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A Taldan man stands alone, watching quietly as the events of the past few days go on about him. He doesn't tend to acknowledge others than go near him, however he does give a respectful nod to those that do try to greet him in passing.
So, where are the others? I'm sure I'm not being sent out alone.
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The elven woman sat calmly in the most comfortable looking chair available. While the others looked around uncomfortably, she sat quite happily knitting on something small. She whistled a quiet tune while her hands flew around the needles and material. She held up what kind of resembled a small hat, looking at it in the clear light. She shook her head and began doing touch ups on the hat. As the others might notice, around her legs, a tiny monkey scurried back and forth, flapping around in her robes.
If she was sore from the prior days' training, she gave no outward symptoms. When the VC approached, she put away her needles and folded her hands together.
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A heavily armored human woman looks around at the others. A holy symbol of Shelyn dangles at her neck. When she speaks, something in the tone of her voice suggests training in singing. "They seem to have something special in mind for us, considering the intensity of the training. Lady Shelyn grant us all grace to get through the next few days."
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A tengu strides into the room dressed in a motley assortment of clothing as if he'd purchased one piece from every merchant in the markets of Goka. From the black and red trimmed jeonrip atop is feathered head, to the similarly colored aristocrat's Áo giao lĩnh he wears over his red lacquered breastplate to the common waraji on his feet that let his talons hang over the front edge. He is armed with a composite longbow and a quiver of arrows, along with a nodachi made of adamantine. He caries a haversack over his shoulder. But the most rediculous accessory of all is the (obviously fake) fu manchu mustache affixed to the sides of his face near where his beak joins the rest of his head.
The tengu pauses for a moment looking over those assembled for some sort of ovation at his entrance or at the very least, a hint of recognition.
Greetings, salutations, and hello! It indeed, verily, and for cetain is I, the one, the only, the unique... GENERAL CHAK and when I say general I do not mean, ordinary, everyday, or plain general Chak, for I am the illustrious, legendary, and celebrated General Chak!
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"Ah reckon' Ah'm in fer another o' them times" sighs the seemingly human woman in a worn duster, her stetson to the side as she pops another piece of meat into her mouth. Holstered away, two pistols, one made of a silvery metal, are neatly tucked to the side. Finally she nods towards her companions. "Jezabel P. Skythe, formerly o' the grand duchy o' Alkenstar. A pleasure t'meetcha."
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I trust that everyone will stay out of my sightlines and not get me killed. Is that too much to ask?
The Taldan eyes the one wearing the stetson and seems to mildly sneer when he spots the holstered firearms. And what's with this one with the guns? Speaking of trustworthy, I hope those things don't jam just as we need them.
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Tessara smiled at seeing the boisterous young ones come into the room, all full of fire and vigor. She remembered being young once, too. "Im tessara, but just call me Tess. And this is my friend, Zeriah. I'm currently trying to get his new hat just right;" she adds as the monkey peeks through her legs at the gathered crowd.
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"A pleasure Tess. Zeriah. And Ah trust everyone t'be of use Scales. Even Taldor over there." She chuckles. "You're all right Scales. Ah think Ah'll be sleeping safe and sound, knowin' you're around."
She sits up straighter in her chair before leaning in. "So tell me, Feather-stash, what's that thing that makes you celebrated?" In spite of her very casual demeanor she is genuinely interested in what Chak Yuen Chen's answer will be.
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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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Know. Local 1
"This Torchbearing event is a chance for the higher ups to make sure who the best Pathfinders are. There's pretty neat special wayfarers to the ones they select, so everyone be on your best behavior."
Know. Local 2
"Nigel Aldain curates that Blakros Museum. It has some sort of shadow magic on it, so the inside is much larger than the outside appears. It's been closed recently...another special exhibit is on the way, this one is Legacy of the Shining Crusade! Ralserous the Overwatched, the famous wizard originally owned the place. Rumors say he cursed it when he died, which would explain all the craziness that happens there."
Know. Local 3
"That Nigel is a former Pathfinder who married into the family. Curator of the museum was promised to him in the deal. He still gets on well with the Society, best I hear. He tries to be standoffish, but whenever there's a problem, he comes running to us here. He's spent a fortune recently to protect the place, including big sums to the Arcanamirium and Golemworks in Magnimar."
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Chak hands Jezabel a business card, written in a neat, but cramped script.
Chak had spent the time gaining a deeper understanding into the theory of magic craft.
Gather Information:
Blakros family:
Blakros museum:
Nigel Aldain:
Chak concurs with most of what Tessara states.
Some Pathfinders disappear, vanish, and remain out of sight for hours. Perhaps they are taken, brought, and ushered before the Decemvirate. I wonder if those are the ones who comport, behave, and conduct themselves well... or poorly.
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"Ah sure as Hell don't know much 'bout all that. But Ah did go to one of them Blackroses' feasts. Michellia and Damian Blackros had this party. lotta big-wigs over 'dere. Moldy old Taldane windbags and blobs of Andoran flesh 'dere too. Nice party though."
She stows the card away, nonplussed and continues. "Never been to the Museum mahself. Heard o' plenty others though who dun gone there. Been quiet for the past year and a half, two years even? Anyways."
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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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Tess, unfortunately, was no stranger to these Society gatherings and the problems that almost always ensued. She had learned to keep her gear at her side just for circumstances like these. "Ready to go," she pipes up, cheerily.
As the group arrives at the museum, she casts FalseLife on herself, gaining temporary hit points that last eight hours. Finally, she pulls a long, thin wand, applying a casting of Mage armor to herself.
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Kaa was actually surprised at the interruption as this was his first gathering. He tended to be out in the field when they otherwise occurred. "Does this happen normally?" He stands up and summons his weapon. A thin wispy tendril made of ectoplasm appears and forms into the shape of a sword. He also casts a similar spell on himself when the group arrives at the museum.
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The Elven witch smiled at the youngster. "Oh honey, it happens so often. There was the whole mess with the Diamond City a while back...invaders like you wouldn't believe. The., not over a month ago, our celebration was broken up and our whole group was teleported to, get this, a completely different planet! It's a wonder any of us made it back in one piece. But at least you all have come prepared," Tess explains while looking st the well equipped group around her.
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Dozens of Wise District guards surround the Blakros Museum. 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 broad-shouldered, middle-aged Ulfen man salutes, a somewhat bemused expression on his face. “Well met, Venture-Captain Valsin. I am Svaralk of Asleifar, Sergeant of the Learned Guard. The Guard appreciates your assistance.” He points to his subordinates, “Our initial attempt to quell the animated relics within failed. I’ve ordered the Guard to withdraw and form a perimeter.”
Ambrus Valsin returns the sergeant’s salute, a gesture of mutual respect. “You once served in Grand Prince Stavian III’s Ulfen Guard, did you not?”
Svaralk nods, “That’s right. Afterwards, I retired to Absalom and have served this city for seven years. This is not the first catastrophe I’ve responded to at the Blakros Museum, though none has been quite so dramatic as this. As if anyone needed further proof of the museum’s reputation for trouble.”
The Ulfen confides to the Venture-Captain, “After Nigel Aldain harangued me for dereliction of duty in not immediately retaking the museum, I’m in no rush to sacrifice the lives under my command until the warring creatures inside wear each other down.” He holds up a hand and shakes his head, “I don’t hold Nigel Aldain’s outburst against him. I recognize the elf is rightfully concerned—albeit rather precious—about his exhibit.”
Svaralk turns to your team of Pathfinders and says, “Before you enter, I can provide you an overview of the museum’s layout and tell you that there are animated relics and guard animals on the ground level, and clockwork creatures skirmishing with each other on the floor above. We also have an especially challenging problem in the gardens at the southeast corner of the museum grounds. Some kind of magical runes displaying swarm-like behavior, more magical devices really than living creatures. They proved too complicated a challenge for me and my guards; we simply lacked the skills to disable them.”
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Thousands of glowing glyphs form a protective shell around the outside of the museum, casting a sparkling aura of light that bounces off the fountain’s waters.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
Round 1:
Jezebel
Kaa
Jaysin
Hania
Shifting Runes
Chak
Tess
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The creatures some sort of shifting runes and are swarms of diminutive constructs. As such cannot be damaged by weaponry. Additionally they rejuvenate even if dispersed by damage. They are weak against spells that remove magic runes such as erase and dispel magic. The only way to permanently destroy them is to disable them, but even that is no simple task. It will take many successful readings of the swirling incantations to clear each of them.
One of the shifting rune swarms spirals up from the ground, flies over the fountain, and begins to harry Jezebel and Hania. As they approach, Kaa and Jezebel both begin to work at segmenting off several of the runes, hoping to reduce their magical potency. While Kaa is unable to make any progress, Jezebel manages to smear a few runes which appear to hold together many of the arcane scripts. Within a moment though, the runes begin to spell strange words across the Paladin and Gunslinger, and begin to batter them into a daze.
The other set of runes begins to arrange itself into a few azlanti words and flares with a bright light. With a blast, an arc of lightning bursts forward from the statue next to Jaysin, bathing Hania, Jezebel, Kaa, and Jaysin and arcing lightning.
The runes appear to have relocated a trap from somewhere in the courtyard to the statue. The trap appears to be recharging but may take a couple rounds if you're lucky before it can erupt again.
Round 1:
Chak
Tess
Round 2:
Jezebel (Pending saves for distraction and lightning)
Kaa (Pending save for lightning)
Jaysin (Pending save for lightning)
Hania (Pending saves for distraction and lightning)
Shifting Runes Red (1 success, 0 damage)
Blue (0 success, 0 damage)