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A graceful fellow with raven black hair, blue grey skin, and sharp features enters the room shortly after the smaller figure.
Standing just under six feet tall and with a slender build, he is dressed in vibrant robes that are a mix of reds and yellows layered over shimmering satin blue and trimmed with metallic gold and copper feathers. He walks with a staff which is carved and dyed to appear as entwined asps, one white and one black.
His curious eyes crinkle with delight as he sees the smaller figure before him. "Kivuli Greyfeather." he says with genuine happiness in his voice. "It is very good to see you my friend. It seems we are once again present for a larger than normal gathering of our peers. I am excited to see what is in store for us this time."
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An ugly, red-skinned Tiefling waltzes into the room and looks at the assembled with a shrug. Decked out in mithral shirt, he carries an well-used alchemist kit on his belt and a fancy longbow on his back. His dirty clothing indicates that perhaps he doesn't care much for his appearance or the opinions of others.
"So, what is this time? I swear to the gods if they send me back to Tian Xia one more time I'm gonna start throwing bombs inside the Grand Lodge."
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The rogue strides up to his friend, hand extended. "Crios Greymantle! I hearding a rumor we am working together once again." The wayang grips the aasimar's forearm before leaning into an 'bro-hug'. Unfortunately, their size difference turns the whole affair into a rather awkward moment.
"Me an not knowing where we being dispatcheding on this mission. Pleasing to make knowing you. I are Kivuli Greyfeather and this is my friend, Crios Greymantle." The wayang reaches out a hand in greeting to the latest arrival.
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"Well Mister Just Reavis, it is gooding to meet you. If it helps you feeling to be better, Crios and I just returninged from a mission to a comet. Auturn's Tear. Not sureing what side of the world it was, but am thinking it was this side." If the rogue has any qualms about the fiend-tainted alchemist, he does not seem to show it.
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Smiling at the tiefling, and nodding along with the discussion so far, Crios eventually interjects,"Kivuli is absolutely correct. We did not fight any aliens, but we did meet some."
After only a small pause, he explains further, "There were some four armed giants that were definitely alien, and they were quite friendly once we were able to converse properly with them. They understood a version of draconic that was close enough to our familiarity to make work for us."
Thinking for a moment, he raises one finger as if to make a point of interest, "The only other possible sign of aliens was the strange ship we discovered. Kivuli was able to actually get it partially operational, and that was instrumental in our overall success on the mission."
Switching back to the talk of the enemies that they encountered, "The primary threat though was indeed, elemental."
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Crios shows the still fresh scar from his nearly fatal battle with a xorn. "Does this count as a souvenir?" he says with a grin. "I will remember the trip quite vividly because of this. Thankfully I was with a very resourceful group."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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A medium sized humanoid walks into the place and dazzles the crowd with robes so white as if he shone like a lantern. He is easily recognisable as a devout crusader for the Dawnflower with his white scarf, scimitar, and the holy symbol hanging from under the scarf.
As he walks into the establishment, his features become more prominent. He bears a sharp face with a pencil moustache, skin is an unusual pink, with eyes gleaming with fire. And he carries a finely crafted bow and a colorful assortment of arrows.
He looks around with judging eyes. "The name's Kuriq..."
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Kuriq turns his head to greet the group. In reply to Crios, he explains a somewhat vague dark past. "Indeed it is, it was only by Saranrae's good graces that I'm not a dead junky."
Turning then to Kivuli and Ranalus, he maintains a wry manner, "I'm no stranger to the darkness..." Moving himself then to a seat, to continue in chatter.
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Anduris steps into the room looking at the others and catching up with the conversation. He steps forward amongst the other people in the room the trappings of his trade jingling softly as he moves. He taps out the content of the churchwarden pipe onto the floor then searching, without immediate success, for more Andoran longbottom weed.
Heh! Ye be 'ere ah'ready. 'Spose it be good that yer all comf'table in the dark. Seems most 'o the time there be that in any good 'venture. Anduris is me name. I hope 'eh have ah variety of skills that can help us through this.
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So rather than preparing for a mission you've actually gathered for a grand banquet. 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 is hosting a grand banquet in the visiting agents’ honor. You find yourself in your present company for dinner. 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, delicious jumbo prawns imported all the way from the Varisian Gulf.
Over the past three and a half days, you've perhaps attended a variety of classes, from Golarion’s history to spellcasting techniques, or ran obstacle courses or the traditional triathlon all put on and taught by the Three Masters (Kreighton Shane, Sorrina Westyr, and Marcos Farabellus), along with other notable Pathfinders.
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The table conversation is light and informative. A fruity, sweet salad is served next and matches the conversation quite well. You all feel your training this week has been beneficial.
Over the preceding days you may have picked up a bit of information in passing.
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Although he considers himself somewhat a recluse, Kuriq is notably social and manages to divulge some information from whispers around the corridors.
"I've heard that during the course the Three Masters keep their eyes out of outstanding agents who embody the Pathfinder Society Ideals. A reward is said to be even passed at the end of the Torchbearing..."
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"Dealing with the Fey is mostly a matter of watching your words. Don't be rude, and don't make promises you can't keep. At least, so it has been in my experience. Oh, and of course,
try not to make assumptions about what you see. But there are such wonders in the First World. I hope to have a mission there soon."
He wears an odd holy symbol, an eye with a crescent moon pupil.
"I too have heard such reports, Kuriq. I have also heard that Pathfinders may disappear for hours during these events, allegedly to be brought before the Decemvirate for unknown reasons."
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"I am glad we have met friends who are so in the know, as it were. I have learned much while here, but I appreciate your insights as some of the most valued." Crios says as he twists and stretches. "The obstacle courses were particularly invigorating I found."
Pulling out a heavy tome he points while mentioning, "I myself found time to study some very interesting engineering while I was here. This was something I was surprised by. Did you know that using slaked lime and a volcanic ash known as pozzolana, you can create a sticky paste that combined with volcanic rocks called tuff, creates a hardened material that could effectively endure chemical decay. Think of the possibilities! We could build things that will last millennia and all without magic! Simply fascinating!"
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"Heh, that sounds cool, but I usually leave some collateral damage around me wherever I go so they would never pick me as one of their special 'head of the class' Pathfinders. I don't think meeting the Decemvirate would be all that interesting anyway, it's not like they're going to invite me to their beach parties." Reavis says in a matter-of-fact tone with a casual shrug.
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As Chelish Reds for Zarta Dralneen's private cellar and Dark Ales from the Five Kings Mountains flow, the main course arrives succulent rack of lamb or tender filet's from fine Andoran cattle. The mouth watering meal concludes with the dessert course, all manner of fine pastry from baker's right here in the City at the Center of the world. As you enjoys the sweets, 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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"Shadow magic is at work in the museum... Possibly a portal to my Lord's realm? In any case, the inside of the museum can be larger than the outside. Perhaps I can be of assistance."
"Yes, I know a bit about Nigel Aldain. A former Pathfinder, still works with us. A good sort, though as of late far too interested in the Shining Crusade; zealots never do any good for the common people.
I know the museum is backed by the Blakros family, but I couldn't care less about the nobility of Absalom. My allegiance is more with the outcasts, the exiles, and the forgotten than with the powerful. Still, if Nigel needs assistance, we should go to him. For the Society."
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As the group discusses what each member knows about the Blakros Museum and the curator, Nigel Aldain, Crios nods with each new revelation.
"You all bring up interesting view points. I have never met Nigel myself, but I have it on good authority that he only resigned from our group after marrying Dhrami Blakros. Once he did that, he took the position of curator at the museum as it was part of his marriage contract."
He points out, "The sad thing is that ever since he became the curator, the museum has suffered one trouble after another. He doesn't really work for us, but each time he has a mishap, he asked the Society to help him clean up."
"Nigel is a curious sort, wanting to stand on his own but always coming back to us for help. I think he just wants this exhibit to go off without incident so that he can prove he doesn't need us anymore, more as a point of pride than out of any real animosity. I would imagine that is why he has spent so very much money on security."
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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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You make your way to Museum with your fellow Pathfinders. Dozens of Wise District guards surround the Blakros Museum. You find yourself within ear shot of Venture Captain Valsin as he approaches. 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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As the group arrives at the museum, Reavis takes the opportunity to drink his dexterity mutagen and an extract of Barkskin.
"Let's take those swarms out, it should be fun. Unless you guys rather take on the animals. I ain't too hot about the clockwork or the relics, they tend to resist my bombs too much. I should have invested in adamantine arrows."
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"hmm... we seem to be at a crossroads. Dealing with the rune-swarm seems to be the one area highest on everyone's lists of where to go, so let us be headed there, as there is no more time to waste!" and with that Crios leads the group to the area with the swarm, casting shield once near even though he doesn't expect it to offer any help.