It is heading towards dusk as you approach the town of Ravengro in the country of Ustalav. A cold slight drizzle has been falling from the sky for the last few hours, the clouds stubbornly refusing to open and allow the heavier rain that is threatening to fall through.
Your journey has been long but relatively uneventful. You have come across a few interesting individuals on your journey and as happenstance would have it they were traveling in the same direction and for the same purpose as you. You each in fact received the same letter just two weeks ago.
Greetings,
You do not know me, but you knew my father for some time. It brings me grief and pain to have to relate this in letter, but my father Professor Petros Lorrimor has died. We have made arrangements for his burial to take place in 17 days on the first Starday of Lamashan. Until that time his body will remain under a spell from the local clergy man to ensure no rot nor foul enchantment falls upon it. Please, my father left instructions with his will that you and several others from his previous academic and adventurous life should be invited to the burial and will reading. It seems he left a message specifically for you?
If you are able to arrive in time for the ceremony I would be deeply grateful. To have friends of my father near me in a time like this would be a true comfort and it seems would also fulfill on of his final wishes in this world.
I look forward to becoming acquainted soon. In your service,
Ms. Kendra Lorrimor
18th day of Rova, 4716
It has taken the full 2 weeks for you to arrive in town, and now you all rush to the Lorrimor household where you find the woman you presume to be Kendra Lorrimor on her way out to the burial. As she closes the door she turns and is taken aback by the sudden appearance of all of you.
"Well, fortune's favor you have all arrived just in time. Come, we must make speed to the Restlands. Father Grimburrow is not one to be kept waiting. After the funeral we can retire back here, I would enjoy getting to know you and hearing tales of my father."
(OOC: Welcome to the first book of Carrion Crown. Please take a moment to provide us with a physical description of your character. That post will give the added benefit of subscribing you to the thread. Once everyone has checked in here I will move us along to the graveyard for the funeral)
Rova is the pathfinder equivalent of September and Lamashan the pathfinder equivalent of October. Starday is the pathfinder equivalent of Saturday. Their calendar and ours are effectively the same with just more fantasy sounding days and months. The date will not factor into the game, so you can disregard this if you would like.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Telantha is a tallish Faun, standing around five feet in height. She has the bottom legs and feet of a deer, with the upper body of a fairly attractive woman. Her hair is chestnut brown, her eyes a deep chocolate. her skin is covered with a light brown fur. She wears a light-weight tunic, belted at the waist, and with a spell-component pouch at her hip. A crossbow swings at her other hip, and a couple daggers can be seen on her person. She seems quite interested in the group, asking many questions, and not at all the shy fey creature one would normally expect. Her fur and tunic are soaked from the rain as the group walks.
Standing toward the back of the group, Yam's eyes narrow dubiously as Kendra speaks. He was never really sure if he fully trusted the Professor. There aren't many in this world he *does* trust. He DID like the old man, though. Kendra, however, is just another unknown element in this confusing equation. Yam had never stopped to consider that the Professor *could* die, truth be told.
Yam is a strange sight to behold...if you see him at all. A 5-foot-tall penguin, what feathers aren't black have, over time, become permanently stained a dark grey from the dirt, mud, grime, and various other substances he's used to hide himself and become one with the night. His oily feathers shed the rain and he seems to barely notice the inclement weather. A nasty looking scar runs vertically down the right side of his face from forehead to cheek. He must have been quite fortunate to not have lost the eye. Bandoliers shift silently as he waddles along bringing up the rear. Anyone who bothers to look back may notice that, despite his stubby legs and awkward movement, he makes no noise as he travels. One of his wings rests lightly on the butt of a small crossbow hanging from a strap across his shoulders. With a swift movement, the other wing dives into a pocket on one bandolier and produces a small fish that he proceeds to hork down quickly without breaking stride.
Applebough, being young for a Treefolk, stands at only 6 and a half feet tall. His slender build could easily be described as lanky, which is only accentuated by the large green canopy sprouting from his head and back. His canopy extends nearly 3 feet wide, and is dotted with the fresh, red apples that give him his name. Around his grey-brown bark shoulders, is draped a satchel from which a simple wooden flute can be seen poking out of the flap and a traditional Yklwa is slung across his back. His movement is much quicker and more graceful than one might expect from creature of his stature.
Though he may strike an imposing silhouette, he looks uncomfortable within the borders of the town. He has only replied if spoken or questioned directly, but is remarkable personable and well-spoken.
The only human in this ragtag band, Dragutin is no more forthcoming about his story than a rock is about politics.
He stands tall for his kind, and moves with an unsettling but graceful suddenness, as if his body sometimes forgets where its joints are or how long its legs are. Greasy black hair frames a scarred, pockmarked face and receding hairline. His eyes are similarly unsettling, irises the color of port wine, flecked with points of gold. Like a carriage crash, he is not pleasant to look at, but something brings your gaze back every so often. He carries a simple, slender sword and wears studded leather armor over a positively filthy tunic and breeches. In the miserable rain and sweat of his voyage, there is a certain odor to him - an odor he seems aware of, but helpless to address for now.
Eks, or The Ferryman as he's known to some, is a diminutive creature. Standing at just 2 feet 7 inches he has been mistaken for a small gnome on many occasions. That is until his tail is seen swishing side to side. His hide has a tendency to shift colours and shades, depending on his surrounds. Perhaps a throwback to his draconic ancestry.
There is an air to his presence not often found in other Kobolds. Arrogance, perhaps. But more a confidence. A knowledge that he can handle himself.
He has not uttered a word the whole journey, but can be seen watching. Everything.
So. Faun. Tarantella was it? You seem to like people...or at least talking. Have you heard anything of how the Professor died? Mysteries don't sit well with me.
Kendra looks back over her shoulder, walking in front of the two of you with a small parasol to ward off most of the damp. "He was found at the ruins of Harrowstone, a cinder block had fallen from the wall of the prison and crushed his head..."
Her tears mix with raindrops as they slide down her cheeks.
"I asked him not to go poking around that old place. Others of course claim it was a ghost that did him in...but the building is in such disrepair, it need be nothing more than an accident."
She again falls silent as she walks the group towards the community's graveyard, the Restlands.
(Feel free to continue conversation...still going to wait for Bowser to post in thread before we get to the gravesite.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Bowser sits in the back says nothing and just surveys the scene and taking in the Professor's death. His large half-dragon form is covered in armor. He thumbs the handle of his battleaxe before turning to the rest of the group. "He was a good man and will be missed. I'm curious to find what killed him
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The next time Telantha or Kendra look over, Yam is gone. A moment later he appears at Applebough's side keeping his voice low.
This Dragutin character seems questionable at best. But the Professor wanted him here so I don't want to peg him with...I mean "as" a bad apple. What think you, friend Onodrim?
Applebough gives a half-chuckle, appreciating the slip of the tongue. "To be honest, I have never been able to infer the intentions of you soft-skinned beings. Elder Rootgrasp always said that short lives lead to shortsightedness, which, in turn leads to unpredictability. I've seen little in my time to contradict this thinking."
He gives a nod, apparently contented with his wisdom.
"What is the saying among the short-lived? 'One can always turn over a new leaf?'"
He winks at Yam, rather proud of his own wordplay.
Dragutin shifts uncomfortably. Kendra's vulnerability was something he had little experience with - he had seen people cry, but never in circumstances like this. Well, he had seen people cry over losing relatives, but usually there was also anger there. Kendra seemed to be exhibiting pure sorrow.
"He was a brave man," Dragutin offers. His voice is resonant but suprisingly soft. There's the slightest hint of a crack partway through his words. "Were he not so reckless, I suspect he would not have collected such a motley assortment of associates as that which follows you today."
Noticing the bird-person and tree-folk murmuring quietly amongst themselves, Dragutin neither hears nor cares what they are saying. He was no strangers to furtive glances and suspicion. Of course, this is a situation where they might not even be talking about me. Besides themselves, we've a fey, a strange goblin, and a dragonkin. Bizarre.
OOC: Does the 'haunted' prison Harrowstone mean anything to Dragutin?
If appropriate.: 26. Woah. I fatfingered the die roll somehow. That's a 6 on the dice. *facepalm*
Arcane is +5, all other Knowledge skills lack proficiency and so are +3.
Everyone can roll history for the local lore about Harrowstone. It wasn't too long ago, so your DC for some basic information will be a 10. Once I see the results I will lore dump what is appropriate.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Yam doesn't notice Applebough's joke and is curious as to why he blinked with one eye. He'll brood on it. He also doesn't see the humor in that bird pun.
When Dragutin speaks Yam jumps a little. He's dealt with all manner of foul creatures...but this one...this one is different and it unsettles him. His feathers bristle slightly and he waddles back to the shadows.
Yam's beak appears suddenly over Eks' left shoulder and he whispers from behind: "I hear they call you The Fairy Man." In the blink of an eye the beak is next to Eks' right ear. "I didn't think kobolds were fey creatures..."
At that point Yam waddles around to face the silent kobold and continues walking backwards to speak face-to-face. "If you have wings, you conceal them well. As one who spends much of his time hiding himself and his actions...respect."
He arches a brow and nods once. This is a particularly strange sight as he doesn't have any discernable eyebrows as a giant penguin. Yam then fades back into the shadows, continuing to keep pace with the group.
It is heading towards dusk as you approach the town of Ravengro in the country of Ustalav. A cold slight drizzle has been falling from the sky for the last few hours, the clouds stubbornly refusing to open and allow the heavier rain that is threatening to fall through.
Your journey has been long but relatively uneventful. You have come across a few interesting individuals on your journey and as happenstance would have it they were traveling in the same direction and for the same purpose as you. You each in fact received the same letter just two weeks ago.
It has taken the full 2 weeks for you to arrive in town, and now you all rush to the Lorrimor household where you find the woman you presume to be Kendra Lorrimor on her way out to the burial. As she closes the door she turns and is taken aback by the sudden appearance of all of you.
"Well, fortune's favor you have all arrived just in time. Come, we must make speed to the Restlands. Father Grimburrow is not one to be kept waiting. After the funeral we can retire back here, I would enjoy getting to know you and hearing tales of my father."
(OOC: Welcome to the first book of Carrion Crown. Please take a moment to provide us with a physical description of your character. That post will give the added benefit of subscribing you to the thread. Once everyone has checked in here I will move us along to the graveyard for the funeral)
Pathfinder Calendar Info:
Rova is the pathfinder equivalent of September and Lamashan the pathfinder equivalent of October. Starday is the pathfinder equivalent of Saturday. Their calendar and ours are effectively the same with just more fantasy sounding days and months. The date will not factor into the game, so you can disregard this if you would like.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Telantha is a tallish Faun, standing around five feet in height. She has the bottom legs and feet of a deer, with the upper body of a fairly attractive woman. Her hair is chestnut brown, her eyes a deep chocolate. her skin is covered with a light brown fur. She wears a light-weight tunic, belted at the waist, and with a spell-component pouch at her hip. A crossbow swings at her other hip, and a couple daggers can be seen on her person. She seems quite interested in the group, asking many questions, and not at all the shy fey creature one would normally expect. Her fur and tunic are soaked from the rain as the group walks.
Standing toward the back of the group, Yam's eyes narrow dubiously as Kendra speaks. He was never really sure if he fully trusted the Professor. There aren't many in this world he *does* trust. He DID like the old man, though. Kendra, however, is just another unknown element in this confusing equation. Yam had never stopped to consider that the Professor *could* die, truth be told.
Yam is a strange sight to behold...if you see him at all. A 5-foot-tall penguin, what feathers aren't black have, over time, become permanently stained a dark grey from the dirt, mud, grime, and various other substances he's used to hide himself and become one with the night. His oily feathers shed the rain and he seems to barely notice the inclement weather. A nasty looking scar runs vertically down the right side of his face from forehead to cheek. He must have been quite fortunate to not have lost the eye. Bandoliers shift silently as he waddles along bringing up the rear. Anyone who bothers to look back may notice that, despite his stubby legs and awkward movement, he makes no noise as he travels. One of his wings rests lightly on the butt of a small crossbow hanging from a strap across his shoulders. With a swift movement, the other wing dives into a pocket on one bandolier and produces a small fish that he proceeds to hork down quickly without breaking stride.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
Applebough, being young for a Treefolk, stands at only 6 and a half feet tall. His slender build could easily be described as lanky, which is only accentuated by the large green canopy sprouting from his head and back. His canopy extends nearly 3 feet wide, and is dotted with the fresh, red apples that give him his name. Around his grey-brown bark shoulders, is draped a satchel from which a simple wooden flute can be seen poking out of the flap and a traditional Yklwa is slung across his back. His movement is much quicker and more graceful than one might expect from creature of his stature.
Though he may strike an imposing silhouette, he looks uncomfortable within the borders of the town. He has only replied if spoken or questioned directly, but is remarkable personable and well-spoken.
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
The only human in this ragtag band, Dragutin is no more forthcoming about his story than a rock is about politics.
He stands tall for his kind, and moves with an unsettling but graceful suddenness, as if his body sometimes forgets where its joints are or how long its legs are. Greasy black hair frames a scarred, pockmarked face and receding hairline. His eyes are similarly unsettling, irises the color of port wine, flecked with points of gold. Like a carriage crash, he is not pleasant to look at, but something brings your gaze back every so often. He carries a simple, slender sword and wears studded leather armor over a positively filthy tunic and breeches. In the miserable rain and sweat of his voyage, there is a certain odor to him - an odor he seems aware of, but helpless to address for now.
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Eks, or The Ferryman as he's known to some, is a diminutive creature. Standing at just 2 feet 7 inches he has been mistaken for a small gnome on many occasions. That is until his tail is seen swishing side to side. His hide has a tendency to shift colours and shades, depending on his surrounds. Perhaps a throwback to his draconic ancestry.
There is an air to his presence not often found in other Kobolds. Arrogance, perhaps. But more a confidence. A knowledge that he can handle himself.
He has not uttered a word the whole journey, but can be seen watching. Everything.
Yam waddles over and falls in step with Telantha.
So. Faun. Tarantella was it? You seem to like people...or at least talking. Have you heard anything of how the Professor died? Mysteries don't sit well with me.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
"Sorry, but no." The fawn answers. "I have only received this letter..." She pulls it out and shows it to you.
Kendra looks back over her shoulder, walking in front of the two of you with a small parasol to ward off most of the damp. "He was found at the ruins of Harrowstone, a cinder block had fallen from the wall of the prison and crushed his head..."
Her tears mix with raindrops as they slide down her cheeks.
"I asked him not to go poking around that old place. Others of course claim it was a ghost that did him in...but the building is in such disrepair, it need be nothing more than an accident."
She again falls silent as she walks the group towards the community's graveyard, the Restlands.
(Feel free to continue conversation...still going to wait for Bowser to post in thread before we get to the gravesite.)
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Hm... Random lethal cinder block? As much I enjoy seafood, that seems a little too fishy for me. Yam says with a grim expression.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
"Agree, it seems questionable at best." The Faun agrees with a frown.
Bowser sits in the back says nothing and just surveys the scene and taking in the Professor's death. His large half-dragon form is covered in armor. He thumbs the handle of his battleaxe before turning to the rest of the group. "He was a good man and will be missed. I'm curious to find what killed him
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The next time Telantha or Kendra look over, Yam is gone. A moment later he appears at Applebough's side keeping his voice low.
This Dragutin character seems questionable at best. But the Professor wanted him here so I don't want to peg him with...I mean "as" a bad apple. What think you, friend Onodrim?
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
Applebough gives a half-chuckle, appreciating the slip of the tongue. "To be honest, I have never been able to infer the intentions of you soft-skinned beings. Elder Rootgrasp always said that short lives lead to shortsightedness, which, in turn leads to unpredictability. I've seen little in my time to contradict this thinking."
He gives a nod, apparently contented with his wisdom.
"What is the saying among the short-lived? 'One can always turn over a new leaf?'"
He winks at Yam, rather proud of his own wordplay.
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
Dragutin shifts uncomfortably. Kendra's vulnerability was something he had little experience with - he had seen people cry, but never in circumstances like this. Well, he had seen people cry over losing relatives, but usually there was also anger there. Kendra seemed to be exhibiting pure sorrow.
"He was a brave man," Dragutin offers. His voice is resonant but suprisingly soft. There's the slightest hint of a crack partway through his words. "Were he not so reckless, I suspect he would not have collected such a motley assortment of associates as that which follows you today."
Noticing the bird-person and tree-folk murmuring quietly amongst themselves, Dragutin neither hears nor cares what they are saying. He was no strangers to furtive glances and suspicion. Of course, this is a situation where they might not even be talking about me. Besides themselves, we've a fey, a strange goblin, and a dragonkin. Bizarre.
OOC: Does the 'haunted' prison Harrowstone mean anything to Dragutin?
If appropriate.: 26. Woah. I fatfingered the die roll somehow. That's a 6 on the dice. *facepalm*
Arcane is +5, all other Knowledge skills lack proficiency and so are +3.
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Everyone can roll history for the local lore about Harrowstone. It wasn't too long ago, so your DC for some basic information will be a 10. Once I see the results I will lore dump what is appropriate.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Yam doesn't notice Applebough's joke and is curious as to why he blinked with one eye. He'll brood on it. He also doesn't see the humor in that bird pun.
When Dragutin speaks Yam jumps a little. He's dealt with all manner of foul creatures...but this one...this one is different and it unsettles him. His feathers bristle slightly and he waddles back to the shadows.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
History: 6
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
History: 12
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
Yam's beak appears suddenly over Eks' left shoulder and he whispers from behind: "I hear they call you The Fairy Man." In the blink of an eye the beak is next to Eks' right ear. "I didn't think kobolds were fey creatures..."
At that point Yam waddles around to face the silent kobold and continues walking backwards to speak face-to-face. "If you have wings, you conceal them well. As one who spends much of his time hiding himself and his actions...respect."
He arches a brow and nods once. This is a particularly strange sight as he doesn't have any discernable eyebrows as a giant penguin. Yam then fades back into the shadows, continuing to keep pace with the group.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne