Christ Centered Gamer

I sit in the chair, moving slowly, unsure if it will break as some sort of prankYour Grace, I recently received a vision at the ruined temple of Ehlonna. I was told of a wizard who turned himself into a lich. He was known as Caldrenon Openfist. I was also told that he is the source of the darkness, and it must be stopped. I was also told of an artifact, the heart of Mellifluer. Do you know anything of this name or thing? I rub my chest over where my brand is hidden by my clothing, remembering the rest of what the Priestess had said.

The man's face changes from a look of idle amusement to one of concern. Lines of concentration are etched into his older yet handsome face. He strokes the grey of his well trimmed beard. "You're sure the name was Caldranon? As in Caldranon the avenger, Caldranon the great? The mage who has saved the lives of the people of Agronon time and time again? One of the four heroes?" His expression takes on a slightly irate tone as he states each of the wizards titles as though you have lightly blasphemed before him. "What proof have you of this?"

Kratimos' ineptitude is beginning to get the better of him. He slams his fist on the wall and lets the dull thud calm him as he catches his breath. He takes a moment of silence and begins anew his search to get out.

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Your Grace, as I said, I received a vision from Ehlonna in her ruined temple outside Underport. I came to you, hoping you could help me understand. I have never heard of this wizard or of his conquest for power eventually leading to his lich-hood. I meant no offense. I want to help our world. The darkness that is spreading weighs on me. I shift in my chair and move my gaze to my lap, speaking softly. I must find my friends.

Noticing your demeanor, the High priest settles back into his chair. "Visions can be tricky things and you're sure it was from the goddess herself?" He pulls the coin from his vest pocket and begins to tumble it over his knuckles as he contemplates your words.

A nice crossbow can come in handy, Crimson tries to remove it from the base and salvage it for personal use

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You remove the gas powered crossbow from the base. You notice that it's make is of flawless design. The stock of the weapon seems a little rotted there are holes in it as well from where a set of bolts were driven to hold it in place. Nothing a skilled weapon smith couldn't handle for a few gold coins. You create a makeshift strap and put the weapon over your shoulder and continue up the stairs. At the top of the staircase you find yourself in a hallway. There are two doors. One to your right and one to your left.



((Please let me know if you can see this image, I want to make sure the hosting site I'm using is working properly, Thanks))

The hand of priest rests on his chin as he listens to you. As you finish his eyes seem to gloss over a bit. He whispers something under his breath as you mention the high priestess.

((Please roll a listen check))

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You can not tell what was said but you can clearly see it visibly upset him. He looks up from his focus. "I haven't seen the High Priestess since the last gathering we held. What a fine day that was, so much to celebrate. It seems that these days are so often filled with the lamentations of the living and rising of the dead. Dark hours are these. If the great lich is Caldranon, then we have much to fear since he knows the land of Agronon better than most. I will retreat at once and seek the wisdom Olidammara has to offer in this grim hour." He stands to his feet. "Feel free to make yourself at home, and thank you for what you have told me. Though dark tidings are these, it's better to have known than to have it a mystery."

The nothingness Kratimos hears is beginning to drive him a bit mad.

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((AHA! Finally!))
Kratimos stops in his tracks when he hears the music. What could that be?
Kratimos moves toward the wall where the music is loudest and searches for anything. A door, loose rock, anything.. If nothing comes up, he is not above banging his fist and his femur-club against the wall.

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After the floor rises I walk around the temple in search of a bard that looks well seasoned while I wait for the High Priest to call on me. Maybe they have a story or two about the lich or the artifact.

Winthrop suppresses the feelings as best he can. He knows that some creatures prey on those who seek to lend a helping hand - creatures who hunger for living flesh especially have found dark ways to lure their food into inescapable locations. Winthrop imagines going into the tomb and seeing darkness, the cries for help always just a few steps more into the black, until the door suddenly swings shut and the feast begins....

Again, Trip questions the wisdom - and the sanity - of those who thought building a road through a large burial ground was a good idea. He hurries through, eager to spend as little time in the cemetery as possible.

You continue beyond the tomb. As you progress further into the cemetery, you hear from behind the sound of a lyre beautifully played. You press it from your mind and move on. By nightfall, you reach the intersection as the barkeep informed you of. In the center, you see a large metal basin with charred remains of branches and ashes. The place is well kept and nearby you see a pile of wood off to the side. The remnants of light fade from the horizon.

The sound of music grows louder and soon you hear footfalls walking through gravel or loose rock. The music stops and you hear the sounds of gears turning. A moment later, the wall falls to the ground with a loud thud. Your eyes are strained as the light of the sun flows into them, and there standing before you is an older man wearing a long brimmed hat and a ragged traveling cloak. His face is handsome though you can see deep wisdom behind his sky blue eyes.

"You appear to be in need my boy." The man says with a smile on his face and his hand, wrapped in a piece of cloth as a makeshift glove, is extended to offer you aid. In his other hand, a beautifully crafted lyre.