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A broad shouldered, bald, dark skinned human strides into the room, he wears a combination of cold-weather gear below the belt with a chain shirt and leather undershirt on. He is laden with gear, however few to none weapons can be seen on his person however his large fists are calloused around the knuckles.
"Greetings fellow Pathfinders, I see I'm not the first to arrive," he states "I have just returned from a far off land across the sea, it is good to be back in Absalom and the Grand Lodge. I am ready for an adventure, I hope that is why they've gathered us today."
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An stout dwarf with an enormous hammer hanging from his back stands up to greet the new comers with Taldan accent "The name is Arbiscar, and my grandmother always said I was born from the rock itself. I don't know to what extent that is true, but I like the comparison with the rigid and stable element"
When he moves a symbol of Abadar shows at his chest "For Abadar, I hope we solve this mission soon enough. Has anybody brought some beer to homage the Lord of Keys?"
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Bo shakes his head, "Its no matter, I've put slavery behind me and if I never have to return to Cheliax all the better! It is good to meet everyone, seems like they've assembled a decent team for once."
Sliding his backpack to the floor and digging through it "I don't think I have any beer, Arbiscar, sorry about that. I am usually well-prepared, maybe we can pick some up on the way out"
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You have gathered at the Grand Lodge to meet with the recently returned Venture Captain, Drandle Dreng . Unfortunately, you haven't been summoned to receive a new mission, but instead to catch up on paperwork.
It is truly a pleasure to be back. Venture Captain Drandle Dreng takes a seat at the head of the table and leafs through the papers set before him.
Some of you might have worked with me before my… furlough. And I look forward to reminiscing, but first it seems we need to spend the next few hours tidying up the paperwork you’ve accumulated overt the course of your adventures. He wets his cracked lips.
First, we have this extradition order from Cheliax for... Oh my. Well, I’m sure the Society can—
Suddenly - A blue-grey shape crashes through the window and lands on the oak table with a metallic schwak! The tangle of wings and claws eventually stands, a gleaming silver raven, and opens its mouth.
G—gods help me, Dreng, I’m dying, a distant male voice sputters from the bird.
Men in black—came for… Numeria exhibits. It’s Nigel... I’ve been shot! You owe me, you old bastard!
Dreng’s lips crack and pop as they tighten.
Well… Sounds like you lot need to head to the Wise District. That sounds like Nigel Aldain , so go to the Blakros Museum. If he lives through the night, I might be able to make something of this— he waves a hand over the mound of parchment, disappear
Given the urgency, Dreng can answer a couple of questions quickly.
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"Aye Arbiscar, let us waste no time in saving this man. Anyone who asks the Grand Lodge for help must receive it!" Bo grabs his backpack, slings it over his shoulder.
Maybe I needs ask Drendle about the Blakros or if he knows anything. I am thankful for the diversion, I was worried we'd be stuck pushing papers all day.
I may know a thing or two about the Musuem, I've never adventured there but I thought I read about it in a chronicle.
"Drendle, it sounds like you know who this Nigel is, please if you have any information about him that'd be helpful."
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Dreng replies, Nigel is a… a friend. He curates the Blakros Museum. A curious sort, but not the kind of man to claim he’s dying unless someone’s actually stuck him. He’s a former member of the Society and gives us special access to research and artifacts when it suits him. Losing him would be a setback.
Looking to Arbiscar, Is it possible you’ve been with the Society this long and never had to clean up one of the messes at the Museum? It’s an ugly building in the Wise Quarter that holds all sorts of dangerous oddities the Society borrows from time to time. Last I heard, Nigel shut the place down a few weeks ago for some renovations and to bring in some new exhibit. Numeria is a large wasteland to the north. It’s more of a wilderness of barbarian tribes than a real nation. Stars fell on Numeria long ago, full of strange poisons and monsters.
Master Mido knows this much at least. The Blakros Mueum is a small, old, ugly building in the Wise District that displays historical treasures. It is open to the public, for a small fee.
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Master Mido also recalls that The Blakros Museum is owned by the Blakros family, a noble household of traders and artifact hunters. They marry nobles from all over the world, and use those contacts to bring in amazing treasures unseen anywhere else in Absalom. Nigel Aldain, the curator, isn’t a Blakros
by birth. He married into the family. Also, the Blakros family didn’t build the museum. They bought it from some insane wizard’s estate after he died. It’s been closed for the past few weeks, but not many people have noticed. Accidents and strange events happen so often lately that it’s usually closed for “renovations” or “cleaning,” causing many people to avoid it.
Dreng gives you some quick directions and you are off toward the museum.
Reaching the museum, the dark, blocky architecture of the Blakros Museum squats stubbornly between the more impressive government buildings of the Wise Quarter. One of the older buildings in Absalom, it remains unchanged and lacks the ornamentation of its newer neighbors. Imposing statues of armored men flank the entrance ahead, one partially obscured by a half fallen banner reading “Grand New Exhibition!” A blue flicker intermittently tints the dark windows, casting long, dull shadows over the groomed gardens and fountain. A crumpled figure in bloodstained robes lies against the fountain’s edge.
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Bo rushes to the crumbled figure and inspects the body to see if they are alive, hurt or dead. as well as to see if there are any badges, items of value or weapons on the body .
"I don't have much in the way of healing arts, can any of my companions help me out here? And I must say, this Blakros Museum and its surroundings leave much to be desired. It barely looks like a museum" Eyeing the body and the darkness of the museum he calls out to his companions "Looks like this Nigel wasn't wasting our time calling us out here!"
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"I agree Bo, this is suspicious, we better prepare for the worst" the dwarf draws his Earthbreaker hammer and approaches to the figure trying to ascertain what happens with it and help him.
He then looks around for any hint or danger.
"We should secure the area. Anyone good at range can keep an eye just in case someone appears?" says the dwarf.
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The slumped figure raises its head and waves at you weakly, stammering.
Keep your heads down fools! They could be anywhere!
As you approach he begins sputtering, Are you Pathfinders? Did Dreng send you? It was... it was... it was in no way my fault! We took every precaution! Tomorrow was going to be such an event, unveiling the new museum, and absolutely nothing could go wrong! I personally inspected every artifact that came in, as both a scholar and a wizard. Everything was harmless as a newborn lamb! And anything the least bit suspicious went right into the lockbox! We even made sure those bizarre “robots” of theirs were neutralized!
After this exertion, he starts to faint.
Arbiscar's heal check reveals that even though the injury to his hip is obviously painful, the wound has been cauterized and isn’t a threat to the elf ’s life. And Giltman's cure light wounds restores him to consciousness fixing the wound.
At which he immediately begins in again, “It was those vile cultists! They struck in the night like cowards! Oh, Abadar preserve my poor staff! None of us know how to fight. I went to find help and those Numerian monsters shot me in the back! I blacked out. Thought I’d gone on to the Boneyard, but when I awoke I called for assistance. I don’t know how many of my workers are still alive! Pendleton was in there! “You have to do something. They could destroy the entire museum! Half of that exhibit belongs to you people!
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Arbiscar tries to calm the man "We are here now to solve things out. Do not worry. But we need some information. Who are those cultists and how many of them are here now? What are those robots and where are them now?"
After a pause for responses and others to give questions the dwarf adds "Who is Pendleton and how does he look like? Who had access to the robots and the museum keys a part from yourself?"
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Bo draws his Wayfinder and lights it, showing it to the frantic man.
"We are Pathfinders, we've come to investigate the museum. You must be Nigel? Dreng sent us. Can you tell us what these cultists want"
Turning toward the party, "Thank you for healing him, I think we should hurry inside to save this Pendleton, no telling what foul things these cultists are up too."
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Calming down slightly, Nigel replies to your inquiries.
I believe they are called the Technic League, some secret society out of Numeria. They worship the technology I guess. Clearly they did not like my acquisition of their artifacts. I assure you, almost no one told me how fanatically devoted they were to keeping their technology a secret. There were four of them or was it five?
Then adds, The Robots? There Numerian machines, sort of a golem, but they run on lightning and need little nodules in there heads to think and obey. So we pulled those nodules out and threw them in the hazard crate.
Finally, when you ask about Pendleton, Pendleton is my nephew—my wife’s sister’s middle son. Nice enough lad. Head in the clouds. Dhrami thought a season or two working in the museum might teach him a bit about foreign cultures before they actually let him roam the world and embarrass us all abroad.
You have to save him!
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Bo will move up to the doors with Giltman, looking for any windows to see inside the building, going so far as to shine his wayfinder through the window
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If there are none he will move up to the doors and ready for the rest of the party to gather with us.
"I've no idea what to expect on the other side of the these doors but whatever is on the other side I am sure we will be prepared."
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Getting back to his feet, Nigel says. Yes, I must let the family know what's happened. I'll leave the resolution of this task in the Society’s capable hands. And with that Nigel heads off looking a bit shaky.
You open the doors to find an electric tang overpowers the room’s scent of polish and wax. Walls and pillars of hewn black stone support the heavy ceiling overhead and a lattice of lamps burning with a steady, white flame. Dozens of paintings, both stunning and lackluster, line the walls just beyond the museum’s grand doors. Various statues stand against the walls, while a towering bronze figure, arm outstretched with waves parting beneath him, almost scrapes the fifteen-foot ceiling at the chamber’s far end.
Doors to the west are delicately labeled “Facilities,” while a sign over the double doors across the gallery boasts “Histories of the World.” Two sets of double-doors stand at the room’s north end, barely ajar. A banner hanging overhead proclaims “Secret Sorceries of a Savage Land,” while a more subdued sign below that reads “Grand Exhibition Hall.”
The towering bronze figure is clearly of Arodan raising the isle of Kortos from the sea.
Almost immediately Arbiscar notices two of the statues which appear to be immobile, however you recognize them to be robots and they have signs of life.
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"And watch out with two statues! I fear they are those out-of-control robots we are looking for. Ready your spells and weapons, then proceed" says Arbiscar.
The dwarf calls then for Abadar's noble bless casting bless on his allies.
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Miyako enters the museum while drawing her adamantine rapier and moves past her allies. She stops at a safe distance from the nearest robot and readies an attack in case it enters her reach.
"Mister cookie can!" Miyako yells to taunt the robot. "I'm going to store cookies in your head!"