Carrion Crown With a Touch of Ravenloft

[♠Spade♠]

It has been several weeks since you received the letter and began your travel to the small town of Ravengro. Ustalev is a foreboding place. On your trip you saw mostly fields in need of plowing and the occasional peasant who would stop whatever they were doing and watch you with dark, suspicious gazes until you had passed beyond sight.

It's windy and far more chill than early fall should be when you arrive in Ravengro. The sky is a flat gray and drizzled on and off all morning making everything seem dreary. Upon arrival, you see an impressive set of wrought-iron gates that mark the entrance to the Restlands and a similar fence that runs the perimeter of the graveyard. A small group of people are standing outside the gates, talking quietly among themselves, collars and hoods drawn up against the rain.

A simple unadorned coffin of rich oak sits atop a cart pulled by a solitary, undernourished-looking nag. If the half dozen or so people present represent the only mourners, it is a small turnout indeed. The group consists of three men, a younger boy and a three women. You would guess that two of the men are past middle-age but their appearances are vastly different. One is short and pudgy with several chins and a pale sweaty appearance. The other is tall and broad shouldered with a thick head of silver hair and a handsome goatee. The third man is middle aged and thick in the body. The boy beside him is thin as a reed, but their features are similar enough that you suspect close relation. One of the women is also middle-aged, short and small-framed. She wears a small hat that does nothing to protect her from the rain and huddles under a parasol. another woman looks vaguely similar to Petros, and you assume that she is his daughter. There is another woman there as well, with black hair and steely eyes.

Your arrival seems to bring your acquaintance's daughter back to the present, and she gives herself a small shake before gracing you with a wan smile. "Hello. You must be Father’s old friends, the ones mentioned in his will. I am Kendra Lorrimor and these are Concilman Hearthmount, Councilman Muricar, Zokar and Pevrin Elkarid, Jominda Fallenbridge, and another who has come to morn father's passing" she says, gesturing to each individual in turn. "Might I have your names please?"

The others cease murmuring and look at the newcomers with tempered interest.

[The Vagabond]

The young malnorished man looked at her sadly, and in minor terror. He silently nods.
"I am Isaac..." he said, silently looking around in a minor panic. His stance is unstable, his eyes shifting in terror. It's quite obvious that he is not entirely stable, but is trying to maintain some semblance of normality.

[Nixed]

Jace had never been to a place as nice as this. He clearly did not belong, and surely would have bolted already if not for the piece of paper clutched in his hand saying he could be there. Being in Ustalev is bad. Being surrounded by strangers in a cemetery in Ustalev all of whom were better dressed was worse. Better dressed despite having purchased new clothing for the occasion. Clothing which was ill fitting and much less comfortable than his usual homemade traveling gear.

All this weighed on his mind as Kendra introduced the others and he desperately tried to remember their names and other important information all while doing his best not to fidget. The nervousness of the man next to him might have offered some comfort had he enough consciousness to realize he wasn't the only one feeling that way, but he did not.

Then Isacc spoke and he realized everyone was then looking at him and he was supposed to do something. He blinked momentarily before blurting out "Jacimalke, ma'am." Then what he thought was forever but was likely no more than an instant he fills the sound with rambling. "Call me Jace." A cough and another awkward pause. "Sorry for your loss." He almost starts again before the next person finally saves him.

[stack]

A young, dark haired man stood still and upright, the bottom of his white tabbard blowing softly in the cool breeze, a Pharasman spiral hanging from his neck above the black rose adorning his chest. Below the tabbard were simple, gray clothes, armor having no place on the solemn occasion.

Augustin was no stranger to funerals, feeling rather in his element. he had officiated over the rites many times himself since he received his gift. Everyone in Ustalav knows their importance. Its not just about saying goodbye, but about ensuring that the goodbye is final.

He steps forward and introduces himself with a bow, "I am Augustin of House Dragos. You father mentioned you warmly. My condolences on your loss, he was a good man and faithful friend, though I knew him briefly. He will certainly find a worthy reward." He bows again and steps back returning to his solemn vigil.

[raspberrybadger]

The short black haired man in a grey scholar's robe walks into Ravengro. All the way here, he's stuffed down his internal complaint about all the walking with the thought of duty to attend the funeral. The more serious complaint about being away from his home and his books he has met with the prospect of a stay in a much nicer home, where there may well be books he's never seen.

The sight of the graveyard turns his slightly sour expression outright glum. Seeing the others, he looks around clearly trying to access the situation. Both his eyes and his hands have a nervous twitch at the moment, but when introductions are called for, he carefully memorizes the other names. In the process, he remembers that while names were asked for, the others have offered condolences as well, so now he must do likewise. After there is a short pause, he takes this as his turn to speak, saying "My name is Aredeh Black. Professor Lorrimor's passing is a true loss to the community of scholars, but your loss must be more personal. My condolences."

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

Myraan approaches the group in his traveler's clothes, dusty from the trail, bow in his hand. The thin elf, covered in his cloak to protect him from the elements with his bright eyes gleaming out from under the hood.

Looking at all the others he suddenly feels an outsider. He bows. "Good morrow, my name is Myraan." He approaches Kendra and takes her hands. "I am sorry for your loss, my dear."

[Ionbound]

A young woman in heavy armor and the bearing of a priestess in a chapel not their own sits in the back of the church. So this is where you've gone, then? Well...At least you kept up the good work. And I'll carry on your memory, van Richten. For Ezra, for Mordent, and for this world that should remain untouched by the mists.

With this thought in mind, she approaches the group and says, "Greeting. I am Enora. I have...Traveled a long way to get here. Your father was a great man, Ms. Lorrimor. I mourn his passing, and pray that he finds peace in death."

[♠Spade♠]

"Thank you" she says in response to the kind words. "This has been most difficult for me." Glancing briefly at the sky as though trying to gauge the time, she continues "I suppose we should begin. We have a custom called the Dreamwake. I will walk the path to my father's grave, followed by the pallbearers and his coffin. The rest of the mourners shall follow the coffin." Kendra looks around at those assembled, "Who will volunteer to bear my father along his final journey?"

[stack]

Augustin steps forward. "I would be honored, my lady. Though I should not be in the front, of course." He gestures towards his clouded eyes.

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

Myraan looks slightly awkward as if unsure of what to due and what to do with his bow. For a moment it seems he will step forward, but then he does not. His eyes look to the others.

[Nixed]

Jace

Steps forward and stands next to the casket. Relieved to have something he can do to stay occupied.

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

Myraan takes a half step forward. "I did not know your father well, but if you need another I would be honored."

[The Vagabond]

Isaac nods, silently staring down.
"He was a good man... Closest I've had to a friend..."

Spoiler: Bluff to try not to cry.

Show

(1d20+4)[10]
If such a thing might be will, then (1d20+2)[8]

[Ionbound]

Enora steps back as she says, "I do not believe the late Professor van R-Lorrimor would care for me to bear him. I've never met the man, simply heard tell of his deeds and came to pay my respects."

[raspberrybadger]

Aredeh doesn't want to deal with making decisions and coordinating with people. When he sees he can respectfully decline the offer to carry the body, he decides he's less likely to mess this up if he just walks behind the pallbearers. He shakes his head briefly to indicate that he is not volunteering, and then gets in position behind the coffin as best as he can figure out how.

[♠Spade♠]

With Augustin, Jace, Myraan, and Isaac lifting the coffin, Kendra takes the lead. Kendra leads the somber procession along a gravel pathway that winds through the cemetery. The crunch of gravel sounds loud to your ears, only punctuated by the occcasional squelch of mud where the gravel has thinned. As the procession begins to round a corner onto another path, the way ahead is blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals. The tallest of these toughs is an elderly but wiry old man who calls out “That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”

Kendra's mournful visage quickly transforms to a furious one. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already been-”

“You don’t get it, woman." The man cuts her off, "We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”

“Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?”

[raspberrybadger]

Aredeh's face hardens into a scowl, thinking Fools. If a cleric has made his decision, how will complaining to the daughter help? Useless argument. They do this to a respected local though, I best keep any magic out of sight.

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

Myraan, bow over his shoulder and holding up the coffin, struggles to comprehend what is being said by the locals. A necromancer? The professor helped him fight his mother who was clearly evil and he seemed a very good man in the short interaction he had with him. Myraan, even though his mother was a wizard, knew little of magic. It didn't seem to him that the professor was a necromancer in any way. Maybe it was just superstitious people. In any case he wished he had his bow in his hand. It helped him feel safe and think.

[The Vagabond]

Isaac glared at the man.
To put it simply, though he didn't state so, he was angry. Very angry. The type that you really, really don't want to face.
"... how dare you..."

Spoiler: Rolls!

Show

Rolling for intimidate;
(1d20+4)[24]
If I need to say something to him, use that as a Convey secret information use of bluff, and this as my bluff roll to pass.
(1d20+4)[22]
DC 15

"Explain to me why you say that." he said, quite frank, blunt, and, to be honest, angry. Not the loud anger like most people, a quieter anger, the type that burns a hole into people's chest. The feeling that, if you don't comply, bad, horrible things will happen to you, and you will deeply regret every single word you said.
It was the intense anger of a soft man.

[Ionbound]

Enora steps forwards and says loudly, "It matters not whether this man was a necromancer or not! He is dead now, truly dead, and deserves rest like any other man!"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

This is probably going to fail horridly, but Diplomacy! (1d20+2)[13]

[Nixed]

Jace

Stays quiet as the others jump into the argument. More voices are only going to confuse and exacerbate the situation. He slowly shifts the weight of the casket as he does though, getting himself ready just in case.

[stack]

Augustin lowers his share of the weight, stepping forward towards the voices and raising the Pharasman spiral from his neck. "Good people of Ravengro, my countrymen, who has set this rumor among you? Why do you stand in the way of this procession performing its most sacred duties? Would you affront the Lady of Graves at her very gate? I myself was dispossed by the foul undead, would I stand here bearing a necromancer? Even if he was, you do not wish the dead to rise and take vengeance for denying them their rest. Stand aside and go in peace, do not commit this heinous offense."

Spoiler: diplomacy

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(1d20+8)[15]

[♠Spade♠]

Growling, the spokesman begins to move forward followed by part the group blocking your way. About half the group, including the spokesman, seems content to remain back and shout encouragement to their companions, or berate the funeral party. Six men begin to move towards you. The men really aren't anything more than dirty peasants, not wearing any sort of armor or protective gear, and heft a variety of farming implements rather than actual weapons.

Spoiler

Show

Diplomacy (taking the best result possible): 15(roll from Augustin)+2(assist from Enora)=17
DC: 20>17 [Failed]

Roll for initiative, please.

(1d100)[12]% for coffin shenanigans.
Excellent! The other three characters succeed in holding it up. It is a full round action to set it down without the chance of dropping it.

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

Myraan helps put the coffin down.

Spoiler: Crunch

Show

Initiative (1d20+7)[23]

[Ionbound]

Enora steps forward, shield raised, hand on the pommel of her sword, and she shouts, "Cease this madness at once! You have no reason to attack us! Please, calm down!"

Spoiler: Initiative

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(1d20+1)[8]

[raspberrybadger]

Aredeh doesn't actually say it, but he's thinking Only in Ustulav. They are really going to do this, aren't they.

He gets out his crossbow and loads it, just in case he's wrong and there's still a chance for sanity. It's not like they are going to win, but it doesn't look like they know that.

Spoiler: Initiative

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(1d20+1)[6]

[Smileybastard]

Myraan

"Please, lets not let this turn to violence. No one wants this funeral to be the source of more funerals. There is enough death to go around as it is."

Spoiler: Crunch

Show

Diplomacy (1d20-1)[8]

[Nixed]

Jace

This is why you avoid 'civilization'. Jace thought to himself as the situation escalates. Following Myraan's lead he lowers the coffin with the others. Once free of the burden he loads his musket hoping if the others attempts at placating the mob doesn't work, a show of superior fire power might.

Spoiler: Init

Show

(1d20+6)[18]

[The Vagabond]

Isaac glares, staring at them.
"There has been bloodshed, do you want more? If you attack, know that we WILL retaliate. And you will fall. I don't want trouble. Let us pass."

Spoiler

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diplomacy
(1d20+4)[11]

Initiative
(1d20-2)[18]

[♠Spade♠]

Battle Map

Spoiler

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Bad guys' initiative: (1d20+0)[17]