Your aim is true, the pebble flies the 40 ft.
Unfortunately, it doesn't stick the landing, and slides across the raised dais toward the wall but suddenly disappears,  with a plop into water.

Like Olo before you, the first thing you notice is that the entire roof has given way, only the beams remain, explaining the wet and sooty scattered books.

The back pews are within reach, two rows of four, on each side of you. You still have no light of sight to where Olo fell.
The raised pulpit is 3ft high along the far wall.  On the right of the pulpit, a burned out doorway with light beyond. On the left, the melted harp.

The side walls of the church are sooted, there are no windows.

 

(Moving forward 5 ft) you peer over the back pew on the right. Nothing. A quick glance to left -nothing over there either.

A breeze picks up and the scent of the smoldering blackened lump outside the doorway wafts through the church. It smells of chargrilled pork, maybe a blackberry undertone?

Clouds move in again. 

Just enough to peer over row # 3 --- empty.

Re-read #53 & #126.

Last edited by Iron Ranger (10/01/2018 4:05 pm)

The only difference between when Olo entered (#53) and you in here now (#126) are the details in #126.

Another 5 ft. forward up the center aisle, you peer over pew #2. There's nothing there.
But from here you can see a wide pool of thick, sticky blackened blood exactly where Olo fell...

"As I live and breathe, Malak the thief has set foot in a temple of the gods. It would of course be a ruined one, but from the looks of things it burst into flames *before* you got here."

Emral the Mad stands at the doorway, holding a lantern in one hand and his short scimitar in the other. He looks about the char and desecration with a giddy disdain, lip twisted in amusement at whatever humour he could find about the ruin. Strange warlock eyes pierce the shadows, and the blue geometry tattooed over his eye is stretched as he grins and looks back to you.

"I hope you don't mind the company. That drunkard priest sobered up when his alter boy didn't deliver his wine, so he hired me to come get him. Bolo or some such, orphan lad, hard life, helps stray kittens, that sort of thing. Choir can't hold a note without him. Personally I'm just here for the witches, because that's just fun, but if the priest is paying for some kid..." He shrugs.  "Also... it's raining. Crazy!"

((ooc: room for one more?))
((First stab at a character; can reroll as desired

Emral the Mad
Warlock Lvl 2
Neutral (ie: no affiliation; but would be chaotic if it didn’t involve joining a “side”)
ST 15 
DX 12 
CN 10 
IN 18 
WS 13 
CH 14
AC 6 (Brigandine)
HP 14
Age 36 6'0" 200lbs
 
Clothes, plus red hooded cloak
2 Pouches
Backpack
Spellbook (contents pending)
Whip
Short Scimitar
Bastard Sword
Rope
Lantern
Signet ring
))

achiriaco wrote:

(I guess I stalled long enough to have someone join)

(I hope it's okay. :D  I saw the thread, and our GM seemed to really want to run a game. I've been there too often for games I want to enjoy. Seemed a shame to waste the opportunity!  Plus I haven't had a group to actually try this game out, despite having read so many appendix N books!  (currently on Lankhmar book 2, and wow Lieber knows how to make characters charming))

I turn around.
"Well, hello! That is a nice lantern. Nice day, isn't it?"
I approach to great him, taking care to be aware of my surroundings.

"Mmm, a bit drippy for my tastes. Room's a bit drafty, too. Shall we look for a dry spot and wait it out?"
Emral likewise keeps a wary eye behind his colleague, knowing tales of ruins filled with the bodies of delvers who failed to keep their wits.  "On a more serious note, would I be wrong to assume things are going well? You look miserable, and a ruined-and-cursed temple isn't the sort of place I'd have expected you to go alone."

The mad mercenary mage winks one eye, which is surrounded by blue lines and circles.

"My warlock-eye sees all and knows all... but right now it's as cloudy as the weather, so I'm afraid we'll need to figure this one out ourself. Ugh, this rain! Someone must have spat in the face of Boreas himself for this torrent, or else stepped on his sweet roll! Unless there's a hidden cellar in this ruin, we risk freezing to death from exposure. Here, take my lantern and see if you can find something. When the priest told me about this temple's history, my first thought was they might have a hidden cave below the structure. Priests and their oracles, taking some urchin and exposing them to fumes from some underground fissure. They babble and some huckster says it's the gods speaking to us in a way only they can translate, for a price. Keeps the peasants happy, so long as no one tells them about the cave under the building. And where better to keep their offerings than in hidden coffers?"

The warlock hands over his lantern to Malak, and steps out of the doorway, looking suspiciously at the frame for any signs of scripts marking it up. If the thief takes it, Emral swaps his short scimitar for his bastard sword.