Soundtrack
"You are hereby sentenced to live the remainder of your short life in Harrowstone, which, I hasten to add, is a blessing compared to the extent of your crimes and the suffering of your victims.
There you will reside in the misery of your thoughts until such time as you are drawn, hanged, and quartered.
May the gods have no mercy on your blighted soul."
—The final sentencing of Vance Saetressle (“The Lopper”) in 4661 ar by Jurisdeclaris Axenris the Third.
Moonday 17 Lamashan 4711
Ravengro, The Restlands Cemetery
Roughly 10:15 p.m.
Gathered Together in a Funeral Procession
Nearing The Dreamwake
The Professor's words linger about in your mind as the funeral procession comes to a brief halt.
"There has to be evil in this world, so that good can prove its purity above it."
These words, spoken to you by Professor Lorrimor nearly three years ago, have stuck in your mind ever since.
"Violence isn't always evil." the Professor went on to elaborate further, now regarding the bodies of the bandits that would have killed him if not for your timely intervention.
"What is evil however, is the infatuation with such violence."
"Remember this." the Professor advised.
"For Hatred is gained as much by good works as it is by those of evil."
Ten days ago the letter found its way into your hands, delivering the shocking news that your friend Professor Lorrimor has died.
Across the winterlocked land of Ustalav you traveled until your journey ended at the farming community of Ravengro.
They call the town ‘Ravengro’… The origin of the name has been long lost in the mists of history. And who would mind? Not that many people care. Very few foreigners would spend a fleeting thought, let alone a gaze, about this place. In truth, Ravengro is not a place you want to look at for long, if you even manage to spot it as you traverse the sharp cliffs. You’re often too busy minding the chasms or avoiding the countless of wild animals that creep out at the darkest hours.
Not that darkness is an unknown guest in these areas. Some say that the years after the invasion only brought an eternal carpet of grey clouds and bad weather, cursing generations with heavy rain and a bleak mood. People would scuttle towards the shelter of their houses or the overarching cliffs above them, as they saw the few remaining colors of the gardens drown out in an impossible battle.
If you’re one of the desperate, unlucky or just weird strangers in town, you’ll notice the trodden road leading you down the cliffs, heading towards the tiny settlement in the far distance. It’s a solid road. Not one that takes you there quickly, but things in Ravengro have never been hasty. And you’re likely not missing much in the other end.
The feeling of subtle rain against your face is cold, as you check your belongings once more. You notice an old sign, heavy with decay. Through the raindrops you barely make out the name of the city and you can’t help wondering whether this is truly a place you want to be in?
A few miles up the road you see the landscape elevate and carry a small clump of houses. A sorry excuse for a city wall has been erected, but it’s more like a fence. Like their citizens, they have likely stood for eons in the rain, storm and hailstone. Silent and untouched.Behind the city a sinister dark shape rises against the sky. You’ve heard of the ruins of the old prison that once made Ravengro famous in its own peculiar way. Today it’s nothing more than a monument of former glory. It’s appropriate that the only remaining attraction besides it is the vast graveyard in the other end of town.
As you journey up the road, you notice several peasants eyeing you while they gather the last peat for today. Their signals are cold at best. Their eyes narrow and hostile. The recent influx of strangers has not been received well. You know that your presence will be monitored closely, till you prove your worth. For good or ill.
The path into town is not guarded. Neither is it decorative or inviting, as people around these parts don’t need that fanciness. Instead, you see an old map outlining the highlights of the town, and an old creaky sign spelling:
“Welcome to Ravengro. Spellcasters will be shot.”
Since your arrival, you’ve had to stay at the Outward Inn, rumor and hearsay circulating about the upswing in the number of the strange visitors the town has seen lately. Meanwhile the doors of the Lorrimor place closed tight as Kendra is apparently too distraught to even entertain visitors.
Still, the appointed day of the professor’s funeral arrives soon enough. As you gather near the Restlands you catch the first glimpse of Kendra Lorrimor as she greats the precious few people who have gathered to see her father off to his final reward. The relief is obvious in her puffy and red eyes as she sees the lot of you approach. She refrains from running your way, upholding the dignity of this event, but as she speaks, you can tell she teeters on the edge of another bout of tears.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. Father would have been so grateful to know that you were here…”
I'll check them, then.
Have huggies.
