The Courage of Men

Session 2 Recap

From the Journal of Sister Carlotta Dumaine, Dawnbringer of Sarenrae

Freeday, 2^nd of Pharast, 4712AR – Night

I am sitting in my bed at the Lorrimor place nursing wounds received in the prison as I write this journal.  After collecting our wits in the bowels of the prison, we decided as a group to retreat back to the upper level and investigate there further before trying our hands at the bottom-most reaches of the ruin. It was obvious that the fire that gutted the complex started in this deep place, as the walls were blackened with soot and the charred remains of broken prisoners and guards alike littered the floor. It was a place heavy with sorrow and anger and I was happy to be rid of it after climbing up Aeros’ grappling hook.

On the main floor of the prison we headed north into an old furnace room. There we were assailed by some latent psychic energy which animated the old furnace. It sent gouts of flame our way, but luckily we were able to avoid being immolated by the haunt. With the combined efforts of my goddess’ divine blast and a clever use of one of the haunt siphons we collected from the false tomb, we were able to put the haunt to rest. Thayel found some charred bones inside the furnace and neatly tucked them into his pouch for purposes I care not to guess. He then tried using the Spirit Planchette to contact any unquiet spirits in the room. Luck was on our side. He located a spirit and avoided possession. The spirit named Vrood as the murderer of our dear friend the professor. Of course the name meant nothing to any of us, but at least now we have a clue as to who we’re after.

At that point fatigue began to set in and Aeros and myself suggested we head back to the village to rest. But the more aggressive members of our party, Gisley and Thayel encouraged us to go on a little further. That decision was very nearly the end of all of us. We entered a room to the west which seemed to be an old infirmary. Broken cots and wooden debris lay about the room, with bandages, and the odd rusted surgical implement lying amongst the debris. We could feel the air was heavy in here with suffering. Gisley’s glowing hammer illuminated most of the room, but the shadows were long and it was hard to make out exactly what awaited in the corners. A moment or two passed and we began to feel more at ease, letting our guards down.

Suddenly out of the blackness of one of the room's shadows a most grisly sight appeared. I can still see it’s skeletal face now even when I close my eyes. This incorporeal thing had the grinning head of a skeleton with long claw like talons and was draped in a translucent funeral shroud. Its mouth opened and it let out the most blood-curdling shriek. Protected by the faith of my goddess, I stood my ground, but was horrified to see Thayel and Gisley drop their weapons and flee the room. Aeros seemed fine, but when he noticed that the strongest members of our party had fled, he too made for the door, leaving me alone to combat the terrible phantasm. I called out to my goddess for aid and brought her divine light against the creature in a searing ray of positive energy. The creature screamedin pain, but did not whither from the light. Using some sort of magical telekinesis, it shot a pair of rusted surgical knives my way. They eluded the hard steel of my breastplate and buried themselves in the soft tissue of my shoulder.  I cried out and nearly fainted from the pain lancing up my arm. It was at that point that Aeros returned, no doubt feeling guilty about having left me to die at the hands of this undead creature. He pulled me to safety through the door and slammed it shut.

Thayel, having recovered from his initial shock had returned to us, but of Gisley there was no sign. We limped our way back out of the prison, chiding ourselves for risking too much too soon. At the prison gates we found Gisley kicking stones. He was overcome with shame at his retreat from the field, and swore that it would not happen again.

Once back in the village, we headed to the Laughing Demon to see if we could gather some more information. I asked a local farmhand if he had heard news of Feldrin, my half-elf escort, but alas he had not been heard from in three days. I begin to grow worried. If he does not return, I may have to make the trip back to Vigil alone. After a few drinks at the demon and a few annoying jokes from Zokar the proprietor, we headed back to the Lorrimor place, where I now commit these words to paper. Tomorrow, we will investigate in town further, though I fear some of my companions grow tired of these simple villagers. I suppose tomorrow night, we will once again brave the prison ruins, which we now know beyond a shadow of a doubt are haunted. After having garnered the name of the professor’s murderer, I feel we a starting to get on the right track and may yet solve the mystery. Yet I fear we are no closer to solving the mystery of why the haunts in the prison ruins have become more active as of late. I’m sure the two circumstances are linked, but the answers to how – or why, elude us for now.

Prayers of the Faithful #4

From the Writings of Glynn-Thayel Ravensorrow

Divine goodness, I know now the reason I have come to Ravengro; your infinite wisdom lights my way even in this dark place. At first I believed the stirring in my soul to be a hindrance and not of your design, but the longer I spend in the prison ruins, the more I see that I am once again becoming my former self. The calmness I feel in battle when I fully give into who I once was is making me feel more at peace than I have ever been.

 Lord Nathaniel Bedlam sought to cleanse me of evil and tried to remake me in his own image. At that time, I knew no better than to cooperate with his arrogant plans. Now I see that he was wrong to try and change me, and that I am no better for having followed his path. I do thank him and will be eternally grateful to him for giving me my freedom, but it is obvious that my path is much different than his, and I should not have been ashamed of my unique skills. You have brought me here to this town and have shown me that I should not deny my instincts.

Goddess, give me the strength to become an instrument of your judgment. My hand will bring your wrath, beginning with Stressel. I am your weapon. I am Glynn-Thayel.

Prayers of the Faithful #3

From the Writings of Thayel Ravensorrow



Blessed goddess give me strength, I fear I am fading into the darkness of my past. The deeper we travel into the prison ruins I can feel him. Each step brings me closer to the evil I have fought so long to bury....

 It has been slow moving in the ruins; the crumbling passages are filled with the undead. Gisley is proving to be quite useful, his giant hammer and rage more than make up for the lack of combat skills that Carlotta and Aeros exhibit. But both are needed in their own ways. Carlotta has kept the burley barbarian alive and well. We stumbled across a file room that held records of the prisoners that were incarcerated here. My heart seemed to skip a beat and I was pulled towards a particular prisoner: Vance Stressel, better known as the Lopper. As I read through the accounts of his crimes I could feel a calming, almost unnatural cold envelope my body. Could this man or perhaps his spirit be a test? Are you, divine goddess giving me a chance to save myself by bringing Stressel's unquiet spirit at last to your judgment?

 We have moved further into the depths of the prison and the shadows in my soul continue to rise, as we battle the undead in these hallways I feel myself beginning to unravel. The battles go by without notice and the elf I was before takes control, swinging my axe with a lust for blood that I'm sure rivals even the barbarian Gisley's rage! My judgement is becoming more and more clouded. I need to find answers in the hope that I can once again control my own actions. Foolishly I used a magical trinket that we pulled from a tomb in your catacombs. I knew there would be dire consequences if it was used improperly, but I didn't care.

 The spirit world was contacted and there was a spirit willing to talk, but the process took too long. I only managed to get a name, while my companions kept monsters at bay.  Vrood the voice claimed, had killed the professor!

 The process left me weak and my companions urged me to rest but I could feel we were very close to something. Aeros suggested we leave to regroup but before he could finish his words I had already opened the next door in the labyrinth; to be honest I don't even remember moving. The door was rusted but not to difficult to open. The light from Gisley's illuminated hammer revealed a large room with benches and rotting cots, probably an infirmary. I wasn't able to hear my companions enter the room my ears were filled with a hauntingly familiar sound. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and the room seemed to melt away into darkness. Frantically I turned looking for the light from Gisley's hammer. Nothing, the light slowly began to come back into the room and I could begin to make out my hands. Something was wrong; my hands appeared to be the hands of a child, as the light continued to creep back into the room I could begin to make out a body on the ground in front of me. I felt a wave of sadness and guilt wash over me as I realized it was my father's body on the ground. The barbarian's axe still firmly planted in his skull. Stepping backward in fear, I slipped in the blood gushing from his wound. As I lay there in a pool of my father's blood the shrieking became louder and I could finally make out where it was coming from. My mother floated above my father’s corpse, the look on her face of one I will never forget. The horror of her family dying before her eyes is the last thing I remember of her. Like a child I ran, the world became dark and I ran.

If it weren't for Aeros' quick thinking he and Carlotta may have died. By the time I came out of the creatures’ spell I was outside the prison. I went back in to find that Aeros and Carlotta had escaped but not before the monster had wounded Carlotta. Wisely Aeros decided we should leave and regroup before heading deeper into the ruins. On the way out we picked up Gisley who had also been affected by the spell but chose not to come back for us out of shame over his actions.

 My lady of graves I hope you can forgive my decision but I feel there is no other way. Though I may stray from your path I will still need your divine blessing to complete my investigation.

Prayers of the Faithful #2

From the Writings of Thayel Ravensorrow

My divine Goddess the Lady of Graves,

 Guide my hand and strengthen my blade. My companions and I ventured into your catacombs late this evening, following a clue left behind by the professor. We uncovered some magical tools that Carlotta and I agree will be needed before we leave the town of Ravengro.

 Despite the fact that we successfully snuck back into town unnoticed, the villagers don't trust us. Aeros has suggested we investigate what few leads the professor left us in town. He believes the townsfolk can answer some of the questions raised by his death. For the first time since meeting the mage I am beginning to doubt his intelligence, for the townsfolk are of little importance; the key, I believe, lies in the prison ruins.

 Since entering Ravengro the ruins have called out to me; the stench of the undead drifts upon the air and is quite strong even here in town.

 The people of Ravengro were, as I suspected, little to no help. Father Grimburrow was particularly distrustful and denied Carlotta and I access to any records of the prison fire contained in your church.

 Aeros and Gisley were slightly more fortunate, uncovering some information about a cult called Whispering Way. They are referred to in notes left by the professor, and from what Aeros learned the Whispering Way is a group of necromancers and undead. It would appear that the professor had been studying them, and he may even have found a confection between them and the prison ruins. Again the only way to be sure is to explore the prison.

 Before we head out Gisley wishes to question the sheriff, as he was the one who discovered the professor's body at the ruins. We were able to locate him at the site of some local vandalism. The late warden's statue had the letter V painted on in goat’s blood. The Sheriff did little to further our investigation, and I am growing tired of the townsfolk and there insignificant problems.

Prayers of the Faithful

From the Writings of Thayel Ravensorrow

My divine goddess, the Lady of Graves, I submit these prayers to parchment so that I may have a record when I stand before you at my own judgment. I hope that they prove my worth in your eyes.

 Recently my direction has come into question. After learning of the passing of an old friend, I made the trip to his home to attend his funeral and reading of his will. Strange circumstances surround his death and as he was one of the few people to influence my life for the better, I feel a strong duty to uncover the truth behind his demise. I was not surprised to learn that I wasn't the only one summoned to the service. The Professor may have been misunderstood, but was still a very passionate and engaging man. He had obviously touched these people’s lives in the same way that he had mine, for these people seem just as determined to solve the mystery of his death as I.

 The Barbarian known as Gisley seems genuine enough, though I fear my distrust for his savage ways may cause an impasse between us at some point. There is no doubt that we need his brute strength, but how much can he help us if his feeble brain cannot comprehend the complexity of the situation at hand?

 Carlotta the holy woman in service to your sometime ally Sarenrae, is moderately attractive by human standards, but it is her arrogance and overconfidence that draw me to her like a moth to flame. The cleric seems to come from a family with money; her dress is far too ornate and delicate for her to have experienced the battlefield. Inexperienced though she may be, her clerical skills will come in handy if our investigation turns violent. Carlotta often speaks of her companion and guide Feldrin the half-elf Ranger, who escorted her to Ravengro. Feldrin also had ties with the professor, but could not attend the service; he was drawn south tracking a Necromancer and obviously felt it was more important than some empty ceremony. My instincts tell me that once we have learned all we can of the professor's demise in Ravengro, it is best we seek out Feldrin.

 The last of my companions is a sight for sore eyes, at the very least. Aeros is my kin, so I feel a bond with him like none of the others. Be that as it may, I still find him to be the least trustworthy of the lot. He has yet to reveal anything about himself and being a man of faith I find it hard to fully understand those who study the dark arts of magic.  Though I must admit, it is still comforting to be in the company of another elf.

 I trust that you will guide us as we investigate the professor's death. The longer I stay here, the more it stirs strange feelings within me; darkness I thought to be long buried… please Goddess strengthen my resolve in the days ahead.

Into the Prison

Session 1 Part 3 Recap

From the Journal of Sister Carlotta Dumaine, Dawnbringer of Sarenrae

Freeday, 2nd of Pharast, 4712AR - Night

As I write this entry, I am sitting in a partially flooded, rough-hewn cavern in the bowels of Harrowstone prison. The deeper we get, the more worried I become. I have seen now that the grounds of Harrowstone are home to the unquiet dead and it chills my bones to think not only of what happened here those many years ago, but what terrible fate could befall us at any minute.

The second we crossed through the rusted gates of the prison grounds I felt ill at-ease. The big barbarian Gisley claimed to have felt his flesh burn from his skin despite no visible effects. I have heard that the northern tribesmen are a superstitious lot and I chalked it up to his own deep-seated fears about the spirit world. Yet as we made our way about the grounds it became clear that the big man was not creating phantoms in his own head. After searching through a decrepit building and finding reference to a woman named Vesorianna Hawkran, we made our way around the back of the prison. The stone walls there had been blackened from the fire and the foundation had collapsed. A small mire had formed there as well; the result of flooding from some unknown source. Thayel, the impatient one, waded out into the water to see what he could find, but the moment his feet touched the brackish water, it began to bubble. Three figures slowly emerged from the water in the distance. My companions unleashed their bows and took aim at the slowly moving figures. I’m not sure how many times we hit the creatures, but none of them fell. I do remember however, that Aeros was a particularly horrendous shot and his arrows sailed far over the heads of their targets.

As they came closer, I understood horror for the first time in my life. I had believed that the tales of undead creatures such as the Whispering Tyrant were merely symbolic of the corruption of souls through evil acts; I never really believed that such things existed. But as I looked at the bloated bodies, with their milky eyes and rotted mouths I realized that the stories were true. In a moment of panic I called upon the light of Sarenrae to protect me. Fiery beams of light shot down from the heavens and seared the flesh on the bones of the undead monstrosities, yet they continued to advance. Gisley took a position in front of Aeros and after being struck solidly by one, managed to hit two of them with one mighty blow, tearing the face of off one and caving in the chest of another with his great hammer. Thayel danced about the other as it swung sluggishly at him and  tore it to ribbons in a dazzling display of footwork and swordplay. Though we proved to be the easy victors in our first encounter at the prison, I worry that if we go about trying to uncover every stone in this place, we will be overwhelmed by needless battles.

Realizing that dilly-dallying about the perimeter of the prison was getting us nowhere, we decided to go inside and try our luck there. The front entrance seemed the most logical (if not the most prudent) place to start. After a few attempts we eventually managed to tear the rotting doors off their hinges and gain entrance. A bit of investigating on the first floor turned up a safe. Without anyone skilled enough to unlock it, we had Gisley smash the thing to pieces with his hammer. I wouldn’t have thought it possible had I not seen it with my own eyes, but he managed to crack the thing in half without destroying the contents inside. We were able to recover several potions along with a pouch containing 500gp. Further along we found a number of files which shed greater light on the five notorious prisoners incarcerated here at the time of the fire. These sick individuals included the Piper of Illmarsh who used music to charm stirges that he then forced to drink the blood of his paralyzed victims; the Lopper, a nasty brute who would chop the heads off of his unsuspecting victims; the Mosswater Marauder, an insane dwarf obsessed with smashing people’s skulls in an effort to find an exact match to the fragment missing from his dead wife’s; and the Splatter Man, a serial killer who hounded his victims by spelling out their names in blood before coming to claim their lives. Of the final prisoner, one Father Charlatan, we found no information. I pray that this lack of information about the final prisoner does not come back to haunt us.

After finding a hole in the floor in one of the rooms and defeating a trio of flaming skulls (an odd sight indeed), we descended to the lower levels which were partially flooded from the mire above (which is where I now write this entry). Here, as we tried to progress further into the depths, two amorphous-looking, vaguely humanoid creatures pulled themselves up out of the water. They were hideous to look at, with gobs of gooey slime dripping off of them. Indeed it seemed a great struggle for them to keep their forms together.  Thankfully, Thayel is quite adept at identifying monsters and warned us that these were ectoplasmic creatures who drew their thick, vile bodies from the ethereal plane to be used as host for their tortured souls. After being informed of their weaknesses by Thayel, Gisley entered a frothing rage. I swear by the Lady of Light he grew several inches and his muscles seemed like they would burst from his skin as he underwent some psychotic transformation. His eyes became wild and he seemed not to recognize friend or foe, though he did not attack us. With the ferocity of a bear, he tore into two of the creatures and splattered their bodies across the cavern walls. Thayel once again deftly danced out of harm’s way as the other creature swung at him with his dripping arms, before slicing the creature in half with his wickedly sharp axe. Somehow, Aeros managed to get struck during the melee, though he himself failed to land a blow. With two of my comrades hurt, I called upon the healing flame of Sarenrae to relieve their wounds. It was at this point that we decided to rest up a bit and consider our next move. I myself am leery about delving deeper into the underbelly of this prison too soon. I sense a brooding darkness here that I fear watches our every step, waiting for the proper moment to strike.

Sarenrae, let your light guide me.  

The Hunt Begins

Session 1 Recap Part 2

Freeday, 2^nd of Pharast, 4712AR

Under the cover of night the four of us snuck out into the Restlands, careful not to be spotted by any curious villagers. On our way we found that a grave had recently been dug up and the body stolen. The gravestone was so old however, that we could not discern the identity of the person buried there. Using the directions give by the professor in his journal, we easily found the false tomb and descended into its darkened chambers. Inside we were met by two hungry giant centipedes. They were easily dispatched by Thayel and Gisley. Aeros and I have come to rely on the two warriors as shields and find ourselves moving in behind them for protection when things get violent. I’m not much for fighting myself and the elf seems overly frail even for one of his race. After handling the centipedes, we opened the sarcophagus to find that the professor hadn’t completely looted the stash of items within. We quickly gathered the items, among them several magical arrows, a few potions and scrolls, as well as four curious glass tubes which Aeros identified as Haunt Siphons, items designed to neutralize haunted areas, and a brass Spirit Planchete, a device used to communicate with spirits. After taking the items, we bid a hasty retreat back to the Lorrimor house to rest for the night.

The next morning we decided to do some investigating. First, we tracked down the sheriff Benjan Caeller, who had discovered the professor’s body at the ruins. He was in a bit of a foul mood, as the previous night someone had desecrated the Harrowstone Memorial Statue down by the river, dousing it in blood and scrawling the letter “V” at the bottom of it. He had no real information to provide us, save that the professor was struck on the face by the gargoyle. We all seemed a bit perplexed at that, since the description of his death would indicate that he would have been struck on the back of the head and not in the face, which further fed our suspicions that the professor’s death was no mere accident.

On our way back to town, we came across three girls skipping and singing a rather macabre rhyme. When asked what it was about, the girls said that they didn’t know. After that, we decided to split up and search for clues regarding the Whispering Way and the ruins of Harrowstone prison. Thayel and I went to the Temple of Pharasma, while Gisley and Aeros returned to the Lorrimor library to see if they could find any more answers. When we got to the temple, I was surprised that the old codger who ran the place, Father Grimburrow, would not let us in, saying that he didn’t trust foreigners. As a servant of Sarenrae I would have thought that he would have allowed us entry, as both Sarenrae and Pharasma are known allies against the abominations of the night. I must remind myself when I get back to Vigil to write a strongly worded letter to his superiors. Undaunted, we headed to the Unfurled Scroll, a schoolhouse run by a minor magician. After paying the 10gp entry fee, we uncovered a bit of information regarding the prison. Apparently fifty years ago, there had been a riot at the prison which resulted in a fire that destroyed the grounds, killing all the prisoners, most of the guards, along with the warden and his wife.  

When we met back up with Gisley and Aeros, they told us that there had been many notorious prisoners held at Harrowstone, but at the time of the fire 5 particularly evil souls had recently been incarcerated there. But the names of these prisoners still eluded us. After a brief stop at the Laughing Demon tavern which turned up little useful information, we returned back to the Lorrimor house to decide on our next course of action. It was at this time that Thayel seemed to grow impatient with all of our research and suggested that we go straight to the prison and find out what was going on there. So it was decided as a group that we would wait until nightfall to make our first foray on to the prison grounds.

An Unfriendly Welcome

Session 1 Part 1 Recap

From the Journal of Sister Carlotta Dumaine, Dawnbringer of Sarenrae

Oathday, 1^st of Pharast, 4712 AR

The journey to Ravengro from Vigil was longer than I expected as my guide, one Feldrin half-elven, took us on a path that led around the dangerous land Virlych. When we finally arrived in the backwater village of Ravengro, Feldrin made a quick exit, leaving me alone so he could go off hunting some suspected necromancer to the south. I was just as glad to be rid of the serious and soft-spoken ranger as I did not find his company all that pleasant. I did feel a bit bad for him, as seemed rather embarrassed to be around a woman and was obviously not used to the social aspect of travelling with company. Nevertheless, I shall have to inform father of his desertion of me upon our arrival. He would not want to hear that the man hired to protect me took off on some wild goose chase the first chance he got.

Because of the circuitous route we took to get to Ravengro, we arrived late and I didn’t even have a chance to change my clothes before the funeral. I felt like a beggar in my mud-caked robes and the breastplate father bought for me, though custom fit for me, is rather cumbersome and ill-suited for long distance travel and makes my back and shoulders ache if worn for any length of time. As a result, I was not in the best of moods upon arriving, and I fear I may have made a poor first impression on those I have met.

Prior to the funeral I was introduced to Kendra Lorrimor, the professor’s daughter. She’s a pretty enough girl, though her funeral fashion seems to be a few years out of date. She seems to be taking her father’s death particularly hard and looks a little too thin and pale. Aside from that, there was no time for further introductions, though the small funeral procession consisted of a handful of locals and three other foreigners: a rough looking barbarian from the north, and two exotic looking elves. It saddens me to think that in the professor’s long life, so few people would come to pay their respects. I hope that when my time comes, a larger crowd gathers to see me off.

Before the professor was finally laid to rest however, we were to gain more company. As we made our way through the Restlands, we were accosted by six local farmhands who did not want us to bury the professor in the cemetery. Apparently, they thought he was some sort of necromancer and felt he didn't deserve the honour of a traditional burial. Kendra grew angry at their accusations and the six farmhands, wielding an assortment of tools, moved into to scare us off. Unfortunately for them, they did not expect any resistance. The barbarian immediately began threatening the mob with his gigantic hammer and that sent three of them running. As the three remaining peasants moved in to attack, the silver-haired elf, Aeros, unleashed a spell that resulted in a riot of colours, which knocked the leader of the mob unconscious. Thayel, the other elf, showing no emotion, quickly kicked the feet out from under another attacker and brought his axe up his throat, demanding he surrender. Panicked and alone, the remaining attacker lashed out unsuccessfully at the barbarian. Not wanting to kill the poor fool, the barbarian Gisley attempted to pummel him into submission with his giant fists. He missed wildly on his first swing, but eventually managed to bring the peasant down. After the skirmish, Aeros wanted to tie the peasants up, but Father Grimburrow the priest arrived on the scene and suggested that the humiliating beat down was punishment enough.

With that bit of unpleasantness behind us, we continued on our way and the funeral went off without further incident. After the funeral, we were invited back to the Lorrimor house for the reading of the professor’s will.  As we waited for the solicitor to arrive with the professor’s will, we introduced ourselves and talked about how each of us knew the professor. It seems trust is hard to come by these days and I sensed that each of my new companions held back much about themselves and their relationships with the professor. I wonder if the days ahead will see them open up a little more. It was at this time that Kendra also told us a little bit about how her father died. Apparently, he had been investigating the ruins of Harrowstone, a burned down prison to the south of town, when a stone gargoyle fell off the crumbling roof and crushed him. Such a tragic and ignoble death for one so learned.

The solicitor, an overweight, drowsy-eyed noble by the name of Vashian Hearthmount arrived about an hour later. It was obvious that he didn’t approve of us being there, but the professor had insisted. It was then that we were to learn that we were expected by the professor to stay in Ravengro for a month to make sure his daughter was alright. We also came into possession of a number of dangerous tomes the professor wanted us to deliver to his colleagues in Lepidstadt, for which we would be paid a handsome sum of 100 platinum pieces each. Though I am in no need of extra cash, I daresay that the others do not look as well off as I and will gladly jump at the chance to make some easy coin.

Amongst the professor’s belongings we also found his journal which he had indicated he wanted us to read. Inside we found several circled entries dating back as far back as ten years, referencing some diabolical cult known as the Whispering Way. According to the professor, this cult had been active in the area and he was investigating their activity up near the old prison days before he had died. We now believe that the professor’s death was no accident or mere coincidence. The professor also mentioned that he thought the prison was haunted and had gone to a false tomb in the Restlands where a number of holy items were stashed to help him should he come across any unquiet spirits.

We all knew that a trip to the ruined prison would be in order, but before we headed off into possible danger, we decided to research the Whispering Way a bit in the professor’s study. Our research turned up precious little, indicating that they were an ancient cult dedicated to necromancy and undeath and that the dreaded Whispering Tyrant, scourge of Avistan in ages past had been a member of their cult.

As I sit here now in my room, the sun is going down on my first day in Ravengro. The day has brought more than its fair share of surprises and I am both excited and wary of what the coming days will bring. We have decided to go to the Restlands tonight under the cover of darkness (so as to not have the locals believe we are raiding the graves of their kin) and find this false tomb so we can outfit ourselves with the necessary tools to overcome what lies ahead. As I said earlier, I am anxious about my situation, but I do want to find out why the professor died. I owe him that much at least.

I find myself growing more upset over the fact that Feldrin has left me, for if ever I needed his protection, it will be tonight. If he wanted to hunt necromancers, he need only acquire a little patience, for it seems that we may have a few on our hands here.

PCs: Gisley

Hailing from the far northern Lands of the Linnorm Kings, Gisley was on his way to Ravengro to learn how to be a craftier warrior from Professor Petros Lorrimor, whom he met many years ago in his village. During his journey he received news of the Professor’s untimely death and with no other family alive he has made it his purpose to find out how the professor died. Possessed of the spirit of the great bear Bjørna and wielding a great Earthshaker hammer, Gisley is a riot of destruction on the battlefield.



PCs: Glynn-Thayel Ravensorrow

Glynn-Thayel Ravensorrow has come to Ravengro from the great city of Korvosa in Varisia for the funeral of one of his few friends, Professor Petros Lorrimor. A Ship Slave-turned-Inquisitor of Pharasma, this laconic elf metes out justice against the enemies of the Lady of Graves. Though his methods and motives have come into question by some within the church, thus far his results have not.

We Begin at the End…

1^st of Pharast, 4712 AR

Professor Petros Lorrimor, noted scholar and retired Lecturer of Antiquities at the University of Lepidstadt has died. Though the call has gone out to colleagues and acquaintances far and wide, precious few have come to the small village of Ravengro in the mist-covered western frontier of Ustalav for the professor’s funeral. Among the handful of villagers to turn out, there stand four strangers from distant lands, weary-eyed and mud-spattered from their long journeys:

·         Carlotta Dumaine – a young human woman from the nation of Lastwall, and cleric of Sarenrae, the Lady of Light

·         Gisley – a fur-covered, giant of a man from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings far to the north

·         Aeros Honoursong – a silver-haired elven male and student of the Arcane Arts

·         Thayel Ravensorrow – a brooding elven wanderer in the service of Pharasma, the Lady of Graves

These four souls, drawn together for the funeral of a mutual friend, have come seeking an answer to the mystery surrounding his sudden death. What they find may yet prove to be more than their little combined experience can handle…