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Thread: HM's Carrion Crown AP - IC
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 04:07 AM #1
Magsman (Lvl 14)
HM's Carrion Crown AP - IC
The Haunting of Harrowstone
by Micheal Kortes
When Harrowstone Prison burned to the ground, prisoners, guards, and a host of vicious madmen met a terrifying end. In the years since, the nearby town of Ravengro has shunned the fire scarred ruins, telling tales of unquiet spirits that wander abandoned cellblocks.
But when a mysterious evil disturbs Harrowstone's tenuous spiritual balance, a ghostly prison riot commences that threaten to consume the nearby village in madness and flames.
Can the adventures discover the secrets of Harrowstone and quell a rebellion of the dead? Or will they be the spirit-prison's next inmates?
Halál Árnyéka - Tengu Emissary (Inquisitor/Rogue Gestalt) as played by Mowgli
Gregori Ostov of Wehrlight Isle - Human Cursed (Ranger(Beast Master & Skirmisher)/Alchemist Gestalt) as played by GlassEye
Frivinianna Laali - Half-Drow Arcane Performer (Sorcerer/Bard Gestalt) as played by perrinmiller
Marshan - Half-Elf Guardian (Summoner/Cleric of Erastil Gestalt) as played by Satin Knights
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Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 04:11 AM #2
Magsman (Lvl 14)
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 04:31 AM #3
Magsman (Lvl 14)
The storm from early has pasted but the thick gray clouds remain, and lightning can be seen in the distance. The dreary day reflects each of your dreary moods as you have not come to Ravengro to celebrate but to mourn.
The weather had almost made you miss the funeral of your late friend Professor Petros Lorrimor, but as it is you are not the only one to reach the cemetery (called The Restlands by the locals) just in time.
Three others obviously not locals by their gear and demeanor have just arrived as well. They approach the gates of the cemetery and the people waiting there with the same caution as you do.
Standing near the entrance way is a cart with an ornate and finely crafted black coffin inside. A group of obvious locals stands across the path huddled in a circle talking quietly as a young woman in her twenties stands near the cart alone.
She appears to have been crying by the redness of the eyes she turns in your direction. Straightening her dress she stands before the coffin and cart as you approach and when she sees each of you more clearly through the puffiness of her eyes she almost nods to herself as if she expected you.
"Good day to you," she says in a dry voice that has probably done nothing but cry for some time. Swallowing she continues, "My name is Kendra Lorrimor, daughter of Professor Lorrimor. You must be the friends of my late father that I have been expecting. Your names sirs... and madam?"
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 07:59 AM #4
Defender (Lvl 8)
Ack! Double post, sorry.
Last edited by perrinmiller; Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011 at 08:04 AM.
Playing & DMing: PF and SWSE
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 08:02 AM #5
Defender (Lvl 8)
Firvinianna Laali has been traveling along from Daggermark and finally arrived at Ravengro, a little weary and a touch wary as well. Her long pale hair is slightly disheveled but still in its pony tail halfway down her back, revealing her brown-grayish ears pierced with silver jewelry in their entire splendor. As she walks along approaching the cemetery, onlookers notice her slender elven build and very exotic attractiveness. The black outfit covering her upper torso and shoulders is pushing up her bosom to reveal voluptuous cleavage, particularly for an elf.
Her well toned muscles are subdued slightly in the black skin tight hose she wears, riding from low on her waist leaves her midriff bare, revealing a small ornamental silver loop piercing the lower part of her belly button. The hose run all the way down into soft black leather ankle boots with a low heel and shiny ornamental buckles that adorn her feet.
Clutching a longbow in hand, Firvin walks along, the silver bracelets on her wrists shining in contrast with the thin, long black gloves that continue up to her biceps with a few loops around her thumb and fingers to keep the fabric covering the backs of her hands while her fingers and palms are bare. Even without the distinct ears, her graceful stroll and betrays the eleven heritage that her unusually darkly tanned brownish skin refutes.
Firvin looks around with her pale eyes bluish gray eyes, noticing that she appears to just on-time, in danger of being late even. Until now she had not realized the Professor had any off-spring, but then again she has been told that humans fornicate like rabbits and she should not be surprised.
“Vedui' Arwen Lorrimor. I am Firvinianna Laali, traveling songbird, recently from Daggermark.”
Playing & DMing: PF and SWSE
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 08:33 AM #6
Waghalter (Lvl 7)
Down the road about 200 feet away is seen a man in a mottled grey and brown cloak leading a pack mule. He stops, and appears to be taking off weapons and storing them on the mule. Even his backpack is transferred to the beast. Then he continues approaching the cemetery. As he approaches, his features become more discernible. Black leather boots, black leather armor that has been worn through many years of battle, an old heavy forest cloak, and a wooden holy symbol hanging around his neck label this man as a woods walker in the service of Erastil. When one looks at his face, they see the fairer features of a half breed, and a softly glowing rune of elk horns upon his forehead. Such a rune is the ancient version of Erastil's holy symbol, not often seen these days. The cloak poorly hides a lump near his right hip. A sheathed dagger hangs properly from the left hip.
Once the pair get closer to the cemetery, the man waves his hand, and the mule dutifully stops and starts grazing at the side of the road. He occasionally takes a step or two in a seemingly random pattern while grazing, attempting to move a bit closer to the assembled crowd, while not appearing to do so.
Approaching the lady, "My condolences. I am Marshan. It saddens me to lose such a man of wisdom as your father. If there is anything you should need..." quietly letting polite assumption fill in the rest of the statement.
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 10:45 AM #7
Myrmidon (Lvl 10)
A thick-set man walks up to the cluster of people centered around the young woman. He glares at all around. His long hair is damp and hangs lankly past broad shoulders; he obviously didn't bother to raise the hood of his cloak during the recent storm. That same cloak hangs open revealing the armor he wears, mail and kilt of the old style, ornate but dark with age. Several weapons hang about his body: a longsword and dagger at his side, the handles of two weapons, axes most likely jutting up past his shoulders, and he wears a cestus over his right hand. An old shield flaking dark red paint hangs from an over-stuffed pack.
"Lorrimor never mentioned a daughter," he blurts.
He coughs to cover his faux pas and snatches glances at the others around. "Ah... I'm Gregori Ostov of Wehrlight Isle. I frequently corresponded with your father. He was a very knowledgeable man and aided me in my researches. I'm not quite sure how I'll proceed without your father's advice but I'm sure to figure something out." He lets his attention roam over the graveyard though his eyes narrow and linger at the coffin.
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 02:39 PM #8
Lama (Lvl 13)
A lone figure strides up the hill, the gray and black of his clothing matching well the gloom of the day. Sharp eyes peer about from beneath the broad brim of his low-crowned hat, making note of every detail of the crowd.
As he approaches, it is clear that this man is not human. He's slight - no more than five feet in height and thin with it. A dark beak extends beyond the brim of his hat, and feathers adorn the backs of his three fingered hands where they extend beyond the cuffs of his shirt. He gives a visible start as his eyes light on the elven girl introducing herself to Kendra Lorrimor, and recognition is apparent before he turns to the daughter of his friend and gives a slight bow. His voice is cultured, not at all like one would expect coming from a raven's craw.
"Lady Lorrimor, my sincere condolences. Though we've never met, I conversed often with your father and was proud to call him a friend. Please tell me if there's anything I can do for you in your time of grief."
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 05:50 PM #9
Magsman (Lvl 14)
Before the group of locals falls silent Toddy hears the standard gossip one would hear talked about strangers...
"Who are they?"
"Why is she wearing that?"
"I don't know I find it fashionable, and... OW!"
"Is that a bird?"
They fall silent as a large man working on his third chin waddles over to Kendra and the others. The other locals fall silent so they can listen in.
"What's this Mistress Lorrimor?" the pale fat faced man asks questioningly.
"Oh, Councilman Hearthmount. These are friends of my father, the ones mentioned in the note regarding his will."
"Ah yes, yes. I should have counted on your father to have a strange taste in friends and some of the names mentioned were a bit... exotic." he adds looking on. "We should get started. Father Grimburrow is waiting and I will bring the will to your home after for the reading now that all parties are here. Would these... people be to opposed as to take up your fathers coffin as pallbearers?"
Kendra looks at the group and then with a shy expression says, "I don't know. I would hate to impose." She looks over at the other gathered townspeople the group follows her gaze.
The group of locals consist of another large man who once might have been welled muscled but time and ale have taken most of it away. He has an eternal grin on his face and a hand on the shoulder of a thin lad no more than thirteen who must be his son by the look of him. An older man with only a few white wisps of hair and a playful glint in his eye (especially when he looks at Firvin) stands with a slight stoop along side a woman in a brown robe. The belt around the woman's waste is full of feathers, beads, and other implements.
Kendra turns back to look at the group and leaves the question hanging in the air...
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2011, 06:21 PM #10
Waghalter (Lvl 7)
Marshan simply nods and bows slightly before moving over into position to the right of the casket.
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