A scared grippli follows the half-orc phantom. "why me?" he whimpers.
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The red-bearded dwarf stomps into the room, grumbling something about "...haven't even had me coffee yet. I don't care who it is, they're 'bout to get a piece o' me mi..." He looks up from his musings and sees the half-orc phantom.
"Torag's toenails!! What, by the Maker's beard, is ?!"
Not sensing malevolence coming from the phantom, he calms a bit, but doesn't take an eye off the apparition.
"...keep putting me in these awkward situations..."
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“There’s trouble at the Blakros Museum again,” Venture- Captain Adril Hestram growled when you first entered the meeting room in the Grand Lodge earlier this afternoon. “The museum’s curator, Nigel Aldain, came to me this morning asking for help. Apparently, a wayward daughter of his illustrious patrons, the powerful Blakros family, has disappeared, along with a few of the museum’s watchmen who went looking for her. The Society has helped him in the past, and he wants us to find her, before he loses his job, or worse. Now Nigel’s an old friend, and a former Pathfinder, but this kind of missing person case isn’t really our bailiwick. Normally I’d tell him to find the district guard and leave the Society out of it.
“But then he made me an offer that was too good to pass up. Not only will he allow the Society access to the Blakros Museum’s extensive and very private library, but apparently this same missing daughter just returned to Absalom with a pack full of ancient relics collected throughout Osirion and northern Garund. And Nigel promised the Society first pick of any of those pieces that catch our fancy. I don’t need to tell you what those kinds of things might be worth, so it looks like you’re heading to the Blakros Museum tonight.
“The missing daughter is named Imrizade Blakros—half- Osirian herself and a pretty successful adventurer and fortunehunter by all accounts. She just arrived in Absalom out of the blue a few days ago, after a couple of years’ worth of tomb-raiding in the Osirian deserts, and carrying an odd metal cylinder covered in hieroglyphs, like nothing Nigel has ever seen before. Nigel says she went straight to the basement of the museum to do some research in the family’s library, muttering something about ‘whispers in the dark’ and ‘old tapestries,’ or something. He didn’t hear from her for a couple of days, which isn’t unusual when someone is deep into their research in the archives, but he got worried when strange noises started coming from the basement. He sent a watchman down there to investigate, and when he didn’t return, Nigel sent a few more. That was last night, and they haven’t come back up either.
“Go to the museum and find out what happened to Imrizade Blakros and the watchmen. Nigel would prefer them alive, of course, especially the Blakros woman, but the Society is more interested in what she brought back with her. I’ve got a hunch it wasn’t just grave goods and pretty jewelry. Whatever she found, the Society wants it, or at the very least some information about it.”
"this sounds drastic, i'm going to pick up another wand."
Poe sulks over to No. 201113. "i-i-i'm starting to figure out what he is. n-n-ot a ghost, a phantom... he has b-b-been haunting me for a month now... i don't know what to do. i just started doing what he tells me. it's b-b-been easier that way."
"i'm p-p-poe. what's your name?"
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The lean woman perks up when Venture-Captain Hestram describes the mission and in particular that they will be rescuing a half-Osirian noblewoman, adventurer and fortune hunter. How exciting!! I bet Lady Imrizade will have wondrous stories to tell!!
She looks around the room, surprised by the strange companions she will be adventuring with: a tired dwarf, a ghost (I wonder if the poor soul has not been given a proper burial), a frogman, a scared half-elf, what else?
She listens intently then will accompany her new found colleagues as they gather information on the Blakros Museum.
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Squinting at Tem, Bergar replies. "No offense intended, there. Not sure your story, but yer not seemin' evil. I won't make no promises about burnin' nothin' down, seein' as Torag prefers makin' things. But ye got m'word I'll help ye see this thing through. I feel there's prob'ly some deviltry at work that needs brought down, tho'.
He reaches his hand out as if to offer a handshake, realizes what he's doing and awkwardly withdraws it again. His cheekbones visible above his beard turn a shade of red close to the same color as his beard.
Happy to be speaking with No. 201113, happy the Tem's attention is distracted by Bergar, Poe continues. "mama called it spirit-calling, she c-c-carried the spear of an ancient grippli hero and he came back from the beyond to defend the tribe. i picked up the spear and nothing happened, so i t-t-though i wasn't a spirits-caller." The small grippli pours out his story, happy to finally have a sympathetic ear to listen.
"then a merchant came to our tribe with all sorts of neat stuff, some all the way from a-a-absalom. i bought a necklace; had to big tusks on it, something a mighty hunter would have... thats when he started showing up, a little at first, ghostly. then solid like now. he took the necklace and smashed it, it was a good necklace, i p-p-paid silver for it. started yelling about his teeth being turned into jewerly and returning the the grand lodge. mama said i was a spirit-caller, that i summoned his spirit, that i had to help him." Poe looks over to ensure Tem isn't listening before continuing "he is bossy, i don't like him"
"a n-n-number isn't a name, i don't understand. didn't your mama give you a name?"
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Bergar is able to find out the following:
The wealthy and prominent Blakros family is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivaling those of the Aspis Consortium who make most of their money selling valuable antiquities across the Taldor- Qadira border. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches.
Rumored to be originally Taldan by blood, the Blakros have since intermingled with bloodlines from all over Golarion, by marrying daughters to a succession of Qadiran trade princes, Vudran rajahs, and even the occasional Tian noble and Mwangi chief. Gifts from these foreign potentates (and the sale of illicitly gained secrets) provide the foundation for the Blakros fortune and their famous collections.
In reality, it is the many daughters who bear the Blakros name that are responsible for the family’s wealth. Although beautiful and amazingly fertile, wedding a Blakros daughter has significant conditions—the daughters always keep their maiden name, all children must be raised as Blakroses, and the husband’s family must offer a considerable dowry for the privilege of marriage. Once married, the Blakros daughters join an unparalleled spy network that keeps the family well supplied in secrets and priceless artifacts.
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"Them Blakros're known fer some underhanded dealin'. It's the daughters that does it. Can't usually trust a purty face, n' they got some of the purtiest, or so I hear."
He strokes his beard and glances back at Tem. "Might'n hafta rethink that burnin' thing. After all, protectin' th' people's more import'nt than some dang library of thieves.
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The door of Hestram's office opens, a man with elven features dressed in immaculate and fashionable attire strides in, a symbol of Shelyn prominently displayed on his chest.
"Fear not, compatriots, I have arrived. Mishaps at the museum, hmm? Well, must be a day that ends in a 'Y', eh?" he says with a smirk while running his fingers through his styled hair. Oblivious to the lack of a laughing response from the room, the man steps forward to the center of the room. "I've more than just the average experience with that particular foundation, just another stroll in the park for Vogue, the Vanguard of Shelyn!"
"Though I did need to throw out my wonderful summer boots due to the primate smell never truly going away after that last visit there..." he murmers as a slight scowl crosses his face as a haunting memory comes to mind for the vainglorious religious warrior.
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The door to the office opens and a lean, wiry man with long flowing brown hair enters. He wears the colours of Taldor proudly on his finely crafted blade's tassles, his sasand hair tie. He walks with a purpose and a cat like grace, always on the ball of his feet...as if ready to pounce. His armor glistens as he walks.
Sorry I am a bit tardy...my training ran a bit late before I had to get to my armor fitting. Anyways, Miklos Therinor, of the Therinors of Cassomir, at your service. Happy to meet all of....you... he seems to stammer a bit as he sees Tem and Poe. Anyways, what have I missed...is there anything I can do right now? he catches himself quickly as he continues.
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No. 201113 continues his conversation with Poe. "Didn't have a mam, or a mama, or any of that. She was sep'rated from me, so they said, so she wouldn't cause trouble to our masters." He pauses for a long time, before continuing. "Didn't like them much either, so I left."
He turns to the two newcomers. "Gotsta go down to the Blackros Museum, to rescue a lady. You willing to help?" he asks, eyeing them warily to make certain they make no sudden movements.
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Swear an allegiance to the Society, n' they can't even show up on time. Rolling his eyes at the newcomers, Bergar turns back to VC Hestram.
"Enough idle banter. What kind o' help can we expect from this Nigel, fella? N' you, half-elf! Vogue, was it? There anythin' ye can tell us about the layout o' the buildin'? Or were ya too busy starin' in all the mirrors?"
He gestures toward Aisha. "N' you, woman. Ye been awful quiet this whole time. Ye got anythin' to add? You look t' be a religious sort, though I'm not sure I recognize tha' symbol hangin' round yer neck."
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Aisha is startled by the gruff dwarves sudden outburst at her. All she can do is shake her head solemnly and adds, ”I have no more to add beyond what you have shared already, Bergar. I follow the Goddess Selket, Mistress of the Beautiful House. An ancient power amongst the Osirion Gods.”
She then continues, ”Let’s get going then to the museum. Do you know where it is located and how to get there? Also do we get a map of the museum from Nigel?”
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Ardil responds to Bergar: "Nigel? Mostly he is a mixture of anxiety and panic packaged in a Elf like shape. He is an old associate of the Society, though he chose to leave our organization some years back after a disagreement. Between the Blakros collections, Pathfinder 'gifts', and the history of the place. I am surprised he is as calm as he is at times."
"No get on over there and see what is going on this time!"
The Blakros Museum is a private museum located in Absalom’s Wise Quarter. Owned by the far-reaching and influential Blakros family, it houses and displays an assortment of antiques and oddities the family has collected over the years. The museum’s basement primarily consists of storage rooms containing those pieces of the Blakros family’s vast collection that are not on display in the museum above. The basement also holds the family’s private archives, an impressive compilation of scrolls, manuscripts, and correspondence, as well as a scriptorium where texts can be copied.
A 50-foot-long stone ramp concealed beneath the miniature ziggurat in the museum’s North Exhibit Hall descends 25 feet to the basement. Wide enough to accommodate a draft horse moving large exhibits to and from the basement storerooms, the ramp ends at two sets of double doors, facing each other to the east (down) and west (up). Wooden placards on the doors are marked “Storeroom 1” and “Storeroom 2.”
The basement’s walls are hewn stone, carved from basalt, and mirror the gothic architecture found in the rest of the museum, though of a simpler design. Unless otherwise noted, the basement’s ceilings are 15 feet high and all doors are strong wood and unlocked. The basement is unlit unless otherwise noted, so the party will need to bring their own light sources with them.
Poe retrieves the wand of mage armor and casts it on Tem, and then anyone else that can benefit from it. "do you w-w-want armor too number two zero one one one three?"
A with a command word, a wayfinder hanging from Poe's belt begins to shine like a torch. The wayfinder is old and tarnished. Inside the needle is stuck, long since corroded to a fixed direction.
Shaking with fear Poe draws a net. "i've seen hunters use these. i think i can f-f-f.. make it work.""
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As you confirm the silence of the museum basement, you open the eastern door.
The doors open with a grinding creak, revealing a large room filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes. Giant skeletons and stuffed taxidermic monstrosities are frozen in poses of snarling ferocity, while mummified corpses lie in sedate repose in ornately carved sarcophagi. As silent as a tomb, the air in the hall is stale and musty.
Two large wooden signs lean against one wall, inscribed with the captions “Hunting the Beasts of Legend” and “The Honored Dead.” Unlit oil lamps hang from brackets in the center of each wall. A door in the southern (left) wall holds a sign labeled “Storeroom 3.”
Poe, even from his vantage point in the back, realizes the Stuffed Owlbear in the corner is moving.
"b-b-bear!" Poe squeaks out. Knowing that creature is much to large for his net, he drops it and moves into the room drawing his longspear. He readies the longspear to distract the owlbear should it attack an ally.
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The stuffed beast moves forward on to Vogue through the range of his spear.
Although stabbing the creature soundly, mostly damaging the pelt, and not the animated bone structure underneath
Aisha's whip misses as it closes.
The stuffed Owlbear swipes with one of its claws.
Grazing Vogue for some damage.