[Game Thread] Harrowed Land

[Mal Radagast]

The young man looks sheepish and small as he meekly accepts the shovel back from Nik…their eyes meet for a moment, and it’s suddenly very clear how young he is. Maybe fourteen? He trots away back down the hill, leaving Nik perhaps to wonder just what he was doing in a mob of angry men in a graveyard at the crack of dawn.

While this exchange took place, the others were staring in silence off down the hill to be certain that the men were leaving and not regrouping for another go. Just as Nik turns around, as it’s clear that the threat had passed, he sees Kendra exchange a look with the priest before the tension dissolves into peals of laughter. “Her left tit, though, why specifically the left one?”

The priest chuckles deep in his barrel chest, stocky frame rumbling. “Dinna blaspheme, girl.” He pauses. “That’s moy job.”

Adivion, producing another cigarette already, leans over to Kendra – who rolls her eyes and cups her hand up to light it. A devilish smile around a mouthful of smoke, he says, “None of us are saints, Father.”

Heading off what might become rather a lengthy discourse if left unattended, Kendra gestures to the four of you. “Some of you may have met Father Grimburrow…” (he nods) “…old Grim is a family friend. Or at least, he’s a friend to any family spending time out here in the Yard.” Her eyes rest for a moment on Bishop; the crow on his shoulder flaps and shuffles his feet. She winks.

Adivion makes himself useful collecting the shovels from where they’re tipped against trees and headstones nearby…he tosses one to each of you, breath puffing white with frost and cigarette smoke. The return to silence, another quiet moment after the commotion, seems to bring back the sparkling cold clarity of the morning. The spades are rimed with frozen dew, their wooden handles old and roughworn, splintering after a hundred such winters and summers and winters…

The six pallbearers lift Professor Petros Lorrimor’s casket down into the crumbling earth, and begin the work to cover it back over him. The silence is companionable at first, but it grows uncomfortable. Eventually Velkan speaks up, asking about the particulars of the death. The quiet shifts slightly, to a listening sort of quiet.

Kendra narrows her eyes for a moment. She pauses between shovelfuls of gravedirt. “Here? Now?” Her tone is…exasperated, and a little ragged around the edges. A small reminder that there is grief behind the grace and measure of her. The day hasn’t even made its first attempt to brighten from the endless grey dawn of her father’s funeral, and she’s going to have to go through this now? Knee deep in cold earth? But she takes a breath, relenting. Of course anyone who knew her father would expect the circumstances of his death to be mysterious. Of course.

She sighs, leaning on her shovel for the moment. “They’re not especially peculiar particulars, all things considered. Everyone knows not to walk down by the old prison, been haunted for ages. He certainly knew that.” Shaking her head at the grave, watching the dirt fill in, she can’t quite muster a chuckle this time. Shhk-chk, shhk-chk! Bishop’s rhythm remains steady, practiced, while Clarence is more erratic, syncopated. “He’d always said it was on his to-do list, but he might’ve mentioned if he was off to hallow a haunted prison. Never said a peep to me, the old…ah well.” Shhk-chk, shhk-chk! Seeing the grave near full, she tosses her spade over near a tree and claps the dust off her hands. “Could’ve been the haunts, could’ve been he was just too close to a ruined old stone wall, and too close to Pharasma to get out of the way. Could’ve been he’s antagonized too many dark and bloody creatures over the years and they…they…oh you have got to be kidding me what now?”

For a moment, you can’t make out what’s bothered her. Moving to stand next to her, looking down from the hilltop, there’s…nothing. Just a quiet morning. Hardly anybody down below is even up yet, from the wispy looks of the chimneysmoke in the distance. The only thing moving is the There is one river running alongside the town, and it hasn’t been called by any name for so long it’s just the River now. Lorrimor always encouraged this, as it brings it closer to a metaphorical River and that makes a useful deterrent against undead.River. But then you hear it. Low at first…slowly growing…a soft-sharp, deep-windy whistle rises out of the silence and the wind. When the wind turns this way it dances closer, turns the other way and it’s farther again...dancing up the hill from down the There is one road passing through this town, and it’s almost never used – traffic to Bleakwall dried up a long time ago, so the only folks on this road are generally either lost or they’re from around here. Hardly anyone is from around here.Road.

Rather eventful morning for a funeral, it’s turning out.

[Greaven]

The grave man, doing grave things, was quiet, his somewhat pale face had a smirk upon it, as he went about filling the final resting place, or what damn well had better be, of Professor Lorrimor. It wasn't that he took any pleasure in it, it was just what he did. Though a slew of puns were at the tip of his tongue, and he found it somewhat difficult to bite them back. Kendra's words weren't particularly helpful, but, she was grieving, and he had the tact to avoid pressing for more details. He stood watch over the dead as a living, it was expected to run into grave robbers, and occasional madmen weaving dark machinations, or so the dream goes. It's occupational hazard. Lorrimor, he tended a lot of fires, so it was hard to say what had finally burned him.

When the curious noise drifted up the hill, his practiced pace faltered, as his brow furrowed and he gave a snort, "Well, don't see how that could be a regular thing here. What carnival would waste time to come to this half-dead place?" The crow flitted from shoulder to shoulder excitedly, before it croaked out, "roasted peanuts... ooooo, come on, let's go." Bishop scoffs as he rolls his eyes, "It's not going to taste the same... You ate dead meat, can you even enjoy peanuts?" A truly amused look crosses his face as he considers it for a long moment

[tomplum]

Velkan Lupescu It was immediately apparent to Velkan that he had overstepped with regards to Kendra. He often forgot most folk weren't as distanced and cold-hearted as he was. Her explanation did not satisfy. Little done in the Professor's life was left to mere chance or determined by sheer poor luck. He had an overwhelming wish to investigate this haunted prison. If there truly were haunts there...he had heard that speaking with the deceased was something not wholly out of the realm of possibility. If it wasn't the ghosts who had sealed the Professor's fate, maybe they would speak to whom or what had caused the incident. But he was in no condition to do much of anything. Piling dirt onto the casket had stressed his over worked lungs to exhaustion and he fell into another coughing fit that continued for quite some time until it was finally drowned out by the sounds of a carnival down the hill. The distraction was enough to end the coughing fit and set his breath back to a normal cadence. Bishop seemed keen to partake in the festivities and while Velkan normally avoided such things, he felt an odd need to participate this once. After all, he had come here to honor the life of the Professor, not to wallow in his own defeatist opinions. Always seemingly blindly optimistic about people, Velkan was certain the Professor would have enjoyed such a display of humanity that a fair could conjure. For his sake, they should add to that humanity. "Yes, that would be a fantastic distraction from the gravity of today. Besides, I doubt the Professor would have wanted us to sulk about on his behalf for the rest of our lives."

[Humble Athena]

Nikol rubbed the side of his face, between his eye and his mouth. It has already been a trying morning. He nodded warily at the priest. He seemed a friendly enough sort, but still, a priest. One could never be sure what they were planning. He's not sure if he's meant to introduce himself, or if the introductions are for those who are closer. Why was it always so painful to interact with people? In the end, he decides to keep his mouth shut. No point drawing attention to himself if he can help it.

It was a relief when a shovel appeared in front of him, and he grasped it gratefully. He knew this part, at least, and threw himself into the task of moving dirt. He only paused when the silence was broken, raising an eyebrow as one of the other men question Ms. Lorrimor-Vukal about the Professor's death- it seemed particularly tactless, but in this, he didn't feel it was his place to call it out. It wasn't like with the loutish laborers, where there was a clear threat brewing. The woman had a mouth and was clearly capable of using it. And, admittedly, he had his own morbid curiosity. He returned to shoveling.

The strange sound from below didn't catch his attention until the others commented on it. He looked around again, leaning slightly on the shovel handle . Where they serious? Planning to run off already? Was.. that it, then? He didn't have a lot of experience with funerals- but surely there was more to it than this abrupt moving on?

[HughtheHand]

Clarence watches with a mixture of sadness and curiosity as the kind Prof. Lorrimor is lowered down into the cold earth. As he picks up the shovel he finds himself intensely aware of the feel of the wood in his hands, and for a moment experiences a profound appreciation for being alive. His face twitches slightly, a pull at the corner of his mouth, and he raises his hand up in the air and turns to the left, as if he were about to say something to someone, but he doesn't. Instead he turns back to the grave and begins to help shovel the dirt onto the casket. He obviously isn't too accustomed to such manual labor, but he manages to move a little earth from the pile to the grave.

He looks up as Velkan asks his question, and feeling the tension, immediately turns his face down and begins shoveling. But he can't help but listen intently, and as Kendra starts discussing more of the "particulars", he is doing less and less shoveling and more and more listening. At the mention of "haunts", Clarence flinches noticeably.

As the others turn to look towards the origin of the carnival sounds, Clarence sets his shovel down on the ground and walks ungainly around the grave to approach a few paces closer. His watery eyes grow large as he listens to the lilting music and hears Bishop name the source as a carnival. "A carnival? I have heard of those... but never been..." He then remembers where he is, and what they are doing, and turns back to look at Kendra, his face resembling that of a guilty puppy. "Excuse my rudeness, miss, I did not mean to interrupt."

[Greaven]

Bishop blinked briefly at that, and canted his head at Velkan, and then back to the bird, his smirk turns wry as he considers the two of them, birds of a feather it seemed. No, there were tasks to be done yet, and while a carnival was a curious oddity for himself, and others it seemed, it was not where his interest was. There was the matter of why they had been called here, as it seemed strange that they would come from all over just to be the back for the labor. Then there was the matter of the mob of agitated ignorance that seemed keen to be playing at the part of His job. The tender of graves couldn't be sure that they wouldn't do something foolish in the near future.

A Carnival of Souls was a much more fitting thing, to celebrate those who had passed, but, in the professor's case, it seemed in bad taste. He could only offer an apologetic look to Kendra as it was not his intention to lead those gathered down that path, it was just that his damned feathered nuisance didn't know how to keep his beak shut. Well, no surprise there, different shape, but same soul, he wouldn't change any no matter how much time had passed.

[Mal Radagast]

People Seized With Life.

After a few moments, it's done. Silence, and the Professor is gone. It doesn't feel done, but...well. Brushing brown-dirt hands across grey mourning clothes, you all look around. There is an air of grave satisfaction, particularly after the various unexpected moments of this mourning. Kendra shifts her gaze from the haunting melody on the wind to the stone and soil where her father finally rests. Eventually she finds Adivion, and they share a sad smile, and for just that moment, nobody has much of anything to say. The conversation from before feels unfinished, but for just this moment, nobody feels like picking it up again...you all turn to meander down the hill.

Wandering back southwards, townwards, the pebbles and grass crunch a little bit less as the grey dawn flashes firewarm orange. Only a few minutes, barely the length of the path...Kendra grins into it, all flush with it, chuckles and murmurs, "Well, how bout that. It blushed."

By the end of the path, and the little broken wall of the Yard, the blush is already gone, leaving odd-placed shadows all scattered around the small buildings, behind the statues, and under the trees.

Quiet surrounds the group now, all walking empty-handed back to an empty-feeling town. Or, possibly not as empty as before? There are fresh tracks crossing the practically-untraveled dirt road, and a growing susurration, possibly a crowd forming. Probably not a mob, you've had one of those already this morning and it generally takes a bit of time to build up that head of steam again.

It's a while before Kendra coughs and says, "If you'll all come along for it, there's...well, the Will to be sorted. Wills? Will." She pauses. "You'll be needed, I think." There doesn't seem to be any question of whether you'll go along - you still all have the letters he sent - on your persons, even - and you will see this through. On to the Lorrimor estate...

As the ground levels out into town, the path forks. That would be East.One way, you know, crosses the river and follows into town. The other way is where your morning's wake began - the Lorrimor estate. It seems natural to pause a moment, take a deep cold fresh swallow of air, possibly stretch and yawn. A thrush sings from some nearby tree, is quickly joined by several others. Thrushes, not trees. Then Kendra takes the westward branch directly, though Adivion pauses a moment, head cocked. Rather many and boisterous voices issue from the open Or stadtplatz - i.e., the town square.platz He glances after them, but moves to follow her...

OOC Kendra expects you to follow her, though of course you can move to check out the platz straightaway if that's what you choose. Also, everyone please roll me two consecutive Will saves. Just label them A and B so I know which is which.

[tomplum]

Velkan Lupescu They reached a point where it was either go enjoy a show in town or continue to deal with the Professor's affairs. Since he had come all this way for just that reason, he followed Kendra onward toward the estate. If it wasn't for their dreary purpose, it would have been a beautiful morning. The sky was an amazing shade of orange, the birds were singing in the trees and a light mist clung to any nearby structures. It was as if the world didn't realize it had just lost one of the good ones...Professor Lorrimor. It only reinforced Velkan's opinion that there was little any of them could do to change the fact that the world was dying and humanity was a lost cause, clinging to its last vestiges of life. His thoughts always seemed to fall back on an everlasting sense of hopelessness and a close friend's death had done little to change that fact.   Dice WILL A: 1d20+3 (6)+3 Total = 9 Dice WILL B: 1d20+3 (12)+3 Total = 15

[HughtheHand]

Clarence wears an expression of childlike wonder at the sight of the beautiful light dawning over the horizon fills his large eyes. For a moment he appears completely at peace, padding along with the others. Then the sun is gone, the sky still overcast, and the grey mood of the weather pulls his face back into a somber expression.

Clarence follows behind Velkan, his eyes turning towards the origin of the music every now and again. He mutters quietly to himself, "No, that would be rude. Prof. Lorrimor's daughter is expecting us.... No!" Realizing that he's being speaking aloud, he looks up quickly to check if anyone has noticed. Then he trods silently along, wringing his hands nervously.

 

A = 14, B = 0!

[Greaven]

Bishop stuffed his dirtied hands into his pockets, not caring any for soiling the clothes. This was a regular affair for him, and it was common to have fresh dug earth dusting his clothes, even the nicer ones, and these were his duty clothes, layered cloth and armor meant for defending the graves from robbers or restless souls. It wasn't likely that he would often find them suitably clean. The beauty of the morning is somewhat lost on him, lost in his thoughts as he was, he had scarcely noticed the sun but for a slight grimace as it offended his eyes. Years of night watch made it hard for him to care for mornings of any hue, and he had awoken much earlier than the funeral demanded.

As they came upon the intersection, he mused idly at the crowd, but had no intention of making his way in that direction. The bird, however, seemed quite keen to make it's way over and check things out. Biting at the corner of his lip for a moment, the guardian of graves nodded to his companion, "Go have your look. But, just look, see what is going on. Do Not Get Distracted. We may take a look later, but, you have to earn it first, so make it a good report." With that, the crow cackles some before taking flight toward the crowd, keeping over nearby roofs, and keeping some distance while he circles the spectacle, only coming in now and again, and seeking a near by lamp post or tree to roost in.

"Well then, on we go," he mutters absently as he looks back to Kendra and follows, "Will would be accurate, even if it pertains to multiple people or things. It is his Will that it be done," his elaboration on what she seemed to have settled on was perhaps pointless, but, he had spoken in reflex, and hardly seemed to notice that he had said it. If there were multiple documents that contradicted each other, well, then wills might be accurate actually, but, he couldn't imagine that the professor was that much of two minds to literally argue with himself. Actually, now that Lorrimor had passed, he would have to think of a suitable change to his own Will. He couldn't imagine anyone he would trust with it though.

Taking a deep breath of the cool morning air, he gave a thin smile as he looked to the other mourners. "Do any of you have plans to stay in the area, or are you heading off after this is wrapped up? I ask because it is awful dreary around here, one could always use company on the road. Granted, I'm not going that far myself, but still." He couldn't help but smirk slightly at Clarence as he seems to be struggling some with some crisis of conscience, although he hadn't caught what it was about.

 

Will A- 12
Will B- 22

[Humble Athena]

Nikol winces slightly as morning breaks proper. He knew he should have better discipline, but he wasn't exactly used to being up at this hour. Still, soon enough the worst is over. He follows behind the others wearily, though he doesn't expect to be mentioned in the Will. He and the Professor hadn't exactly had a friendship; in fact, he wasn't quite sure why he had been notified in the first place, but he was glad to at least have had the chance to pay his respects to a remarkable man, and a better father figure than his own had ever been.

He considers peeling away into town for a while, but he doesn't want to cause any concerns, nor for the lady to take it as disrespect. Besides, his horse and his handful of belongings are still at the domicile. He'll have to return eventually. He may as well sit through the Will. Who knows? Perhaps there is something he will be called upon to do. Yes, that makes more sense than the rest of it. There must be some task left for him, and that was why he was called here. He gives the group several moments to answer the gravedigger, before shrugging and giving his own twopence. "I have no plans either way. It depends on where I am needed, if I am needed."