Carrion Crown Season One IC

[The_Snark]

Everything seems strangely quiet after the battle. Without people crying out in pain or warning, the thrumming of stirge-wings, and the eerie interplay of Zellara's song and the unseen flutist, all Irina can hear is the sound of her own heartbeat, still hammering with adrenaline. Harrowing though this was, she can't help but feel, well, victorious - she must have killed half a dozen of the little things, and come out unscathed. The only injury she's suffered is having her hands coated in a gory mix of blood and ichor...

... which is admittedly disgusting, now that she's no longer distracted by the rush of battle. There must be something around here she can use to wash her hands. A stream would be best, a well would suffice; since she won't find either of those on the road, a spare waterskin or a kerchief someone won't miss too much will have to do. The guards must have something to clean blood off their weapons after using them, right?

"Oh, no -" Irina holds up her hands to demur as the guard offers to give up his seat, realizing only too late that that's not the most reassuring gesture at the moment. "I was just looking for something to clean up with. People might get the wrong idea if I walk into Ravengro with my hands dripping red, you know?" She flashes him a smile as she backs off. Obnoxious as the man's leering is, she'd rather that than spreading rumors about her uncanny knack for violence... even if part of her does feel vindictively satisfied at the hint of fear in his eyes.

To Irina”My thanks to you as well, Miss Irina.” he says with a respectful nod. He eyes her hands curiously, remembering how she shaped them into claws. ”That was an interesting ability you displayed there. Was that a magical effect? I’ve heard that some magical bloodlines allows for such claws.” he says with interest, no indication of disgust or fear evident.

"I've little knowledge of magic," she says to Aaron guardedly. There's no accusation in his voice, but she can't help but be uneasy talking about this - especially not out in the open, where any of a dozen people might overhear. ( Not that privacy would help, if past experience with Professor Lorrimor is any indication.) "A scholar I know thought it might be a sign of something inhuman in my ancestry, but neither of my parents ever said anything about that, and I would think they'd know."

She holds up one hand, fingers splayed. The nails come to a point rather than an oval shape, and they're perhaps a little longer and thicker than usual, but otherwise they look normal. If she hadn't just torn apart a beast with her bare hands, it would be easy to overlook. "They're just... sharp. It's not that strange, is it?"

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 (19) | FF: 14 (18) | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 0/1 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None. After the intense battle, Alexanna takes a moment to catch her breath, her adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She feels a mix of relief and pride in her companions, knowing that they fought bravely and effectively against the ambush. Despite the injuries and chaos, they emerged victorious, and she feels a surge of camaraderie and gratitude towards them. Lars, Ekard, and Valerija "Quite the fight," she exclaimed, her chest still heaving from the exertion of battle, "Were it not for your courage and bravery, I fear the outcome may have been far less favorable. Let us ensure we arrive in Ravengro unscathed, for our journey together is not yet over." She looked nervously towards the woods, "The one who directed those vermin remains at large, let us remain vigilant even as our destination draws near." Zellara & Companion When Zellara offers her a Harrow reading as a token of gratitude, Alexanna's curiosity is piqued. She's always been intrigued by divination and the mystic arts, and the chance to gain insight from Zellara's talents is appealing. Plus, after such a harrowing experience, a bit of spiritual guidance might be just what she needs to center herself and reflect on the events of the day. "Thank you, Zellara," Alexanna says with a nod, her voice still tinged with the remnants of battle. "I would be honored to receive a Harrow reading from you. And I'm sure my companions would appreciate the opportunity as well. We'll definitely stop by your camp later to take you up on your offer." Fatima "Fatima," the lady inclined her head, "your alchemical intervention was nothing short of miraculous. Without your swift action, I fear I would have succumbed to the lashes of thorn and vine. Your bravery and quick thinking saved not only me but all of us. You have my deepest gratitude." She looked towards the horse that pulled the merchant's coach, "I think I shall see how our equestrian friend fairs." As the caravan begins to move again, Alexanna's thoughts turn to the injured horse and the slower pace they'll now have to maintain. She resolves to do what she can to assist with the wounded animal and ensure its comfort during the journey back to Ravengro.

Spoiler: Out of Character Actions

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[Farmerbink]

Elian smiles easily at Aaron's praise. "It seemed to help us, but I can't help but wonder where so many of the flying vermin came from in the first place! Such a terribly swarm to be flocking nearby." He pauses for a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the natural branches hanging near the roadway. "Of course, they were likely brought by whoever was playing that music...." Frowning, he is stirred from his musing by Luramin's sudden call.

Elian looks up at the merchant with a brief expression of surprise. "Of course, friend," he smiles, inclining his head slightly. "Truth be told, I'm unsure how long I plan to stay, but I'm pleased to be able to help keep you safe." He smiles with a bit of a wry, knowing gaze, which rapidly succumbs to fatigue.

Spoiler: OOC for Inspectre

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If you'd like, a bluff check. Elian does not, and did not care in the slightest about Luramin's safety in particular. XD He was very much invested in helping keep Kristoph safe, and of course had nothing against Luramin. (1d20+8)[20] to keep that very much to himself.

"I'll gladly take you up on the offer of a ride, however. Only give me a moment, first?" Without waiting for a response, he hustles to the back of the caravan, making no effort to hide his concern for Irina, Zellara, and the rest of the ladies he had previously been traveling alongside. His relief is genuine as he spies them all well, and apparently still unhurt. "Ah good, good," he murmurs. Inclining his head respectfully, he adds "I only wanted to ensure you're all still in good health," he explains. "Do stay that way, yes? I'll see you again in Ravengro." With a brilliant smile, he departs, to let himself rest in Luramin's carriage.

Passing by Adivion's carriage, he pauses long enough to peer inside and offer a word of gratitude of his own. "I much appreciate the assistance, master wizard." Bowing in thanks, he continues forward.

"Gods, you've been holding out on us, goodman!" Elian chides good-naturedly to the merchant as he steps into the man's wagon. "Had I known how comfortable this carriage was, I'd still have lacked the coin to ride earlier." Laughing easily, Elian does his best to hide his bone-deep fatigue.

[Rilem]

"Here, why don't you continue to wear my scarf for another day or two, until these bites on your neck are healed. We don't want to give the ignorant yokels in Ravengro any ideas, do we?

Fatima can’t help but give a weak laugh as she wraps the scarf around the still-oozing wounds. “Yes, that is all I need,” she remarks, adjusting the scarf below her existing hair wrap. “At this rate I’ll be all scarf within a day or two.”

She lowers her eyes in thanks at Alexanna’s praise. “It was you brave enough to step up to the thing,” she replies. “I only wish I was swifter; the poor horse might have suffered less.”

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija glances at Alexanna at her exclamation. "I'd prefer to fight a foe that is present and not a sound in the wind and flies to swat, but yes, we were able to work together to repel the attack and will need to keep a lookout for more," she says, sheathing her shortsword and wiping down her longsword before also putting it away as they moved to the back of the caravan. "At least Ravengro is close."

Valerija accepts the flask from the odd trader with a nod and turns to Zelarra. "I believe it was your music that may have given us the means to win the day, so I offer my thanks to you," she replies. When Aaron and Alexanna replied to the Varisian woman's offer, Valerija has a realization. "Ah! So this 'Harrow reading' is some way to foretell the future? Sort of a way to emulate the prophetic power of the Norns? That might be interesting to witness."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Kristoph & Elian

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As Luramin's driver begins to get his carriage moving again, the merchant leans out the window.

"Hold a moment there!"

He then looks to the two of you - "Thank you both very, very much for your aid in keeping me - er, my carriage and driver safe! Without the two of you around, something terrible might have happened indeed! I'd like to reward you for your bravery, but um . . . I'm a little short on coin at the moment, at least until I start selling some of these goods I'm bringing back to town. Hrm . . . oh, I know! You'll need lodgings during your stay in Ravengro, right? Well you just tell Sarianna when you get to the inn that Luramin owes you a favor, and that I'll be covering the cost for the duration of your stay . . . you aren't planning on staying in Ravengro more than a week, right?"

The merchant thinks a moment more, and then shoves the carriage door open, waving you both inside.

"Least I can do is give you both a rest from walking the last little bit into Ravengro as well! Er . . . no charge, no charge."

Luramin adds sheepishly a moment later, perhaps re-considering his prior extortionate offer earlier in the journey for a seat.

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 takes several long moments to catch his breath and confirm that all are (mostly) alright after the battle. "What a horrible, strange ambush that was," he says as he helps the frontmost guards clear the fallen log out of the way. Once back at the front wagon he smiles as he accepts Luramin's invitation. "One moment - let me clean off my boots and sword - wouldn't do to get your merchandise dirty," he says as he takes a moment to wipe down both and then climbs inside behind Elian.

"Mr. Elian, right? We haven't spoken much, but I think I caught your name earlier. Well done with that illusion magic, though it's too bad you weren't able to spy out the flutist. I hate to leave violent brigands free to harass future caravans..."

[Narbaculus]

After the massive tree trunk has been cut up and cleared from the road, Ekard takes a few minutes to clean the stirge blood from his urgrosh, then to re-attach the leather sheaths that cover the blades. Settling the weapon back on his shoulder, he acknowledges Lars's compliment. "Thank you; I've worked hard to become so. As for drinking, I'll have to take you up on that offer. I daresay we've all earned a pleasant night!"

Ekard looks to the rest of the caravan, on the move once more. Surprising, how many extraordinary folks are to be found in so small a company! He is loath to distrust them; all of them shared the hazards of combat equally. Certainly, none of them seemed to see the ambush coming, except for...Hm. Ekard glances at the plant remains on the side of the road as he walks by what is left of the ambush. Apart from some narrow striations and a few thorns, the carnivorous plants appear utterly commonplace. Before they moved, he would've counted them harmless. How did Fatima identify them so quickly, and from so far away?

"...let us remain vigilant even as our destination draws near." Alexanna's words of caution remind Ekard that they are not, so to speak, out of the woods yet. Nodding seriously as she and the scarred woman move back to the end of the caravan, he resolves to keep an eye out—and in. Resuming his march behind the supply wagon, Ekard hands Irina a cleaning cloth—still stained with gore.

[Farmerbink]

Reclining on the bench in Luramin's carriage, Elian inclines his head to Kristoph. "Indeed, and well met, Sir Kristoph. Don't be too concerned, I make it a point to know as much as I can about the people I spend time with. And you in particular don't keep your cards too close to the chest- it seems, everyone in the caravan has a tidbit or two about 'that odd warrior fellow'!" He laughs good-naturedly at the obvious (and deliberately poor) impression of Lars.

Thinking for a longer moment about his companion's words, Elian frowns a bit. "Yes, he was... or she- probably it, if we're being totally honest- was... odd. The sound seemed to come from all sides at once. Like the flautist was bouncing around like an imp in a vat of holy water. I will admit some concern, but hopefully the relative safety in the numbers of Ravengro proper will be enough to dissuade any further issues... well, for us." It seems clear the lithe sorcerer doesn't much share his companion's concerns for the road safety in general. "I'd be overstepping to say that I was confident we could have been victorious in an outright fight. I'm not familiar with many things that can do that, and not eager in the slightest to find out what it was."

[Inspectre]

A bit slower now, the caravan continues on its journey to Ravengro. Fortunately, as it turns out you really didn't have far to go at all. After rounding the next bend in the road, the forest thins out a bit to reveal a few scattered farms that the road winds past, and then beyond them, the compact cluster of buildings that is the town of Ravengro.

Music Theme

The road that you are presently on approaches Ravengro from the north, roughly parallel to the wide but slow-flowing river that cuts the modest town of several dozen buildings in half. Most of these are one or two story wooden homes although on your current side of the river, the west bank, there sits a sizable church made of stone. Beyond the back of the church is a sizable graveyard, fenced off from the rest of the area by chest-high stone walls although these seem more to mark the boundaries of the graveyard than for security.

Situated around the church at a respectful distance are several houses that could be deemed the “affluent” section of Ravengro, as they are larger than the others clustered across the river and one is even three stories high. That being said, they are still constructed out of the same drab wood as the other buildings and have the same weathered air as the rest of the town – which one could describe the town as not sleepy, but tired.

Passage over the river is provided by two rickety covered wooden bridges at the north and south end of town, and it is on the east bank of the river that the majority of buildings squat in a rough circle. Ravengro does indeed have a town square of sorts, in the form of a muddy circle of roads surrounding an old gazebo perched on a grassy bump (rather than hill) in the middle. Lining this circle like spokes from a wheel are the vast majority of buildings in the town, most of which have faded signs hanging above the front that indicate the local blacksmith, apothecary, inn and the like.

The road continues south out from this circle of buildings past a dozen or so more homes, and then winds its way back into the woods beyond Ravengro. Most likely, this road eventually terminates in the foreboding black stone building that squats on a hilltop several miles further south outside of town, and which is just visible over the tops of the trees.

As your caravan nears the town proper and starts to pass the graveyard, Zellara guides her horses off of the road and turns to Aaron, Alexanna, and Valerija.

“I think this is where we will set up for the evening, just outside of town and at a respectful distance away from this place of eternal rest. I imagine that you will be much more comfortable at the local inn than on the ground out of here, and I’m afraid our wagon only has enough room for myself and my traveling companion. So I guess this is where we shall part ways for now. Pharasma guide your path.”

Her mysterious traveling companion does not even bother to poke his head out the door to speak his own farewells.

The caravan continues on its way across the northern bridge, passing by a large log driven upright into the ground beside the road just beyond the bridge. A teenaged boy balances precariously on top of a stool next to the log, attaching a finger-long slip of paper to the side of the log by hammering a tack into place.

Before reaching the town square, the caravan is forced to briefly come to a halt in front of a modest building with a faded sign depicting a scroll unfurling itself hanging above the door. The reason for the halt is the gaggle of half a dozen children bursting out of the front door of the building as the caravan approaches, running out into the street with a chorus of merry giggles. An older man with more salt than pepper in his beard follows them out, yelling at them to clear out of the way and to stop playing in the street, which at least manages to get them out of the caravan’s way even if the children continue to merrily run along on their way.

Spoiler: Perception DC 10

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As the man storms out of the building after the children, one final child, a very pale waif-like little girl of perhaps seven or eight, quietly slips out the door behind him. Unlike the other children running off, she very solemnly and quietly walks off along the side of the street, head bowed as if deep in thought. It’s probably a good thing that she is off to one side of the road and away from the caravan, as it does not look as if she has even noticed its existence at this point.

As the caravan makes its way into the muddy circle that marks the town square, Luramin’s carriage and wagon pull up in front of one of the first buildings on the eastern side of the circle, with the words “Taigh’s General Store” painted on the front in peeling black paint. As Luramin is stepping down out of the carriage, the front door to the store bangs open and the merchant is immediately swarmed by three young girls. It’s hard to tell if they’re shrieking “Daddy!” or “Candy!” – possibly both – but Luramin certainly seems to understand as he laughs and digs into the pocket of his vest to pull out a handful of small hard sweets, which he distributes one to each of the girls, as well as the two slightly older girls who came running from the gaggle of children still running down the road.

Luramin’s joyous return sours, however, when a moment later two women also step out of the shop. The one is clearly the girls’ mother as she laughs and lightly scolds the five girls, telling them to give their father some space. The other woman – whose features are certainly exotic in Ustalav, a blend of Tian and Elven - has a coldness in her eyes as she snaps shut her pocketwatch and slips it into the pocket of her silk blouse.

“I was expecting you yesterday Luramin – you’re late.”

She said by way of greeting, and Luramin’s frown deepens.

“It couldn’t be helped. The caravan left a day late, and given that we ran into some trouble on the way back, I’d say that waiting was probably the right decision, all in all. Sorry about one of your carriage horses, by the way – it nearly got eaten by a plant that attacked our caravan.”

“Godsdamnit! Well, I suppose I’ll just have to find another use for it, then. As for you Luramin, as I was telling Marta here, now you’ve got twenty-nine days, and not a second more.”

“What!? I literally just got back with my stock! We agreed thirty days from my return back in Ravengro!”

“And if you had read the contract, you’ll know it had an expected return date listed on it – yesterday. Money doesn’t sleep Luramin – twenty-nine days from now, and not a second more.”

If Luramin was going to make any more arguments, they are interrupted by a loud bang from the supply wagon, as Lars who had been unloading the crates and sacks from the wagon onto the muddy street, slips and drops the crate he had been carrying onto the pile. He sheepishly waves an apology to Luramina, while the other guards scoff and jeer at their fellow’s clumsiness.

“Hey, careful with that! Wait, are you seriously just going to unload the crates here, in the middle of the street!? You can’t even carry them inside!?”

“And if you had read the contract, you would know that *my* wagon would deliver your goods to your shop. Here is your shop – if you had wanted them to stock your shelves for you as well, you should have asked it to be included.”

The woman says smugly, nodding at her guards as they unload the last of the cargo and both carriage and supply wagon pull out further down the street, pulling into an alleyway between two buildings, one of which has a sign depicting a half-open bag of coins above its door. The woman nods her head with a final self-satisfied smile at Luramin.

“I will see you in twenty-nine days with your return on the principal of your loan, along with the promised interest. Or I won’t, in which case I believe our contract stipulates the penalty.”

Luramin swears under his breath and angrily waves the woman off, his good mood from the childrens’ greeting gone. As the half-elven woman struts off, the merchant sighs and walks over to the pile of boxes and sacks left in the mud, hefting the top one on the pile onto his shoulder.

“Come on girls, help your old man out. Marta, just need you to hold the front door open there. Ah, Sir Kristoph and Mister . . . Elian, wasn’t it? Building next door here is the inn, just go talk to Sarianna and she’ll take good care of you. Once you leave the square, keeping going south down the road, Lorrimor’s house is the second on your right.”

While Luramin is having his drama out in front of his shop, Adivon has exited his carriage, and once Fatima has also disembarked, dismisses the entire construct with a wave of his hand.

“Well . . . isn’t this a . . . quaint . . .little hamlet.”

Adivon observes, looking down at his fine boots in the churned mud of Ravengro’s town square with some obvious distaste. He forces a faint smile back onto his face as he turns to nod at his traveling companion.

“I believe this will be where we part ways, my young friend. I’m going to go see what sort of rooms they have available at this inn next door, and then I suppose I shall see how old Petros is getting along here.”


(The party is currently standing just in front of the location marked “F” on the map, in the town circle on the east side of the river. Right next to it is location "K", the Outward Inn where you can find lodging. And as indicated to Kristoph by Luramin, Lorrimor's house is location "N".)

Spoiler: Ravengro Map

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(I have also added to the first post of the OOC thread some character portraits for some of the major NPCs you've met thus far - Luramin, Quess Yearburn (the female moneylender who had just greeted Luramin home), and of course, everybody's favorite second-favorite professor, Professor Adivion).

-Lingering Status-
Kristoph -1 Con
Elian -1 Con
Fatima -2 Con (Disease?)
Ekard -1 Con

[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)

As the caravan enters the town and stops, Kristoph raises his voice and addresses the travelers. "If anyone else wishes to thank the Mother of Souls for our safe battle this day and the end of our travels together I will be glad to lead. Gather around, please!" he calls out, inviting everyone to a spot just to the front of the middle of the wagon train. Once everyone interested has come and made an arc he begins by drawing a ceremonial dagger and using it to trace the spiral of Pharasma over the assembled group. "Lady of Graves, mysteries, and keeper of the Boneyard, we thank you this day that we can say, 'Not this year, not yet.' When it is time we will see your face, as all must. For now we take joy in another opportunity to enjoy the cycles of this season and drink of the waters of life. Bless us and those around us," he ends silently making the sign of Pharasma's spiral on his breast, tracing the bright blue spiral on his overcoat and raising his head to look at the caravan. As he ends his prayer Kristoph demonstrates a happy, zealous joy - it's clear to anyone paying attention that he's passionate about his deity, though unusually pleasant and life-oriented for a worshipper of the Lady of Graves.

After watching the spat between the two business-people the Paladin doesn't just walk off, instead helping with the crates as best he is allowed. "I cannot help with your contract, but if you need anything I can provide, please let me know," he offers as he puts down the last one. "You have a lovely family. I'll be back after I visit the Professor," he says to Luramin, seriously.

[Gyrfalcon]

Before they return to the wagons

Aaron notices Irina's distaste for the mess (quite literally) on her hands and casts a minor cantrip that causes the blood bug-monster guts to fade from her hands and clothes. "[Prestidigitation], probably the most cast spell in the world. You know, once I learned this cantrip I used it to put myself through school in Absalom? The nobility and wealthy would pay for students from the magic schools to come in neat uniforms and clean their houses from top to bottom with this spell. I wouldn't say it's hard work - cleaning by hand when I was a boy was far more intensive - but one does develop a concentration headache if you cast the same cantrip over and over for hours on end."

Reaching Ravengro
Once they reach down, Aaron jumps down somewhat stiffly from the wagon seat and whistles his familiar over, back to his shoulder as he hoists his pack for more walking. "My thanks for the lift, Miss Zellara. I need to see the Professor first, and then find lodging in town. I wish you a good night, and the Gray Lady's blessing upon you for your aid this day."

He joins other interested devotees, a gloved finger tracing the spiral of Pharasma in the air alongside the paladin as he murmurs his prayers of thanks.

As they walk into the town, his eye is caught not by the rowdy gaggle of laughing and playing children, but by the quiet waif standing alone. The image catches his heartstrings, and he makes a note to himself to ask after the child's story later.

Standing with the others, Aaron frowns at the cold-eyed half-elf's antics. Despite his sore muscles, he lets his little familiar find a perch nearby as he joins the self-proclaimed Paladin in helping the merchant get his stock indoors, focusing on lighter bags and smaller crates as he simply didn't have the muscles to lift one of the heavy crates on his own. Despite the merchant's initial sour disposition, he had risked his life (attempting) to help defend the caravan, and that gave a measure of good will towards the man from Aaron's part.

Once the lighter items are transferred inside, he instead helps provide magical aid, using his cantrips to clean the merchandise and floor of the mud they were tracking in, saving the merchant's family no small amount of labor later.

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception - (1d20+1)[13]

[Rilem]

“I believe this will be where we part ways, my young friend. I’m going to go see what sort of rooms they have available at this inn next door, and then I suppose I shall see how old Petros is getting along here.”

"Once again, my deepest thanks, professor, for the aid and the advice … both sorely needed and most welcome." She holds up one end of his scarf. "I'll seek you out to return it, after it's been cleaned, of course. There are some compounds that could get the job done, though if I can't find them I overheard one of our other companions going on about his laundering prowess."

Fatima gathers with Kristoph and the other Pharasmin and intones the prayer along with him, though a careful watcher might notice there's no gusto in her recitation. She might as well be reading a chemical formula. (Which, if she were to be blasphemously honest, isn't far off.)

In the back of her mind, she's counting the newcomers to town and wondering if the inn will have room for them all. But perhaps best to seek out Petros?

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 (19) | FF: 14 (18) | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 0/1 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None. As the caravan comes to a stop outside of Ravengro, Alexanna takes a moment to gather her thoughts amidst the bustling activity. She observes the interactions between Luramin and the half-elven woman with a mixture of sympathy and concern, recognizing the challenges of business dealings in such uncertain times. Approaching Luramin with a gentle smile, she offers a respectful nod in greeting before addressing him with a tone of genuine empathy. "Luramin, I couldn't help but notice the difficulties you faced just now. It seems you've had quite the ordeal, and my heart goes out to you. Business matters can be unforgiving, especially when unexpected obstacles arise." Pausing for a moment, Alexanna's expression softens as she shifts the conversation to a more heartfelt topic. "However, I couldn't help but admire the bravery of your horse during the ambush. It fought valiantly, despite the dangers lurking in the shadows. I couldn't bear the thought of such a noble creature being subjected to further hardship. If it's not too presumptuous of me, I would like to inquire about its condition and hope you would consider allowing the Vidivicci the opportunity to make an offer of purchase." She casts a glance towards the injured horse, her gaze reflecting a genuine concern for its well-being. "I believe it deserves a peaceful retirement, a chance to roam freely in the fields rather than laboring under the weight of a wagon. I assure you, I would spare no effort in ensuring its comfort and care. It would be an honor to give it the life it truly deserves." Turning her attention to Adivion, Alexanna approaches him with a courteous demeanor, acknowledging their shared journey with a respectful nod. "Adivion, I wish to express my gratitude for your assistance during our travels. Your presence was greatly appreciated, especially during the recent ambush. Your efforts undoubtedly played a crucial role in our defense." Her tone remains polite but guarded, a subtle indication of her reservations about his character. "Though our paths may diverge here, I trust you will continue to navigate the challenges ahead with the same determination and resilience you've shown thus far. Farewell, and may our paths cross again under more auspicious circumstances." With her diplomatic finesse and genuine compassion, Alexanna navigates the complexities of the situation, seeking to ensure the well-being of her companions and achieve her goal of securing a peaceful future for the injured horse. As she prepares to depart, she turns her attention to her primary objective: visiting Petros Lorrimor. "Excuse me, everyone. I must bid you farewell for now as I have an urgent matter to attend to. Petros Lorrimor, an old friend, awaits my arrival. If any of you are in need of assistance or wish to accompany me, please do not hesitate to reach out. Until we meet again, may fortune favor your endeavors."

Spoiler: Out of Character Actions

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[DarkNetwerk]

On finally catching sight of their destination, Valerija breathes a sigh, a mixture of both relief and trepadition. When the caravan stops so that Zelarra and her companion may take their leave of the group, Valerija looks wistfully at their departing wagon. Camping outside the town would probably be better than having to deal with the town's residents, but I'm too close to the destination to pause now. She pulls her hood further forward, trying to keep her scarred face in the shadows as the caravan continued into the town of Ravengro.

The Ulfen woman shifts impatiently from one foot to the other as one of the travellers leads some interested in some Pharasmin prayer. Her impatience and worry grows during the uncomfortable scene between the caravan master and the money-lender traded barbs. She waits for the scene to play out so that she can take the man aside to ask where the Professor lived, so she could get to them. Hopefully she wouldn't be too late to help him.

Her eyes go wide, however, when Luramin points out the Professor's residence to two of those who had travelled in the same caravan with her. Even the rich man in the carriage who was planning to settle at the inn appeared to know of him. "By the Norns!" she exclaims under her breath as she slowly starts to take steps away from the group towards the indicated location of the Professor's residence, her steps picking up speed as even Alexanna, the woman she had travelled with at the rear of the caravan, mentions going there. Too many... all at once... all here for the danger, and equally delayed? Or part of the danger? she thought as she began to run to Professor Lorrimor's house.

[Narbaculus]

At last.

Ravengro.

After covering almost 600 miles over more than a month of travel, Ekard's destination is...underwhelming. The tired, sprawling hamlet seems simple and safe: children are playing in the street, no one is overly armed, and the structures are even less fortified than might be wise. Still, there remains an atmosphere of oppression from the surrounding countryside. If the caravan's last encounter is typical of the local flora and fauna, Ravengro's denizens are no doubt well-worn by their environment.

Spoiler: Perception check

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(1d20+1)[12]

In response to the call for prayer, Ekard bows his head respectfully. Not knowing the words to say, he silently acknowledges the Lady's assistance. True, the road was long—and winding—but it was certainly safer than it could have been. If Pharasma does have dominion over the purlieu of Lake Lias, Ekard will be glad for Her protection.

Hearing Madame Yearburn's harsh words to Luramin, Ekard winces in sympathy. The woman's tone irks him in a way that Luramin's exorbitant fee for sharing his carriage didn't. It is one thing to make a ridiculous offer that another is free to decline, quite another to twist the arm of someone who has no hope of escape. What's more, the whole convoy might not have left in the first place without Luramin to lead it. Then, Ekard would have been left in Tamrivena, with little hope of finding Prof. Lorrimor's home on a map, let alone reaching it.

Speaking of the Professor, half the caravan has now mentioned him in some form. Have they all come to visit him, like me, or is the Professor just so notorious that anyone passing through Ravengro must have heard of him? Ekard decides not to wait to call upon Prof. Lorrimor. Following the direction Luramin indicated, Ekard walks away from the general store, glancing alternately at the others on the street and at the rain clouds darkening the mid-morning sky.

[Farmerbink]

At Zellara's departure, Elian excuses himself from the wagon. "Easier to acquaint myself on foot," he offers, by way of explanation. Without waiting for the wagon to stop in earnest, he alights on the dirty road, glancing backwards briefly to note the odd bard's camping spot.

Trotting across the bridge with a surprising resurgence of pep, Elian almost skips along as the caravan passes the youngster posting some sort of notice. "Excuse me, young man. What does all this mean?" he gestures to the grand log and its apparent notices.

He inclines his head in a nod of thanks before picking up the caravan near the rear again. As the wagons halt, and the children pour forth from the... magic shop? Seems unlikely here... Elian's eyebrows furrow briefly at the thought before he masters his expression, and strolls forward with an easy smile- almost as if he anticipated the children had come out to greet him. He tosses out half a dozen small, glittering trinkets- shiny rocks, fake gemstone pins, and the like that he'd pocketed almost subconsciously in passing.

The small girl sneaking away garners a grander response, however. Making a point to be surreptitious himself, he discreetly turns to separate himself from the crowd and approaches her. "Dear girl," he purrs, stirring her from a dazed walk. "How are you this fine day?" he asks with a smile, flipping a silver piece end over end before gently placing it into her hands. He locks eyes with her for a few moments before turning to once more pick up the caravan at its rear. This time, he deftly skips up to hold on to the rear wagon, watching the girl intently as it carries him onward.

As Kristoph then beckons the group for some sort of divine ritual, he joins perhaps half-heartedly. Clearly, the lithe sorcerer doesn't share his companion's religious fervor, though he deliberately stands respectfully and humors him, nonetheless. After watching a few of the others trace the spiral in the air in front of themselves, he quickly follows suit. If anyone was blasphemous enough to watch closely, they might notice a slight tick of amusement as he notices a few of the other companion's responding even more lackluster-edly than he.

Keen eyes deliberately held flat and unassuming, he dismounts again as the caravan stops before Luramin's shop. He watches impassively as the man is not-so-gently chastised by his apparent patron, and frowns thoughtfully as she and 'her' guards stroll away. "Candidly, I'd expected better of Lars," he murmurs well after the group departs. "Shared trauma and all that..." With a shrug, he visibly puts the matter from his mind.

“Ah, Sir Kristoph and Mister . . . Elian, wasn’t it? Building next door here is the inn, just go talk to Sarianna and she’ll take good care of you. Once you leave the square, keeping going south down the road, Lorrimor’s house is the second on your right.”

Elian starts, surprised by Luramin's response. "Nonsense, I'll help bring these in before we move on. Friends, neighbors, hell anyone deserves better than that. Shame the beauty inside is a poor reflection of the features outside..." As he speaks, his voice lowers to little more than a grunt in the vague direction of the departed Elf woman.

His forced humor turns genuine as other hands volunteer to help lighten the load, and Elian wipes his hands together with quite a grin when the job finishes faster than expected. "Much better, that! See, people aren't all bad!" he extols. He rests briefly as Alexanna offers to buy the old, beat-up horse, frowning in appreciation at the obvious altruism. When she then mentions Lorrimor by name, he can't help but show a bit of surprise.

"Interesting. It seems more of us share an errand than one might have thought... probable." He lapses into silence briefly before adding, "If you don't mind, I'll join you."

With an expression of obvious interest, and perhaps curiosity, Elian joins a larger crowd than he expected in seeking out the good Professor.

[Rilem]

Fatima

Her neck throbbing where the striges had sunk their vile beaks, Fatima considers putting off the visit to the professor in favor of seeking out rest and healing, until it becomes clear how many others in the caravan were also headed to the professor's home.

Her suspicions had been right; it wasn't just Adivion, Lorrimor had truly sent out many, many calls for help. Were there even more people already here who had responded, or more on the way?

She falls into step alongside Elian and Alexanna. "It is strange chance, but I promised to visit Professor Lorrimor as soon as I arrived. And perhaps he can recommend a poultice for these bites."

[Inspectre]

(OOC: Trying to organize the NPC chatter into chronological order here, although it may be a bit messy!)

As you cross over the wooden bridge stretching across the stream cutting the center of Ravengro – such as it is – off from the outskirt of the village, you pass the large upright log on which the teenaged youth is tacking sheafs of paper up. At Elian’s question, the boy turns and nearly loses his balance on the step ladder he is using to reach a relatively clear spot on the log to tack his latest notice. He manages to recover after a moment of flailing, and calls out with a friendly smile and wave, “It’s one of Ravengro’s posting poles, sir! I’m Pevrin Zolkar, and it’s my job to make sure each pole around town has the same notices posted to it for the day, so everyone knows what’s happening in Ravengro! A copper and I’ll post up a notice for you at each post in town!”

Just a little further on – a little more than 100’ in fact – the caravan passes through the shop turned apparent schoolhouse . . . or perhaps a schoolhouse turned shop? In any event, Elian gets a glance at the sign above the building’s door as he is briefly mobbed by the children before they snatch up their chosen trinket and run on with only a chorus of hurried thank-yous. The Unfurled Scroll is the shop’s name, and through the doorway Elian can catch a glimpse of several musty bookshelves and stands holding scrolls, along with several desks. The older man at the door pauses in yelling at the children to stare at Elian with open suspicion at such generosity. But when it becomes clear that Elian is not about to snatch one of the less-wary children up and eat them in the middle of the street, the old man sort of gives a quiet “harumph” and steps back into his shop, slamming the door closed.

Elian’s generosity crescendos, however, with the solemn girl quietly walking down the street away from the other children. So intent on her own thoughts is the girl that she doesn’t even react to him until she nearly runs into him. When she does finally notice his presence, however, she shrinks back with a start, staring at him with wide, soulful eyes.

“Ah . . . umm . . .”

The girl stammers uncertainly at first, clearly hesitant to answer Elian’s simple inquiry, and her distress clearly grows when he offers up the silver coin as further incentive. The girl does not take the silver coin from him, although she doesn’t drop it either once Elian places it into the palm of her hand. Instead she turns it over in her fingers, fidgeting with it as tears brim in her eyes. Looking back down at the ground, the girl does finally mumble an awkward reply, just barely audible even to Elian.

“L-Lireia . . . s’m m-my name . . . and I’m sad . . . cuz my friend is dead.”

The girl states simply, and then ducks around Elian and runs away from him down the road as fast as her little legs can carry her, shoulders wracked with sobs as she goes. She ducks down a side road leading off just before the main path reaches the town square, and lets herself into a small shack that turns out to be almost directly behind Luramin’s shop (unmarked on the map but effectively the grey building just NW of Luramin’s shop at Location F on the map).

Kristoph is doubtlessly pleased to see that nearly everyone left in the caravan once it reaches Luramin’s shop step forward to join Kristoph in his prayer of thanks – even Adivon begrudgingly stops to linger at the edge of the group for a few moments until Kristoph’s prayer is complete before pressing on to the inn. He doesn’t get very far, however, before he is stopped by Fatima, thanking him for his aid and scarf with promises to clean it more thoroughly.

“Yes, I imagine that is the young Mister Eldaval – Prestidigitation is a simple, but a very versatile arcane cantrip. If your own efforts are unsuccessful worry not – I am also capable of casting the spell however many times it takes to fully clean it.”

Alexanna meanwhile, has approached Luramin with offers to purchase the horse, who gives her a sad smile and a shrug as he waves a dismissive hand at Quess Yearburn’s fleeing backside.

“I’m afraid that you will need to take that up with Quess, my friend! It is her horse, after all. Just . . . don’t let her know how badly you want to care for it, eh? She is good at giving people what they want, but once she has her hooks in you, well . . .”

Luramin gestures at his shop, and then down at the crates sitting in the mud and shrugs.

“I suppose that is my fault, though.”

Luramin is surprised, but clearly grateful to get the help from Kristoph, Elian, and Aaron as they all pitch in to moving the crates of supplies out of the muddy road and into the cramped but well-stocked interior of the shop, piling the crates and sacks up just inside the front door. A quick glance at the shelves set up inside reveals most of the stock are farming tools and building materials, although one dusty back corner holds adventuring supplies (such as torches, rope, arrows). The centerpiece of that corner is a beautiful suit of full plate mail set up on a mannequin that unlike the rest of the supplies is free of any layer of dust. The merchant smiles and nods at the suit of armor.

"Marta's father was an officer in the army. Unfortunately, that armor was all that got left to her as her inheritance. Least she has something to remember him."

He explains with a nod towards his wife, who is still trying to shepherd all five children back into the shop. With everyone’s help, all of the supplies are quickly moved into the shop, and the merchant nods his thanks, frowning slightly at the mention of his business contract.

"Wish I had never gotten involved with Quess Yearburn, but she and her partner are the only money-lenders in town. They'll probably end up owning the whole damn town in a couple years, but there's nothing I can do about that now."

The merchant sighs and shrugs.

"As you said, it's my burden to bear. Don't worry about me, you should hurry over to the inn and talk to Sarianna before everyone buys up all the rooms!"

While the crates are being loaded into the shop, Alexanna next turns her attention to Adivion, who is just excusing himself from Fatima to return to walking back to the inn. He gives a brief grimace of frustration at the repeated delays, but quickly smooths his face back to neutral as he sees who is requesting his attention now. He gives the noblewoman a respectful, although only slight, bow.

“It was a pleasure to be of service to one of the last scions of the Vidivicci – such a noble bloodline hardly deserves to fill some magical vermin’s belly. Although I note that you seem quite capable of keeping your own blood where it belongs with both sword and spell! An intriguing combination of oft-disparate disciplines – if you are planning on staying in Ravengro for a few days, I would be honored if you would deign to have a conversation with me on the finer points of your training. And perhaps I can offer you a few pointers of my own.”

The professor gives the young noblewoman a slow smile – he seems genuine in his appreciation, but there’s just something off-putting about the man that leaves him lacking the easy-going warmth and cheer of Professor Petros Lorrimor.

Spoiler: Sense Motive DC 15

Show

It’s the eyes – the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. In all of his interactions with members of the caravan on the journey here, Adivion might make genuine attempts at being friendly, but there’s always an aloofness in his eyes, like he’s simply studying the other person like a particularly interesting bug or fossil. It’s that cold detachment that leaves the professor feeling distant and awkward to most people he converses with in a way that Petros never did.

As the Lady Alexanna bids farewell and mentions that she is in town to visit Petros Lorrimor, Adivion stops and stares at her for a moment, glancing over with a knowing look at Fatima over some shared understanding.

“Oh . . . that’s . . . quite fascinating. Has he entreated you for aid, perchance, in secret code?”

Then louder, to the rest of the group who are still standing nearby – “Has Professor Petros Lorrimor entreated all of you for aid in a letter?”

Now everyone is sort of sharing the same knowing look, and nearly everyone present as one unit – Adivion included, all thoughts of going to the inn gone – start marching quickly towards the Lorrimor residence as indicated by Luramin (location N on the map of Ravengro). Everyone except Valerija, who breaks out into a full charging run down the road and thus arrives first by perhaps a minute or two, although certainly still far too late.

As described by Luramin, Petros Lorrimor’s residence is certainly not hard to find. A modest two-story manor house sitting along the road running south out of town, the building matches the drab tired wooden buildings of the rest of Ravengro. Although judging by the tattered condition of its roof and front porch, the house is perhaps a bit more heavily worn than even the decrepit buildings surrounding it. Even so, a warm glow comes from within the house, although even the warm lights cannot dispel the chill that passes through the group as you get closer. Something is definitely wrong here, as three horses stamp their hooves out in the street in front of the Lorrimor residence, two burly men in leather armor seated on two of them, one holding the reins of the third horse. Before you can make any inquiries to the two men outside, the front door of the residence swings open, revealing a third weather-beaten man in a long leather duster over studded leather armor and a lovely young woman dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Catching sight of you, the weather-beaten man says a quiet good-bye to the woman, puts his equally-weathered hat back onto his head, and then walks out to confront all of you.


“Pardon me, I’m Sheriff Benjan Caeller. Afraid I haven’t seen any of you folks around here before now. Are you here to see Petros Lorrimor? Unfortunately, that makes me the bearer of the bad news for you. Allow me to be the first to express my condolences, then, but Petros Lorrimor is dead.”

(OOC: Sheriff Benjamin Caller and Kendra Lorrimor – Petros’s daughter (which is probably news to most of your characters as Petros certainly never volunteered that he had a daughter, let alone one who is now twenty-some years old!) added to the NPC portrait section in the OOC thread!)

-Lingering Status-
Kristoph -1 Con
Elian -1 Con
Fatima -2 Con (Disease?)
Ekard -1 Con

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 (19) | FF: 14 (18) | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 0/1 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None. Approaching Luramin once more, Alexanna listens intently to his response regarding the horse, a sympathetic expression gracing her features as he shares his cautionary words about Quess Yearburn. "I understand, Luramin. Thank you for your honesty. I will approach the matter with discretion." She offers him a respectful nod before turning her attention to helping with the crates, her actions driven by a desire to alleviate some of the burden he carries. As Adivion addresses her, Alexanna returns his respectful bow with a polite nod, though she can't shake a faint sense of unease in his presence. She maintains her composure, however, responding graciously to his offer of conversation. "I appreciate your kind words, Adivion. I would be honored to discuss our respective disciplines with you during my stay in Ravengro. Your insights would undoubtedly be invaluable." As the conversation shifts to Professor Petros Lorrimor, Alexanna's attention sharpens, her curiosity piqued by Adivion's inquiry. She exchanges a knowing glance with Fatima, recognizing the significance of their shared mission. "Yes, Professor Lorrimor did indeed request my aid," she confirms, her tone solemn yet determined. "It appears we are all here for the same purpose. Let us waste no time in seeking answers." With a sense of urgency propelling her forward, Alexanna joins the group as they make their way to Petros Lorrimor's residence, her thoughts consumed by the mystery surrounding his untimely demise. As Sheriff Benjan Caeller delivers the news of the professor's death, Alexanna's heart sinks, but her resolve remains steadfast. "Thank you for informing us, Sheriff Caeller," she responds, her voice steady despite the weight of grief. "We are indeed here to pay our respects to Professor Lorrimor. May we have a moment to speak with his family or any others who may be able to shed light on the circumstances of his passing?"

Spoiler: Out of Character Actions

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Reaction: Sense Motive (Adivion)[roll]1d20+0[/roll]
Swift Action:

Standard Action:
Move:

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* post roll count doesn't match database

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija had reached the Professor's home before the others but the sight of three horses and the two men gave her pause. She slowed her approach warily, hands over her weapons, in case she needed to draw quickly for a battle. She sidestepped towards the house, keeping an eye on the two until the door suddenly opens and the man that turned out to be the Sheriff stepped outside. Spinning she takes a step forward before the man's words sink in. Instead her forward momentum was arrested as she falls to her knees. I was too late! Shock, despair, and even anger battle across her scarred face. With a wordless cry, she slams her fists on the ground and then remains still, her hair falling forward, covering her scars as well as her tears.

[Rilem]

Fatima leans against the wall and closes her eyes at the news of Lorrimor's death — but only for a moment; then she's scanning the other faces in the group for signs of surprise.

Trust no one, the professor had said. But if he met his death at the hands of enemies, they were already in Ravengro before the caravan had arrived. That would suggest her fellow travelers, strangers thought they might be, might be the only ones in town who could be trusted.

Spoiler: ooc

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Sense Motive roll on Adivion
(1d20)[8]

[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 seems pleased by the simple, honest work of helping Luramin and smiles as others join him. He admires the armor for several breaths before thanking the merchant and stepping outside to hear the bad news.

"All who live must face her judgment..." intones the Pharasman sadly, as he takes a knee and bows his head, tracing the spiral on his chest and praying silently. After several moments he rises and begins walking towards the door of house of sorrow purposefully. Upon arriving he bows to the young woman and introduces himself. "I am Kristoph Harrisson, Paladin of the Lady of Graves. Professor Lorrimor sent for me by letter. May I come in?" he asks simply.

[Gyrfalcon]

Aaron sags against the wall of a nearby house as shock steals the strength from his limbs. The old professor has (had) helped shape the course of the young man's life and his vitality had made him seem immune to the ills of the world.

"What happened? I received a letter from the Professor some weeks ago, and he was in good health at the time." he asks as his familiar glides in to land on his shoulder, chirping comfortingly.

[Inspectre]

The sheriff purses his lips for a moment as he regards the group, clearly evaluating how much he should trust to this group of strangers. He seems to come down on the side of being forthcoming, as he nods at the puffy-eyed young woman still standing in the doorway of Petros's surprisingly run-down house.

"There's just his daughter, Kendra. She reported him missing yesterday, said he had gone off to the Prison a few days ago and not been back since."

The sheriff notes the mostly blank stares from the group over mention of "the Prison", gives a quiet sigh and explains with a shake of his head at the "ignorant out-of-towners".

"Used to be a big prison outside Ravengro, called Harrowstone. Place burned down during a riot decades ago, but the ruins are still there. We keep those ruins locked up and off-limits to anyone without permission of the town council because they're unstable and dangerous. But apparently that wasn't good enough for ol' Petros, because my deputies and I rode up there to investigate and found him lying outside the wall. Damn fool had been trying to climb up the walls with a rope and grapple, and part of the statuary broke off the top and fell down on his head. Just seemed to be bad luck on top of a bad idea, trying to get in there in the first place. We brought his body back, and left it with Father Grimburrow to prepare for burial. Body was in pretty bad shape between the statue smashing into it and lying out there for a couple days, so the Father wants the burial done quick as possible. Funeral will be held tonight, just before sundown. Just delivered the bad news to Kendra, and now I'm on my way to talk with the town council to see if there's anything else we can do to keep people away from the damned place - it's just not safe."

Spoiler: Spellcraft DC 16

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Now that is just damned odd. You don't have any particular reason to disbelieve what the sheriff said for finding Petros's body, but the old professor trying to climb up the walls with a rope certainly didn't make sense. While the professor may have been reserving his higher-level spells for other purposes, you know from experience that he had access to spider-climb, a fairly low-level spell that would have been trivial for him to prepare prior to venturing up to the prison. That would have rendered the wall an easily surmounted obstacle, and without the risks of attached a rope to apparently unstable pieces of masonry . . . so why did he?

Spoiler: Sense Motive DC 15

Show

While the sheriff is trying to provide a fairly casual explanation of events, there is a nervous edge to his words, particularly when describing the Harrowstone prison. He clearly thinks of the prison as dangerous, but more than just an unstable pile of rubble that can shift and fall on people's heads. That's just a hazardous place, but the emphasis on "dangerous" suggests the sheriff sees the prison more as a threat than just a danger for the curious and clumsy. And judging from his guarded stance around all of you newcomers to town, he will probably be less forthright about explaining why he thinks that than he was on the Professor's fate.

Theme Music (Figured it was time for something that wasn't from the Darkest Dungeon OST )

While the sheriff explains the Professor's fate, Kendra catches sight of the group and steps out of the doorway and into the light, wincing immediately and blinking her eyes furiously as she digs in the pocket of her dress. She produces a pair of dark glasses which she settles over her eyes, and then descends the stairs of the porch rapidly, skipping over the third step as she runs a hand down the stairs' rusted railing. Lifting the hem of her dress up out of the mud with one hand, she hustles over to join the group after reaching the bottom of the stairs, her other hand held out in front of her, narrowly avoiding running straight on into the flank of one of the deputies' horses before he maneuvers the animal out of the way at the last second. Upon reaching the group, Petros's daughter greets you all with a wave of her outstretched hand, followed by a more formal curtsey.

"Hello! I am Kendra Lorrimor, daughter of Petros Lorrimor. Have all of you come here seeking my father? He had mentioned writing to many of his old friends and inviting them here to our humble home. I am sorry that none of you will get the chance . . . to see him again."

The young woman's voice finally breaks at that last admission of the truth to Petros's passing from this world. At the back of your large group, Adivion talks quietly to himself, as if chiding his passed friend one last time, before clearing his throat and addressing the orphaned young lady.

"He never told me he had a daughter . . . *ahem* It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lorrimor. We are indeed old friends of your father - I am Professor Adivion Adrissant. I believe that I speak for everyone present that you have our deepest condolences for your loss - indeed, a terrible loss for the world at large."

Keeping a stiff upper lip, the young woman nods and manages a faint smile.

"Thank you for the kind words. My father has told me a lot of stories about you, Professor Adrissant. He thought very highly of you. And how did all of you meet my father?”

Kendra glances around at all of you, brow furrowed in curiosity, but then she quietly gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! How rude of me to ask questions of you all in the middle of the street, after you are all no doubt tired from the journey here! Please, come inside! We . . . I . . . don’t have much in the way of refreshments, but there is some water, and maybe an old bottle of wine . . ."

“Ah, finally some proper hospitality in this town! You need not worry about refreshment, my dear, as I did bring a bottle of Petros’s favorite vintage with me from Lepidstadt. It was meant to be a gift, but well . . . perhaps it will serve well for a final toast to his memory instead?”

[The_Snark]

Though she's never been here before, Ravengo is eerily familiar, an echo of the little village where Irina grew up. It's not a comfortable feeling. In her head, she knows the people looking at her are only gawking at a newcomer; her gut is harder to convince. Imagination and memory conspire to turn harmless curiosity into a sour mixture of sympathy, pity and disapproval. She can almost hear her mother's voice snapping at her.

Her mood does not improve upon discovering that several of her traveling companions are on the same errand she is. In theory it's good to have more help, but did they forget the part of the Professor's letter that said trust no one? Perhaps their letters didn't include that part. (Perhaps they didn't receive a letter at all, and are pretending to lure out the people the Professor wrote to...) But no, more likely they're just bad at keeping secrets. She'll have to work on that, once they're in private - it'd be a touch hypocritical to lecture them on it out here.

Then they reach the house, and it's too late. Irina has the sudden lurching realization that with Professor Lorrimor gone, none of them can prove they're trustworthy. Some of them seem to know each other - some of them must know his daughter - she didn't even know he had a daughter. Not that that's surprising, she supposes, they weren't exactly friends. Kendra Lorrimor looks to be around her own age, maybe that's why the Professor was so quick to leap to her assistance...

"You're very kind, Miss Lorrimor," she says aloud, doing her best to stop any of this calculation from reaching her face. "I hate to impose on you at a time like this, but... well, maybe it's better if you're not alone right now?" In Kendra's place, the last thing she'd want is to play hostess to a company of strangers, however well-intentioned - but she needs to hurry her traveling companions inside before someone voices their suspicions of foul play in the middle of the street.

[Farmerbink]

Elian frowns thoughtfully as the girl runs away, making a mental note of the building she enters. Lireia. Something not right about that girl... he wonders, turning back to his companions.

He follows along near the rear of the group as it becomes apparent that everyone is here to visit his long lost friend. Unwilling to voice his thoughts in public, and unsure if any of his companions are trustworthy, he simply keeps to himself as they trudge through the muddy streets.

At the sheriff's announcement, Elian blinks in surprise. The only sign of his unease, it passes almost instantly as he listens to the man's elaboration. Strange and stranger, he ponders as the unexpected daughter invites them in. "Of course, thank you Miss. That sounds apt, professor." He makes no further comment as he eyes the steps intensely, intent on following Kendra into her home.

[Gyrfalcon]

Aaron joins the slow tide of travelers making their way into the Professor's home, pausing to speak an awkward word of condolence to the young woman. Professor Lorrimor had never mentioned her in their letters, but they often spoke of arcane matters rather than personal ones - understandable given Aaron's rift with his own parents. Thinking of those letters puts him in mind of the Professor's coded advice. Trust no one, the Professor had warned, and the manner of his death underscored that warning. That the Professor would be trapsing around a ruin was no great surprise, but the old man climbing a rope? That drew Aaron's suspicion. And then so many strange companions arriving all at the same time - another unlikely event. None of the people in this room could be involved directly with the Professor's untimely demise, but that did not rule them out of suspicion.

Once everyone who wishes to partake has a glass of Petros' favorite vintage in hand, Aaron offers the first toast to the man's memory. "I can say that my first meeting with Professor Lorrimor truly served to transform my life. I was an unhappy student at the seminary, and the Professor encourged my arcane gift. It was his recommendation to the university in Absalom that allowed me to transmute my path in life to one that far better fits me. We kept in contact through letters and his sage advice through the years has allowed me to transcend my humble origins. To Professor Petros Lorrimor! You will be well missed, my friend."

Spoiler: Knowledge (Arcane) DC 25

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Aaron has emphasized three words - Transform, Transmute, Transcend. These words formed a passphrase used by the Whispering Way, and he is intently watching for signs of recognition.

Like the one you're displaying right now.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spellcraft - (1d20+8)[14]
Sense Motive - (1d20)[11]

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija takes a few deep breaths as she listens to the sheriff's words. She looks up at the man's claim that the Professor died in a simple accident doing something he should not have been doing. While the latter, knowing the Professor, could easily be something he would do, since he did enjoy a good mystery, the idea of this being a mere accident... She stands up, brushes the grass and dirt off her knees to be more presentable but before following the others into the house, she turns and moves to the Sheriff taking him aside so as not to interrupt the flow of condolences to the professor's daughter. "You really believe it was an accident?" she asks with some level of incredulity in her voice. "You may not know this, but the Professor sent a letter to me, and perhaps to the other visitors," she adds more quietly, glancing back to the others as they file into the house before continuing. "A letter that mentioned danger and asking for help. Could there be something more to this?"

[Rilem]

Fatima raises her eyebrows at Aaron's words. What an odd speech. "Transmute" was a term oft-used in her business, of course, but the three words together, especially "transcend," stood out and seemed familiar somehow.

It took a moment before she remembered: The phrase had been a favorite of Grove Ulster, whom she'd studied with at University of Lepidstadt. Not strictly a "mortal scientist," he nonetheless had lectured there because he'd developed a technique for harvesting ectoplasm from haunted places that proved useful to alchemists.

She had hoped to study more with him, but he'd been sacked at the start of her final year. Rumors were he'd been involved with …

Oh dear, she thinks.

Spoiler: ooc

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I was toying with Fatima using the Ectoplasm Master archetype but couldn't finish that draft in time before the game started.

[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)

"Hmmm, 'not safe,' huh?" mutters Kristoph as he hears the sheriff's words. Shaking his head unhappily at the other man's lack of trust and honesty, the paladin makes his way inside with the other travelers. As they talk he raises one eyebrow in confused curiosity, but does not engage, instead waiting to see what comes of their discussions.

Once inside Kristoph helps provide goblets for everyone, ensuring that Kendra Lorrimor gets one first. Then, raising his glass he loudly toasts Petros Lorrimor, saying, "To the Professor - may his soul be guided to a well-deserved rest. And to all of us - as we mourn the sudden, unexpected loss of our dear friend..."