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[D&D 4E PbP] Carrion Crown Act 1: The Haunting of Harrowstone (IC)

TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn!Double TroubleRegistered User regular
edited June 2012 in Critical Failures
The Carrion Crown Act 1: The Haunting of Harrowstone, a Dungeons & Dragons (4E) adventure for six five first level characters

Picture1.jpg
The Specifics

This is a PbP game.

I, TiamatZ, will be your DM. Sheets are on myth-weavers (or Orokos). Dice rolls are on IC (or once again Orokos). For now, this is an IC thread. Post OOC discussions/comments/questions/etc in the OOC thread to avoid clutter and confusion.

I expect each of you to post at least once a day (except maybe on weekends [Saturdays and Sundays]) when you're able (though if it’s your turn, by all means post during the weekend; I’ll just post the updated map by Monday or so). If you'll be away for an extended period of time, let me know so that I (or you) can make arrangements to keep the game moving while you're gone (or postpone it if the majority of the party is unavailable). I'm a level-headed person, and I won't kick you out for missing posts here and there. That being said, if you flake consistently you'll be removed from the party.

For combat, I will provide the HP, AC and other defences (as well as any special bonuses monsters receive e.g. +2 AC when standing next to each other) of the enemies present and you shall roll attack rolls. If you hit, roll damage and work that into your post. Also I colour coded the monsters (makes it easier to work with, since most of you are newbies to the PbP format) by their border; red are minions, green are normal monsters, yellow are elites and purple are solos. So if you pop a daily on a red bordered monster you are going to feel really silly because it shouldn't last more than a single hit. Everyone will post their IC actions, with the rolls and results in SPOILER tags.

I will use TalonRazor’s idea (from the Legend of Novus PbP game). You must declare what you are doing in ORANGE text. The rolls must be in RED BOLD text and linked to the IC (or Orokos) roll. At the bottom of the post, still in spoiler tags, they shall post who is up next, in brackets and size 3 font that is GREEN, and who is on deck. Here is the template:

"Johnny Law swings his mighty fist, smacking the honest citizen in the face."
Spoiler:

For immediate interrupts, remember to post them with any criteria to follow in orange as well. If one of your powers has an immediate interrupt ability, state that power as well as when to use it e.g. when a monster strikes me, I want to use power X (where X is the power with immediate interrupt, such as Wizard’s Shield utility power, or the Fighter’s No Opening Utility power).

Also link to OOC thread: here

The primary goal here is for us all to have fun. I’m (mostly) new to PbP DMing and you’re all also (probably) new to PbP games, so we’re all noobs here. If you're not having fun for some reason, please let me know. Alright, now that that's all out of the way, let's go roll some dice and kill some monsters!




Act 1: The Haunting of Harrowstone

" You are hereby sentenced to live the remainder of your short life in Harrowstone, which, I hasten to add, is a blessing compared to the extent of your crimes and the suffering of your victims. There you will reside in the misery of your thoughts until such time as you are drawn, hanged, and quartered. May the gods have no mercy on your blighted soul."
—The final sentencing of Vance Saetressle (“The Lopper”) by Jurisdeclaris Axenris the Third.



Contents:
Prologue: Funeral for a friend
Chapter 1: Strange days in Ravengro

The Cast (AKA the party):

Current Party:


Airyc.png DaMoonRulz as Airyc Smithsson, the Half-Orc Slayer - Big, dumb, and ugly: the three cornerstones of the Bodyguard profession. Airyc Smithsson had these three attributes and used them effectively the past five years in service to Professor Lorrimor. While visiting with his father in between adventures with Lorrimor, Airyc was notified by courier that the Professor was now confined to the past-tense and that Airyc was to attend the proceedings. Fueled by a mix of anger and shame that his childhood hero had died in his absence, the Half-Orc set out for Ustalav.

Cranea.png Witch_Hunter_84 as Cranea Treesong, Hamadryad Witch - Travelling to the town of Ravengro with her trusty Sprite Familiar and a mourning heart, Cranea Treesong, the beautiful Witch of Shudderwood, has left her isolated grove to pay her respects to her long-time friend Professor Petros Lorrimor. Still shocked by the news of his death, Cranea wishes to discover the means by which Petros met his end. While she hopes that it was peaceful, she cannot help but feel that there may be more to the situation than there seems. Although still a bit naive, regardless of Petros' attempts to "wisen her up", those who would seek to take advantage of this fair traveler invite the wrath of the witch.

Drell.png Grog as Drellethenne Y'sthrennelle, the Revenant Eladrin Fighter - After a fateful expedition with Professor Lorrimor, Drell found that he was, mostly, dead. Bewildered by his inexplicable survival into death, he has wandered many lands, avoiding graveyards and priests. Though Ustalav is the last place he would visit, the Professor's summons has stirred something in him that he hasn't felt since he was alive.

Kledge.png Bearrorrist as Kledge Black, the Human Artificer - Smelling slightly of burned hair and missing part of an eyebrow and full of ideas about new ways to do something, Kledge unfortunately has inventors block. Hoping to find inspiration in a new setting, he sets off from his family home and smithy with his pack of tools.

Valagard.png MMAgCh as Valagard Marnasdóttir, the Gold Dwarven Cleric of Ioun - Born to an unknown father and a mother-turned-necromancer, Valagard was liberated by adventurers as a young girl and subsequently raised by Iounites. Under their tutelage, she grew to be an able cleric with inclinations both scholarly and martial, and it was in this capacity that she came to know and befriend Professor Lorrimor, one of the very few individuals who understood her refusal to renounce her unwholesome heritage...whose shadow lingers on her to this very day.


Fallen in Battle :



Darius.png Smoove Operator as Darrius LeCroix ,the Human Ranger - Darrius LeCroix (or just LeCroix to most) has traveled to Ravenglo to pay his respects to his old adventuring companion Lorrimor. After serving as a sentry in Karcau miltia, LeCroix joined the good professor and served as his scout and guide on several lucrative quests. Never good with money, LeCroix quickly gambled his small fortune away. Penniless again, but ever affable, LeCroix approaches Ravengro, reminiscent of more exciting times spent chasing ancient artifacts with Professor Lorrimor. Darrius went missing in the nearby forests of Ravengro after the Professor's funeral. His fate remains uncertain...


Orokos/MythWeavers Campaign name (this you use when you use the Dice Roller):
Spoiler:


Quest List:
Spoiler:


Trust Points:
Spoiler:

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Posts

  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Prologue: Funeral for a Friend


    It has been seventeen days since Professor Lorrimor passed away. The letter that arrived with the grave news was delivered to you personally by a courier, who soon went on his way immediately after confirming your identity. The letter was penned by a steady hand. Tears decorated the edges of the parchment - it was signed by a Ms. Kendra Lorrimor, the Professor’s daughter whom he had discussed fondly during your late travels and adventures with the man. He had always described her as a small child, always inquisitive and studying hard to become an impressive scholar in her own right.

    She writes that some 15 years ago, her father had retired from the University of Lepidstadt (and most of adventuring) and had made his home in the town of Ravengro, although still making the occasional research trip and the odd lecture tour. He met his demise in a tragic accident whilst conducting research in the environs of Ravengro, and in the copious instructions that he had left her, had requested that you each be summoned to attend his funeral and to hear the reading of his Last Will and Testament.

    And so you have come, from the far corners of the mortal realm and even beyond, drawn by conflicting emotions: some with respect, some with curiosity, and some even with fear... but all sharing one common quality: a sorrow that had consumed you with the news of your friend’s death.

    When you arrive at Ravengro, it is late afternoon. The skies are dark, and as if the gods themselves could not hide their grief, the clouds seem to be on the verge of weeping. Kendra's message requested that you come to The Restlands, as the town burial ground is known, and meet her at the gate. She hinted that perhaps some of you might feel moved to act as pall-bearers for this, his last journey.

    Darius and Kledge:
    Spoiler:


    Note:
    Spoiler:

    TiamatZ on
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  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    LeCroix looked around didn't see anyone he recognized. He hated being the first one to arrive, it was awkward. The only thing to do now was approach the small contingent of people standing near the coffin. As he drew nearer to them, LeCroix pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head, mimicking what he could only assume was reverence from the three robed men.

    Deciding that the slim women was likely his best bet for direction, he began, stammering, "Umm, hello ma'am. Lorrimor was...he...My name is LeCroix. I'm an old friend of the Professor's. I got a letter saying he was de...that he wasn't...about his current, umm situation. I wanted to be here to say goodbye, and...help out anyway that I can. Kendra said...Ms. Lorrimor mentioned that the coff...the pallbearers. I can help with that. If you need."

    Smooth as ever, LeCroix thought to himself as he shifted, waiting on the woman's response.
    Spoiler:

    Smoove Operator on
    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    Kledge wondered again why he was here. He knew of the Professor, he was a retired professor from the college wasn't he? If so why was he in the Professor's will? Didn't everyone at the college hate him? Oops, daydreaming again, don't want to be awkward at a funeral and bump into anyone. Maybe the pretty lady in the red dress knows whats going on here. He catches her eye and stares at her for just a moment to long before turning quickly to look away, spotting someone who seemed about as out of place as he did. The man seemed about as awkward about the situation as Kledge, and after he mentioned something about pallbearers, Kledge offered his help as well.

    "Uh, I can help too, I think."
    Spoiler:

  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Airyc trudged towards the cemetary wearily. Since being informed of Lorrimor's passing, sleep had been hard to come by for the bodyguard; former bodyguard he sullenly reminded himself. Bags had begun to form under his bloodshot eyes and he'd been especially irritable as of late. In the carriage the other passengers gave Airyc as wide a berth as the cabin would allow.

    The half-orc approached the cemetary gates, placed his left hand on his hip and hefted the wrapped axe over his right shoulder.

    "Bring me to him!" Airyc barked the command and waited for someone to make a move. It was a method that usually worked for him.
    Spoiler:

    DaMoonRulz on
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    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • GrogGrog My sword is only steel in a useful shape.Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Of all the places on this plane, you'd think Ustalav would have somewhere to get funeral wear. Drell adjusted the clasp on the black half-cloak irritably. Eying the mirror once more he half sneered to himself
    "A fine death shroud certainly, but you're not the corpse that's going in the ground".
    Throwing the garment to the dusty floor of his room, an idea struck him. He took his spear in hand.

    ~

    The breeze tussled a strip of fine black cloth that had been tied to the longspear Drell rested against. A trickle of guests had arrived and the pale eladrin, not wanting to draw attention to his hesitation, strode toward the gate as if it were his own funeral.

    Startled from his determined march by the half-orc's shout and seeing no one answer, he turned to the brute himself.

    "What's the rush? The professor isn't going anywhere."

    Grog on
  • Witch_Hunter_84Witch_Hunter_84 Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    This was very hard for Cranea. As she got closer and closer to the cemetery her heart grew heavier. She didn't want to see Petros this way, she wanted to remember him the way he was when he was young. Back when he was a dashing youth who would take her on grand adventures during the day and whisper sweetly to her as he lay beside her at night. She silently cursed the fading qualities of youth in this mortal world, and not for the first time she wished she were back in the Feywilde. Ustalav was such a horrid place in comparison, with the exception of the Faydark her home realm was a preferable and warmer place, where the lines between nature and arcana blurred. A place where the trees would sing and dance with her. But the trees here were frigid, dead things for the most part, unable to conjure anything but the basest of sentience. All they wanted to do was sleep, and now her dear Petros slept too, but he would not wake up from this.

    Sensing her melancholy, Fwisp, a sprite that Cranea had befriended before leaving the fey, fluttered out of the inside pocket of her travelling cloak. He flitted about her head, tumbling through the air and performing small tricks in an effort to make her smile. She was able to force a small one for her tiny friend, but it was forced and they both knew it. As she came upon the road leading directly to the cemetery Cranea passed a small child with her mother.

    "Mama, mama", the child said, pulling on her mother's skirts, "why is that lady naked?" Cranea looked down at her attire, underneath her heavy cloak she did indeed have very little else in terms of what most thought of as descent. Cranea's clothing did cover her in the barest of sense of the term, she had woven the attire from the grasses and leaves of her grove using magical means, giving the vegetation a cloth-like consistency; and it covered just enough to keep from totally offending strangers, but not enough to hide her form entirely like most people tried to do. She considered her body to be an expression of her self and her spirit, a thing of beauty, and one did not seek to hide beauty from the world, although in Ustalav it seemed most did. She ignored the child and its mother, who was busy covering her daughter's eyes, and pushed on toward the gate of the cemetery . . . where it seemed a burly half-orc was a step away from losing its temper.

    "Bring me to him!", she heard. That stopped her in her tracks. She had become considerably braver in the wider-world since meeting Petros, but she had never lost her initial wariness for strangers. Speaking in hushed tones below the half-orc's plane of hearing, Cranea entreated with the man's very shadow, asking it to conceal her until she wished to make herself known or she felt safe. The shadow was more than willing, it knew the foul humors of its counterpart and was willing to accommodate her. Gathering the darkness about her, she slipped in-between the shadow and its master, staying in step with the half-orc until such a time that she chose to reveal herself to those around her (or she was discovered). Now it was time to see who else showed up.
    Spoiler:

    Witch_Hunter_84 on
    If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
  • MMAgChMMAgCh remember tomorrow. Registered User regular
    When the news of the professor's death reached her in Caliphas, it was not just deep sorrow that gripped Valagard. There was anger too, a kind of furious frustration that it had been he, a man of such breadth and openness of mind, who died – and there was guilt, the unshakable feeling that if she had been with him, she could have somehow prevented the accident that claimed his life. For as unnaturally close to the concept of death as Valagard had been for a not inconsiderable portion of her life, this particular loss grieved her greatly, and for days she sequestered herself in the Fane's great library, looking for answers, for some form of consolation, for something to help her deal with this bitter pain, a pain never felt before, not even when her own mother had died – but there were only words, so many words, many of them hollow, others promising a warmth that never actually touched her soul, and only comparatively few which voiced the same truth she'd eventually settle on: that Petros Lorrimor was gone, his death a finality that no thought or deed could undo, and that cherishing his memory was the closest thing to bringing him back, and yet a far cry all the same.

    By the time of Valagard's arrival in Ravengro, she has brought her emotions well under control again, though a certain bitterness lingers, a dogged loathing of the fact that it was Professor Lorrimor who died and not someone more deserving of such a fate – an almost blasphemous thought, of course, and one the dwarf wisely kept to herself. While frankly surprised to be summoned to the funeral by name, she was also relieved to be given the chance to pay the late scholar her last respects, having been given leave to attend by her superior at the Fane largely on account of the daughter of the deceased having asked her to attend personally; she doubts she could have managed otherwise, even if she had heard of Lorrimor's death in time.

    And now here she is in dreary Ravengro, a town that looks much like Valagard feels right now. She is wearing her full clerical attire, with plain scale mail glinting dully underneath her cloak and a two-handed hammer of sorts, its narrow head emblazoned with the mark of Ioun, slung across her back. This very garb is what she usually found herself in while accompanying the professor, and while it does no doubt appear just a little out of place at a funeral, Valagard feels certain that Lorrimor would approve, considering that her armour and weapon were sometimes all that stood between him and dire danger, if not outright death.

    Except this one time, the dwarf thinks darkly as she approaches the burial grounds, briefly taking in the thoroughly joyless sight of them before wandering over to join Airyc, the one person here she recognises. "This gentleman is right, you know," Valagard puts in quietly, her hooded cloak shading part of her pale face as she turns it up to look at the half-orc. "Professor Lorrimor travelled so much, he won't mind a delay of a few minutes." She then sets her eyes on the eladrin, curiosity getting the better of her. "You knew him too?"

  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    Before the woman to whom LeCroix was speaking could answer him, a familiar bellow ripped through the air. It was unmistakable. LeCroix turned, "Airyc!" he said, managing a smile amongst all the dreariness. LeCroix was used to Airyc's very particular manner. And it didn't take a genius to see how the outburst was offending some of the crowd. "Calm down, buddy. Why don't you come help me and...err...this guy here," he motioned at Kledge. "Were going to be the pallbearers. Pete would have been proud to have you watching out for him this last time."

    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    Who's this yelling mountain-man-thing? Hide! Wait, if he goes nuts, lets get this other guy between me and him. Wait, he knows him?
    "You guys knew the Professor? Did you attend his lecture on 'Theoretical Interactions of Arcane ...' " Kledge trailed off as it was obvious nobody had a clue what he was saying. "Alright then ... I, uh ... just grab a handle right?" He'd seen it done before he was sure, it shouldn't be that hard. Oh gods, if I make a fool of myself in public again...
    Spoiler:

  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    Airyc's head slowly moved side to side inspecting the others around him for the first time. His brow furrowed at the unfamiliar faces, and his upper lip gave the slightest twitch of a scowl. A low rumbling began in his chest after the Eladrin spoke and Airyc turned, snarling, "A joke? You think to joke here?" The former bodyguard pushed the axe off his shoulder and let the head bury itself in the ground; even with the blade covered the weight of the weapon was sufficient to leave it sticking out of the ground.

    The Half-Orc stomped his way to the offending party and, snarling, grabbed Drell's great spear with one hand while placing his other hand on Drell's shoulder. Airyc leaned in close and tightened his grip. His voice was eerily calm and quiet, similar to how mom's speak when you're really in trouble. "I don't appreciate you trying to lighten the mood, funny man," by now Airyc's face was mere inches from Drell's, "This gathering is to honor a great man and I won't let some punk come by and try to make a mockery of it. You get me, funny man?". Their faces were now only about an inch apart and the Eladrin could just touch the ground with his tippy-toes if he tried hard enough. Airyc stared Drell down waiting for a response, kinda hoping for an excuse to really lay into someone and get out his pent up frustrations.

    Damoonmk22_zps42df557d.jpg
    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    LeCroix sighed and nudged Kledge lightly with his elbow. He spoke to Kledge, but kept his eyes glued to the developing Airyc situation. "I've seen this before. Generally best to let it play itself out. Unless the pasty eladrin says something stupid, in which case you and I are going to have to restrain the big one." After a brief pause he continued, "Name's LeCroix by the way. Me and the Professor were in some tight spots together. How'd you know him?"

    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • Witch_Hunter_84Witch_Hunter_84 Registered User regular
    Sensing the situation getting out of hand Cranea dropped her facade and laid a soothing hand upon Airyc's shoulder.

    "Now now, that's enough of that." she whispered in honeyed tones, "we are all in pain here, and we all loved dear Petros in our own ways. Acting in such a manner dishonor's that memory."

    Ignoring the astonished looks of the other people present at her sudden appearance, Cranea took the obviously pained half-orc's hands and looked him in the eyes. "We are here to say goodbye, let us all just go and do that . . . for Petros."
    Spoiler:

    If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    Drell was dropped and Airyc turned quickly to face whoever it was that made the mistake of putting their hands on him. He gave the Hamadryad the same, piercing stare the Eladrin had just been subjected to, but as her words sank in his head bowed. It seemed the rain had moved in earlier than expected as one, then another drop of water fell upon the top of Cranea's hand. When he lifted his head again, those gathered would see a trembling lower lip instead of sneering upper lip and eyes welled up and flowing with tears rather than narrowed, hard eyes.

    "He's really gone...," Airyc weakly mustered before becoming overwhelmed with emotion. He wrapped his arms around this stranger and buried his head in her shoulder, sobbing loudly while gripping her a bit too tight for comfort. Or as comfortable as one can be while being cried on a grief-stricken Half-Orc, anyways.

    Damoonmk22_zps42df557d.jpg
    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    "Kledge, nice to meet you LeCroix. The Professor gave some lectures in my classes at college, well, when I attended anyway."

    Eying the big axe with a wary eye "At least he calms down quick."

    At least now any faux pas I do will most likely be forgotten. I hope that big guy is angry at me anytime soon.

    Bearrorrist on
  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    "Yeah, yeah, pleasure Kledge..." LeCroix's voice trailed off as he stared incredulously at the scene in front of him. He stared at the hamadryad being smothered by Airyc. Then slowly he turned his gaze to the coffin.

    "No..." he started, "That's her isn't it?" LeCroix was smiling and nearly laughing as he addressed the repository of the Professor's remains. "THAT'S the dryad you told me you used to visit for advice! You old dog! And to think I never believed those campfire stories!" It was at that moment that LeCroix realized that he too was catching more than his share of disapproving looks. He stopped laughing abruptly and coughed uncomfortably. He addressed the onlookers that had for the moment ignored the half-orc crushing the nearly naked dryad, "Ahem, the late Professor explained to me that many years ago he sought the sage advice of a wise forest maiden on matters of utmost historical and arcane importance. He would often extol her virtues and forthrightness to me. I believe this to be that maiden."

    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • GrogGrog My sword is only steel in a useful shape.Registered User regular
    Sensitive boy. Drell mused to himself when he was lowered to the ground. His smirk fell away when the half-orc began to sob and gave the woman he was hugging a sympathetic shrug. Seeing the small group that had gathered around the commotion (as well as the sharp looks of irritated locals), the eladrin raised a palm in the universal sign of 'shut up I've got something to say'.
    "Seems we're all friends of the professor here, so there's no need to cause a stir. Drellethenne's the name and I understand some pallbearers are required?"
    He looked at the two humans who had rushed over and seemed to know what was going on. Hopefully they could tell him what a pallbearer was. Drell simply had no idea about human funeral rites.

  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Darius:
    Spoiler:

    The woman remains quiet, as the heroes introduced one another, her eyes are red and puffy. Her own expression is a mixture of curiosity, relief and sorrow during their exchanges with one another. When it looked as though they were done dispensing pleasantries, she spoke: "Are you...? Did the letters arrived in time?"

    Image of Kendra Lorrimor:
    Spoiler:

    She shakes her head softly and curtsies for you. "I...I apologize, where are my manners? My name is Kendra Lorrimor. Normally I would have been ecstatic to hear tales and stories from my father's most trusted of friends, but I'm afraid the gods were not with us today. My father... oh forgive me once again. Father Grimburrow, these four fine men have decided to be my Father's pallbearers. I hope you don' t mind?"

    One of the robed figures removes his hood, revealing a bald man with withering features and grey eyebrows "Good, good. You will lead the procession up the Dreamwake. We will wait for you on the burial site." He motions to his other acolytes, and the two silently make their way into the Restlands, with Grimburrow muttering under his own breath...

    Darius and Kledge:
    Spoiler:

    Kendra turns back to the heroes. "Thank you for... for coming. I...there are few who wish to pay their respects to my father, with things the way they are in town these days."

    The tone of her voice is bitter - and sad. She wipes away the small hint of a tear in her eye. She looks at all of you, her lips tugged into a mournful smile.

    Father Grimburrow leads most of you all to the coffin (since Darius was already there): it is a dark casket, with few decorations. On top of it lays a small thicket of carefully prepared purple roses. He bows to you and sets off with the other two across the cemetery. Kendra turns to the coffin and gazes at it - longing is in her eyes.

    "I...I think four of you should be able to lift the casket. Now, no doubt some of you have questions regarding my Father, but... please understand. It's a ... difficult time for me while he hasn't been put to proper rest. Once this is over, I'd like for you all to come back to the estate, and I'll answer any questions you have..."

    Notes:
    Spoiler:

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  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    After the bald, robed man starts to leave, Kledge stage whispers to LeCroix "You can say that again."
    Spoiler:

    Bearrorrist on
  • GrogGrog My sword is only steel in a useful shape.Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Nodding curtly to the young woman, Drell took his place by the coffin. After finding the handle, his eyes avoided the box completely as he waited for the others to follow suit.
    Spoiler:

    Grog on
  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    LeCroix grinned back at Kledge before patting the coffin softly, and said quietly, "Once more into the breach, eh Professor?"
    Spoiler:

    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • Witch_Hunter_84Witch_Hunter_84 Registered User regular
    Pulling away from Airyc and stepping to the side, Cranea approaches the coffin and whispers something to it no one can quite hear. She places a cherry seed amongst the purple roses and steps back to allow the pallbearers to do their duty.
    Spoiler:

    If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    Airyc wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm and snorted loudly to clear the snot from his nose. Somberly, he moved to the remaining spot sniffling occasionally as needed.
    Spoiler:

    Damoonmk22_zps42df557d.jpg
    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • MMAgChMMAgCh remember tomorrow. Registered User regular
    After approaching Kendra Lorrimor to offer a few quiet words of commiseration, Valagard moves to join the procession behind the pallbearers, a faraway look in her eyes.
    Spoiler:

  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    As you heave the casket, you find that the weight itself is nothing to scoff at. The four of you have no problems, however, though it does require both of your hands. Kendra does a gesture of thanks as she takes the lead of the procession, staying close by the pallbearers. Valagard and Cranea walk behind the pallbearers, keeping them company from the rear.

    The Dreamwake is a stretch of curved road around two hundred feet long; the gravel crunches beneath the heroes' feet, though despite the weight of the casket they don't struggle to keep balance. When the group passed the gates, they were met with the remaining mourners, five in total. Of the remaining townsfolk, no one else could be seen.

    Kendra gestures towards them. "These good folks have come to honor my father. That there is Councilmen Vashian Hearthmount and Gharen Muricar...", a plump, porty man with a finely trimmed mustache and goatee and a reed thin man wearing a monocle on his left eye each nod respectively. "And that there is good old tavernkeeper Zokar Elkarid and his son Pevrin", a jolly man with a walrus mustache and a young boy barely past his teens nod as well. Of them all, only Zokar seems to give any attempt of a half-hearted smile. "And that there is Jominda Fallenbridge, the apothecary and one of my father's good friends," the young elven woman nearby nods as well, but seems to be lost in thought, as though busy thinking on concoctions back at her shop.

    All of them however, understand the grim task at hand, and remain somber throughout the trip, respecting the peace that is to be given to the Professor.

    Eventually the group round the corner to the Eversleep - only to find the path blocked by a dozen locals. Their expressions are surly, and they are all spread. A man, broad by the shoulders and with a worn face, approaches. When he speaks, it is with an authority reminiscent of a retired soldier.

    “That’s far enough, Lass. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”

    Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I have already arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already been...”


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  • GrogGrog My sword is only steel in a useful shape.Registered User regular
    Drellethenne shifts his share of the coffin's weight easily onto one hand, placing the other at his hip. He fixed the ringleader with his piercing white eyes.

    "We can stand here all day, or you can let the group of heavily armed mercenaries bury their friend. Your choice"
    Spoiler:

    Erlec
  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    "Ya don't understand the situation, do ya... elf?!" the man snorted, though some of the locals felt a bit taken aback by Drell's threat.

    "We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now. See, we've been eyeing the professor lately, him reading them mysterious books us good folk shouldn't read. And his visits to harrowstones not been pretty either. Doon't take a simple man such as myself to put two and two together.”

    He folds his hands, defiantly at the Eladrin.

    "Now we can do this the easy way, or we do it the hard way. Your choice!" he answers in a repeated tone as that of the elf, obviously mocking him.


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  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    "Whatever he was, he's not anymore. We would just like to bury him in peace." Kledge states in a pleading tone, shifting the weight of the coffin around on his hands.
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    Bearrorrist on
  • MMAgChMMAgCh remember tomorrow. Registered User regular
    It actually takes her a moment to digest the insolence and, frankly, foolishness of the townsfolk, and Valagard merely stares at the insistent mob in silence for a few moments. Mysterious books? Harrowstones? She can't pretend that any of it makes sense to her, but one thing does: that Professor Lorrimor is dead, and that he shouldn't be kept from his final rest whatever the circumstances of his life and death were, not like this.

    Feeling herself ashamed that the late professor's funeral must be thus spoiled, the cleric nevertheless steps forward to stand beside the pallbearers, turning pale blue eyes on the villagers. "Do you know what it is you demand?" she asks, her voice quiet but cold. "Do you deny the Lord of the Dead what is his? Have you forgotten that it is He who judges, not you?" The dwarf's eyes narrow. "If what you claim is true, Kelemvor will mete out His judgement as befits the crime, as He has done since the first days of the world – but it is not your place to pre-empt Him, nor indeed to interfere with the last path all deceased must take. 'And clothe them in a shroud, the virtuous and the wicked, and take them to the hallowed grounds, and set them in the earth with reverence: for they go to appear before the face of Our Lord, that in death He may weigh their deeds in life.' So it is written in the Book of Repose. Do you think to ignore the teachings of Kelemvor thus? Do you think yourselves above His judgement?"

    Having spoken her piece, Valagard falls silent and looks at each of the villagers in turn, her gaze hard as mithral, daring them to profess their profane intent, trusting that they can imagine the consequences of so offending the Lord of the Dead without any further help from her.
    Spoiler:

  • Witch_Hunter_84Witch_Hunter_84 Registered User regular
    Cranes moves up beside Kledge and further entreats with the villagers.

    "Yes, please. Your very own township has given this funeral its blessing, along with the holy priests meant to safeguard your people's sacred resting places. Do you all have so little faith in your priests to think they would allow a necromancer to be buried here?"
    Spoiler:

    If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    LeCroix listened patiently as his companions made their pleas. Knowing that he had little to add in the way of eloquence, the ranger drew himself up to his fully unimpressive height. He shrugged his cloak off of his free arm, and flexed as hard as he could while still appearing relaxed. "Yeah, extremely heavily armed mercenaries." He stole a glimpse at his own muscle and couldn't help but be somewhat pleasantly surprised. Have I been working out? he mused to himself.
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  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    Airyc's slightly grey face also gained a crimson undertone at the thought of someone interrupting such a solemn occasion. Without thinking, he started towards the interlopes, but rushed back to his spot as pallbearer after hearing the other three straining. It took him while to compose himself enough to get out a sentence, but after the spoke he chimed in, "The Professor is going to get the burial he deserves and if you think otherwise, follow me to the cemetery. I'm sure I can find an empty plot to stuff the lot of you in."

    With that he spat on the ground and glared at each person blocking their path individually.
    Spoiler:

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    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    "Bah, ya think ya scare me, Half-Orc?! Fought lots of yer grey skins before." The broad shouldered man left out a bellow, though even to others it sounded half-hearted.

    "What do you lot think?" he asks the others, turning his head towards them, only realizing he was short of five men. He soon spots the the deserters fleeing halfway to the opposite direction (having been scared stiff of Airyc threat). The man curses them. "Cowards!"

    "Bah! You needs them lot, we still outnumber ya. Listen here, I don't know where ya got the dwarven charlatan from, and I dun care what the priests say, I ain't gettin' a filthy necromancer buried amongst our faithful kin. Even the great Lord said to defeat Necromancers, whatever form they posses. Fer all we know he ain't dead, but one of them deadwalkers, whatcha call em, a slich, fitch? doesn't matter. And I think you lot are... or maybe were in cahoots with the old dodger. Figured the Prof. would hang around with a mena...menage....meenag.... a freakshow such as you lot. A walkin' tree, a pale elf, a runty dwarf, a thug and a Half-Orc too. Dunno what the lad over theres for," he says as he points to Kledge, " but hes probably here cause of some overdue repayment. Prof. never could keep his nose outta decent folk's business..."

    It seems that, however they threatened this man wasn't going to work. Not if he still had the advantage of numbers...
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  • GrogGrog My sword is only steel in a useful shape.Registered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Drellethenne snorted at the man's wild accusations. Clearly nothing would sway him from his misguided rambling, so he decided to try a different tack. Addressing the rest of the villagers, the eladrin raised his voice to be heard over their mutters.
    "Ironic that the accusation of necromancy would be leveled at the late professor, considering his hand in destroying the foul lich-" Here he enunciated the word carefully, mocking the portly blowhard, before turning back to the rabble.
    "-Nezkar Thrice-Risen! Though I wasn't there myself, I can personally attest to the professors invaluable aid to the priests of Kelemvor in research into the dissipation of necromantic energies."
    He paused to let his audience wrap their heads around some of the longer words, before putting on his most genuine smile.

    "But I am sure that you fine, respectable folk knew of the professor's impeccable reputation already."
    Spoiler:

    Grog on
  • Witch_Hunter_84Witch_Hunter_84 Registered User regular
    Cranea Treesong looks a little confused that the villagers might think that calling her a walking tree would be an insult. It seemed that the ringleader was simply trying to provoke the group of mourners, however weakly it was. She took a few steps towards the ringleader, letting her cloak fall from her shoulders. Such brutes often responded more peacefully when confronted with their baser desires and lusts.

    "I know that you believe you are defending your village, and you are admirable men for doing so." she said taking a few steps further. "But I assure you that this man is no necromancer, nor did he ever truck with such magics in his life. I am a child of the forests, I speak with their spirits and commune with the forces of life, it would cause me physical pain to be around such dark forces, so the fact that I am standing by this casket's side should tell you something." She edged to almost within arms reach of the ringleader, the barely clad dryad looking into his eyes imploringly while giving her skin a slight glow. "Please let us pass and put him to rest, I swear to you there is no evil in him, and I would be especially grateful to the men who allowed reason to overcome their fear and left this well enough alone."

    If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    Surely with the dryad distracting the villagers, LeCroix could roll out some silver-tongued magic. "Come on, guys. Necromancy. Schmecromancy...am I right? I mean, can't we all just get along?" It became readily apparent that not even Cranea was enough to overcome LeCroix's social ineptitude.
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    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
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  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    Kledge looks over to LeCroix quizzically "Yes, but what is Schmecromancy exactly?"
    Spoiler:

  • Smoove OperatorSmoove Operator Registered User regular
    "Schmecromancy? It's the lost art of baking pastries specifically designed to be pleasing to the undead palette. The Professor told me about it once." LeCroix immediately regretted adding that last sentence.
    Spoiler:

    Honesty, Integrity, Handshakefulness
    _____________________________________________
  • DaMoonRulzDaMoonRulz Mare ImbriumRegistered User regular
    Airyc shifted his weight and made a slight face; as much as he loved and admired Lorrimor, the Professor was starting to become a bit of a burden. Violence would, of course, be unacceptable at Lorrimor's funeral and the Half-Orc certainly didn't want to do anything that could upset Kendra on a day such as this, but the big lug wasn't nearly as silver-tongued as his companions.

    Airyc's lips readjusted themselves into something between a rictus-grin and a scowl and he tried his best to sound friendly, "I'm in a good mood today, so how about you let us go about our business and we'll leave peacefully. I have no urge to beat the ever-lovin' snout out of the lot of you. I'm bad at remembering faces, so there's absolutely no chance whatsoever I'll come back after the funeral and use my axe to quarter you like the chickens you are. Whaddya say....." he looked at the unconvinced faces before him, "friends?"
    Spoiler:

    Damoonmk22_zps42df557d.jpg
    "Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are smarter than one man. How's that again? I missed something" Lazarus Long
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  • BearrorristBearrorrist Registered User regular
    "Look, you can stand around and make us annoyed, or you can get out of our way and let us bury our friend. As you can see, it wont go well if you annoy us, so, please, just leave." Kledge says exasperated to the thinning crowd.
    Spoiler:

  • TiamatZTiamatZ Freeze...and burn! Double TroubleRegistered User regular
    edited February 2012
    Even with Airyc and LeCroix's bumblings, the mob soon gained some measure of wisdom from the Dryad soothing speech, and felt ashamed of their actions. Kledge's diplomatic tact was just the driving point to whittle away whatever hatred the mob had for the Professor. All but the broad shouldered man of course.

    At Kledge's final words, a wave of murmurs wash over the group of thugs - and they all disperse instantaneously. Their eyes are laden with scorn but they say no more. The broad shouldered man looks disgusted at his once supportive mates. "Bah! The nine Hells take you lot! Fine, bury the old geezer here in the Restlands, see if I care! But mark my words," he says as he points to the heroes, " this lot's trouble, I just know it. When things DO go to the Nine Hells, I can already say its these lot that'll be the end of Ravengro. I just...know it! Let no man say good ole' Hephenus didn't warn ya lot!" With his threat said, the man stomps off, cursing the ground and following the others who have now left the graveyard proper. The rest of the locals were most impressed at how this group of outsiders handled the situation well, with not a single drop of blood shed on this sacred day...


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    Soon Father Grimburrow comes rushing from the distance. He clasps his chest and heaves for air. "Kendra, good dear. What happened?"

    Kendra is sobbing - she has been ever since the angry mob was there. She is smiling when she wipes away her tears. "That ass-headed fool of a man Hephenus tried to stop the burial, but... But my father's friends convinced them to leave us be."

    The man sighs and finds a handkerchief from his pocket, and hands it to Kendra, who offers her thanks. He looks at the heroes, with a hint of respect. "You have my thanks. To think that they would disturb a funeral..."

    He leaves shortly, asking that the procession carries on. Kendra looks grateful as the group continues along the Eversleep, to the burial site. When they arrive they find that the two acolytes that were with Father Grimburrow finishing the grave site. Nodding to the Father, Grimburrow turns back to the procession. "We may start."

    The sermon begins. As you lower the coffin into the grave, Father Grimburrow begins his speech. "Today, we have gathered here, to commemorate Petros Lorrimor, father to Kendra Lorrimor..."

    The sermon lasts all but ten minutes; the air is laden with mourning. He invites Kendra to say a few words. She fights back tears, her voice trembling. "I ... I have no words to say. Father was... he was the best father I could ever ask for. I remember the year I turned ten, when we first moved to Ravengro, that whenever I did something bad, that my father would scare me by saying that he'll call a very angry Half Orc he knew that punished little girls. I remember he brought home a carved moonstone cup from the Feywild Court, or the quartz skull from a Far Realm monstrosity, or how he'd regale the stories of his adventures against the Bloody Nose goblins from the Temple of Boom. Or the tale of the magnificent Ark of Woe, that he unfortunately had to destroy to prevent a dark cult from enveloping the world in complete darkness. Oh those stories, how he'd like to tell them. And... and I will miss him so..."

    She buries her face in her hands, unable to utter another word. Father Grimburrow gives her gentle comfort. "Does anyone wish to honour Petros Lorrimor?"


    ----

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