorant?”

--

Gibs draws closer, a furious look on his face, though it still seems as if there may yet be time to calm him down before something awful happens.

Bhaakon

2016-08-20, 12:49 AM

Hearing the local mushbrain mewling some nonsense about necromancy, it's all Liska can do to keep her eyes from rolling out of her head.

"Gibs, was it? Short for Giblets, I think, cuz that's all that going to be left if you don't clear outta the way in about ten seconds." She snarls. She's not a very imposing figure, but the vulpine nose, the teeth that are a little too sharp...she knows how to loosen her disguise just enough to discomfit someone without them quite knowing why.

She glances pointedly at Ynos, and the psychopomp lets out a shadow of a bored sigh before it starts growling. "See that mask? Ynos is one of Pharasma's personal messengers here to escort old Doc Lorrimor to his rest. You going to stand in the way of the Lady's own, Giblets? If you are, you might just end up explaining your reasons to her in person afore super, you ken?"

Intimidate!

[roll0]

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-21, 09:58 PM

Jromgar's brow furrowed in anger at the accusation of necromancy. The Professor he knew would never dabble in such black arts without a damned good reason, he had already been taken from this world before his time and now these hillbillies were going to deny him even a proper burial? Not on his watch, not without a fight at least. The four-legged creature with the mask seemed strange enough but whether or not it was a servant of the lady of the dead was another story, and it seemed that Gibbs and his friends were about as convinced as he. But he had the right idea.

"The Professor was one of the greatest men I've ever known and I won't stand here and let you besmirch his good name during his funeral. "If'n you won't back down peacefully I have no problem backing up my words with action. Now, get out of our way" He says saying more words to this country bumpkin than he did to anyone the entire time he'd been here. A great way to introduce himself. He cracks his neck and shifts the weight he's carrying onto his other arm so his free hand can hover just above the handle of his mace.

[roll0]

Desril

2016-08-21, 10:20 PM

Seras

Listening to the drunken slurring of what appears to be the common tongue, Seras bites her own. Let me out! I'll make him pay for interfering!
No. At most I'll let you manifest as a spectre to frighten them away but that would only encourage their nonsense.

As her fellow coffin-carriers make threats, however, Seras rolls her eyes. Fools, a drunken mob doesn't back down so easily, there are better ways to handle this.

Clearing her throat to get attention, the dhampir calls out without looking particularly concerned, "You are fools! The professor was no necromancer, but acting as you are you are blighting this cemetary with psychonecrotic energies! This dishonorable attempt to spite a man on his way to his final resting place is already at risk of giving rise to a simple zombie or two, begone from here before you raise the whole graveyard with your misplaced anger!"

....Bluff [roll0]

Frosty

2016-08-21, 11:57 PM

Peony

The dhampir paladin is dismayed at how...unkind people can be...even during something as somber and important as a burial! She ries to inject some calm into the situation. "Listen, everyone! I know first hand how evil necromancers are. As a paladin of Pharasma, I have dealt with undeath and their masters on a few occasions before. Let me tell you, Professional Lorrimor was not that sort of man. He SAVED me from a group of small-time necromancers once, and I believe he is every bit as deserving to be buried in the Restlands. Let there be no more sorrow today...please."

Diplomacy attempt got a 20 in OOC thread.

Hattish Thing

2016-08-22, 01:53 AM

Ravengro - The Cemetery:

The leader of the small mob gathered across the muddy path clenches his hairy fists, gripping his wickedly serrated shovel so tightly his knuckles turn white. "Hah, you ain't gonna scare me. I ain't afraid o' the likes of you." He shouts through the rain, spit dribbling down his face as he wipes a lock of greasy, wet hair out of his bloodshot eyes. Just as he steps forward again and raises his left hand as if to slap at Kendra, the other members of the funereal procession begin to speak up, telling him off.

The grizzled old townsperson doesn't respond well to that, his furious expression growing more and more fearsome with each word uttered.

Just as it looks as if Gibs will charge forward and attack the procession, Seras begins to speak, addressing the crowd. Though her words are ominously punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder, the eerie atmosphere and unnerving warning given by the half-dead spiritualist seems to strike a chord within several of the larger farmhands within the angry mob. They look around with looks of superstitious fear in their eyes, and as they begin to look around the graveyard with a paranoid expression on each of their hostile faces, several of the band begin to walk away briskly, eager to leave.

However, Gibs doesn't seem to respond the same way. Instead, he only seems to grow angrier, his beady eyes settling on Sera.

"How dare you..."

Just as the man raises his shovel as if to bring it down with a crazed, murderous look on his face, one of the members of the mob behind him speaks up, pausing him just as he raises his weapon. "Gib's, let's get outta here, we can always come back later... We don't want none of the dead to come back if'n we put one 'o em in the ground..." Gibs growls fiercely before lowering his weapon slowly, eyeing each of you up and down.

Gibs steps away, before spitting in the mud. "This ain't over. Mark my words..."

--

With that, the mob begins to disperse, returning to the town from whence they came just as the storm grows worse and worse. As the wind howls and the black clouds in the dark sky rage on, Kendra frowns deeply, hanging her head down and fighting back tears after the confrontation that had occurred with Gibs and the rest of the angry mob. After sobbing quietly in place for several seconds, she clenches her fists and speaks, gratitude clear in her frail but melodious voice. “Thank you, each of you, so much. I'm so sorry, that should have never happened. I cannot believe Gibs and his cronies would have the audacity to threaten me here, at my father's own funeral. Please, think nothing of them. Local farmhands, nothing more, each of low character. My father was a good man, just, and fair, and loving. He... I can't believe they'd...”

Kendra sighs deeply, steadying herself as the fierce wind blows at her midnight black dress and veil.

“Let's just... move along.”

--

With that, Kendra wordlessly moves along the Dreamwake, her dress dirtying itself in the mud as the rain washes down to the ground in cold sheets, pushing against each of you like icy fingers that dance across your skin.

After five minutes of walking through the dismal, dreary path, you each come to a small hill.

Rows of neatly organized gravestones stick out of the ground here, and a small post with a lit lamp attached to it glows, bathing the area with ghostly light. The dim light flickers and gleams beneath the grimy protective glass, causing shadows to dance across the graves and bits of ruined old stone blocks that litter the ground atop the hill, the remnants of a now long-since destroyed mausoleum. Atop the hill, a frightening looking man in a tattered black and brown longcoat stands ominously, his arms crossed over his chest. The man is incredibly aged, but still unusually intimidating, and his right eye appears to be nothing more than a sunken, scarred pit, a recess in his wrinkled face, but nothing more. Two gravediggers clad in ragged gray clothes lean against their shovels and leer towards the procession, sweat and rainwater dripping down their weathered faces.

The man atop the hill grimaces in pain as he steps forward, as if the very movement somehow caused him pain. He raises a thick, furrowed eyebrow towards Kendra as she moves forward, but says nothing, merely glancing elsewhere instead.

Kendra moves to the man, and they speak quietly, in hushed, conspiratory tones for a moment as the rain falls harder and harder. After a moment, the aged man nods grimly before barking an order in a harsh, yet somehow wet and squelchy voice towards the gravediggers. "Well, he ain't going to get any deader, an' we don't have all day. Gentlemen, do your job." The very act of speaking so loudly over the storm seems to send the old man into a coughing fit, but after a second or two of recovery, he spits out onto the ground and breathes deeply.

His good eye looks over each of you, squinting as he studies you. His eye narrows, but the man seems content with what he saw. Kendra steps back with the rest of you as gravediggers reach for the coffin and begin to carry it towards the hole in the ground.

The man speaks again. "Afore I put 'im in the ground, what words may you have fer 'im?"

--

Kendra sniffles, before looking over at each of you, a curious, sad look on her face.

Bhaakon

2016-08-22, 02:20 AM

"Oh? Looks pretty over to me." Liska says to the others, unwilling to give the oaf the satisfaction of the last word. She'd have shouted it loud enough for the whole mob to hear under other circumstance, but she wasn't about to sink to Gibs's level and start a brawl here. Liska was never one for pomp and circumstance, but breaking up a burial ritual like that was about the same as pulling aside the surviving family members and punching them in the gut.

Now maybe some people deserved that sort of treatment. Well, not even 'maybe'. Definitely some people deserved that sort of treatment, some people like Gibs, maybe, but Kendra didn't, as far as Liska knew. Certainly not if she took after her father at all.

"Yeah...let's just go." She says, trying not to grunt as she hefts her corner of the coffin once more.

-------------------------------------

The old man's request for words hangs in the air, eliciting a pregnant pause that draws on into a fourth trimester before Liska sighs and takes a half-step forward.

"I can't say I knew the Professor well at all, but I knew him well enough. We met once, and in those few days he changed my life for the better in a way that now I'll never be able to repay." She draws a deep breath, buying time to decide what to add since that sentence seemed entirely insufficient under the circumstances, the takes another breathe, then realizes she hasn't spoken for nearly ten seconds, and panics. "But I'm here now because he helped me, and maybe I can help him, but it's kind of too late to do that directly, but I don't think I'd have been asked here if I couldn't do something, so I hope I can." She gasps in more air. "Because I owe him my freedom, and probably my life, and...and...and...and he gave them too me, I think, without actually expecting repayment, and now I can't make him take it."

Realizing what she's said, she glances at Kendra, terrified. "I mean...I'm sorry for your loss. Our loss." And steps back again.

"Touching" Ynos growls, his delivery as flat and dry as always. Even Liska can't figure out if he's serious or sacastic. Or if he's a 'he' for that matter.

Biabri

2016-08-22, 06:17 AM

Brenna decided to keep her mouth shut during the little encounter with Gibbs, not wanting to get involved which such silly men. Her ears perk up at the mention of Psychonecrotic energies. She's never heard of it before but she'll make sure to ask more about them later, when she's not being accosted by farmers or an elderly priest demanding final words. There are too many words to say for anything to be final. The little black cat moves to Kendra's feet once more and settles down next to them.

Brenna's eyes suddenly lose the dull gaze she'd been wearing and snap to alertness, flicking about to take in her surroundings. Her head stops bobbing softly, subconsciously at Liska's words. She steps forward and begins to speak, with her speech halted by tiny sniffles. "The professor was a good man to us all, I'm sure..." Sniff. "He found me when my gifts first manifested, and taught me to not be afraid..." Sniff. "The lengths he went to help me were... Well... They just weren't sensible at all!" She smiles sadly at the open grave which will be his home, forever.

The black cat at Kendra's feet makes a small sad mewling noise. Brenna simply sniffs again. "I will miss him as a friend, as a mentor and as a person who thinks this dark world was brightened with his presence, this place wasn't ready to lose him..." Sniff. "The skies themselves cry at this loss..." She whispers finally, before standing back, pulling the black pointy hat over her eyes and wrapping her cloth entombed arms around the professor's final mark on the world.

Desril

2016-08-22, 06:48 PM

Seras

The dhampir, unlike her hidden companion, was grateful for the rain. It meant that she didn't have to try overly hard to look sad and teary as the funeral continued on. In truth, she didn't have much to say about Lorrimor. She knew the man for less than an hour and that had been several years ago. She'd just happened to have been traveling nearby when she encountered him being accosted by bandits. It was a simple spell to scare them off and after he promised her a reward one day for her act of kindness he got her address. She'd nearly forgotten about him, in fact, until hearing of his death.

So, while the others move to give their eulogies, Seras simply places a hand on Kendra's shoulder in an effort to be comforting and imply that she was there for the younger woman. It was quite literally the least she could do and she hoped that the act would help the late professor's daughter find comfort while simultaneously keeping the dhampir from needing to speak.

Frosty

2016-08-23, 03:12 AM

Peony waits until the others have spoken before she steps forward. "Today is a sad day, for someone of fret intelligence and honor is gone. But today should also be a day of celebration of all of the professor's deeds in life. Just as his life has touched all of you in way, so too has he touched me. I was a much younger and much less hardened person many years ago. While trave, I got through this region, I was accosted by a group of thugs not dissimilar to the mob we just met. Money wanted my head just because I'm a dhampir. The professor arrived and help me drive them off. It is because of him that many of us are here today, and I believe that since Pharasma has called him back to her Spire of bone, he has fulfilled all of his destinies in this life. And for a man like the professor, that means he has led a full and meaningful life. I shall never forget him...and may his soul be blessed by the Lady of Graves."

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-24, 01:34 AM

Jromgar stands there, a bead of sweat forming as he realizes he's meant to give a speech. He didn't have anything prepared! Panic gripped his heart as the silence stretched on. Jromgar clears his throat, trying to buy himself a few extra seconds before he has to speak. After a long moment of hesitation, spent looking at everyone gathered here before him, he stumbles through his words. "The professor, my friend Petros, was a good man. I would go so far as to say he was a paragon of goodness... Um- He gave me direction when I needed it and the world is lessened by his loss. Rest in peace, my friend."

Hattish Thing

2016-08-24, 01:55 AM

Ravengro - The Cemetery:

As the out-of-towners give their speeches and utter their last words in honor of the deceased Professor Lorrimor, the old man in the tattered brown longcoat glares, his good eye seeming to stare directly through whoever dares meet his gaze. Several of the townsfolk you each noticed earlier, before the procession across the Dreamwake began, move forward and say a few words as well. The cold rain mixes with the warm tears of the handful of mourners, and Kendra herself appears especially distraught, although the comforting hand of the pale woman seems to settle her down a bit.

Ten minutes pass, and the storm still shows no sign of dying down.

Finally, the man in the longcoat moves forward, coughing loudly as he clears his throat. Before he speaks, he spits out a foul mixture of blood, pus, and spit. He wipes his hand before reaching into his pack and pulling out a small idol with the holy symbol of Pharasma painted onto it. As he does so, his cold, milky eye settles upon Peony's face. The old man's eye narrows as he assess the paladin with a suspicious look on his face, before finally he shakes his head and turns away. He begins to shout over the storm, gesturing wildly as he begins a short sermon. He roars over the thunder and the cacophony of rain on stone as he speaks, interrupting every few sentences with a greedy swig from a metal flask, or a deep gulp from a glass canister filled with a foul-looking liquid.

The sermon ends with a final, ominous prayer to Pharasma.

--

With that, the gravediggers begin the grueling, morbid work of shoveling the muddy dirt over the rain-streaked, midnight black coffin. The priest begins to cough violently, leaning up against a nearby gravestone as he coughs up blood, though he merely grimaces and wipes the blood from his dark-colored lips as he does so. A woman in the crowd comes to the man's aid, pulling out a wet handkerchief and helping him raise the glass vial up to his lips.

Kendra watches the gravediggers slowly cover her father's coffin with a lost look on her face, her glassy eyes welling with tears as she watches the scene before her unfold.

As the rest of the townsfolk that had decided to attend the funeral slowly begin the trip back to their small homes within Ravengro, Kendra speaks up, addressing the coughing man, her voice weak and weary. “Thank you, Father. He... would have been so happy to know that you came all this way for him, and for me.” The old man simply smiles, his blood-stained yellow teeth glinting eerily as a lightning bolt briefly illuminates the blackened sky. "Think nothing o' it, child. Yer father will be watched over by the Lady of Graves, just as she watches over erry'one else. 'E's in a better place now. I'm simply glad to be doin' me duty."

"She takes all of us, eventually."

The old man glares once more at the strangers who yet remain, his gaze wavering over Seras and Peony. He begins to walk away with the help of the old woman that had been a part of the crowd. As he leaves, stumbling through the muddy graveyard, he growls a few harsh words over his shoulder once more, his tone dark as he struggles through a coughing fit. "I make damn sure of it."

--

Now, only Kendra and the gravediggers remain within the cemetary. A moment of silence passes, before Kendra turns and addresses each of you, looking to have calmed down a little bit. “Thank you, again. So much.”

She pauses for a moment, thinking over her next few words.

Kendra sighs deeply, her words faint. “I suppose now would be as good a time as any to ensure Father's will is carried out with properly. Councilman Hearthmount will be over within the hour, after all, and...” She sort of chuckles to herself glumly. “I suppose I really could use a drink.”

The woman smiles as warmly as possible, before pointing off in the distance.

“Father's home is just across the way. Well... I suppose it's my home now.”

--

Kendra begins to guide each of you through the drab little town, wordlessly, still fairly emotional. It doesn't take much time before you each realize just how awful this gloomy little place truly was. Ravengro seems just as miserable as the surrounding Ustalavic countryside, yet somehow felt even lonelier despite the dozens of citizens that called the small town home. In fact, Ravengro seemed to be nothing more than a sprawling mess of abandoned, half-ruined gothic houses and businesses, the doors mostly shut and sometimes even barred, with only a few lived in households dotting the muddy streets here and there, the dim lights flickering from under doors and out of windows causing shadows to dance across the desolate streets.

It was evening now, the bright and foreboding moon shrouded by the layers of thick fog and dark clouds. Everlasting Torches have been placed on street-corners, or mounted on businesses to light up the shadowy way through the narrow, winding streets of cracked cobblestone. After navigating through several labyrinthine streets, you each arrive at a tall, somewhat pleasant looking old house. As the rainwater falls, mixing with the sound of footsteps on cobblestone, Kendra pauses, smiling back at each of you and pushing her wet hair out of her head.

“Ah, here we are. It's not much... But it's home."

--

After fumbling in the rain for a moment, Kendra produces a key from a pocket, and opens the door. As she steps into the Lorrimor Residence, she lets out a shriek of fear, suddenly jumping back. A weak, but blisteringly cold voice pierces the air from within the home. "Calm yourself, silly girl. I simply saw to let myself in, seeing as you are, unfortunately, quite late."

Kendra sighs in relief, raising a hand up to her face, her shoulders tense with stress.

She stutters as she responds to the voice, gesturing for each of you to enter. “My sincerest apologies, Councilman Hearthmount, you nearly stopped my heart out of fright!" She smiles weakly, a poor attempt at making humor. “I fear Father Grimburrow may have gotten a bit carried away today, you know how he is."

"Anyway, erm, Councilman, these are guests of mine. I believe Father may have mentioned them in his will."

With that, Kendra lets each of you in, closing the door behind her and locking it as she does so. The common room of the Lorrimor Household is modest one, crowded bookshelves lining the walls of the cozy chamber. A tall fireplace rests against the farthest wall, surrounded by a brilliant crimson rug and several old, but comfortable looking couches and chairs. Many strange objects and curiosities cover the walls of this area, and stairs lead to a second floor.

A frightfully thin looking man with a hooked nose and a crooked, nearly hunched back rests in one of the chairs, set to face the door. His long, spidery, nearly skeletal fingers are clasped over a thick black book, and tiny spectacles rest on his nose. His expression is contorted into one of constant disgust and annoyance, and a powdery gray wig rests upon his balding head. A black coat drapes over his frail body, not quite fitting him totally. As each of you enter, the man's foul mood does not appear to shift for the better in the slightest, he simply looks even more unpleasant.

Finally, he speaks, his sharp tongue slicing through the air.

"Guests, indeed. Tell me... strangers. What exactly do you call yourselves?"

He sneers for a second, before the sour-faced old man produces a scroll case with his impossibly thin fingers. He gestures towards the group with the object, ensuring that the professor’s personal seal was unbroken, before breaks the wax with a small dagger pulled from within his coat. The old man then begins to open the case slowly, silently observing the reactions of each of the strangers. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the tube, clattering noisily onto the table.

Undaunted by the key, the Councilman looks for a series of names at the top of the will.

Bhaakon

2016-08-24, 02:28 AM

Still a bit worked up over the speech--in which she'd really said far more than she'd planned to--Liska spends the rest of the ceremony looking at her feet. She knew the Pharasmin rites by heart anyway, since they'd all had to chant them twice daily in the orphanage and it gave her the added benefit of not having to see the foul concoction hacked up from the priest's festering lungs.

Ynos yawns, entirely unaffected by the chill rain or emotion of the scene. Or so it would seem to most people. Liska knew the psychopomp didn't need to yawn, ever, and it was no more fond of the inclement weather than anyone else. It just went about showing it in the most subtle ways. She suspected that it wasn't enthused about sitting through a funeral service, either. What was done to a body didn't seem to matter much to him, as long as it wasn't seized by necromancy. Being scavenged by beasts was just as effective a means of preventing that as a 'proper' burial. Liska ignores him and waits until Kendra is ready to depart.

----------------------------

Unable to hide her relief at getting out of the storm, Liska pauses only long enough to remove her mud-caked boots at the door before veritably sprinting to a well-stuffed chair and plopping down in. Ynos shakes quickly at the threshold, relieving himself of the greater portion of the water and muck trapped in his fur. Much grooming would be required to remove the rest, which he sets about doing in front of the fireplace.

Only after she's situated does Liska pay more than passing attention to the exchange between Kendra and Hearthmont, enough to figure out that he was some sort of official here for the reading of the will. So when he asks for her name, she replies truthfully.

"Liska. No last name."

Desril

2016-08-25, 02:15 AM

Seras

Like Liska, the only reason Seras pauses in the doorway is to avoid tracking mud into the home. There was no reason to be rude, no matter what the voice in her head was screaming. Unlike her fellow bare-footed companion, however, she doesn't take solace by the fire, the heat being more uncomfortable for her than the dreary wetness of rain-soaked clothes. And there she waits until the newcomer readies himself to read the will, only speaking up when names are called for. "Seras, no family name."

Frosty

2016-08-27, 03:23 AM

Peony Hills

Unlike the others, Peony does not rush inside in a hurry. Peony is trained to shoulder burdens and discomforts, and she makes sure she wipes and cleans everything that needs to be cleaned before partaking in Kendra's hospitality.

Upon meeting Councilman Hearthmount, the paladin recognizes look of contempt. Contempt of outsiders is common in small towns, but Peony had hopes a democracy would be more open. "Hills. Peony Hills. How do you do, council member?"

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-28, 11:10 AM

Jromgar stayed solemn and silent all through the walk to the Lorrimor residence. What was there to say? The young miss Lorrimor was still keenly feeling the sting of loss and there was nothing his words could do, other than offer some token comfort she has undoubtedly heard many times before. By the time the councilman arrives at her home she seems to be feeling a touch better, if only just. Still, his poor experiences with high authority leads him to be brief with the man. When the councilman calls for their names he speaks up.

"Good Day councilman. My name is Jromgar Korfark." A pause was all it took to remind him of the oddity of a name like his belonging to a human. "I was raised by dwarves." he adds.

Biabri

2016-08-29, 09:15 AM

Brenna didn't care much for the man, or his words, she personally thought it was a little silly, though she didn't dare say so in front of Kendra or the man himself. She did her best to ignore his ceaseless pausing and the horrific noises he made but couldn't help but grimace at how unacceptable she thought the whole thing was. Surely they could get someone a little less creepy to send people to Pharasma or whatever he was doing... She decides that when she dies she'll certainly have a better funeral than this.

Brenna decides to not mention this aloud, and keeps silent during the walk. She taps her foot absentmindedly in the dirt as Kendra opens up the door, catching the eyes of her black cat as she does so. A dumb little smile spreads across her face in an attempt to please the cat. The little cat gives her a fangy grin in return. She chuckles softly and closes her eyes for second, thinking.

The witch looks around, staring at the darkened little town and wondering what kind of person would choose to live here... She's so distracted and lost in her own thoughts that she doesn't hear the sound of the door clicking open, and upon Kendra's shriek lets out her own muted squeal. The noise is copied by the little black cat, which tenses up and prepares to flee before Kendra begins to speak.

She watches as others remove their boots and as one cleans them. Her own boots are removed, as well as her wet socks. The little black cat peers at the creature shaking itself off and mimicking it, shaking himself off too and moving to sit next to it as he grooms himself. Brenna, meanwhile turns to the second old creepy man she's been interrogated by today. "Brenna, Brenna Marth." She mutters when everyone else has answered.

Hattish Thing

2016-08-30, 01:56 AM

Ravengro - The Lorrimor Estate:

Councilman Hearthmount remains silent as he matches the names appearing upon the tattered will before him with the names given by the strangers. The spidery, impossibly thin man's expression does not seem to change much, his constant grimace topped off only by the barest curl of his wrinkled lips. The old man does not bother to hide his obvious contempt for each of the newcomers as names are rattled off.

Any attempts to make pleasant conversation with the man are met with a sneer, nothing more.

Once the last person has finished speaking, the man breathes in deeply, adjusting his spectacles atop his large, hooked nose as he does so. With that, he begins to look through the will once more, reading it twice over, only pausing to occasionally rest his eyes or scornfully glance up at one of the out-of-towners. Finally, after a long and awkward quiet, Councilman Hearthmount clears his throat.

He speaks, his ragged voice similar to the sound of old parchment rubbing together.

"It seems as if all is in order, Ms. Lorrimor."

--

Kendra smiles weakly, though it's clear that her mind was elsewhere.

Councilman Hearthmount frowns deeply as Kendra simply smiles and turns again to stare out the window, watching the cold rain streak down the glass. He taps the ends of his long, bony fingers down upon the mahogany table before him, but when even that failed to truly attract Kendra's attention, the old man coughs and repeats his previous sentence, annoyance clear in his raspy voice.

"Ms. Lorrimor, please. I have urgent business I must attend to, and I would like to get to it sometime this evening, if you wouldn't mind."

Kendra blushly deeply as the Councilman chastises her.

“I... I'm sorry. I am weary."

"Clearly, Ms. Lorrimor."

--

With that, Councilman Hearthmount sets the parchment down upon the table and crosses his legs, resting his fingers atop the other as he studies the others within the room.

Kendra moves forward and reaches for the will, sitting herself down upon her favorite chair before breathing in deeply. She attempts to speak, before stuttering as she makes her attempt, choking back waves of emotion as she does so. She shakes her head and breathes in, before beginning to read from Professor Lorrimor's will. “I, Petros Lorrimor, being o-of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, w-with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entirely to my... daughter, Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child."

She pauses for a moment, her pink lips forming a weak smile.

Kendra continues. “Ahem... Y-yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask of those... gathered here t-today."

Councilman Hearthmount raises a furry eyebrow in suspicion as Kendra looks over each of you, confusion apparent on her soft-featured face.

She continues quickly. “To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of... of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans. “And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable, but dangerous t-tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward... erm, legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my d-daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the... the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the b-betterment of the cause."

Hearthmount's expression contorts into one of incredulity and anger. "What?! What in the blazes inspired that old fool to entrust his collection to... to... Bah! Foolishness, foolishness."

Kendra continues on, not stopping for Hearthmount to continue. “Yet, b-before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor, one of great personal importance to me. Please, delay your journey for some time and ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She... has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this time, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will."

“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4715.”

--

She takes a deep breath, gazing towards each of you, looking for some sort of response. Before anyone else can speak, Councilman Hearthmount rises, the tall, thin man gathering his things quickly, frustration evident as he moves.

He strides towards the door, black cloak dragging across the rug as he pulls a dark hat off a post and sets it atop his head.

The Councilman looks back with a disapproving look on his face, before slamming the door behind him.

Kendra simply sighs deeply.

“I... I suppose we've much to talk about?"

"Er... tea? Anyone?"

Bhaakon

2016-08-30, 02:36 AM

"Really? You have important business to attend to?" Liska fumes at Hearthmount's grousing once he's outside, almost yelling at the door. She managed to hold her tongue until after the will was read and he'd made his exit, but only just. "You have to preside over a ribbon cutting at a new pig wallow or something? Miss Lorrimor lost her father, and you can't wait to run off." She shakes her head. "Town councilmen are supposed to care for their citizens, not run off in their hour of need. You can't even be bothered to sit here and comfort her over a cup of tea. Why, she must be one of the most prominent citizens in town! Aren't you worried about losing her support?"

"But no, clearly you have matters that must be tended to." she mutters, shaking her head. Then she freezes, her face making an mocking exaggeration of surprise at a sudden realization. Her mouth gawps, and her eyebrows shoot up. "Of course! My mistake! You must by off to round up Gibs, that snot-faced mule of a clod who tried to violently disrupt the Professor's funeral. Personally seeing that rabble-rouser cuffed is about the only excuse you could possibly have for running off without offering proper condolences. No, no. Be off now. I insist. That brigand isn't going to beat any sense into himself."

"Oh, and, yes, Miss Kendra, I believe I will have that tea. Milk and honey, if you don't mind." Liska turns to her host, her tone perfectly proper. "I believe there's quite a bit to discuss about the will, and it wouldn't do to talk with a parched throat. Though, I must be honest, you seem to be a capable woman. Why would the Professor ask us to look after you? I understand wanting us to see to the books, and I'm obliged to follow his final wishes, but I don't want to."

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-30, 09:00 AM

Jromgar steps forward to stand protectively near to the younger Lorrimor as the old coot masquerading as a kind and just council member starts to berate her. His jaw clenched tightly to hold back his own slew of Dwarven swear words. Arguing with someone who has the power to make ones life difficult was a surefire way to see that just that happened. And still it took all his restraint not join Liska in cursing the old man's name. He puts a hand over Kendra's while still leveling a death glare at the councilman's back as he left. "Don't let him get to you. He'll get his own comeuppance eventually." His expression softened. "Tea would be lovely. Please allow me, it's the least I can do." He said before walking into the kitchen and hunting down the teapot.

Biabri

2016-08-30, 09:01 AM

Brenna peers from under her hat at Liska, who's name she'd learned just then. What an outburst! The little black cat reconsidered it's grooming place, moving away from what it assumed was the woman's familiar. The witch waits until she's finished with her ranting, directed at a door, before coughing softly. "Are you sure you want to be making tea, Kendra? I wouldn't mind... If you want to just sit yourself down and, you know..." Brenna tries a soft smile, moving to take Kendra's arm gently, not forcing her either way, letting her make her own choice about whether she wants to sit down or have Brenna 'brew' something up in the kitchen.

She's sure her pointy hat twitches at the thought. Not that she's ever been good at actual brewing, of course. Nevermind potions, she can barely make a drinkable tea...

Frosty

2016-08-30, 10:34 AM

Peony hides her distaste for the man, knowing that making an enemy of the man may even make life harder for Kendra. Besides, now that Peony has to stay here for a while, it would not do to antagonize leaders.

The paladin does, however, scan the councilman for signs of evil.

After the will is read the the disgusting man has departed, she smiles at Kendra. "Take all the time you need, Kendra. We are in no hurry. Pay no heed to that man. I'm sure it's his way to compensating for his lack of friends and lady companions he didn't have to pay first. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Peony actually has suspicions of what these books might be, given likes of Gibs reacted.

Desril

2016-08-30, 03:54 PM

Seras

A hundred platinum coins for a month of baby-sitting a grown woman...it wasn't an ideal use of her time, but the payout was well worth it, especially if the late professor's tomes were half as juicy as the will made them seem. Staying wouldn't be a problem, no, but this Liksa woman had the right of it. A little common courtesy would go a long way and yet the councilman was entirely lacking in any sort of tact, nearly as much as the spirit caged within her mind was, in fact. I might let you play with him later, if we're going to be here for a month, just don't let anyone realize who you're bound to.
Bah, I'll just cut down anyone who makes trouble for us!
What part of a month did you not understand?

"Tea does sound good...but let me help make it. I'm rather particular about how it's flavored, and I too am curious why the professor seemed to think you needed looking after."

Hattish Thing

2016-08-31, 01:25 AM

Ravengro - The Lorrimor Estate:

Kendra seems incredibly appreciative of each of your kind words, especially regarding the Councilman's abominable behavior. “Mm. Thank you, all of you. I cannot imagine how awful this day would have turned out if you weren't here for me. It would mean so much to my father, you know, knowing that you're here for me..."

She smiles, before glancing down at the darkened stairs that appear to lead to the second floor.

After a few seconds, she excuses herself with a friendly wave. “Erm, one moment please, loves. Some of you look awfully cold, and I can't imagine standing out there in the rain helped very much."

"I'd better get the tea started... I can do it myself, I insist."

--

With that, Kendra politely excuses herself from the room, vanishing into the kitchen for some time. The rain pattering against the windows blends nicely with the flickering of the warm fireplace, the relaxing sounds creating an almost tranquil atmosphere. After a little while, the comforting smell of well-brewed tea can be detected, a welcome change from the usual scent of old books that pervades the warm air.

Soon, Kendra emerges from the kitchen with a tray of small cakes and confectionery treats. Beside her, the vague silhouette of a thin, invisible man can be seen holding a tray of tea, several cups and small jars of various additions commonly associated with tea.

She sits herself down in her chair, while the invisible servant sets the trays down and begins to offer warm, sweet food and hot drink to the others gathered within the main chamber within the Lorrimor Household.

“Please, enjoy. We don't usually receive visitors here, and I'm not much of an eater, so please, do help yourselves."

--

Kendra settles into her chair before taking a moment to finally answer some previous questions addressed to her, a somewhat grim look on her pale face. “I... I believe my father wished you to stay to ensure that nothing... unpleasant takes place here, in town. My father was a good man, and a respectable wizard himself. In fact, he taught me much of what I know now. However..." She sighs. “There are those who mistook his obsession over the occult for something... darker. You see, my father was a bit of a collector of sorts, he gathered artifacts best kept safe, in his learned, experienced hands, rather than left out there in the world for any old fool to stumble upon."

She clenches her fists. “Unfortunately, despite my father's heroic acts, many of Ravengro's people believed him to have been some sort of necromantic figure, or a witch, or... whatever they call it, due to how closely he worked with these... objects."

"People like Gibs, and his cronies wouldn't listen..."

Kendra takes a deep breath, sipping at her tea as she glances out the window.

“You saw what happened today, at the Dreamwake. With my father gone..."

"If you hadn't been there, I just... I don't know."

--

She shakes her head and clasps her hands together mournfully. “I'm going to need some time to decide whether or not I'm going to sell this place. Although some of the townspeople of Ravengro appear to harbor the same dislike for me that they bore for my father, I did grow up here. This house, this place, it's my home, it's all I've ever truly known."

"Turning my back on it, on everything... It's hard."

Kendra looks over each of you again. “Of course, you're very much welcome to stay here while I decide, and sort things out. There's several rooms upstairs that you may find acceptable for you, and, of course, you won't be going hungry."

"I'll... give you some time to decide."

Kendra gazes at the small key that had fallen upon the table earlier, before reaching for it and speaking in a strange language to the invisible servant that had been standing nearby.

--

The servant leaves, and after a few moments, brings forth a large chest of blackened wood, covered in chains with a single heavy iron padlock. The servant dispels the floating disc effect and the chest clatters onto the table.

Kendra eyes the key, before setting it down beside the chest.

“I think it would be fitting for one of you to open it. Lorrimor entrusted the chest to each of you, after all."

The key rests on the table, shining in the flickering light bellowing from the fireplace.

Frosty

2016-08-31, 01:48 AM

Peony does not hesitate, and takes the key. "I will be honored to stay here for the time being, and protect you against any...BULLIES...that come your way. My crossbow aim is very precise." she examines the chest, and assuming she doesn't see any obvious dangers, she uses the key reverently, expecting to see scrolls and tomes inside. "Let's see what dangerous knowledge needs securing in here..."

Bhaakon

2016-08-31, 01:55 AM

Seeing the promising platter, Liska's mouth begins to water. The sweets. THE SWEETS!

She pours herself a cup of honey thinned ever so slightly with tea and cream, then builds an impressive pyramid of the most delectable-looking confections. She starts with the most heavily frosted items and works her way down, making sure to cram the maximum amount of sugar onto her plate.

Ynos doesn't even lift his head as his 'master' noms herself to an early grave as the obviously magical servant fetches the chest. If it wasn't for the distracting platter of pastries, she'd have snatched up the key and jammed it into the lock straight away. As it is, she just blows a small explosion of crumbs and powdered sugar out her mouth and adds. "Yeah! What she said! Now let's see what's inside!" To Peony's words of support, and waits, munching loudly, as the contents of the chest are revealed.

It wouldn't do to be caught with an empty stomach should a wraith billow out of there, after all. Everyone knew wraiths went after hungry targets first.

TheMiningDwarf

2016-08-31, 09:20 AM

Jromgar begrudgingly steps down from the task of brewing the tea. Not because he wasn't up to the task or anything like that, but because he couldn't find anything in their kitchen.

When the tray, now stripped of it's confectionery reaches him he graciously takes his cup sweetening it with what remains of the honey before drinking deeply. "Delicious." He smiles.

When it comes time to open the chest Jromgar reaches up to touch the birthmark on his cheek. The one that showed that he was born to be a follower of Nethys and silently prays to his god. May the chest be filled with a bounty of knowledge and Nothing else.

Biabri

2016-08-31, 12:30 PM

Brenna takes the platter, pondering over what's left, and shaking her head softly before it's placed into Seras' hands. She was never one for sweets. She knew the kind of witch who were fond of them... Very fond indeed. The black cat at her feet looked up at her with it's big eyes though, and she couldn't resist plucking a little something of what was left from the tray and dropping it in the maw of the little beast. She knew it wasn't as innocent as it looked, surely it couldn't be... The witch could only imagine the occult workings of it's little brain. Those eyes made it hard to believe though. Any other man than Lorrimor would have thought her mad if she went to them telling of her magical cat gifted to her by a stranger who wore whispers and night as a cloak...

Her tea, which she was glad she hadn't made herself, she sipped at carefully. It wasn't good to appear greedy or poor mannered. She eyed the chest a little. The chains she thought were a bit dramatic... Surely a book couldn't do that much harm. She allowed herself to be carried off on her thoughts, until she arrived at the topic of Lorrimor's own spell book. Now that, she was sure could cause harm... Where was the thing? She couldn't use it herself and the thought of selling it on didn't cross her mind for a second. The chest had, by then, completely slipped her interest. She'd have to ask Kendra. She knew Kendra only a little, to be perfectly honest she hadn't really known her father that well, she realised as she sat here in his home...

Her cat meanwhile, was at the feet of Liska, begging for sweets.

Hattish Thing

2016-09-05, 01:54 AM

Ravengro - The Lorrimor Estate:

Kendra watches Peony set the key to the lock with anticipation, though a bit of fear is evident on her pale face as the paladin unlocks the chest and proceeds to open the small, chained box.

As she opens the chest, a bloodcurdling screech erupts from within the depths of the chest, and for a brief moment, the horrifying visage of a spectral version of Professor Lorrimor himself bursts out from the box, howling out in agony. "Enter, stranger, but take heed of what awaits the sin of greed! For those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn."

The spectral image then quickly fades away, vanishing into nothingness after a moment.

--

Kendra seems especially disturbed by the image, and rises as the image fades, clasping a hand up to her mouth in shock. She shakes her head vigorously, before quickly mumbling something. “I... I'm sorry, I need some time to myself, please, don't stop on account of me...” With that, she politely excuses herself before rushing upstairs for a moment.

[Peony, you gain the Shaken Condition for a period of time.]

--

Within the opened box are several dusty, old tomes and one relatively new one. The newest tome sits at the top of the organized pile, and a piece of faded parchment rests upon it's cover, inscribed with the words, "Read Me First!".

--

Pick a book from the pile, if you like.

Book 1: "Rich Purple Cover, Brass Scarab."

Book 2: "Jet Black Book, Star Patterns."

Book 3: "Thick Tome, Bound in Human Skin."

Book 4: "Gray/Black Tome, Shadow Leaf on Cover."

Book 5: "Plain, Brown Journal." [Read Me First!]

TheMiningDwarf

2016-09-06, 08:52 AM

Jromgar jumps at the sudden screeching, his birthmark glows white with holy energy for a moment as he prepares to strike at the spector before realizing that it bore the professor's likeness. By the time the spector finishes speaking and fades away Jromgar had calmed down considerably. "An illusion set by the professor to protect the books. A fair trick old friend!" He laughs. Surely it was just an illusion...

He steps forward to examine the books. "Surely this is the most important." He says as he picks up the first book on the pile, the professor's journal. Should no one else make a grab for it he'll open the book and read it.

Bhaakon

2016-09-07, 12:45 PM

Setting aside her tray of sweet for a moment, Liska glances over as the chest is opened. She wasn't much for reading, generally speaking, but it was hard not to be drawn to such interesting tomes. Ones that needed to be locked away and hidden. Books that needed to be...

"WHAAAAA?" She exclaims, a delectable breath weapon of crumbs and powdered sugar erupting from her maw as the apparition of the Professor--older, grayer, spookier, but definitely him--springs out like a horrible jack-in-a-box. "Are you sure that was an illusion? Was it a spirit, Ynos?" She glances at the lounging psychopomp, who hasn't so much as looked up from his spot before the fire. He remains unresponsive.

"Be that way." She mutters, and quickly casts a spell to make sure there aren't any more magical surprises to be found. If there aren't, she reaches for the book in the flesh-tone leather. "Is that? No...it must be a pig. They don't bind books with people. Or do they?" She cracks it open to the title page.

Detect magic on the books and chest

Hattish Thing

2016-09-10, 02:57 AM

Ravengro - The Lorrimor Estate:

None of the books detect as magic.

This tattered, well-worn travelling journal makes for a relatively bland read, although the pleasant smell of the Lorrimor Household and the pattering of rain dancing across the glass windows of the house make the experience, thankfully, a comfortable one, at the very least. The majority of the entries within the book account for the deceased Professor's day-to-day activities within the town of Ravengro, however, as the days wear on, his writing seems to grow more and more erratic, sloppy and rushed. Several passages written in bizarre sections, or torn out of old pages of the journal and placed elsewhere are circled in red ink.

The passages read as such.

"The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers, so much more. I see it now. The answers were always there, right in front of me, but only now do I fully understand. Undeath is their fountain of youth! Despite this realization, I do not yet feel safe. Uncovering their motive did not put me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous, I fear."
----
"It is... as I feared. It was exactly as I thought, but how I wish I was wrong! By the gods. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro, but what could it be? I find myself awake late at night, unable to rest my eyes. They are out there, somewhere. Close."
---
"Whatever the Way seeks, I am now utterly convinced that their unknowable goals have to do with Harrowstone. The connection is so clear now, how I wish I had not been so blind to the truth! So desperate to pretend that all would be well. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense. The stories they tell about the prison ruins in town are chilling enough. No doubt the tether that binds life and un-life frays there, it must be the case. Why else would the Way be so interested? It may be time enough to investigate the ruins. I'd rather not let the others know about my... curiosity. There are already so many within the town that think I'm sort of Demonologist, or witch, or something. Ignorant fools."
---
"It is confirmed. My gods..."
---
"The Way is interested in something, no, not something, but rather a someone. What I saw was enough to all but confirm it. When I close my eyes, I still see the ghostly face, peering from the darkness, eyes bright with blazing malevolence. It haunts me. Enough of this. I need a list of all the names of those unlucky souls who perished during the night of the great fire. Everyone, every last person. The Temple of Pharasma ought to have such a list, if I can convinced that madman Grimburrow to allow me access to the archives."
---
"I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for Harrowstone. By the gods, I am lucky to have returned at all! The ghosts, if they indeed were ghosts, for I did not find it prudent enough to investigate further, prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation. Hopefully I will be better prepared for my next expedition out to the Harrowstone. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in that ridiculous false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. Perhaps Grimburrow's paranoia has finally paid off! With any lucky, bandits or graverobbers haven't already cleared out the crypt. I am not certain if Grimburrow even knows of what his predecessors have hidden down below. I doubt I'll be able to convince him to allow me to investigate. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items, however. Lorrimor, you've still got it!"
---
"Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass."

"-I love you, Kendra. Please don't ever forget that."

Though the cover of this black and silver lexicon is blank and eerily cold to the touch, a quick glance through the pages only serves to heighten any sense of unease that may be felt during the investigation of this tome. The book appears to be a transcribed copy of "The Umbral Leaves", the common holy book of Zon-Kuthon, The Midnight Lord, The Prince of Pain. The book is morbid, full of dark poetry and deeply disturbing artwork. The Professor's notes litter the pages of the old tome, however, the notes don't appear to reference anything particularly important.

This book smells foul, and as Liska glances through the book, she may find herself suddenly feeling rather sick. The many pages of this flesh-bound tome depict horrifying undead engaged in disturbingly sadistic sexual acts with the living, or non-risen dead. Lorrimor's notes liberally sprinkle the margins of the twisted book, and several pages referencing a disgusting ritual involving self-cannibalism and torture are absolutely covered in notations. This is a copy of "Serving Your Hunger", Urgathoa's holy book. It seems likely that Lorrimor was writing a paper regarding the twisted religion.

The jet black, star-clad cover of this thick book beckons to you with the promise of forbidden knowledge. The many pages within this unusual book, titled, "On Verified Madness", depict a variety of stomach-churning abberations, abominations from where only dark things lurk. Eerie symbols that promise only pain and insanity are scrawled about here and there in Lorrimor's recognizable hand, and many pages are devoted to bizarre prophecy written in sosme sort of puzzle-speech, making it impossible to decipher what exactly was being written. Lorrimor constantly references something known as "The Dark Tapestry", along with a name, "Lowls".

The final book rests alone within the chest, it's dark purple and gold decorations glittering in the candlelight.

Bhaakon

2016-09-10, 03:33 AM

"Ynos, is that supposed to be a leper, or a zombie? You'd think they'd have gotten bigger pictures if they sprang for the expensive leather..." Liska opens the book far further than one is supposed to--assuming they want it to stay bound long--and shows the psychopomp. Its nose quivers, then it looks up, snarling softly at the skin-tone tome. "So...zombie? Well, a stiff is a stiff. Guess the woman there isn't in a position to be picky."

She flips to the next page. "Oh, dear. Then she bit it off and ate it?" Her nose crinkles. She wasn't exactly a picky eater, but there were limits. "Playing with your food is so childish." She mutters, absentmindedly maneuvering a sugar cookie across her knuckles like a cardsharp making a lucky coin dance.

She flips again. "Oh, now she's gnawing on her own calf. That's kind of impressive, actually. I wonder how much she had to practice... Ah, see, Prof Lorrimor thought so to. Lots of notes...um...'The auto-cannibalistic tendencies of Urgathoan cult have, sadly, done little to thin their ranks.' Huh. Kind of dry. I wonder..."

Ynos grabs the books from her hands with his maw, slamming it shut in the process. He weaves a little as he brings it back to the storage box, his nausea apparent even even with the mask on his face. He drops the foul thing unceremoniously into the chest and wretches out a few dry heaves.

"This will get the taste out of your mouth" Liska offers, holding out a cute gingerbread man with a mint frosting lab coat. Ynos snatches it up and returns to the fire, where the gingerbread lab assistant is slowly gnawed to death.