You have been summoned to the Council of Thieves, a rare invitation that few ever receive. You stand in an opulent hall carved out of solid stone, intricate carvings decorate tall stone pillars depicting angels and demons locked in eternal conflict and thick tapestries in myriads of colours line the walls, all of which would be fit for any king’s throne room. You know you are deep beneath the city of Westcrown in ancient catacombs, but only because that is what the rumors of this place say, you have no way of knowing for sure as you were blindfolded on your way here.
Before you sit 8 figures on a raised dais each in different coloured robes, large wooden chairs frame them and each chair is carved with tiny and delicate patterns and each chair’s carvings seeming finer and more delicate then the next. The figures in front of you wear silver expressionless masks, with no holes that you can perceive and molded lips sealed shut, yet you can tell that they see you.
A figure in a thick red and brown robe toward the center of the dais raises an arm and with a gloved finger points towards you and your companions. “You are the best” a man’s voice booms from behind the mask, he’s voice clearly amplified by magic.
You look around to your companions wondering if it’s a questions or a statement, or if he is talking to anyone of you in particular.
“You will need to be” the masked man continues “For anyone, less than the best; this is a one way trip.”
A second voice begins, seated far to your right, coming from a figure gowned in green and black, this voice a women’s “You have been selected to carry out a very specific job, a very dangerous job”
She pauses so her point can sink in.
“You have heard of the Technic League? Of course you have” she says coyly “But have you heard of the Fulcrum of Ages? It is unlikely, as the Fulcrum of Ages is but a whisper that few dare to speak of, for fear of acknowledging its existence. Yet we speak of it here tonight, because it does indeed exist.”
A third voice interrupts from far on your left, this time a voice of an older man hooded in robes covered in different shades of blue, his eyeless silver mask fixed on you, staring directly at you. “The Fulcrum of Ages allows its owner to control time, it’s true that some more powerful wizards can also control time, slowing it for a moment or speeding it up, But the Fulcrum of Ages allows its owner to change time itself, to change the course of history and to affect the outcome of the future.”
The first voice from the red and brown figure booms again drowning out the blue hooded figure. “The Technic League created the Fulcrum of Ages, and we want you to steal it. And if you can’t steal it, we want you to destroy it.
The sudden sound of wood scrapping against stone fills the hall as more than a dozen large chests are dragged into the center of the room, their lids flung open and from inside coins, gems and finely crafted items spill out like a cascading waterfall of gold and silver.
“Should you succeed and should you return then this will be your payment” The mysterious figure gestures toward the chests now before you. You struggle to think of a time when you have seem more wealth amassed in one area before in your life, and you imagine that this must be what the vault of one of the kings of Golarion must look like, even possibly more than one.
A figure in yellow breaks the silence after a moment, as you inspect your possible reward from afar. “If you have questions ask them now, your window of opportunity is fleeting.”