|
A hardy wayang stands admist the Pathfinders gathered here. He wears a nice mithral breastplate which he doesn't hide, and carries various wands and scrolls. By his side he carries a blade.
The wayang has a strikingly baby blue ribbon he uses as a scarf around his face. By his side is a blade made of a black material. Tied around the hilt of the scimitar is a bright pink ribbon.
He talks in a breathy and mysterious voice. "My name is Fade. I joined the society along with my two brothers when our mother kicked us out of home."
He draws out his scimitar. "This is Penumbrae, my trusty companion." He concentrates on the scimitar a little. "She says she can't speak herself but wants you to know that she gives her greetings. She also wants you to know that if we run into Rust Monsters, we may be holding back a bit."
|
|
"Interesting. Your sword and I make an odd pair. Metal that can't speak and stone that can't hear." The dwarf offers a meaty and hairy hand to the wayang. While clearly not a rock, he does look like one, and is covered in many pieces of decorative stone. "Magor Lavablood's the name, and stonework is my passion."
|
An ageless woman stands stiffly at the meeting table. Her hair is bone white and her face has a metallic sheen to it, evidence of some kind of outsider blood. Her features are perfect yet too sever to be considered comely. Her movements aren't so much graceful as studied, her every movement planned. She is dressed in unassuming clothes (with no visible armor) except for an extravagant cloak in brilliant red and gold with the emblem of Ragathiel emblazoned on the back. She has a variety of weapons about her body and a long spear tickling the ceiling. As many of the others in the room her body is orbited by a number of familiar ioun stones and atop her head is a glowing halo.
An aura surrounds her and changes nature as she shifts from shadowy tendrils, to white motes, then metallic stars, and finally coruscating worms. By the end of things, barring any magical misdirection, she will know the alignment of each member of the party - a task she always performs when she is teamed up with a new group.
"A bladebound. Yes I have a protege that is a bladebound magus, though hopefully you are better mannered than he."
"Well met," she adds, almost as an afterthought. Polite, but not friendly.
Other than that she offers nothing, staying quiet and motionless for the most part.
|
|
As Sue enters the room she quickly tumbles into an upside down lotus, balanced on one hand.
From upside down she nods at her fellow Pathfinder "Hi! Name here is Sue Basilbottom"
Sue is wearing extremely fancy robes that somehow continue to hang right even upside down with virtually no mundane gear other than a bronze gong that currently hangs from her left foot.
|
|
Marta grimaces at Sue' antics.
Gnomes!
but seeing a fellow monk, or at least what she THINKS is a fellow monk or perhaps a deranged acrobat, she asks her, "Would you profit from a spell that makes your fists more effective. I can cast a spell called Greater Magic Weapon that I always cast on myself every morning. I think you may be able to benefit similarly if I don't miss my guess."
|
An elf floats into the room, feet six inches above the ground. He is dressed in an explorer's outfit and is followed by a shimmering disk with two massive chests on it. The disk also floats...
"Welcome all! I am the mage Faeranduil. If it comes to combat, please do not all rush forward, you might risk running into one of my fireballs."
|
|
Just as the doors are about to close a pair of hands stops them from the other side. With a push they arc open again. A sinewy half-orc with brooding eyes steps through and sizes up the others already assembled.
"I almost gone to the wrong room. My apologies. Theritis is the name. I've been told there is a happening here. Always up for that."
His silhouette is framed by a great-sword and long-hammer that cross his wide back like a target.
It is the second day of the Torchbearing, an annual symposium taking place in the Grand Lodge of Absalom. Pathfinders the world over attend this event to share their knowledge, teach each other new skills, and reinforce their connections across the Inner Sea and beyond.
On today and tomorrow's agenda is a myriad of academic lectures from the study of plants, the history of Absalom, and one lecture dedicated entirely to the discussion of Rust Monsters. The more physically-inclined amongst you might find Janira Garvix's halfing-sized obstacle course a better fit to sate your desire for a physical challenge. And of course, one could not forget Sorrina Westyr's arcane studies, today covering Spell Resistance: When a Magic Missile Doesn't Hit, shortly followed by Charms and Compulsions IV: Even a Geek with a Spellbook Can Seduce.
Cheers erupt from the nearby obstacle course as Little Willy, the halfling monk, backflips over the finish line well ahead of his competition and throws a fist in the air. "I told ya size doesn't matter! Kyaaah!" He runs through Mr. Peppers robe and out the other side, then ruffles up Cup's hair and offers Gallix, Uesugi, and Sir D high fives. He stops and looks up at Sirettis with narrowed eyes, then shrugs and takes a seat on the ground just in front of you as he pulls out a banana.
After your first day of training, you're now free to partake in any (or none) of the activities being offered, make connections with other Pathfinders, or simply wait out the grand banquet said to conclude the Torchbearing on the fourth day!
__
|
|
Marta participates in the non-lethal hand to hand combat trials. Though no match for the actual monks of comparable level, she does manage to place well enough in the competition and teaches, as well as learns, a few new tricks. I'll assume she sees Sue in the competitions.
She also attends anything dealing with monster-ology.
|
|
Faeranduil flips through a book with extensive religious heraldry of the gods, while his unseen servant slowly flies behind him, burdened with more ancient tomes.
"That class on religion was really good. That human made a great effort, although there were some obvious mistakes in his lecture that I was able to point out to him."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fade attends a seminar on Rust Monsters and joins the scores of Bladebound Magi also in attendance. It's one of the smaller seminars, but interesting nonetheless.
Many of the attendents hold magical items (not much to his surprise as those magic items are the ones most interested in the seminar). He is intrigued at all the cracked intelligent named "Gamin" and rings that enchant elementals. Of course, he loves the other magi who come with their blackened weapons, and carries on intricate conversations with them through indirect communications. They divulge tales of how they had close calls and how they wished Rust Monsters weren't a thing that existed.
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.
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.
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
"I don't know anything about this Silver Mount of yours, but one of my first missions for the Society was cleaning up after some Blakros girl whose beard got too big for her chin. Most folk don't keep a gate to the Dark Tapestry in their basement, and if that's not the only time the Blakros Museum has had problems, then we best be prepared."
Magor points a meaty, hairy finger at the group. "Speaking of which: I'll need to know what each of you can do."
|
|
Marta gimaces at Sue's antics. "She can swing a fist. So can I, and call down Ragathiels wrath as a part of that. I'm also a bit of a jack of all trades..."
"A couple of things that may be helpful:
1) I typically cast See Invisible on myself before a mission gets rough
2) I can cast Greater Magic Weapon and will enhance someone's weapon if it will be beneficial.
3) I can cast a spell that allows unrestricted movement.
4) I get answers from people."
|
|
"A mixture of magic and blade, more versatile but not quite as specialized at either. I can throw fireballs, do short range teleportation, cast a spell to give us an edge, and strike at things with the help of Penumbrae. Penumbrae herself can preform a few magical tricks of her own, such as transforming herself to an element or teleporting back to my hand."
|
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.”
|
|
Fade nods and casts Ablative Barrier (22 hours, 50 points), using a Lesser Metamagic Rod of Extend Spell to extend the duration.
"I have a 3 uses of my other rod of extend spell if someone would like it for use."
"I have a Scroll of Breath of Life for someone who can use it. I can use it but not reliably."
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.”
The party works their way around to the garden area. The looks people give you are full of awe. You're no neophyte agents, you're some of the best the Society has to offer. If there's any hope of success, it's you.
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.