The Man Behind the Mask

[Jal-Koon]

A little awkward with our naga friend here, but yes lichdom is my goal. And as for undead; I lack muscle thus I have my abominations do most of the fighting for me. So to answer your question Mr. Mask, I do have experience with them...

[Chronica]

An intense growl issued forth from the woman standing before the man in the mask, the sound more feline than feminine. Hoping the growl was warning enough for the man's seemingly rude gesture, and his attempt at a dismissal, Chronica grabbed a seat from the table and let herself have a seat. Invited or not she was going to have her share of knowledge.

Resting her elbow on the table and her chin on the heel of her hand she spoke, "So you're telling me that the sins of one man will follow his son and continue for six more generations..." She chewed the inside of her lip as she thought.

"Doesn't that mean that if the first son of the first sinful father commits a sin, it starts all over again and follows to the eighth generation of the first father? And thus continue on in a repetative never ending line of sin?

"And since you follow this seemingly asinine thought of sins passing through generations, then you must think that the man you seek must be the seventh generation of a father who was sinless as were his son and grandsons. Then when you think about it... if you carry the sins of your forefathers, then how is it that anyone can be free of sins? Do you plan to find the seventh generation of the immaculately concieved?"

She turned to the bar after her rant checking to see if Splicey or any other assisant was available. Unable to see anyone behind the bar or in the kitchen she turned back to the man in the mask, a curve at one corner of her mouth.

[DungeonMaster]

He nodded and gestured between the two men, "I think you two ought to get better aquainted with yourselves... after all... you have faces." he chuckled light-heartedly under the mask and moved to the bar, taking the seat next to Chronica, "And, no, my dear Angel. I simply meant that the sins commited by any father fall unto his sons unto the seventh generation of sons. If a man had a child with one who is pure, and then left the child to be raised sinless, and then that child begat another in the sinless place... that would have to happen until eight generations had passed for a child to truly be raised sinless." he sighed, "Simply put, it means that if each father has but one sin, that sin will fall unto his son's soul's conscience until the sons have long forgotten the fathers... so you have the first sinful father leave... then the child is assumed to be raised safely and sinlessly. Then that boy has a child, and knows only the sin of his father and his predecessors, until the sons no longer remember the sinful ones. Sometimes it only takes one generation... sometimes more."
He shrugged and looked intently into Chronica's eyes, "I am sorry if my short reply seemed rude earlier... I am sure you overheard of our quest. Would you wish to join us?"

Charon shrugged. He turned to Jal to "better aquaint himself" with this person. "I am Charon, former citadel guard, escaped convict, murderer. And you are?" He offered his right hand to Jal. He had made it a habit to shake with his right to show he wasn't ashamed of his circumstances and the misdeeds he had committed. ~This one means to be a lich as well? Then he must meet the creator. Quickly, invite him to join your expedition to destroy me.~ There was a sense of mockery when the ring spoke to Charon.

[Jal-Koon]

Jal hesitated, but then grasped Charon's hand.
"Quite a wrap-sheet you have their my good sir. As for me; I used to own an
apothecary shop. Oh, and I have an insatiable lust for power. A pleasure to meet you..."
He glanced over at the masked man.
"I wonder what he's doing over there."

[Chronica]

"A man could be absolved of those sins that are passed on to his soul. Many believe that a holy man, one who speaks with the Gods, are able to call upon the Gods to forgive a person of his or her sins... Does that not even truly work?" She shrugged her shoulders off-handedly and let out a breath.

"I must admit, I am one filled with many sins... I will join you to see if there truly is a man who is filled with pure mind, body, and soul. One condition though..." She smiled sweetly.

[DungeonMaster]

He moved towards her a little and said, "One who could directly communicate with the gods would in theory be able to absolve me of my sin, making it so that i could remove the mask myself... but there is just one problem... after i remove the mask, i do not know if the aging that it has kept at bay will creep in on me... fter all, I've wandered for so long... and... what condition would that be?" His eyes never left her own, and she could see the green of his iris glinting in the light of the trollspit bar and grill.

[Chronica]

She smirked, "No pet names, I am far from an angle darlin. You may call me Chronica or Miss Tempora, either works. But now I understand your reluctance to remove the mask good sir." She turned and looked at him, a knowing look on her face, her green eyes bright with years of kenntnis.

"I have lived a long time, and have seen and done many things. Some forgivable, others not quite so. But I have picked up a few things about magic along my journies. From your story, I gathered that this mask has a wonderful ability of attracting it's owners to their death rather than the man finding a way to remove the mask. From my various travels I have seen things like your mask. Most people when confined to such a life as yours go on in a simple drone of travels, seeing things they normally wouldn't have seen in their life. But it is a repetative life, no true need for an attempt at surrvival, no true ambition except the normal, everlasting life, power, money, women... Ah wonderful huh?" She chuckled, "But when one such as you seeks to remove and destroy the item bestowed upon them, it tends to give them another chance at life if they succeed, because you are not one to think he is above the world."

Chronica waved her hands in the air, a corner of her mouth curled, "Ah but do not get your hopes up on my rambling thoughts. But it does tend to turn out that way... giving up eternity for a chance at death, among the gods it is looked upon with gratitude. We live to die, but in so doing we live as we are supposed to." She laughed again. "Oh I see I must need sleep or my regular drink. Where in the world is Joe or Splicey?"

Charon looked over at the masked man and the winged woman. "She's an interesting one." ~Bah! Useless girl! The master would no sooner spit on her if she was aflame.~ Charon glared at the evil ring which seemed to stare unkindly at Chronica. "Once I give you back and destroy both you and your master, I shall look back on this day and laugh." He looked at Jal. "My apologies. You'll have to forgive me if you see me talk to the ring, for it speaks, in great measure, whether I want it to or not."

[Jal-Koon]

Jal eyed the ring with a hint of interest.
"Ah, that's fine. I talk to stuff that doesn't even reply, corpses aren't the most talkative."
He looked over to the masked man again and dreamed about the days when he could converse with women like that. Consuming the souls of others had a way of warping one's appearance.