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It is my sad duty to inform you that on Fireday, the seventh day of Calistril, 4711 AR, Professor Petros Lorrimor died. His body will be intrude in the cemetery of Ravengro by Father Vauran Grimburrow. As per the instructions of his will, your presence has been requested at his funeral procession as well as the reading of his will. I’m sure his daughter Kendra will be eager to see you again.
Signed,
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount
Ten days ago this very letter and it’s duplicates found their way into each of your hands, delivering the shocking news that your friend and/or mentor Professor Lorrimor has died. Across the winter locked land of Ustalav you traveled until your journey ended at the farming community of Ravengro. Since your individual arrivals, you’ve had to stay at the Outward Inn, rumor and hearsay circulating about the upswing in the number of the strange visitors the town has seen lately. Meanwhile the doors of the Lorrimor place closed tight as Kendra is apparently too distraught to even entertain visitors.
Still, the appointed day of the professor’s funeral arrives soon enough. As you gather near the Restlands you catch the first glimpse of Kendra Lorrimor as she greats the precious few people who have gathered to see her father off to his final reward. The relief is obvious in her puffy and red eyes as she sees the lot of you approach. She refrains from running your way, upholding the dignity of this event, but as she speaks, you can tell she teeters on the edge of another bout of tears.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. Father would have been so grateful to know that you were here…”
Doctor Briar Zendlebiddle has travelled from Lepidstadt to be here. She does not particularly like small villages - they tend to be superstitious and xenophobic in her eyes - but she had to go. It is not that funerals are an important ritual in her eyes (Mainly an emotional practice: state of body precludes dignity - rigor mortis, early stages of decomposition, pallour. Departed spirit apathetic to fate of corpse. Much more interesting to study moment of death! Relationship between body and soul ambiguous, needs clarification.) but that she owed Lorrimor too much to disregard his final wishes.
Arriving at the Restlands, the gnome stares around, then spots Kendra. She has not seen her in many years, since the girl was but a child living with her father.
The gnome nods emphatically at Kendra's statement, her bright turquoise eyes blinking furiously, watering. "Indeed... He was a great man. My colleagues send their condolences, and I personally wish to say that we will continue his magnificent work in years to come. He remains and inspiration to us all." She says this remarkably slowly; doubtlessly she realizes the importance of dignity here.
Last edited by Leviathan : 08-04-2011 at 06:15 AM.
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 stands with a group of relative strangers, though a few of the faces are familiar. I will have to greet Ulric and Morcaine after the service, now is no time for pleasantries of that sort.
Discerning the identity of the lady both from her expression and the gnomes address, Augustin steps forward and introduces himself with a bow, "You must be Kendra. 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.
Morcaine brushes her hair over her shoulder and approaches Kendra, noticing Augustin as well.
"Indeed, Augustin. My condolences for your loss Kendra. If it isn't too much trouble, may I place a memorial sword in the casket?"
The religiously-inclined Augustin recognizes that memorial swords are an Iomedean burial tradition. They consider it wasteful to bury the deceased actual weapons with him, as they could still be used by living warriors to continue defending the innocent and weak, and the reward for a just life is an afterlife without conflict. But the soul must be protected all the same. So when someone is buried, an Iomedean will put a small tin or wood replica of a sword in the casket, to defend the deceased from evil on his way to Heaven.
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THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
Last edited by Archpaladin Zousha : 08-04-2011 at 11:05 AM.
It's been too long, Mentor, Kaythek thought as he approached from behind the group, his right hand holding staff and, hopefully, giving everyone an impression that he was blind. I've been meaning to ask you about some strange visions lately. But now those questions will have to be answered somewhere else.
Hearing each of his Mentor's friends, allies, or students give their condolences to his daughter, Kaythek thought of what he should say. A decade ago, Mentor, you and Zacharious saved me from a future of slavery and exploited servitude, teaching me the wisdom that the gods of war have seen fit to dispense. For that, I owe you everything.
Up to a few weeks ago he was in Magnimar, working with Zacharious on various blacksmithing and research projects in between his training with a falchion he crafted. My best work to date, he thought, his left hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed falchion. Too bad Mentor didn't make it to see what I made for him, thinking of the sheathed dagger he and Zacharious worked on, a test of Kaythek's blacksmithing skill and an amends to a friendship that was tried and torn from Zacharious.
Dressed in scale mail, with a falchion on his left hip and three mismatched daggers on his belt, Kaythek hoped he looked every bit the warrior he was raised to be, despite being blind. But everything I am, I am more so from my Mentor's teaching, Kaythek thought as he made his way to the Mentor's Daughter, Kendra.
Bowing deep, Kaythek stood straight as he took a deep breath. "Miss Lorrimor, I am Kaythek, one of your father's students," Kaythek said, each word being weighed before spoken. "Over a decade ago, he and Zacharious, one of his friends and allies, saved me from slavery and a future that would only know war. Though the two had a falling out years ago, Zacharious wished to make amends before your father passed."
Taking a breath, Kaythek put his left hand on an ornate dagger that is in his rough leather belt. "He did his best to teach educate me and teach me wisdom. Years ago, when he was in Magnimar, he commented that I shouldn't be training to fight. 'Victory attained by violence is tantamount to a defeat, for it is momentary,' quoting some ancient philosopher. Intrigued, I studied some of the sayings of the same philosopher."
Looking at the people arrayed around him, Kaythek tooka continued. "I went back to training, studying at least one hour a day, though I remember little of it at times. On his next trip to Magnimar, he said the quote again. I retorted with a different quote from the same philosopher, 'It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence.' He smiled, saying that I have learned to understand wisdom, and to know the differences of my actions."
Kaythek looked back at Kendra, smiled and shrugged. "Not that I follow it all the time, mind you, but your Father did his best to ensure he didn't teach any fools. For that," speaking as as Kaythek pulled out the dagger and the sheath it was in, holding it hilt out towards Kendra, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you had this. A testament to my skill, and an amends to a friendship that shouldn't have been broken. May the gods provide you strength, as your father has sought to teach the strenght of wisdom."
__________________
Cool. His ego and his survival instincts are fighting for control of his mouth. - Ennesby, Schlock Mercenary
2. A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.
3. An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.
27. Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.
Tamara is smiling, as usual, when she approaches. Though her hair is clean (she washed it this morning), her chin still has a streak of some soot from the fire she made last night. Wearing her usual studded leather and a sword that looks too large for her, she works her way into the small crowd of people.
Human bottoms are a common sight for halflings at gatherings, so Tamara listens for the familiar sounds of someone she knows. Hearing Kendra's voice, she pushes through the crowd suddenly and rushes at Kendra. Tamara's arms wrap tightly around the much taller woman's thighs. Tamara completely interrupts the young woman's conversation by inquiring about her well-being, "Kendra! I'm so sorry about your father! I'm going to miss talking to him! How are you doing? You look good!" Tamara smiles fondly at her. The halfling really likes Kendra. Although they've only met a few times, it was certainly enough that Kendra is privy to many of Tamara's quirks.
Noticing that the crowd around Kendra has thinned considerable, Wynette skirts the small crowd to reach her.
"Kendra, you probably don't know me, but my name is Wynette. I was an acquaintance of your father's some time ago. He spoke highly of you- told me we were around the same age and would get along and that one day he would introduce us- well, I wish it wasn't this way. I'm sorry for our loss- your loss, and the note I recieved about his passing was painfully short. Was he not well before passing? Was there an accident?"
Kendra, suddenly inundated in old and new friends, greets them all in turn. She starts, naturally, with Briar. The gnome is quite a bit shorter than she remembered. Should would never forget the wild spark of intelligence in those vivid eyes. “Father’s work was very important to him. He will rest easily, I’m sure of it, thanks to you and your colleges.”
Next she fixes her attention on the handsome young noble before her, the sad smile gracing her pretty face as she recognized the name. “Father often spoke fondly of you as well. He said he would have died that night if not for you. I.. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I had lost him back then.”
As those dark thoughts cross her mind an errant tear makes it’s way past her resolve and slides down her cheek. Her kerchief is in her hand almost instantly as she wipes it away and answers Morcaine, realizing the significance of the act as well. “Yes Morcaine. Just, please don’t take too long. We’ll have to start soon. Father Vauran is waiting for us.”
Then, approached by the odd half-orc, Kendra had to wonder at his arrival here. But as he spoke, she remembered the name Zacharious. Though it came too late, Kendra did accept the dagger on her father’s behalf. “I think father would have wanted this bad blood to be settled as well. Though he never spoke of the details to me, I could tell he had his own regrets about his part in the falling out. Thank you Kaythek.”
It was about then that she noticed shy Wynette at the back of the group. Though she wasn’t sure who she was, Kendra prepared to approach her just before a short bundle of energy latched onto her waist. Taken aback by the sudden contact and flurry of words, meaning that it could only be Tamara. The antics eliciting a small laugh from Kendra, she bends down to hug the Halfling with the same earnest eagerness, “I missed you too Tamara. We’ll have a chance to talk later after the ceremony.”
Before she can free herself from Tamara’s grip and resume seeking out Wynette however, the other young woman takes the initiative. And introduces herself. Her words, especially at the end, only serve to remind Kendra of how sudden all this was. “None of us, at least those of us who were close to Father, could have imagined that father would have been caught by something like falling statuary. Though I suppose it was a vain hope, I wished he could have passed on in a much more peaceful way.”
Her words are backed up at least as Morcaine opens the casket to place the ceremonial sword. The once kind and knowledgeable visage of Petros has been obliterated by what must have been a tremendous impact. Afterwards Kendra addresses those gathered.
“I know it’s a bit of an imposition, but I would like to ask if at least four of you would act as pallbearers?”
Eyes narrowed, Kaythek couldn't help think back to the times when he and the Professor talked about statues and such. That's strange, but fitting in a way, Kaythek thought as he followed Morcaine to the casket, wishing to witness an Iomedean ritual. Taking a glance, Kaythek said a prayer to the Gods and Goddess of Battle, in a late hope that they wil wtch over the Professor to final resting place.
Turning, Kaythek listened to Kendra's request. "Miss," Kaythek said as he moved to the casket, positioning himself so that his right hand would be able to grab one of the handles, "the legions of the Abyss couldn't stop me from honoring your request and my mentor."
(OOC: Kaythek will be positioning himself so that he will be on the rear left corner of the casket, that way his falchion wshouldn't be catching any one behind him.)
__________________
Cool. His ego and his survival instincts are fighting for control of his mouth. - Ennesby, Schlock Mercenary
2. A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.
3. An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.
27. Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.
Having come all the way from Lastwall in haste, Ulric arrives only minutes before the funeral begins. His grey tabard, adorned with the sun angel of the Dawnflower, is covered in road dust and his high boots still bear traces of mud.
To those we have never met him, Ulric strikes a slightly unsettling impression. His many battle scars are nothing unusual in a warrior, but the black leather mask he wears is. It fully covers the left half of his face and skull, giving a fairly disturbing twist to what might otherwise have been an attractive look.
Upon joining the group of mourners, Ulric gives a friendly nod to Augustin and Morcaine. He walks straight to Kendra and bows to her.
"Miss Kendra, I have never been a man of many words. Let me just say how deeply sorry I am that your father has left us. You know how he came to me in my weakness and how hard he tried to make me whole. But for him, I would not stand before you today.
I have pronounced my vows a few days ago. Please let me place myself at your service. It will be only fitting that my first task as one of the Dawnflower's warriors be to serve Professor Lorrimor's daughter."
The newcomer hesitates for a second, looking slightly embarrassed, saying nothing. Should I ? I didn't have time for tidying up after the road. Would I look out of place ? Not that I look all that good even in my finest.... He positions himself next to the casket, but one step back, while glancing at the others, obviously prepared to leave the role to anyone else who would want to step in.
Wynette, now a little pale, positions herself across from Kaythek at the rear of the casket, mentally still reeling from Kendra's revelation. Falling statuary! What a violent way to go, not like him at all. Was he with anyone? Did he push someone out of the way and save their life at the expense of his? A statue! Iomedae, what a tragedy! I need to calm down, don't want to make a scene here with all these people while holding his casket. Ok, a deep breath, now.
The diminutive woman inhales deeply, the leather straps on her breastplate creaking slightly, then going slack again as she lets it all out. Her color returns slightly as she repeats this a few times.
I wonder who all these people are. That man is wearing the livery of Sarenrae- was Petros religious? I never thought to ask. And that man has some orc blood in him. There is a halfling and a gnome as well- I knew the Professor traveled far and wide, but I never paid attention to where. I wonder how many of them knew him as well as me. I wonder how many of them knew him better than me. Okay, they're all coming over, we're going to move the casket now, focus. Focus.
Morcaine replies, "Serving as your father's pallbearer would be an honor. I owe him that much at least."
With that, she goes over to the casket and (assuming it's open), quietly places the tiny replica sword in the late Professor's hands, though she winces a bit at the damage done to him.
"Almighty Iomedae, eternal Goddess, hear our prayers for Your son Petros Lorrimor whom You have called from this life to Yourself. Grant him light, happiness, and peace. Let him pass in safety through the gates of death, and live forever with all Your saints in the light You promised to Aroden's orphaned children and to all his descendants in faith. Guard him from all harm and on that great day of resurrection and reward raise him up with all Your saints. Pardon his sins and give him eternal life in Your kingdom. We ask this through You, Inheritor. So let it be."
She then takes a place at the side of the casket, near the front, ready to bear it to the Restlands.
__________________
THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
"I'll help!" Tamara says rushing past Ulric to the side of the coffin. Then, noting the heights of the three others standing there, she steps back and says to the man standing behind her, "hmm, maybe you should carry Petros... hey! I like your mask!" Tamara then darts out of his way and over to Kendra's side.
Good person, willing to help, thought Kaythek when the Halfling made an attempt to help be a pallbearer. Unfortunately, the fact that the three already there are taller dissuades her of the thought. I'd say next time, little one, but I hope it doesn't happen.
Waiting for the Priest to come by, Kaythek turned to the others. Hmm, a scarred paladin, a female paladin, and another priest, Kaythek. "Greetings, I am Kaythek, a student of the Mentor. I hoped that the circumstances that brought us here were better, but it happens. Who are you and how do you know of the Mentor?"
__________________
Cool. His ego and his survival instincts are fighting for control of his mouth. - Ennesby, Schlock Mercenary
2. A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.
3. An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.
27. Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.
"Morcaine of Grayce, Knight of Ozem and Inquisitor of the Inheritor, at your service."
She extends her hand.
__________________
THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
Kaythek raised an eyebrow when she mentioned inquisitor, then smiled, taking her hand in his for a firm handshake. "Ah, the Inheritor, Iomedea. The Goddess of the Aggressive Battle and warriors. It is good to meet you, Lady Morcaine. Were you a student of The Mentor or did you worked with him?"
__________________
Cool. His ego and his survival instincts are fighting for control of his mouth. - Ennesby, Schlock Mercenary
2. A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.
3. An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.
27. Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.
"I suppose you could say I worked with him. He and my own mentor, Sir Able, saved my life when I was younger."
__________________
THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
Last edited by Archpaladin Zousha : 08-05-2011 at 02:12 PM.
Augustin clasps the half-orcs hand, "Augustin Drago, the professor mentioned you in a letter. I will be glad to speak with you about the matter afterward."
Seeing as introductions where being made, he also greets Morcaine and Ulric, "It is good to see you both again, though I would that the occasion were different."
He smiles at the halfling's eagerness. Funerals are not all tears and sorrow, there is good to be had in well made goodbyes and joy in celebrating the lost. This one's spirit is certainly not dimmed.
"Likewise, Augustin. You have my sympathy for what happened to your village. It can't have been easy leaving it behind."
__________________
THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
"The darkness was too strong. It will take more than hopeful farmers to retake that land. You know this too well yourself. Perhaps someday..." he shakes his head, pain and regret marring his features. "Let us speak of other things."
Kaythek stares at the two humans saddened faces. Wow, these people are depressing, Kaythek thought as he looked around. I KNOW WHAT TO DO!
"Bah, come here you two," Kaythek half yelled, grabbing Augustin and Morcaine by the shoulders and giving them a firm hug. Getting their attention, Kaythek looked at the rest of group, doing his best to throw off a happier demeanor. "Look, I know were all here becausse The Mentor passed on and we're sad. I'm sad too, but by the Gods and Goddess, be thankful you're not part of an orc clan. If we were, ole Mentor here would be main course at a buffet."
He looks over at Kendra, then gazes back at the others. "But we're are not, and I am not, because the Professor here saved me from that fate. He saved us all from death or a fate worse than death." Looking at the two people under his arms, Kaythek gave them a reassuring squeeze. "For that, would the Professor want us to be just hanging around, crying about our lot in life, or would he want us to embrace each other, tell the stories and adventures that you were part of, in hope to shine some more knowledge on the Professor? To celebrate a life that was lived and how he tried to get some knowledge imparted through our thick skulls? Proving that we are not some fools and we learn from the past, to make today better?"
Releasing the two from his grasp, Kaythek took a step back, a giant smirk on his face, and crossed his arms, both to indicate that he was done, and to throw down the figurative gauntlet for people to challenge him otherwise.
(OOC: I know that this is a funeral and all, but come on. This is starting to be depressing. And again, I'm sorry for the longwinded posts. Befor eyou ask, yes, he bathed this morning.)
__________________
Cool. His ego and his survival instincts are fighting for control of his mouth. - Ennesby, Schlock Mercenary
2. A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.
3. An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.
27. Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.
Tamara stands nearby as Kaythek, Morcaine, Wynette and Augustin exchange pleasantries, her eyes flit back and forth between them, a broad grin on his face. After Kaythek tries to lighten the mood, the halfling seizes the moment and proclaims enthusiastically, "I am Tamara Whittlecrop Brockhouse! Petros and I go waaay back! He was the best. He tracked me down because I ran into a really neat monster - a gibbering mouther! So, I told him all about it! It gave me this incredible scar!" The halfling holds up her hand to reveal the purple chemical burn on the back of her hand, her enthusiasm is palpable and rather out of place at a funeral precession, "it was just... awesome!!! Petros always had the best stories! I'm," her smile fades and a streak of sorrow crosses her face, "gonna miss him," an instant later a big grin returns an she continues, "so... some of you went out with Petros, a lot? I bet you also have some great stories."
Last edited by SanguinePenguin : 08-05-2011 at 04:31 PM.
Ulric lets a little smile appear on his lips at Tamara's and Kaythek's antics.
"Ulric Izzorden, servant of Sarenrae. I am glad to meet friends of the Professor. Maybe we can save the tales for after we have... buried him, though ?" he says, stumbling a bit on the words.
Seeing that no one else stepped in, he overcomes his earlier reluctance and takes the fourth position to carry the casket.
Morcaine is obviously startled by Kaythek's sudden hug, and at this close range it's easy for him to see that her eyes are different colors, one purple and the other blue-green.
"I'm not crying about anything, messere. But this IS Ustalav, after all. Decorum's a bit different here than in Belkzen. Of course it's a good thing to celebrate the Professor's life, but that's perhaps best once the interment is finished, as Ulric suggested."
__________________
THE TEN-MINUTE BACKGROUND Based off of the Minimus RPG engine, copyright 2008 Ad Astra Games, used with permission. Minimus is donation-ware, if you like it, please contribute as per the instructions in the file.
Grey Warden avatar courtesy of Dorian Soth. Many thanks!
Last edited by Archpaladin Zousha : 08-05-2011 at 06:37 PM.
Dr. Zendlebiddle coughs, watching the proceedings and fidgeting awkwardly. She is inwardly thankful that the large orc has not chosen her as the target of his affections.
The gnome feels a flash of annoyance as one of the many grim and sober figures assembled dashes the idea of tale-telling. Vehemently, she replies: "Nonsense! The distinction between the funeral-as-veneration and tale-telling is arbitrary and whimsical; it is tradition, not logic. Professor Lorrimor was only ever a sum total of actions, reactions, functions, and equilibriums existing within any given or particular moment. Description of these temporal events are fitting tribute; they describe the man!"
She calms herself, fanning her reddening face rapidly with a small, pale hand. She holds up a small vial from her belt proudly. "Example: The professor's work enabled us to reach a breakthrough in the creation of a reagent with the capacity to serve as a catalyst for the rapid oxidization of this..." Briar continues to ramble, then pauses, snapping back to her original train of thought. "Marvellous!" she blurts out. "Worthy of celebration. Not diminished by death."
She blinks, her large eyes surveying the assembled guests. She takes a deep breath. "Shall we proceed?"
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