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

Show

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

Show

(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."

[Inspectre]

“I think . . . I would very much like to not be alone right now. I’ve spent quite a bit of time alone with Father always away on his . . . adventures . . . so some company would be nice!”

Kendra says in response to Irina’s question, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice although she quickly buries it beneath a veneer of pleasantness as she ends her comment with as bright of a smile as she can manage. As the group all begins to move towards the Lorrimor residence to take advantage of Kendra’s offer of hospitality, the sheriff sighs and adjusts his hat one final time.

“Pardon me, but I need to go inform the rest of those who I think will be interested in attending Petros’s funeral this evening. Pharasma watch over thee.”

And with that perfunctory farewell, the sheriff moves to rejoin his two deputies up the road, leaving Kendra to play hostess for all of you. The professor's daughter leads the way up onto the front porch, gesturing at a spot just to the right of the stairs.

"Oh, watch your step right there! The boards are a little rotten there - you might break all the way through if you put your full weight on it!"

As she steps inside, Kendra removes the dark glasses from over her eyes, breathing a faint sight of relief.

"My apologies, but I've found the afternoon sun to be very irritating to my eyes as of late. Our – my – kitchen is right this way. It will probably be a little cramped with so many people, but it is probably the best place to sit and talk for a while. Many of the other rooms are a bit of a mess I’m afraid, full of odds and ends from Father’s various adventures."

Kendra says as she leads the group deeper inside the Lorrimor home. The interior of the house does seem to be as old and rundown as the exterior, as there are spots here and there where the paint is beginning to peel and the old wooden floor groans and creaks in protest. Despite its age, however, the home certainly appears cozy and well lived-in, if perhaps a little overcrowded with artifacts and knick-knacks taken from an eclectic variety of places from across Golarion – some examples include a wooden ritual mask from the Mwangi Expanse hanging on the wall there, a decorative scroll displaying calligraphy from Minkai across from it, and a clay urn decorated with designs from Osirion tucked in the corner beyond them.

While it is indeed a little cramped, all of you manage to squeeze together into the small kitchen at the back of the house, gathered around the table. After a bit of searching, Kendra finds a corkscrew for Adivon to make use of, and then sets to work producing an equally eclectic mix of goblets and cups for the toast. Once everyone has been served their own small portion from the bottle, several people offer up their own toast in memorial of their mentor and friend.

At Aaron’s toast, Adivion’s mouth quirks, but he simply nods his head in agreement as he does with each other toast.

Spoiler: Aaron only

Show

Yup, Adivion definitely catches your hidden meaning there, and is now eyeing you with suspicion as well.

Once various toasts have been offered, Adivon raises his own goblet.

“To a dear mentor and friend. Rest well, Petros, you have more than earned your rest.”

Kendra raises her cup in response to each toast, but does not drink and eventually sets it aside as a fresh wave of grief washes across her face. She turns away from the group, moving over to the small fireplace in the corner and stoking the fire back up.

“W-would anyone l-like some tea?”

Kendra asks, a faint quaver creeping into her voice as she reaches over to manipulate a lever on the side of the fireplace. She recoils with a loud cough as smoke from the growing fire starts billowing out into the kitchen.

“Oh no! It’s those sparrows again – they must have rebuilt their nest up in the flue! I told Father I had suspected as much, but he said he would take care of it when he . . . he . . . “

This memory seems to break the dam completely, as Kendra racks back onto her heels, covers her mouth with a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress to stifle the sobs, and begins a fresh round of crying. Adivon seems particularly perturbed by this fresh outpouring of emotion from Petros’ daughter, as he fiddles with his goblet, takes a step toward Kendra, stops, opens his mouth as if to say something, but then remains silent. After another few moments Adivon seems to arrive at a course of action, as he steps over to the fireplace, fiddling with the flue lever and coughing from the smoke before he grunts in frustration and whispers a spell, summoning a thin blue ray to lance down into the fire and partially extinguish it, roughly returning it to its previous low ebb and cutting down on the smoke dramatically.

Spoiler: Spellcraft DC 10

Show

Adivon casts Ray of Frost on the fire, extinguishing most of it.

With the remembrance of Petros now over, talk turns to the manner of his death, as Valerja openly questions if his passing could possibly be an accident. Wiping away tears, Kendra shakes her head.

“What else could have happened? Father has had a few disagreements with various townsfolk, but nothing that would warrant a murder! And while I know there is darkness lurking in Ustalav, outside of the prison and the occasional orc raid Ravengro is relatively safe. And I can’t imagine a ghost would push a statue over onto Father’s head, either.”

Kendra argues, listing off potential suspects and discounting each of them in turn. Adivion gives a knowing glance at Aaron, and then clears his throat.

“And what of those from outside of Ravengro, my dear? I’m afraid that your Father made a great deal of enemies during his adventures, both inside of Ustalav and beyond its borders. Tell me, do you recall any other travelers passing through the town recently?”

Kendra’s brow furrows at Adivion’s question, and although after a moment she nods.

“There are caravans and travelers that pass through town now and again, of course. I do recall Zokar – that’s the proprietor of our local tavern, the Laughing Demon . . . yes, he has an . . . odd sense of humor – mentioning that a group of travelers spent a night or two drinking in his tavern before moving on a couple of weeks ago. I only remember it because he described them all as creeping him out – and as you might surmise, it takes rather a lot to disturb Zokar.”

“Hmmm . . . perhaps we will need to discuss these “guests” further with Mr. Zolkar, then.”

“Oh, no, sorry! Zokar is his first name – Zokar Elkarid. He’s a great bear of a man, but very kind and generous, even if his humor can be a bit dark at times. I’m sure if you stop by The Laughing Demon, it won’t be very long before he comes over to introduce himself.”

Perhaps seeking to change the somber mood by changing the topic of conversation to better past days, Elian brings up the question of favorite memories of everyone’s time with the Professor. Kendra thinks for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip before she gives a sad smile.

“One of my clearest memories as a child – oh, I could not have been more than eight or nine at the time – was convincing Father to teach me magic. I had been watching Father pour over his spellbooks for hours at a time when he was home from his trips, and I was so curious. He never took me along on any of those trips, of course, and talked only vaguely about what he had been doing – I suppose in an effort not to frighten me. Childish me thought that if I knew how to cast magic too, he would let me come along. So while he was away one time, I broke into his study and tried to read one of the spellbooks he left behind. I was a precocious and clever child, so I was quite the capable reader by then but as you might guess an arcane spellbook was far beyond my ability to really comprehend. Still I was determined, and I had plenty of time to practice, because I wanted to surprise Father when he came home by using magic in front of him. Well, to make a long story short, I did manage to give him quite a surprise when he finally did come home. I only barely understood the gestures I was making, but when he opened the front door, I summoned up the magic with everything I had . . . and nearly burned his head off with the ray of fire I conjured up! Father was a bit younger and still spry then, so he managed to drop to the floor in time, but I scorched a good burn mark into the wall next to the door – you can still probably see the mark it left if you lift that Mwangi mask off the wall out in the foyer! All I was expecting to do was turn his hair blue or something, like he did to tease me now and again!”

“Wait, Kendra . . . you . . . summoned a ray of fire as a child? After studying Petros’s spellbook on your own, without any tutelage? Exactly how big was this ray of fire?”

“It’s difficult to remember now, but I would say it was perhaps the width of my index finger now or so – it certainly made quite the scorch mark in the wall.”

“My dear . . . that sounds a lot like a Scorching Ray spell, a 2nd circle magic! Mages can study their entire lives without being able to conjure that magic, and you just . . . did it, by accident, as a child!?”

Kendra gives a non-committal shrug, returning to her seat and now finally sipping at her cup of wine now that the memory begins to sour.

“I never was able to manage to cast it again, so I suppose you should chalk that up to a strange fluke. Not that I got many more chances to try, as Father was much more careful in locking up his spellbooks after that.”

“After that . . . he didn’t teach you?”

Adivion presses, his tone growing even more incredulous even as Kendra’s frown deepens.

“No, he didn’t. I have managed to master a few simple spells on my own, but it’s been entirely self-taught from what snippets I’ve been able to get Alendru – he’s a local teacher and proprietor of the Unfurling Scroll, I’m sure you passed his little magic shop on your way into town – to show me from his own spellbook. Although I suppose Father had a right to be cautious after I nearly burned his head off.”

An awkward silence curdles in the room for several long moments, until Adivion awkwardly clears his throat.

“Well, I’ve never known Old Petros to be hesitant to teach anyone before. Even a certain brash young student who raised a rather loud and foolish objection in the middle of one of his lectures at the university. And, although he was made to regret his bravado a few moments later after Professor Lorrimor dismantled his entire argument, the student earned a new mentor and friend – eventually. How did the rest of you happen to meet the Professor?”

[DarkOne-Rob]

Kristoph Harrisson Male Lawful Good Half-Elf Paladin 1, Level 1, Init 3, HP 13/13, Speed 20 ft (30 ft. Base) AC 19, Touch 11, Flat-footed 18, CMD 14, Fort 4, Ref 1, Will 1, CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus 1, Action Points 3 Falcata +3 (1d8+2, 19-20/x3) Breastplate, Heavy Steel Shield (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex) Abilities Str 14, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 17 Condition Smite Evil (0/1 Used)

Kristoph observes the conversation, a smirk and a smile on his face most of the time, though he is sympathetic to the mourning young lady and shows that in a more somber expression when appropriate. "If someone will help me out of my armor and spot me on the ladder, I'm sure I can clear the birds out," offers Kristoph with a hopeful look to Kendra Lorrimor. "We cannot ease your pain completely, but while we share stories we can help you with those tasks your father didn't before passing..." he continues, looking to the others to gauge their willingness.

"As for me, I met Professor Lorrimor between cities on the way to Virlych. We traveled out of convenience and for safety, which paid off. That evening, after setting camp, we were beset by a few undead. Had we been asleep in separate camps they might have killed us both. Instead, we were able to fight them off. I found him a brave and courageous man, especially for such a bookish, scholarly type," shared the Pharasman paladin as he began to unbuckle his armor carefully, taking great pain to do it properly and not make a mess of things. "I doubt you have a rack for armor, but is there a good place I can set this aside?" he asks Kendra from the emptier living room.