Carrion Crown Group 1

[Grimtina]

The journal is the professor's journal. The majority of the entries are relatively bland, accounting for day-to-day activities in a small town. The professor has circled several entries in the book with red ink, though. The final entry, dated 17 days ago, was written on the same day the Professor’s body was found.

Circles entries:

Ten Years Ago:

The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might.
Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.

Two Months Ago:

It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?

One Month Ago:

Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling
enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks
hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.

Twenty Days Ago:

It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died
the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.

Eighteen Days Ago:

I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. 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 a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.

Seventeen Days Ago:

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.

[drbraininajar]

Doran peeks out from under the table he dove for when the book was opened. After a few moments, he scrambles back to is feet, feeling quite foolish. Ahem.."Well I er, I suppose it wasn't trapped then. So what is it we've found exactly?"

Craning his neck over Ulfric's shoulder, he reads the noted pages--and his ruddy skin bleaches to an ashen cast. "Oh my..."

Doran's eyes look to each of those assembled. He then begins pacing. "Alright. There's likely no way we're not going to that prison at this point I take it." Worried though he was, his mind began to work as it did when translating tomes or performing intense research. "Whatever the case, we'll want to head to the temple of Pharasma first. No sense going into this unprepared. I'll research what I can about Harrowstone and this 'Whispering Way' as well."
He stops, turns on his heel towards the group, and says, beginning to smirk, "I'm going to need some quills, a blank journal or two, a large pot of ink, and a bag of sand."

Spoiler: Anyone Can Read

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Doran's going to use those materials to cast a LOT of Scrivener's Chant. First, he's going to copy the relevant entries in the Professor's Journal. Then he's going to copy down whatever he finds about the Whispering Way and Harrowstone. He's going to compile it all into a stack of notes he can reference on their journey.
Is there anything I need to roll for any of that?

[daelrog]

Dellis was a little embarrassed her paranoia clearly wrong in this case, though the contents only made it worse.

"There are necromancers after all then." She sighed, muttering a curse under her breath. "Pharasma has her place, but she is not my deity. I want to find out if any of theirs are amongst the people. Such as finding out who spread the rumors about our friend."

[Grimtina]

Spoiler

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No need to roill anything else, and you can find a lot of empty journals in the professor's study, as well as everything else you need

[Vhaidara]

Besix, reading over the journal, sighs.
The old man always was insane. Trying to bring down a death cult on his own?
She looks around at the others.
I don't know about you, but I feel I owe it to him to see his final act finished. Besides, undead are icky, and coming from me, that's saying something.

[Gwynfrid]

"Petros was not insane. He was one of the sanest men I had ever met. I will admit that going there on his own wasn't the safest course of action. I guess he just wanted to observe and something bad happened." Ulric speaks in a calm, low voice. "Now we know a few important things. First we must get more knowledge about the prison and the inmates. Then before exploring we could acquite some useful items; although it would involve asking permission to the Church of Pharasma."

[daelrog]

"Right. If you'll excuse me I have a tavern to go to, see what I can learn."

[Grimtina]

Spoiler

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The Outward Inn or The Laughing Demon?

[daelrog]

Spoiler

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Laughing Demon sounds more fun, we'll go with that.

[Grimtina]

The Laughing Demon is as funny an inn as the name suggests. Zokar Elkarid holds the philosophy that the best way to meet the horrors of the world is with a jest, for if one can laugh at the worst life has to offer, there remains little to fear. His warm and friendly tavern does its best to live up to this admirable philosophy, down to the menu. Zokar takes pains to come up with humorous names for his drinks and meals, with offerings like vampire steaks, wolf balls, corpse chowder, and liquid ghosts.

This time of day, nothing much is happening. Two foreign merchants, chelish from the looks of it, are eating a modest meal, discussing their next travels. Councilman Vashian Hearthmount is discussing something with a group of farmers in a corner. The discussion seems to go all well. 2 of the 5 Avanki girls - you have vaguely heard of their 5-daughter family, as they are running the general store - are chatting with what might be the daughter of one of the farmers at a table close to the window, and Vrodish, one of the deputy sherrifs who had welcomed you - kind of - is sitting at the bar chatting up the owner over some quick meal and drink. "Two elves stand on top of a tower," Zokar tells a joke. "The left one says 'now move over and let me in the middle!'"

[daelrog]

Dellis let out a laugh that was a strange combination of a guffaw and a giggle. "Not a bad one at all." She opened her flask to find it empty. "I could use a good joke or ten after a day like this." The Halfling helped herself to a barstool, getting up there a little trickier for her given her size and height. "I'll have me some wolf balls and a refill of something strong if you wouldn't mind." She motioned her empty flask for the latter.

[Grimtina]

"Sure thing," Zokar nods and goes to get the order. "At least it wasn't raining, you know? A funeral in the rain is the saddest thing ever. Except when we buried Old Masie, when the coffin fell and slipped into the grave and she fell out and stood there like the angel of death - that was something. Well, she looked like that in real life, too. To the professor!" he shouts and drowns a small glass of clear liquid, shoving one over for you, too. "

[daelrog]

"To the professor!" Dellis echoed, and downed her own drink.

"Sounds like a real mess that one, I pity and respect whoever had to put her back in. Reminds me of me granddad. Crazy old bugger wanted a traditional Ulfen funeral, where they light the ship afire as it goes off. Not half as mad as his brothers who actually went ahead with it. Not one o' them could hit the small raft they made with an arrow. Half had to run back and buy more arrows, and the other half had to run down the creek and catch the craft before it drifted to the next town." She shook her head. "Still was quite the scene a those ruffians made. Calling the Professor a necromancer. Shame not everyone appreciated Lorrimor's kindness."

[Grimtina]

"Ah, them don't know any better," the deputy sheriff, who has heard the whole story, says. "I gave them a good talking to, and so did the sheriff later. "Times are rough, and now what's all going on in the spooky department."

"No, now, Marcus" Zokar shakes his head. "Am sure most of it is made up or at least exaggerated. People have always been full of spooky tales."

"What I would really like to know," Vrodish muses, "is why the professor's head was so bashed in. I could not recognize him save for his stature and clothes and that old scar on the back of his right hand where the silly young alchemist coming through a few years back accidentally doused him with acid. Remember?"

Zokar nods, and goes to get another round of drinks while bringing the finished wolf balls.

"Anyhow," Vrodish conntinues. "He couldn't have fallen from so high, based on his position, to contract such a bad injury. I say someone has helped it along. Maybe the ghosts didn't like him sniffing around anymore."

"Don't you ever mention it to his daughter!" Zokar demands. "She doesn't need such talk."

[drbraininajar]

While the others conduct their investigations, Doran buries himself in the Professor's study. Gathering every book the old man possessed on the Whispering Way and Harrowstone, as well as the professor's journal, the young scholar sets to work. Muttering arcane words as he reads, one hand always remains gestured toward an empty journal, its pages being rapidly filled by a quill pen that moves with a life of its own. The pot of ink and bag of sand can be seen evaporating at a steady but glacial pace, the resulting magical dust swirling about and infusing the animated pen. Every so often, he stops and turns a page, or opens a new journal entirely before continuing. He assures his companions that they are welcome to canvas the town and its residents as he works. When they are ready to enter the prison itself, or if they need whatever assistance he can provide, he will be at their service at a moment's notice.

Spoiler: For Everyone

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Doran's got some research to do. He'll be happy to hear whatever clues you discover from the town and add them to his findings.

Spoiler: GM'S EYES ONLY!!!!!!!!

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What advantage might having all this info written down and organized as such give us?

Also, when the others leave, Doran's going to cast Detect Magic on the books in the chest, and try to determine if they're trapped, warded, or going to drive him mad or something if he opens them. If AND ONLY IF he can make 100% sure they're safe, he's going to start copying them too. He's got a plan just in case someone tries to steal the books Send me a PM if you want to discuss this course of action, if you need to communicate my results to me, or tell me this is a bad idea haha

[daelrog]

Dellis crammed couple wolf balls in her mouth, while listened. "She don't, and the lot of us who came to the funeral will be staying a few more weeks, make sure the girl is well, and no one in the town, tough times or not, gives her any more grief. It was in the good Professor's will that we see to it." She had thought of these words on her way over, the best way to keep Kendra out of it as clearly the Professor wanted. She wanted it spread around, so that if the Whispering Way was here, they'd have every reason to leave Kendra alone.

Dellis couldn't trust anyone in the town completely. Best if no one knew that an investigation was going on.

"An interesting theory. Hope you're wrong, deputy." She paused. "I'm already hankering to find out who started the necromancy rumor, see if there were any doom prophets or mouthy harrow card readers amongst you."

[Grimtina]

"Luckily," the deputy says, "most people here are really reasonable most of the time. You have to, with that sort of haunted building close by. Otherwise you'll lose your mental faculties rather swiftly. If I hear of anyone spreading specific rumors, I'll find you and telkl you - after talking to them. Sheriff won't stand for such nonsense, either. And it#s good you are looking out for the young woman, she is always so helpful around the village."

[Gwynfrid]

"Well, if everyone goes to their own enquiries, I might as well make myself useful too." Ulric walks out and goes in search of the Pharasmin Temple.

Spoiler

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Grimtina, could you please indicate what time of day it is right now? If it's not the appropriate time to visit the clerics right now, then I'll do it in the morning.

[Vhaidara]

Besix will be joining Doran in his research. Townsfolk don't usually like it when a smelly, ugly ratling interrupts their meals.

[Grimtina]

On his way ot the temple Ulric gets a few urious looks, and crossing the roofed bridge a few children follow him for a bit, until they realize he is only going to the temple.

The temple is perhaps the most mpressive building in Ravengro. Its eastern facade displays an intricate stained-glass mural depicting a stern Pharasma judging Count Andachi, one of Tamrivena’s most infamous previous rulers. One of the acolytes is working on cleaning it upon Ulric's arrival. As she notices him, her hands draw a spiral in front of her, a greeting in the name of her godess. "May I help you with something?" she asks friendly.

[daelrog]

"Much appreciated, deputy." She turned back to Zokar. "This seems like a nice place. What about the other one? Outsiders... Outcasts... whatever it's called? That place worth a look. Sell me on what a dump it is."

[Grimtina]

"The Outward Inn. Great place, too, big in entertainment. Sometimes Sarina Vai, the owner, is performing herself. . Although now retired, she was once a singer of some repute in Caliphas, and her voice remains strong and beautiful to hear"

[daelrog]

"Heh, no competitive spirit, eh? All right, I'll go check the Outward Inn too, see how good a voice the lady has." She offered the man a wink before shoving the last part of the meal in her mouth, walking out while still chewing.

[Grimtina]

Going through Ravengro to get to the Outward Inn, something strange happens. A set of silent ghostly tracks starts to form, making its way past Dellis, headed in the direction of Harrowstone. From the shape and depth of the tracks They seem to be created by a wagon being drawn by a team of horses. The tracks vanish before Dellis' eyes just a moment later.

[daelrog]

Dellis stopped. Cold. She wished she had a drink on hand. If there was any doubt that the place was haunted, it was gone now, her eyes moving to Harrowstone. A blessing of Pharasma would do her well before they went to the prison. For now, she continued on her way to the Outward Inn. It would be her last side stop before returning back to the others.

[Gwynfrid]

Arriving at the temple, Ulric politely answers the acolyte with the same sign she just made, before bowing to her. "I wish to talk with Father Grimburrow, if that would be possible. Please let him know that Ulric Izzorden, a friend of the late Professor Lorrimor, wishes to speak to him of grave concerns tied to the Professor's passing."

Spoiler

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Diplomacy (1d20+7)[27]

[Grimtina]

The Outward Inn is a friendly place, with cozy curtains, tables with brightly colored cloths and chairs, and a bar that would, in a city, be considered to be more brothrel-style, but here it gives a grandmotherly impression. Not many people are around, just an older couple sipping some coffee and cake, obviously engaging in some romantic meeting. There is a short human woman (or maybe a large dwarf? Hard to tell) behind the bar, cleaning the wooden surface while whistling.


The acolyte nods. "I will see if the Father is available. Please come in." Then she rushes off.

A moment later, Father Grimburrow arrives at the temple's anteroom, making Pharasma's sign and bowing slightly. "How may I be of assistance?"

[daelrog]

Still a bit shaken by what she had seen, she went up to the bar, with far less enthusiasm than she had at the Laughing Demon. "Have anything good for dessert?"

[Gwynfrid]

Ulric responds in kind to the priest, with the Pharasmin sign, and speaks calmly and deliberately.

"Father, as you know, I am one of the friends of Professor Lorrimor, whom we committed to Pharasma's rest today. We went to his home with Miss Kendra, and were given a reading of the Professor's will. It contains grave news for the town of Ravengro. His research shows that the Whispering Way, this cabal of dark necromancers, has been here, and is seeking something. The Professor believed it was linked to the Harrowstone prison, so he went to explore there, several times. And he died, in the most strange manner. I fear his passing was no accident; he discovered things that the Way didn't want known. I seek your help, Father, in uncovering the mystery that he couldn't unearth any further. The Professor's journal indicates that information about the jail and the prisoners could be found here, in the Temple of Pharasma's archives."

Spoiler

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Diplomacy (1d20+7)[19]

[Grimtina]

The woman at the bar lifts an eyebrow. "Sure, chocolate cream, apple cake or raspberry pudding?" she asks. "You look a bit shaken, what happened to you?"



Father Grimborrow frowns. "I have heard of that cult, if only in passing. I would not worry too much about such talks, but if Pofessor Lorrimor has had his suspicions, then it is indeed good to follow up on it. Of course the means of the tempel are at your disposal." He pauses for a moment. "Don't be too surprised if nothing turns up though, not all of the professor's ideas and discoveries were useful."