RPG Addicts | We Know You're Hooked

Merika frowned, "I mean if he wanted to kill us himself he could have he did have us already ...." Here the newly changed to a lizardfolk monk looks at his own form for a moment and frowns, "But I think at least remaining in pairs is probably best for now."

(04-17-2024, 12:29 PM)Eloric Aetherion Wrote: [ -> ]Eloric perked up at the idea of possible discount on a decent Inn and gave Benji an approving nod, "Securing employment and a roof over our heads seems like a decent place to start. I like it."

Looking over at the man, Khayman added, not to mention a few stiff drinks, his voice as deadpan as ever. Then turning his attention back to the conversation at large, We follow Sir Benji to the priest, see what information and help we can receive from him and work from there. Nodding his head to the Kobold, lead the way little one.

Still with the look of thought on his face Robsen says, It seems to me that our evil wizard friend is more like a cunningly evil siamese cat, that is toying with mouse for its entertainment, that it can kill on its whim or when an opportunity for wicked cruelness presents itself. Until we are sure of the lay of the land we should all probably stick together so not to end up as that cat's toy!".

Arriving in the city the group moved into the town and after figuring out which building was the Cathedral, they made their way up the slope towards it. Now that they knew where to look, it was the biggest building in Sandpoint, easily seen from anywhere. It took a short walk to get to the Cathedral. As most adventuring parties have experienced when coming into a strange town, they received mixed views. Some were friendly, waving and greeting them heartily. Some were cautious, especially seeing a dinosaur and a rather large lizardman in the group. Others were guarded and a few stared with a scowl.

Arriving at the double doors to the Cathedral, at about an hour before sunset, they were greeted an acolyte of the curch who inquired about there business.

Benji flopped forward with a courteous bow, then offered the letter of invitation to the acolyte with a theatrical flourish, as gentle notes of a violin started to play. The scaly bard apologized for the late visit, then enthusiastically introduced himself and his band of brave companions, stating that they had come to Sandpoint to offer a sympathetic ear and perhaps their services to the High Priest (in Benji's own eccentric manner of speaking of course). He also made sure to mention that he was part of the group that had recently taken down a cult in neighboring Ravenoor, one that had been corrupting the town's traditional veneration of Desna into worship of the Gossamer King Ghlaunder.

Casting Musical Accompaniment: +1 to Performance
Make An Impression: 1d20+14 23

(OOC: Impressive Performance lets me use Perform to Make an Impression)

The Acolyte was very pleased as was evident by the large grin that appeared on his face. He stated hed go tell Abstalar and invited you into the Cathedral. As he opened the doors wide you could see this entry foyer not only depictions of several of the Gods of Golarion in their bas relief carvings. There were benches around the walls allowing room for up to 10 people to sit while waiting to attend a priest. The acolyte hurried through the only other set of doors and left them open as he went. The room beyond was a hall dedicated to Desna. A purple butterfly of inlaid tile was laid out on the floor of the entryway. The stars and moon inlaid on the roof. Tapestries of blue and white adorned the walls and a statue of a woman in robes with her hands held out as if to aid any who prayed herein. Graffiti like prayers were adorning the pedestal. Two doors on the wings of the room were closed. and the acolyte went to the right side. opened a door and went into a hallway.

It took Khayman several minutes before entering the Cathedral. A pang of loss at the sight of the place froze him for little while. Though his worship of the Lord of Battles was unorthodox to say the least, having never had need of churchs or temples, he still felt his loss of connection to Marconis strongly. He'd always just spoke to the God of War, from as far back as he could remember, and only over the last ten years or so, that Marconis actually began speaking back to him. 

He was Khayman the Wanderer, The Two Sword Mercenary of the Fire and Ice Adventuring Company. The Chosen of the Lord of Battle, the husband of the High Priestess of the Stormbringer, the Field General of his Lord's Soldier on Faerun, and now, he was nothing more than a lowly rogue. 

As he stood out the cathedral battling with his demons, "He." finally came to realize something. "He." wasn't the Chosen of Marconis Stormbringer. Marconis held no sway in this world, was unheard of, as a deity or even a person. No, "He." was a clone of that Mercenary Warrior from another world. This Khayman was relatively young, for his skill and experience, and despite sharing the appearance of the other Wanderer, "He." was not that man. Nor were the clones of his friends and family roaming this new world. 

With that one realization, he shook off the melancholy for the moment, drew his coat gun from it's pocket and reloaded and returned it, adjusted his weapons belt, and strode to catch up to his companions.

Merika studied the carvings of the various gods and goddesses. He wasn't devout, or never had been. He wasn't sure if that was something this version him would be. Still he had previously had a goddesses 'blessing' although he wouldn't have phrased it that way. Nor did he miss it, not really it was just something he had always known. In fact his lack of interest in devotion to her, seemed to make her more interested in him so he was glad that wasn't a thing he had to worry about anymore. Perhaps he would find faith and a deity worthy of devotion here in this new world.

In his home world he had been one of Meiliki's servants in the wilds, for some reason he knew that his diety took the name of Cernunos in this world. Robsen's eyes quickly searched the temple scanning for any symbolism of his faith before shrugging his shoulders and following his companions into the temple.