Carrion Crown Season One IC

[Rilem]

"To the professor," Fatima echoes Kristoph's toast, raising her own glass. "No one, I trust, deserves peace more than he."

Spoiler: ooc

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If the sheriff is still around, she'll inquire about why the professor was so worried about the prison. Doesn't seem right to grill the daughter.

[Narbaculus]

"Dead?" No, it cannot be.

Images flash through Ekard's mind of the Professor's adventures: As far north as the Worldwound, and as far south as the Inner Sea. Countless lives touched, changed, and even saved. In his correspondence, written and sent from many different climes, Prof. Lorrimor had told of a life well lived, in travel and adventure, in study and good company. To think that he could be simply gone, no more to learn or to teach...

Ekard's hands tighten around the haft of the urgrosh, wood and leather creaking in his clenched fists. With a start, he realizes that he has been standing dumbly, alone in the street, for several weeks minutes. He follows the group inside the house, catching the tail ends of the others' toasts.

"You really believe it was an accident?"

Valerija's question crystalizes the doubts in Ekard's mind. It simply would not make sense for Prof. Lorrimor to contemplate that he was in danger, to call a friend (or many friends, as it appears) from halfway across the world for help, and then coincidentally to die in an unfortunate accident. There has to be more to it.

As Kristoph continues with his speech, Ekard accepts a wine glass from Adivion and turns it in his hand for a while. Holding it up to the light, Ekard stares into the wine as if searching for answers in the blood-red liquid. He hesitates to drink it: he is in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, brought together in more than troubling circumstances. Again, Prof. Lorrimor's warning echoes forth through Ekard's mind. Adivion has used—flaunted—magic with astounding boldness. Was that the brazen attitude of one resigned not to be trusted, or an offering of confidence to the others in the convoy?

Spoiler: Sense Motive check

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(1d20)[17]

"To the professor. No one, I trust, deserves peace more than he."

Of all his strange road-fellows, Fatima may be the one whom Ekard would most hesitate to trust. She had hardly shown her face, and when she did...she alone was unsurprised by the trap laid for them in the outskirts of Ravengro. If Adivion has invited distrust by his boldness, Fatima has invited it by her reticence. No one...I trust. Even so, her toast seems sincere; in fact, every speech Ekard hears indicates that he is not the only one who knew the Professor well. What is more foolish: to throw in my lot with a group of people I met five days ago, or to strike out alone in a dangerous place I have never been before?

Steeling himself, Ekard throws back his glass. Charging it once more, he finally takes his turn to speak. "Aye, peace is precious these days. You are right, Fatima: Prof. Lorrimor is—was—a man of rare conviction. I never knew him to do but what he thought was right. That he should be taken from his friends and family now, before his time has come, is a grave injustice. To answer your question, Valerija, no: I do not believe this was an accident. I have scarcely heard the details of the Professor's death, and I am loath to darken an already-dark day with talk of foul play, but I will not be content to lay my friend's memory to rest until I am sure of how he passed. Aye, and I daresay we could offer Petros no greater peace than to tell the truth of his fate."

[Farmerbink]

Elian Evenstarr M Neutral Dhampir Sorcerer, Level 1, Init 3, HP 5/5, Speed 30 AC 13, Touch 13, Flat-footed 10, CMD 12, Fort 0, Ref 3, Will 4, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0 (+3 Dex) Abilities Str 8, Dex 16, Con 8, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 18 Condition None

Elian raises his glass lazily, eyes still flitting almost frantically as his companions of the last few weeks give voice to their thoughts. "Hear hear," he murmurs without understanding, as Aaron mourns his friend's passing. Valerija's perhaps foolishly voiced concern garners only a wary glance from the pale man as he enters the Lorrimor home.

"To the professor," Elian follows suit with Fatima, equal measures condolence and even in the moment trite platitude. A faint scowl forms between his eyes, though he listens dutifully as Ekard shares his own perspective. "Indeed," Elian responds.

Finally, he smirks. A wry thing, nakedly dripping with falsehood at his own disbelief. "To the smartest man I even knew, slain doing the stupidest thing ever heard. May his soul rest in peace."

Through firmly pursed lips, Elian takes a long, slow draught from his glass. Lowering his hand, he inclines his head respectfully to Adivion. "An apt homage indeed, good professor."

Turning to the matron of the house, the lithe sorcerer clears his throat gently. "If it's not too much, Miss Kendra, would you share a favored story of your father? I'm sure we all have our own memories, and I daresay he would want us to think fondly in remembrance of him."