Christ Centered Gamer

Spot check:
[dice]0[/dice]

Listen check:
[dice]1[/dice]

((Hopefully the dice don't hate me this time....))

He has no idea how he came to be in this place, but for now, decides to play along. Perhaps this is some form of magic, and all magic has a limit.

"These are the cliffs of Lyonesse." He says carefully. He holds the teacup but does not sip from it. "I spent a good deal of time here as a child."

He looks around. Just how perfect is this illusion? He tries to recall details of the actual place to compare with what he sees.

((Can I make a spot check?))

((Yes, you can make a spot check and a wisdom check (just a roll and add your wisdom modifier) to try to recall the place in your memory.))

As you walk along, to your left you notice a modest, square and simple mausoleum made from finely chiseled marble. There's something strange about it. You hear what can only be described as a child whimpering and a man talking to himself.

"There must be a way out...where's the opening....there must be....it's ok little one, it's ok. We can't die in here....please..."

The tumblers fall into place and you hear the bold slide away from the door. You breath a sigh of relief and tug at the door nob. As you open the door, you hear a rather unnerving click. You're ever so familiar with the sound, the sound of your final seconds of life....unless.

((Roll a reflex save))

Knowledge Religion-Oldimarra is the king of rogues, the minstrel of the gods. The men clothed in jester costumes are high ranking priests in the temple of Oldimarra. These men are skilled rogues, bards, performers, or musicians. The piles of gold are openly displayed as a challenge to any rogue. Legend tells of one man who thought he could best Oldimarra.

The crimson rogue, master of the thieves guild of Underport and faithful servant of Oldimarra. As one of the Rogue's blessed, there wasn't a coffer in the land that was drained to where the mark of the rogue couldn't be found. What the Crimson Rogue desired he soon after possessed. Nothing was out of the reach of the rogue. Power, fame, women, all were his to have and to posses.

He found his way to the temple to homage in his customary fashion. He brought a chest of gold to the Jesters of the High Court and he noticed a single, beautiful coin in the pile of his master. So perfect were it's inscriptions, so beautiful were it's carvings that the rogue was in love with the greatest of these treasures. Always an ever faithful servant was the rogue was posed with the question; "If I, the great rogue possessed all which I so desired, what should prevent me from having this one treasure to? Surely, for all I've done for him, my master Oldimarra would't mind for me to possess this as well." So he took the coin.

Upon the IronDeth the rogue found himself. The ship being the most feared nautical transport upon the Dreadcaust. There, in the water, was a scroll floating amid the waves. The rogue drew it from the water and opened it only to see the picture of a broken mask, the curse of Oldimarra. The rogue laughed at the prospect and returned to port only to be greeted by his lieutenants.

The least of his lieutenants approached with a saddened look in his eye. "Your wives m'lord, they've gone from you. The Lords of Agronon sent their captains and reclaimed those you've taken from them."

His next of men ran to his side and took a knee, "Master, our coffers are drained, the Cuttings and Bones rose up and overpowered our men and have stolen all we had."

His first lieutenant approached with a grim visage and pulled him into a side room for privacy. "Master, the Jesters have rallied and have murdered all of our men with force and stealth. Their cunning and precision is aided by the Master of Rogues himself. Rumor has it that his avatar has been spotted among their numbers."

The Crimson Rogue collapsed to his knees broken by these reports and drew from his vest the gold coin. His last sight as his first lieutenant drove the crooked blade of his dagger through his neck. Soon after, the lieutenant picked the coin out of his cold, blood soaked hands of the broken rogue and made his way to the temple.

He approached fearfully, reverently and presented the high priest with the coin coated in the blood of his master and was in turn offered a mask for his loyalty. The King of Rogues will not be bested.

You walk through the commotion and into the temple itself. The pillars are massive, stretching to the ceiling of the cave that is Underport. There, at the back of the temple you see a man wearing a mask with no facial expression upon it. The mask of the high priest of Oldimarra. He lounges in his throne, his left arm resting on the massive chair. A gold coin passing from finger to finger. You assume he is looking at it because the mask itself is pointed in the direction of the coin.

Winthrop glances at the mausoleum. Seems like a trap, he thinks to himself. He's heard enough stories of freakish monsters disguising themselves to lure in unsuspecting travelers. He's even told some of them to wide-eyed children, offering them as cautionary tales for those who don't listen to their parents or eat their vegetables.

He looks at the mausoleum without stepping off the main road, trying to discern any unusual markings, or looking for any indication as to whose it may be. Or what faith the mausoleum may be dedicated to.

Spot check:

[dice]0[/dice]

You see no signs of any recent travel in the area. From what you can tell, there doesn't seem to be any sign of activity for a very long time. You happen to notice something to the left of the tomb. There seems to be some sort of lever, cleverly disguised as a small, ornate, lion's head.

oh crap!!! Crimson hopes she can dodge this trap!

reflex

[dice]0[/dice]

You dive to the side.

"Pfft pfft pfft pfft," four arrows fly from above and drive into the banister of the staircase. You stand to your feet and walk over to the arrows. Your torch is extinguished but it appears there's a lightstone at the top of the stairs providing sufficient light. You inspect the arrows to find a dried substance that you guess is some form of lethal poison. You pull these arrows from the wood and are able to salvage two of them for reuse ((add two unknown poison bolts to your inventory)).

You ascend the stairs to see a simple but skillfully designed trap mounted on the landing. A gas powered crossbow attached to a solid base. Such an expensive piece of weaponry used to protect an inner door.

Winthrop nods. No sign of recent travel... then whatever is in the mausoleum has probably been in there for a long time. And probably should not be let out. He turns back to the road and keeps walking.

I kneel before the throne bowing my head. Your Grace. I would like to speak to you. I stand, looking up at him. I am a follower and cleric of Ehlonna. I received a vision that I would like to speak to you about. I look around to see how close the other people in the temple are.Is there somewhere a little more isolated that we could speak?

After a while, the girl begins to sob, fearing for her life. She curls into a ball and sits in a corner to your right. The rage and despair boils over.

You turn to the road and begin to proceed only to hear the girl once more. Sobbing from inside the tomb, this time far more loudly than before.

"Calm down little one, we'll make it out, we'll make it out of here..." the sobs of the child continues.

You walk down the path, the nagging feeling inside your stomach growing. As a priest, you're charged with the duty to serve others and somehow you feel you've missed something. You press on into the cemetery.

The mask never leaves the direction of the coin, "Ehlonna is no enemy to the Great Rogue so I will hear your request. If it's an isolated place you wish, that too can be provided." A slight chuckle can be heard from beneath the mask.

You feel the floor beneath your feet give way and you take a great fall and land onto something padded. Darkness surrounds you except the light from above. You hear the maddening laughter of the high priest as the hatch closes.

Darkness.

Moments pass and your eyes strain to see in the dark. You hear the creek of a door and footsteps. Next you hear the snap of a finger. Suddenly candles all over the room light and you notice you're atop of a pile of ornate pillows. Book shelves line the walls. Several sturdy and finely crafted chairs are present and a massive beautiful tapestry hangs from the wall. In one of these chairs is a man clothed in beautiful robes, his feet resting on a table and an apple in his hand. On the table, you see some cheese and grapes.

"Please, let us talk." He motions to the chair opposite of him.