The fourth and final day of training has come to a close at the Grand Lodge of Absalom, heralding the end of this year's Torchbearing. Pathfinders the world over attend this annual symposium to share their knowledge, teach each other new skills, and reinforce their connections across the Inner Sea and beyond. To celebrate the end of festivities, the lodge has hosted a grand banquet in the visiting agents' honor. A refreshing winter breeze blows through an open window, flickering torches and sending papers scattering. The smell of freshly baked desserts fills the air while initiates clear away the remnants of the first course.
During the annual Torchbearing, the Three Masters, along with other notable Pathfinders, taught a variety of seminars and panel discussions, from Golarion’s history to spellcasting techniques, and ran obstacle courses and a triathlon. Rumor has it, Janira Gavix offered an unauthorized but popular filking class for aspiring bards and other social misfits under 30--inches, not years. You also heard some salacious gossip about an exclusive, late-night VIP experience Zarta Dralneen arranged for some her favorites. According to one hungover Pathfinder who claimed to have been there, a disgruntled Drandle Dreng was turned away at the door.
Speaking of the imp, ever the social butterfly and self-appointed mentor-to-the-masses, the halfling bard Janira Gavix approaches your small group. “Hi, friends. It’s been awhile since last we met. Have you enjoyed the Torchbearing? I volunteered to organize all the classes again this year. Kreighton Shaine always said I should have been a teacher. Did you learn anything useful?”
Janira looks over her shoulder as she catches sight of another group of Pathfinders refilling their tankards at the grog bowl. “Oh, those are some more students of mine!” She bounces on her toes as she waves at the group and they wave back. “Excuse me? I’ll need to check in with them too!” Pleased that you appreciated her pedagogical efforts, she excuses herself with a smile and moves on.
-----BEGINNING KNOWLEDGE #1-----
-----BEGINNING KNOWLEDGE #2-----
As the Pathfinders conclude the dessert course, a small origami swan flutters through the room and lands on the center of the table. In moments, it unfolds itself into a crisp and crease-less piece of paper.
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Celie looks around at the new crew. "Hello Freaks. Don't mind me... and don't cring at my hobbies and we'll be fine." she says this while fingering a necklace of fingers. Cleaning some of the newer ones.
Thinking, Celie remarks. "Nigel, I think i met him. He's a former Pathfinder who resigned after marrying Dhrami Blakros... They didn't invite me to the marriage."
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Considering the nature of tonight's gathering, Lissa does her best to look appropriate for the banquet. She has her hair in a braid(though it's still quite wet), and is wearing a simple, but elegant, emerald green dress, though she has her travelling pack nearby her feet.
"Janira!" she gleefully cries out, as she kneels and gives the halfling bard a hug in greeting before the social butterfly can flit away. "It's been far too long! After the banquet or tomorrow, we can talk then maybe?"
In spite of herself, Lissa does cringe at Celie, but that's due to being called a Freak instead of the witch's grisly jewelry.
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Andrietta has spent a great deal of the early section of this symposium to attend several panels such as 'Comparative Religions in the Varisian Region', 'Lingua Absalomica and You, a Beginner's Panel', and quite a few others.
Of particular note is the tea she sets up for every morning, for a few select folks who appreciate such things. One might expect tea to be some leaves dunked in steam water, but she's got the art of making it nigh unto coffee perfected.
Prior to the evening's dinner, she takes the time to buff and polish her armor to a mirror-sheen, but not so brightly it blinds casual observers.
"Dear, as long as your hobbies aren't unwholesome or given to a poor series of life choices, they're your hobbies. Just be mindful, if you start acting foolish, my goddess insists I whack you upside the head with my quarterstaff. In all fairness, it's reserved for me, too." the weathered tengu woman offers to the finger-collecting half-elf.
"Andrietta Ebonfeather, in service to Andoletta." she offers with a bit of a wry curmudgeonly tone -- the kind one might hear from a weathered grandparent.
"Blakros, eh? They're kind of involved in everything, originally from Taldor, own businesses and property all over the Inner Sea."
"Nigel? He works with the Society, Society helps him out, been really focusing on the Shining Crusade recently in research. Needs to get out and get some fresh air, from the sounds 'f it."
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A jovial dwarf joins the table, setting down a large mug of ale as he cracks jokes and spreads gossip.
"You'll never believe what I heard. The Three Masters use the event to keep an eye out for particularly talented agents that embody the Pathfinder Society ideals: Explore, Report, and Cooperate. At the end of the Torchbearing, the most exemplary agents are publicly recognized and given special wayfinders. Sometimes Pathfinder agents disappear for hours during the course of events. Rumors suggest they are brought before The Decemvirate, but no one can agree on why. So keep your eyes open and your ears too. I've not met one of the ten yet... at least not that I'd know it. But they could walk among us."
He knocks glasses with Andrietta. "I'd heard that about them Blackros too. Been knocked about in that cursed museum of their's too. Place is haunted if you ask me. That gateway to hell is located in the Wise District, owned by the Blakros family, and curated by Nigel Aldain. It is open to the public when an exhibit is on display - or when they need more pathfinder bodies. Though the exterior of the building is ugly and squat, patrons marvel at how much bigger it is on the inside. Pathfinders just hope to see the exit again. '
He clears his throat, happy to regain the table with his knowledge.
"Nigel is a good sort though. Though the relationship between the Society and Nigel is often strained, they remain steadfast allies. Nigel often collaborates with the Society, loaning artifacts and trading information. He has obsessively researched the Shining Crusade for the past several months. Nigel is a former Pathfinder who resigned after marrying Dhrami Blakros; the position of curator was part of his marriage contract. Nigel’s museum has suffered many mishaps since he became curator, which the Society has regularly helped clean up. Nigel still tries to distance himself from the Society and act independently, but when trouble befalls the museum, he often turns to the Society for help. Hell, if the floor needs scrubbing he comes to us. Recently, Nigel has spent a fortune in security for the museum, particularly in magical protections from the Arcanamirium and Golemworks in Magnimar."
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Jillia spends the majority of the preparation aggressively and ungracefully plowing through obstacle courses at unsafe speeds. By the time the triathalon has started, her armor is dirty and sporting a bevy of fresh dents. This doesn't seem to bother her.
By the time Jillia meets up with the group, her blonde hair is a frayed mess, the dust on her armor is matted down with fresh sweat, and the smile she has seems wider than her face itself.
"Still with the skill, Jill Tennille!" she introduces herself with glee, punctuating her intro with a three-foot-three-inch fist pump. "Rhymin' fine wine while the others spill swill!"
Glancing at the group around her she offers a warm high-five to Rhuul, Andrietta, and Lissa. Noticing the necklace of fingers around Celie, she shrugs, makes a fist, and offers a fist-bump instead.
"Any idea what the special wayfinders look like? Mine's dented to hell and back," she asks, unconsciously running her fingers along the most prominent dent in her armor.
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"And I'm betting there is a story behind that... and a dent in the head of the person who so kindly bent your wayfinder" laughs Rhuul.
He directs a sly glance at Jilla, adding.
"I knew a knight once. A really agreeable fellow. Went by the name of Sir Tenly..." he pauses, waiting for the inevitable groans from across the table.
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Celie smiles. "My hobby is harmless to you... Unless you do something foolish." she slowly shifts through the dozen or so fingers on her necklace. "ah, here it is." she says then holds one up. "This Pathfinder was a good paladin... But not that bright. He stuck his hand inside of a turtles mouth and came back a little less whole." She looked at the rest. "Most of these are off of dead foes... only one or two taken from a live one who didn't want to answer questions nicely."
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Celie smiles. "Don't go sticking it into any unknown holes and you should be able to keep them to yourselves." about this time, you see movement in Celie's bag as a tiny fox peaks his head out of the bag... As you look at it, you see him holding onto a weird looking doll, that if you detect it, has a small sense of evil coming off of it... As if it use to belong to an ancient evil.
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"Ahh, well, last time there was a hole to stick me finger into, I was wise enough not to. Just as well, as I think it wanted to eat me whole hand. Given I'd already been up close and personal with the lady of graves but a short while earlier cutesy of the doormat, I was a tad on the cautious side. Did ya know, that lady has almost no sense of humor? Even with me best lines she barely cracked a smile. But smile she did."
He pauses.
" Of course that was but moments before I got yanked back to life in this old bag o' bones. Not that I'm ungrateful and all, but being dead don't hurt one bit. It's the dying what is painful."
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"Sometimes, the pain is there to tell you that you're alive, and you can keep going." Lissa pauses to take a sip of the wine served. "I'm sure that we've all been stabbed, burnt, chilled, beaten and Desna knows what else to know that. I'm sure that each of us have several 'almost joined the line' stories. No actual trips to the line here though. "
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The front doors of Skyreach burst open with a loud crack. Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin strides to the edge of the platform, with a slender elf dressed in practical but expensive clothing trailing meekly behind. The red-faced venture-captain addresses the crowd in a booming voice.
“Pathfinders, I regret interrupting the festivities, but we have something of a situation. Approximately twenty minutes ago, unknown forces invaded the Blakros Museum. Fortunately for everyone involved, the Torchbearing is about cooperation and helping our colleagues, so let’s think of this less as an inconvenience and more as an opportunity to practice what we preach.”
The elf, Nigel, exhales sharply, then speaks, “Now, Ambrus, I’ve spent a king’s ransom fortifying the museum from all sorts of invaders: sentinels from the Golemworks, magical wards from the Arcanamirium, and even contracts for guard beasts, both magical and mundane—spared no expense. I didn’t want to come here, but I’ve got no choice.”
Valsin’s forced smile cracks slightly, showing his annoyance. “Out with it, Nigel. Get to the point.”
“Someone broke into my museum and set off the magical protections! I was preserving priceless Shining Crusade pieces for our new exhibit when the first alarm activated. I sent for district guards and went to investigate, but by the time I arrived, the thieves had already locked themselves in my study. They somehow caused the Shining Crusade relics to fly around the museum and attack my sentinels. Everything is going haywire! The magical traps started to target me, the sentinels are not responding to my commands, and—”
Valsin holds out a hand to steady the increasingly agitated elf. “The last you knew, the thieves were still in your study?” Nigel nods. “Very well. Pathfinders: the Seekers should prepare to teleport directly into the Blakros study—“
“That won’t work,” Nigel interrupts, “The study is magically sealed. After that dreadful Numerian exhibit, I turned it into a magical safe room. The robbers must have figured out how to activate it; no one can get in or out while the wards hold. I can work on breaking the wards, but meanwhile my sentinels are smashing up the collection. Some of those priceless relics are on loan from your own Society lodges, so helping me is really helping yourselves.”
“Fine.” Ambrus Valsin takes a deep breath and then turns to the assembled Pathfinders. “Pathfinders, go to the Blakros Museum, secure any relics you can, disable the security systems, and apprehend the looters if possible. Stay safe.”
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"Safe... in the Blackros museum? Let us hope there is no demented machine trying to suck out souls into another dimension." sighs Rhuul.
He quickly drains his ale, grabs his bag and flag.
"But this is what it means to be a Pathfinder. Friends of the table, let us march forth in our dining finery to the ale of this foe of the society. Who knows, we might even manage to pocket a relic on the way!"
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Lissa holds in her groan until Venture-Captain Valsin is out of earshot. "What's the old Tian curse?... May you live in interesting times?" she mutters as she stands up, reaching for her sleeves. With a sigh, she pulls off the sleeves of the dress glamour she's wearing, reverting to her preferred vest, blouse and flowing skirts. With practiced quickness, she folds the sleeves up and slips them into her bag. "Sounds like we have a job to do. Anyone good with security systems?" she asks, as she throws her bag over her shoulder, seemingly ready to go as chunks of ice begin to form orbiting around her.
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Andrietta stands up much more swiftly than her apparent age would seem to indicate, and while she's picking up her quarterstaff she gives a gentle chiding rap to the back of Rhuul's noggin.
"We'll not be looting the Blakros Museum for random relics. We're better than that in the Society." she states with a bit of a grim tone, before straightening up and fluffing her visible feathers out a bit.
"The tengu version is 'may all swings strike true'. It means about the same as 'When it rains, it pours'." the grandmother offers helpfully to Lissa.
"If things get really, really bad, I might be able to poke at the guardians, dear. I saw a thing or two on a trip to the Elemental Plane of Earth a few months back that might provide some ideas... but I'd be much more comfortable with someone who actually did it for a living before I tried to guess at it?"
(Temporarily) agreeing with the the stern tengu not to loot their ally's vaults, the agents quickly adjourn to the oft-accursed Blakros Museum.
Dozens of Wise District guards surround the place. The sergeant nods to Ambrus Valsin as he approaches, a subtle smirk dancing across the venture-captain’s face.
The museum itself is alight with swirling whorls of color and the sounds of metal and stone clashing. Occasionally, brief flashes of light burst from the front entrance, illuminating a toppled banner that says “Legacy of the Shining Crusade.”
The sergeant, a broad-shouldered Ulfen man, approaches, Very glad to see you're all taking this seriously, I've had to deal with some odd goings on at this place before, but this is a little flashy for my tastes. After an unpleasant dustup, I've pulled my people back to keep a firm perimeter. It's pure chaos in there - animated relics, clockwork creatures, even some weird-looking animals are all brawling with each other.
Think you can help?
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Rhuul turns with a grin on his face to Andrietta.
"We're better than picking up random relics? That is the reason the society exists. Oh, okay, we're suppose to get them from ruins and forgotten temples, not museums I grant you. But what is a few hundren miles (or in Absalom, feet) between friends eh?"
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As the chaos at the museum becomes evident, Rhuul sighs.
"Sure this ain't going to sit well on top of my meal. And we didn't even get to desert. I tell you, if my coffee gets cold while we sort out this mess, there will be hell to pay!"
He peers in the main door. "Guess the main entrance is as good a place to start as anywhere?"
Now that danger is near, Rhuul does unfurl his magnificent flag, mounted on top of a good sized pole. Upon it is the Rune of the Open Road.
"Explore! Report! Cooperate! And don't let Dreng give you any missions." he calls out loudly and irreverently.
Under a sign that reads “The Shining Armory,” priceless Shining Crusade artifacts displayed on pedestals creak and move by some unseen force. Eerie light seems to dart between the objects while the din of a raging battle echoes throughout the chamber. The central feature is a low, artificial hill atop which stand two stuffed owlbears surrounded by shattered undead foes. Each of the beasts wears chainmail barding and an orange-and-black caparison depicting a stylized owlbear. A dead man dressed in furs lies on the floor before a suit of full-plate armor.
As you approach they give a trumpeting hoot, and rear in readiness for battle!
Active effects: Rhuul's Flagbearer (30' aura)
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul
Celie
Blue Owlbear
Johann
Andrietta
Red Owlbear
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For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
Jillia's fleet-footed-ferocity finds its mark and a spray of sawdust erupts from the hooting warbeast, though the creature is noticeably sturdy!
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul
Celie
Blue Owlbear
Johann
Andrietta
Red Owlbear -12
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Lissa nods as she sidesteps in front of Rhuul, to prevent the beast from charging though the door. "Well, they know where to go for emergancies. Seriously, How many times has the Society come to the rescue in the past 10 years?"
With a single breath, she focuses as motes of water begin to form in a wide area around her, and the sounds of surf crashing against a cliff face. After a second or two, she raises her hand above her head, as the motes rush to it, forming a roiling orb in her hand. She aims at the closer of the two trophies, and releases a geyser at it.
Celie twists the strands of fate to scrounge up a bad end for her chosen prey, and end that rapidly approaches as Lissa's geyser of devastation begins to tear away at its feathers, fur and skin!
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul
Celie
Blue Owlbear -47, unfortunate
Johann
Andrietta
Red Owlbear -12
Clearly enraged by the dwarf's crudeness, the sodden owlbear hurls itself at the comedian in an ungainly rush!
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul -12
Celie
Blue Owlbear -50, unfortunate, -2 AC
Johann
Andrietta
Red Owlbear -15
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Johann arrived late to the party, popping in just before the announcement of traveling to the Blakros Museum. He's been distracted on the way there, still thinking of his last experiment. Now seeing foes, he goes into full mad bomber mode.
"How dare these creatures profane an institution of learning!" he shouts and begins lobbing bombs as fast as he can.
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The grandmother was kind of taken aback by the sudden action, but recovers swiftly enough and blinks as Jillia is all by herself way ahead of the rest of the party.
She's going to get murdered up there. Definitely getting a whack when we get through with all this if she doesn't.
"Supporting Jill, hang tight folks!"
Realizing that she's going to have to brave a gauntlet of hard-hitting stuffed creatures, Andrietta hunkers down with her shield between herself and Blue and moves to split the difference between the two large constructs(?).
The shower of Herr Erlenmeyer's Effervescent Excitables quickly puts paid to the Unfortunate mascot, leaving their brilliant inventor time enough to scorch its equally feathered companion.
Rather than let all feathered creatures be tarred with the same bad behavior, Andrietta does her best to interpose herself between the Owlbear's beaks and any tasty halflings, giving it a ringing smack to the side of the head as she does so.
Hooting with rage the beast attempts to prove itself the dominant avian in the room as it viciously savages the aged tengu!
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul -12
Celie
Blue Owlbear - exploded, clearly unfortunate
Johann
Andrietta -34
Red Owlbear -46
A junior agent stifles a groan at Rhuul's wit as she does her best to patch up Andrietta and Rhuul amidst the flying fur, feathers, and filling that Jillia scatters around the room.
Lissa
Jillia
Rhuul -5
Celie
Johann
Andrietta -27
Red Owlbear -73
With a sudden boom the owlbear simply falls to pieces.
A sudden noise draws your attention to the south. A humanoid-shaped figure made of shattered clockwork lies slumped over a bench. Above it, an elaborately painted sign reads “Crusader’s Chronicles.” Long shadows cast by ruined displays and broken furniture litter the floor; within those shadows lounge a pair of large otherworldly tigers, their coats iridescent where the light touches them.
They regard you carefully but without fear. As they see you notice them they begin to audibly confer with one another.
"True, sister, but why are they here? Treasures lie all around them, treasures for them to take and hide in their lodges."
"But they have helped the Nigel in the past. Helped him make safe his treasures. Helped him see the need for proper guardings."
"Thieves or saviors, predators or prey? Or perhaps we should we make them a proof of our guarding?"
"There are enough fightings without finding new ones. If they are here to help, help them. Unless they are tricksy. Tricksy pathfinders who set off the defenses to fools us."
The cats snicker in an unpleasant way, and inquire in tandem,
"Why are the Pathfinders trespassing?"
"Why shouldn't we play with them anyways?"
-----
Powerful and regal, dweomercats prey upon lesser creatures, but even more voraciously hunt new and ever stranger sources of magic. Beings as much composed of sculpted arcane eddies as of flesh and blood, these capricious felines flourish along the intangible ley lines of their home realm, drinking in its weird powers as a plant thrives on light. Yet even more potent than their thirst for magic and the euphoria they draw from being in proximity to the reshaping of reality is dweomercats’ racial curiosity.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
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The grandmother shudders a bit as she's whacked repeatedly by the stuffed being but is glad she was protecting vital areas with her shield as she did so, some of those hits went to the bone!
"Unnnnfff. ...that all you got?"
Her question goes unanswered as her opponent proceeds to fall apart at the seams.
The idea of someone applying field medicine would be alien to most folks... Andrietta actually traveled with someone who was amazing with such a thing, so she doesn't even pause as she shifts her stance to allow the field medics to do their work. "Thank you, dears. You be safe out there!"
After things resolve she'll give an approving nod to the party but give Jill a gentle tap to the head with her quarterstaff. "That's for getting out too far ahead of the party and nearly getting yourself killed." she explains.
Andrietta will poke herself with a standard-issue Pathfinder Wand of Light Wound Healing, MK I MOD 0.
The paladin falls into the cadence of the two felines with an almost wistful musical tone befitting the language being used.
"They bear the language of the First World. Surely the mighty cats are not lost. Surely they are meant to be here."
"Shinies lie all around you, shinies for you to take and hide in your lairs"
"Have you helped the Nigel in the past? Have you helped him make safe his treasures. Did he heed your cautions for proper guardings?"
"Thieves or saviors, predators or prey? Or perhaps we should we make you a proof of our aiding?"
"There are enough fightings without finding new ones. If you are here to help, help us."
Andrieta's feathers ruffle a bit as she snorts and then stamps her quarterstaff a few times.
"It is not trespassing if our presence was requested.
There is a time for play and a time for duty, and now is the latter, not the former. Perhaps another day we can arrange to play?"
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With the stuffed owlbears decimated by Johann, Lissa looks toward the new possible threats. She wearily slips over be a roadblock if the cats decide to attack. Eventually, the constant conversation in Sylvan wears on her.
"Excuse me, but can we please in Taldane, so this dumb country girl can understand what's going on?" she adds in with equal parts frustration and sarcasm.
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"That's for getting out too far ahead of the party and nearly getting yourself killed." she explains.
I've been 'almost killed' before...old crow here certainly has a flair for the dramatic. Still, she had my back, though.
"Act decisive and trust in your friends," Jillia replies, offering Andrietta a high-five. "To hesitate is to stagnate when there are foes to eradicate."
"I wouldn't recommend crossing us right now, Jillia warns the cats. "Dinner's getting cold and talking's getting old. What exactly is going on here?"
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Rhuul too shows his ignorance of Sylvan. He admires the cats however.
"You are fine creatures, I don't suppose you would be able to cater for those of us who are not quite so refined as yourselves?"
"We have been asked by Nigel to look into the chaos that has befallen this place. "
He digs out the piece of paper the swan origami swam delivered and offers it to the cats at evidence of the groups good intentions.
The faintly glowing cats yawn languorously.
"Or figure out how they work."
"Or that."
"The Nigel was careless. The constructs that he wanted to be here weren't built by the wardmakers. When the thieves arrived they set off the wards, and his new constructs were not prepared"
"This one thought we did not belong here, attacked us. But once it was disemboweled, its magics were clearer. We will tell the Nigel how to avoid this next time, but for now, do not trust anything that does not bleed!"
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The grandmother shows that she's not tragically unhip by not only not leaving Jill hanging, but coming back on the down low, offering the fist-bump, and grasping the hand and drawing back with magic fingers if Jill keeps up.
Andrietta very much keeps it cool, though, not pushing it past the bounds of what Jill is on-board with.
First the paladin gives the cats a curt nod.
Then Andrietta takes a moment to whap herself atop her head with her quarterstaff, making a slight TING when she does so.
"Sorry, kids, that was incredibly rude of me. I just heard the language and started talking. No excuse for poor manners, though! Upstairs it is, let's get moving!"
While she's not as fast as most folks because of the plate armor she's wearing, she is setting a decent pace if the party is on-board with going upstairs.