Chapter 1 - The Haunting of Harrowstone.   Posted by GM.Group: 0
GM
 GM, 103 posts
Tue 8 Jan 2019
at 03:11
Chapter 1 - Ashes to Ashes
It was a gloomy and somber day in the small, wayward town of Ravengro, a dour little hamlet already predisposed to gloom and sobriety. The climate was typical for Ustalav's southern provinces. Grey and drawn, with wan, insipid sunshine often marred by lurking cloud cover that at the slightest provocation tended to drizzle a depressing and chilling rain. Once a boom town, Ravengro was now a tiny agricultural backwater. What in any other land may have been a sleepy farmer's town instead seemed suspicious, insular, and contracted.

The town had originally sprung up around a massive prison, now burnt out and decaying, that squatted on a hill overlooking the town like a great corpse. Many years ago a fire had destroyed the prison, and with it the town's main economic base, but the stubborn townsfolk hung on as only Ustalavians could, eking out a living from the rough soil.

The general air was only made more tragic by a sad procession that gathered at the entrance to the Restlands, Ravengro's large and inordinately well tended cemetery. If there is one thing that Ustalavians observed above all else it was the due to the dead. That it was a funeral procession was made clear by the large and lavishly carved casket resting on runners before the gate. Inside lay a teacher, a scholar, an adventurer at heart, a man who had traveled widely the lands of Golarion ever in search of knowledge. The dearly departed Professor Petros Lorrimor.

It was an odd funeral procession. Virtually none of Ravengro's native towns people made up its number. The group was an eclectic bunch. A pair of solemn faced nobles and a scholar in a creased cap, a trio of dwarves in boiled leather jerkins, an aging priest, a grief stricken young woman weeping into a black lace kerchief, and six adventurers newly arrived to mourn the passing of a dear friend.
Shara
 player, 5 posts
Tue 8 Jan 2019
at 04:37
Chapter 1 - Ashes to Ashes
Clad in a heavy, dark overcoat, under which she wore a simple tunic in the favored blue and white colors of Pharasma, Shara seemed unbothered by the weather. The moisture in the air made her raven curls stick to ashen skin as gray as the skies, but the young woman barely seemed to even notice. While some of the others in the procession wore looks of sadness and mourning, with the occasional sniffle or eyes red with crying, her expression was one of a comfortable placidity, as if death and all its trappings were a simple, familiar walk in a park far nicer than the dreary Ustalav landscape. Perched on her shoulder was a small bird with mottled feathers, one most people would recognize as a whippoorwill. It seemed unusually focused, watching the members of the procession with interest and remaining silent instead of crooning its distinctive call.
Sir Constantine Godalming
 player, 8 posts
 Chicanery?
 Count me in
Tue 8 Jan 2019
at 13:01
Chapter 1 - Ashes to Ashes
Sir Constantine wearing his grey green cloak was in attendance as well the passing of a scholar and friend was indeed a hardship; try as he might he could remember the gist of the lectures he could not recall the vivid details of his lectures.  Though as interesting as they were the scholars path was not his own.

He had his shield freshly polished in a deep brown bringing out the grain of the wood; he saluted the man with his Morningstar a jest they had shared, nothing more than a pun, though personal and appropriate.  He thought briefly about sharing his memories but did not find a way to say so eloquently.

Uncounciously he found himself edging in to the space of the collection of three dwarves and settling in and becoming comfortable. Comfort is what he needed right now and no one could possibly know he had been raised by Dwarves.

He took in the other guests and remained in silence.