Christ Centered Gamer

"Let me tell you a story Livia. This story is, unfortunately, a terrible tragedy. There once was a good and powerful wizard. A wizard so accomplished that he had found himself the head of a prestigious guild of very powerful wizards guild at a very young age. With his influence he started the mages college of Agronon and he taught so many young and aspiring minds how to wield the arcane with beauty and respect. He did many great and wonderful things with his incredible abilities. After many centuries the body of the man began to give way. Even with so many charms and spells, nature eventually wins in the end. However, the man refused to accept his fate, he believed that there was a way to achieve immortality and that the arcane was the answer.

With his time limited, he poured over hundreds of tomes, spent hours summoning the greatest minds the world has to offer. Eventually, each came to the same conclusion. Man has an end and his time, no matter how long, eventually dwindles away.

For most, they accept their fate with dignity. Sadly, this wizard instead finds himself obsessed with the notion of eternal life and begins to search in places where he swore to himself he would never go. Eventually, the wizard finds a dark but powerful way to prolong his life in the form of lichdom. A lich is powerful wizard who's soul is stored in an artifact called a Phylactery. This lich, this unholy creature is one of the undead. The wizard, being as powerful as he is knew where where best to find the most powerful item to be used as a Phylactery. He then journeyed through the planes of existence and eventually found himself in the tomb of a dead god. No one knows what god this was but it was clear that this long forgotten evil was meant to be left alone and not to be disturbed. There the mage made his way inside to the burial chamber. With powerful arcane magics he removed the skull from the body of the divine being and brought it with him to the prime material plane. After completing his wicked ritual the mage retained his soul inside of this skull. Unknown to this mage were the repercussions of such actions.

After this wretched ceremony the mage vanished from the public eye. Many believed him to be consumed by the very magic that sustained him all of those years. Still others believed that he accepted his fate with dignity and left this realm to another plane to live out the rest of his days. No one would have expected that this goodly wizard had performed the darkest of arcane rituals and was now walking the planes in search for what every creature of his type craves....more power."

The high priestess pauses for a moment and finds herself deep in thought once again before looking to Livia, "Are you following me so far child?"

Crimson heads over to the barrels and is curious of what is inside them. Given the cobwebs if there is food inside, could it still be any good? Stashing some for later in her pack wouldn't be a bad idea as long as it's not rotten.

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The dwarf replies to your question with another question, "What is in a name boy? A name, no a name is not necessary. I am here because I cost that wizard far more than he bargained. Eventually, as you can see however, he was able to get the upper hand."

The dwarf goes silent for a moment. "Unfortunately you won't be able to remove me from here. This prison is one that is both physical and at the same time magical. You see, the mage tricked me and now I am alive only because of the magical dweomers of this cell are what keep me alive." He once again goes silent for a moment, then you notice his head rise from the slumped position before. "Then again...." He stands to his feet, still facing his back to you, "...perhaps you may be the one to help bring my imprisonment to an end."

The old dwarf's unwillingness to reveal his identity makes Kratimos suspicious, but he still only has one thing on his mind. He whispers to the girl on his back it'd only be a little bit more, and then he responds to the prisoner.
"I have but one condition. You have no love of this mage as well. Help me kill him and I will set you free."

You approach the largest barrel in front of you. You wipe some of the dust off of the front to discover some writing in a language that you are not familiar with. You do recognize, however, the pictures of grapes painted on the outside of it and the depiction of a wine bottle. As you look over the barrel, you hear an unsettling sound, chains rustling and scraping against the floor. The smell of rot slowly begins to increase.

((Note, the room is larger to the left, you can only see so far in the torch light))

The dwarf laughs. "Boy if I were able to be freed of this cell, that mage's head would be a colorful stain on a wall. What I ask, I don't ask lightly, but with my freedom I guarantee that you will not regret giving me aid."

The dwarf turns around. Immediately you recognize his face. You've seen it hundreds of times carved into statues and woven into tapestries. It's depicted in some of the most prestigious books on history and war. This is the face of Lord Gorehcth Shieldbreaker, the legend who was supposedly destroyed with the return of the dark tide.

((SEE ROA Pt.1 pg1))

((OMGOMGOMGthisissocool. I think I jumped around a little bit.))
Kratimos' eyes grew wide and he bowed his head in reverence. He was standing in the presence of greatness, a man of strength and power. You could say Kratimos was a fan of his work.

"My Lord, let's get you out of here and set this place ablaze." Kratimos gruffly maintained his composure. "So what do you know of the runes on the door, and which dweomer is keeping you alive?"

"I need my hammer." Says the dwarf.

You remember this hammer fondly. It was the tool used by this artisan of war to paint a glorious picture of death on many a battlefield.

"My hammer is a powerful artifact forged by a god and given to me as a gift for my years of service. This cell has similar powers as my hammer and it keeps me from aging. If I walk out of here without my hammer, my body will rapidly age and I will cease to live. This may be a task too great for one individual since the mad mage wouldn't place my hammer anywhere except for his most securely guarded vault. You will need some assistance, do you have any allies who may be of help?"

Allies... A pang of guilt and shame struck Kratimos upon hearing those words. His thought immediately turned back 2 years, to the party, to the words of Father Michael Elder... Brokan, Crimson, Minather, Livia... Guy... He has betrayed them all. They were becoming the closest thing he had to family, and he has betrayed everyone. This. This is all his fault. How could he face them? He cannot even face himself. For all the pain the mage has inflicted on him, none is greater than which he has inflicted on himself.
"No," Kratimos answered slowly "I am alone."
The words struck cold and deep, and anger swelled and burned to quell it. His gripped his claws into fists. Only destruction can abate his dishonor. All will burn.
"I will find your hammer, or I will die trying."

Kratimos turned away and began walking towards the upwards stairs. It's time to get this girl to her father. There will be much blood. All shall pay.

Winthrop offers a reassuring smile. "Things have, indeed, been getting darker," he admits. "But I've taken it upon myself to try and make things brighter. I've dedicated my efforts to remind others that there have been good times in the past and, if we stay strong and remain dedicated to our faiths, we will have those good times again. The hardships we experience are there to make the pleasant times all the sweeter."

Trip giggles. "But I'm sure you didn't come to me looking for a sermon. Please, share your story! I always enjoy adding more to my collection!"

I sit there, staring at her, scared.

Is....Is this what we were sent to fight before?....The one....the mission we failed?

The old man smiles, "I like your enthusiasm. With more of that maybe better days are ahead." He begins to waive his hands and conjures an illusion. There, you see a group of beautiful and powerful looking individuals standing in a circle.

He clears his throat and begins, "So there was a group of," He pauses for a moment to find the word. He smiles and then continues, "Rulers....rulers who didn't exactly....get along. In fact, many of them were often at each other's throats. After a while they all came to the same conclusion, life is beneficial. Even to those who were in agreement with death understood that death will happen, it has it's place and each needs to be patient. These individuals operated in cooperation for many years. All go things, as it were, come to an end sadly."

A dark figure enters the group and each of the other figures turn their back on him. " Eventually, another climbed his way up to their ranks and began to mingle with the group. Now this individual seemed to go against the grain and operate on his own agenda. That individual decided to....go about his operations in a different sort of manner. He secluded himself and began to scheme and plan and put together a plot that the other individuals would not be able to handle. Eventually this individual acted on his plot."

You see the dark individual, fist clenched as a symbol of dominance and strength, "He thought himself so clever. He created a powerful item, a dark artifact that would remove the influence of the other individuals from the realm and his realm would control everything."

The view zooms out to see smaller people standing next to the more powerful and beautiful people, "Little did this schemer know the others were making plans of their own. You see, they each sent some of their own children into the realms disguised as common folk. Each of these children were given a specific order, to wait until the contact with their parents was fully cut off and they would be the representatives of their parents in a world apart from their influence."

He continued, "Many of the children waited patiently but life has its ways. Many lived out their years and met their end by old age, disease," He pauses for a second, his complexion takes on a sorrowful tone for just a moment, "...murder."

He looks up at you once again, fervor renewed, "In any case, many of these smaller people had children of their own and many of them had no idea they were related to these powerful and important individuals. Unfortunately many of these children forgot the directives their parents laid down to them and did not relay the information to the next generation"

He claps his hands together and the illusion disappears, "But you see, the time has finally come and the people are now in need of their children and they are no where to be found."

He gets closer to you, "but you see....It's my right."

He grabs your hand and then releases it. He then stands up and begins to walk toward the door. As he walks, you notice he become less and less substantial until he just fades into nothing. The sounds of his footsteps quieting into nothing.

The innkeeper walks into the room with the food and drink.

Immediately you notice two things. One, the place where he touched your hand is now a glowing a bright purple tribal design. Two, you reach for and find that all of your money is gone.

"That'll be one gold coin sir."

The high priestess approaches you and puts her hand on your shoulder, "This is not your doing child. I am aware of the mission Father Michael sent you on, and your success would not have shifted the balance of fate and changed the course of this dark creature.

You see, the creature had unknowingly a tie to the divine. The skull of a god is still part of a god. The lich found himself wandering the planes and by accident, interrupted a powerful ceremony. The dark god Nerull was empowering one oh his followers to the position of a demigod as the lich was passing near his plane, the skull drew the energy from the acolyte into itself. Since the soul of the lich lives inside of the skull, the power of the god empowered the lich. He became a demigod by accident. Having realized how he gained his power, however, the lich began to usurp more intentionally, using the skull as a divining rod and it's ability as a sponge.

After some time, the lich arose to the title of a lesser god and was granted a realm of his own. Since his actions were known only by the gods themselves, precious few knew of his ascension so followers were at a minimum...at first. It wasn't until a great mindflayer traveling the planes happened upon the small realm and was invited to dine with the god. After their conversation, the god had his first follower. Eventually word grew of the god of liches and so did his power and influence.

Eventually his followers found themselves visiting the plane of their god and that is where he contrived the unholy plot that we are intertwined within. You see, the reason this realm is blackened and the power of our goddess is fading is simple. The realm of the wretched lichgod is merging with our own. Eventually our precious goddess will have no influence over our plane of existence. He chose this ream, Agronon because he was familiar with it. The young wizard had a name, a name of renown. His true name, unknown to most was Caldrenon Openfist."

((See ROA Pt 1, first post about the history))

Winthrop looks at the glowing mark on his hand, and also notes the sudden, inopportune absence of his coins. "Olidammara, you are a sly one..." he mutters. He racks his brain to see if the mark looks familiar... perhaps related to a noble's crest or religious icon he had encountered in the past.

He turns to the innkeeper, an apologetic smile on his face. "Let me guess - you don't recall an older man with me here in the room just a moment ago who was wearing a cloak and smelled of tobacco, do you? No, of course not, why would you?" Trip glances at the door, then back to the man. "So you wouldn't believe me if I told you that this stranger just departed with all my good coin. Why would you? What stranger?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Just a little joke that someone is playing on me. Rest assured, that I fully intend to pay you for your hard work, friend. It just seems that it will not be in the currency of this realm. I do happen to be a priest, as well as a minstrel. Are there any ailments or blessings you require? Or if not, any tasks you would like me to do around this fine establishment? Sweep floors, wash dishes, split wood, that sort of thing?"

(( Trip is pouring on the charm as he speaks, of course. I'm shooting for a diplomacy check, if possible. Also, I'd like to check to see if his Heraldry or Religious knowledge can help identify this strange marking... as well as determine if the stranger's story was some sort of analogy for a battle between deities. That's probably a separate religion check, right? How do I roll dice in this? ))

((You can roll separate bardic knowledge rolls for the mark and for the story. Also, for both you can roll all of your knowledge skills individually for each.

As far as laying on the charm, you can roll a diplomacy check to see how well that goes.))