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blaze gamma
Supernova
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2023
- Location
- Kentucky (Bleh)
So, seeing as I've been writing these and I crave attention/validation/whatever, I'm posting my campaign journals from the Carrion Crown (Pathfinder 1e Adventure Path) game I'm in. So yeah, here we gooooo!!
So yeah, that's my silly little journal. I'll be updating it weekly, since I play weekly. Feel free to comment if you're reading. I'll probably put a ToC if this gets... Read? I guess.
A Certain Journal, Written in Minkaian
This morning has been a rather interesting one thus far. With a momentary break I have taken to writing up my thoughts. The past week or so has been spent travelling this rather morose land, but at long last, we've arrived in Ravengro for the funeral of Professor Lorrimor, though at this point, my thoughts that it may be better to call him the Good Professor Lorrimor have more than been confirmed. The service has been eventful, to say the least. For a small town such as this, there are a great number of guests, three of whom stand out considerably to myself. I wonder, were they as much mere strangers to the Good Professor and my companion were? Those who had naught but a chance encounter and then passed nonetheless? No, I think not, considering the eulogies they've given, even the one that was a bit less than flattering.I've not yet collected their names, but a primal looking scaled folk, a distrustful seeming tengu, and a dromaar whose manners seem less than respectful are those who stand out the most (I cannot help but wonder if that simply is the manners that are practiced in the nearby Belkzen, which I've heard is home to Orcs and many dromaar progeny). They all gave eulogies, as did I and my companion, who performed a rite of one of her patrons, who I believe she's referred to as 'Naderi' (I shall have to look into the goddesses my companion follows once I've taken some time to look into this region's 'Sarenrae', who appears to fill a similar role as a good sun goddess as my own Shizuru fills back home). The dromaar in particular felt rather irreverent in her own eulogizing, spitting curses upon Zon Kuthon. Then again, given the temple I'm home to is shared with The Lady of Chrysanthemums, who my beloved follows, I cannot say her sentiments particularly surprise me.Regardless, I must wrap up now. The service comes to a close, and the Good Professor's daugher has asked I act as a pallbearer. I daren't refuse.
This morning has been a rather interesting one thus far. With a momentary break I have taken to writing up my thoughts. The past week or so has been spent travelling this rather morose land, but at long last, we've arrived in Ravengro for the funeral of Professor Lorrimor, though at this point, my thoughts that it may be better to call him the Good Professor Lorrimor have more than been confirmed. The service has been eventful, to say the least. For a small town such as this, there are a great number of guests, three of whom stand out considerably to myself. I wonder, were they as much mere strangers to the Good Professor and my companion were? Those who had naught but a chance encounter and then passed nonetheless? No, I think not, considering the eulogies they've given, even the one that was a bit less than flattering.I've not yet collected their names, but a primal looking scaled folk, a distrustful seeming tengu, and a dromaar whose manners seem less than respectful are those who stand out the most (I cannot help but wonder if that simply is the manners that are practiced in the nearby Belkzen, which I've heard is home to Orcs and many dromaar progeny). They all gave eulogies, as did I and my companion, who performed a rite of one of her patrons, who I believe she's referred to as 'Naderi' (I shall have to look into the goddesses my companion follows once I've taken some time to look into this region's 'Sarenrae', who appears to fill a similar role as a good sun goddess as my own Shizuru fills back home). The dromaar in particular felt rather irreverent in her own eulogizing, spitting curses upon Zon Kuthon. Then again, given the temple I'm home to is shared with The Lady of Chrysanthemums, who my beloved follows, I cannot say her sentiments particularly surprise me.Regardless, I must wrap up now. The service comes to a close, and the Good Professor's daugher has asked I act as a pallbearer. I daren't refuse.
Today perhaps been the most eventful day since my arrival here in Avistan. It appears that this may be a trend with Professor Lorrimor, as I checked back in my journal to see that the last time I've opened with such a line was the day I met the man. Regardless, today continued to be a rather hectic one.
I shall start with my role as a pallbearer. The very same three who I mentioned in my entry this morning shared the role with myself and Miss Le Flentis. We found ourselves accosted by some of the local common folk whose words shook my confidence in my assessment of Lorrimor, claims of shady work and necromancy being levied against the man by those who, ostensibly, might have known him better than an outsider such as myself. Still, whether it be because of Miss Le Flentis's charmed tongue or the timely intervention of the elderly priest of the Mother of Souls, who I would later learn to be known as Father Grimburrow. I am grateful that things did not come to blows, as I would hate to have had to fight with the locals, especially considering what I would later learn. The remainder of the funerary rites for the professor went through without incident, and eventually we made our way to his manor for the reading of his will.
To my further surprise, there were only six of us who were called upon to read the Professor's will. Quite naturally was his daughter, Kendra, but the further members of the group were the same outstanding hodgepodge as before:
Naturally, there were myself and Miss Le Flentis, who had saved the Professor from an incident only a scant few months ago.
There was the dromaar, Aborjza Hope, who had worked for the Professor in the past, and bears a great grudge against the Midnight Lord.
Next, Kaerek Inkquill, a tengu with an apparent suspicious streak, who was a confidante of the professor.
Finally was Greyoll Rhanagar, a lizardfolk druid. He seems rather a quiet sort, but apparently he owed the professor a favor of sorts.
The reading of the will was somewhat delayed, and those who were there for the reading, myself excluded, shuffled around for a bit while we waited for the arrival of the executor of the will. The man who arrived to read it was a halfling of short patience (no offense meant to the man). Apparently it was the professor's last request that the five of us take the month to tend to his daughter before we go to deliver a cache of tomes to the University of Lepistadt, with a more than commensurate reward for the work.
Once the reading was complete, we went to check upon the contents of the cache, and, disturbingly, it appears that at some point after the Good Professor's passing, someone had interfered with the chest wherein they were under lock and key. I've my suspicions that the one who'd secreted their way in may have been less than malicious, but those suspicions might still throw aspersions upon a current colleague, and as such I shan't voice them.
At any rate, the contents of said chest were a number of tomes of dark knowledge; prayer books of evil deities and the likes, and generally unpleasant stuffs that I understand why a father might not want to burden his daughter with.
We didn't have time to investigate too much into the cache before an interruption. A 'visitor', if you could call them such, left a missive at the front door of Lorrimor's manner before secreting themselves away. The message made my blood run cold—it appears we have attracted the attentions of The Whispering Way. The history of the cult is far too vast for me to delve deeply into here, but suffice to say, it appears we've been wrapped up in the business of a rather persistent group of necromancers.
It was after the arrival of this message that Mister Inkquill revealed he was in possession of a journal that had been penned by the professor. It appears that the professor had been working in opposition to the activities of the Whispering Way here in Ravengro, and this may have been what led to his untimely demise. Considering the phrases in the journal that had been highlighted, and the fact that only the five of us were called for the professor's will, I have reason to believe that he may have trusted us to carry out the quelling of the cult's goals here in case of his unfortunate passing.
And it seems that the Whispering Way is more aware of that than we are.
Still, the day continued on. We took some time to formally introduce ourselves to one another, and then decided to get a lay of the land. Thankfully Mister Inkquill is a native of Ravengro, and knows his way around the town. We eventually made our way to the Temple of Pharasma, where we also properly introduced ourselves to Father Grimburrow. He explained a bit about the going on's in town and was willing to write us a letter of introduction to the Mayor, which hopefully will bear fruit.
In the meantime, we've made our way back to the manor, and are now settling in. I'm writing this by the light of a small bonfire I've made, while considering our upcoming activities. Tomorrow we shall be investigating a false crypt the professor mentioned, and I've a pit in my stomach regarding the thing.
I suppose it best to end this on a more positive note. The Professor's home is a wealth of information, and while it is not why I came to Avistan, I have been curious about Sarenrae, who is worshipped on this continent in a similar role to Shizuru. I have secreted away a prayer book from his library to read until I decide to retire for the evening. I pray that the words of another Goddess of the Sun will serve to brighten the gloom that I will soon be forced to work through.
I shall start with my role as a pallbearer. The very same three who I mentioned in my entry this morning shared the role with myself and Miss Le Flentis. We found ourselves accosted by some of the local common folk whose words shook my confidence in my assessment of Lorrimor, claims of shady work and necromancy being levied against the man by those who, ostensibly, might have known him better than an outsider such as myself. Still, whether it be because of Miss Le Flentis's charmed tongue or the timely intervention of the elderly priest of the Mother of Souls, who I would later learn to be known as Father Grimburrow. I am grateful that things did not come to blows, as I would hate to have had to fight with the locals, especially considering what I would later learn. The remainder of the funerary rites for the professor went through without incident, and eventually we made our way to his manor for the reading of his will.
To my further surprise, there were only six of us who were called upon to read the Professor's will. Quite naturally was his daughter, Kendra, but the further members of the group were the same outstanding hodgepodge as before:
Naturally, there were myself and Miss Le Flentis, who had saved the Professor from an incident only a scant few months ago.
There was the dromaar, Aborjza Hope, who had worked for the Professor in the past, and bears a great grudge against the Midnight Lord.
Next, Kaerek Inkquill, a tengu with an apparent suspicious streak, who was a confidante of the professor.
Finally was Greyoll Rhanagar, a lizardfolk druid. He seems rather a quiet sort, but apparently he owed the professor a favor of sorts.
The reading of the will was somewhat delayed, and those who were there for the reading, myself excluded, shuffled around for a bit while we waited for the arrival of the executor of the will. The man who arrived to read it was a halfling of short patience (no offense meant to the man). Apparently it was the professor's last request that the five of us take the month to tend to his daughter before we go to deliver a cache of tomes to the University of Lepistadt, with a more than commensurate reward for the work.
Once the reading was complete, we went to check upon the contents of the cache, and, disturbingly, it appears that at some point after the Good Professor's passing, someone had interfered with the chest wherein they were under lock and key. I've my suspicions that the one who'd secreted their way in may have been less than malicious, but those suspicions might still throw aspersions upon a current colleague, and as such I shan't voice them.
At any rate, the contents of said chest were a number of tomes of dark knowledge; prayer books of evil deities and the likes, and generally unpleasant stuffs that I understand why a father might not want to burden his daughter with.
We didn't have time to investigate too much into the cache before an interruption. A 'visitor', if you could call them such, left a missive at the front door of Lorrimor's manner before secreting themselves away. The message made my blood run cold—it appears we have attracted the attentions of The Whispering Way. The history of the cult is far too vast for me to delve deeply into here, but suffice to say, it appears we've been wrapped up in the business of a rather persistent group of necromancers.
It was after the arrival of this message that Mister Inkquill revealed he was in possession of a journal that had been penned by the professor. It appears that the professor had been working in opposition to the activities of the Whispering Way here in Ravengro, and this may have been what led to his untimely demise. Considering the phrases in the journal that had been highlighted, and the fact that only the five of us were called for the professor's will, I have reason to believe that he may have trusted us to carry out the quelling of the cult's goals here in case of his unfortunate passing.
And it seems that the Whispering Way is more aware of that than we are.
Still, the day continued on. We took some time to formally introduce ourselves to one another, and then decided to get a lay of the land. Thankfully Mister Inkquill is a native of Ravengro, and knows his way around the town. We eventually made our way to the Temple of Pharasma, where we also properly introduced ourselves to Father Grimburrow. He explained a bit about the going on's in town and was willing to write us a letter of introduction to the Mayor, which hopefully will bear fruit.
In the meantime, we've made our way back to the manor, and are now settling in. I'm writing this by the light of a small bonfire I've made, while considering our upcoming activities. Tomorrow we shall be investigating a false crypt the professor mentioned, and I've a pit in my stomach regarding the thing.
I suppose it best to end this on a more positive note. The Professor's home is a wealth of information, and while it is not why I came to Avistan, I have been curious about Sarenrae, who is worshipped on this continent in a similar role to Shizuru. I have secreted away a prayer book from his library to read until I decide to retire for the evening. I pray that the words of another Goddess of the Sun will serve to brighten the gloom that I will soon be forced to work through.
So yeah, that's my silly little journal. I'll be updating it weekly, since I play weekly. Feel free to comment if you're reading. I'll probably put a ToC if this gets... Read? I guess.