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looks tired as he calls an emergency meeting in the middle of night at his chambers in the Grand Lodge. “I’m sorry to call you in on such short notice and on such a dark night, but a friend of the Society needs your help immediately.” From an adjoining chamber, an elegantly dressed woman of middle age with olive skin and long, straight black hair and piercing eyes steps into the room. “Allow me to introduce to you , of the esteemed Blakros family, whose name I’m sure you all know.”
Hamaria sits at Dreng’s side, smooths her satin dress over her knees, and speaks in a clear though pained voice. “I’m afraid my forebears made a terrible mistake, and I need you to help remedy the situation. When the Blakroses were first gaining a financial and social foothold centuries ago, my ancestors made a pact called the Penumbral Accords with a strange organization on the called the , which granted us trade routes through its dark realm to avoid unpleasant searches, tariffs, and questions among the many parties with whom we traded. At the time, this was an invaluable service, but as our wealth and influence grew, the benefits became less pronounced. Now, almost five centuries later, we no longer want to pay the ongoing price of this agreement. Since that time, we’ve been providing a steady stream of slaves to the Onyx Alliance... including the eldest of our daughters each generation. This year we have two eldest daughters— - and I refuse to let them be taken!”
“But we can’t actively break the Penumbral Accords ourselves. We don’t know all the details other than our end of the bargain, which requires us to deliver slaves to our very own Blakros Museum on the night of each new moon—and to deliver the eldest Blackros daughter of each generation on the new moon after her 21st birthday. We are told to stay away until dawn, and have honored this command thus far. In every instance for generations, we’ve returned to find no sign of the slaves or our own heirs left in the building. They’ve got some device that lets them take our daughters to their plane, something that only functions one night a month, and only until dawn. That night is tonight, and my Eleanir and Michellia are already there! I need you to and deactivate or destroy whatever allows them to keep stealing our people. If that prevents them from ever threatening us and holding the Penumbral Accords over our heads again, even better.”
Dreng leans forward. “You understand, I’m sure, how valuable our relationship with the Blakros family is to the Decemvirate. Their assets at the museum are immense, and assisting the Lady Hamaria tonight will go along way to ensuring that both her family and our organization can form a long-lasting alliance that will benefit all parties. I also understand that you are the Society’s foremost experts on the oddities of the Blakros Museum, and have only recently just returned. Not only that, but your acts of valor and outstanding service records, particularly for ones so new to the Society, and the fact that you have earned the respect of one of their own, one who had until recently held a grudge for the Society, makes me extremely confident that I have hand-picked the right crew for this job.” He glances at Hamaria, who nods once in agreement. “Hurry to Blakros Museum, friends. There isn’t much time!”
money selling valuable antiquities across the border between Taldor and Qadira. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches.
The immediacy of the new call to glory leave you little time to prepare. Thankfully you remember well the way to the Museum, and if there is any last minute shopping you need, there are a few places along the way that might still be open.
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"Shadow planar shenanigans? In the Blakros museum? At night? All to cut off a slaving operation and save a couple young ladies of the Blakros family?" Virgil mutters a curse under his breath.
The dwarf adds, "Before we go in, I need about half an hour to prepare some alchemical ingredients. Because I was helping out with Grace's parade I didn't have an opportunity to mix them up this morning."
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Ha! What's with the stutter, k-kat g-got y-your t-tongue! Ha!. Laughs a short spell. Yeah sure, save the damsel, damsels, twins.... Mur's face changes and he pauses, it is evident he is having a distasteful thought of the twins. Save your daughters, and break some overly fancy shadowy planey traveley machiney thingy.
Mur sits quietly with a mischievous grin, it seems he is still thinking of the twins, this is the quietest you have ever seen him.
hmm... Twins
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Kurvast, aghast, looks back and forth between Drang and the Blackros woman.
"Selling your daughters to devils for their cursed gold," he rants, "and only today do they say, 'enough'? And why have the girls gone to the museum, if their family fathers have finally broken from
this insanity?"
...
On the way to the museum...
The monk remembers well that his own recent adventure was only the latest in a series of crises centered around the museum. He stops at a few houses along the way to ask about the area's recent events, but the few that do open their door to the massive Shoanti warrior slam it immediately after.
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She speaks up, her countenance sad, "Say what you will. Think of me whatever you please. We are all flawed. Human. Just, please, save them."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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With a moderate rush, you reach your destination fairly quickly. The Blakros Museum is a large and well-furnished gothic building that rises out of the night like a great looming shadow. Within are three exhibit halls showcasing the Blakros family’s impressive collection of relics and oddities. Wightir House is identical in construction and layout, but serves a decidedly different purpose. Sadly, no one is there to meet you this time, but you find the doors unlocked. As soon as you step inside, you feel an oddness about the place, like walking in two worlds. The shadow is more prevalent. Menacing. Your light sources seem to flicker, but do not go out, as if struggling.
Great pillars of hewn black stone support the vaulted ceiling of the Blakros Museum’s grand entryway, visible through its wide, double doors. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light. A fossilized dinosaur skeleton occupies the northwest corner of the room. Upon crossing the threshold, the air ripples and all visible surfaces shimmer as if they were momentarily composed of still, reflective liquid. As soon as the effect manifests, the strange sensation ends, leaving thick shadows covering all surfaces. The white light of the braziers glows an arcane shade of blue, illuminating the shadowy form of a different skeleton that overlays the more solid dinosaur from moments ago. As you look about, the shadows see, to leap out at you. You think you see movement over there, but nothing. A sound there, some unknown beasty skitting about ready to pounce, . . .
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Grace nods slowly, "A scroll of Daylight would definitely sound useful, but I don't think I'd be able to find anywhere that sells them."
She then speaks with Morvius, "Don't let him get to you. He's a sociopath and we will likely be sent one day to track him down after he kills a village for some slight or another."
Grace lays a hand on Kurvast's shoulder, comforting him, "Take solace in that they did finally see the error of their ways. Even if it doesn't seem to be for the right reasons."
She smiles at Virgil's comment, nodding slightly, "Indeed, but I don't think she meant it like that."
Gently, she reassures Mur, "I'm sure that after being on the Shadow Plane for any length of time might make someone a little desperate for aid. It's even possible they might even give you a second thought!", she smiles as she tries to cheer him up.
On the way to the museum, Grace regales her companions with tales of the museum, "As I'm sure you guys already know, in recent years, the Blakros Museum has been the site of a number of strange occurrences, many of which were handled quietly in the dead of night by agents of the Pathfinder Society, including ourselves just recently!", she reminds Mur.
"But did you know, that in the early days of Absalom, the Blakros Museum was originally the stronghold of an eccentric wizard? He abandoned it and it sat silent for centuries, later bought by House Blakros, who turned it into a museum for their impressive collection of curiosities from across Golarion. Just more history to the place, right?"
"But here's the odd part... That eccentric wizard was the mad astrologer Ralzeros the Overwatched, and he built what is now the Blakros Museum thousands of years ago as an observatory to study distant worlds and even other planes of existence!" Her voice drops to a whisper, "And some say, to be studied by them..." She then finishes in a dramatically low voice, "He later disappeared following a mage-duel with another of Absalom’s early wizards. Never to be seen again. Scary, huh?"
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You notice as you enter, that there seems to be a ghostly set of doors barring your exit (good thing Kurvast is here. . .). Ahead of you, you see three different doors along a hallway. One on each side of the beginning of the hallway, just beyond that odd dinosaur skeleton, and the last at the far end of the hall.
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Twins
Right O. Lets go. Mur tramples by everyone, giving Grace a small smile on the way by. It looks evident he is hell bent on being the first impression the twins get of their heroic rescue. He keeps licking his hand then rubbing his hair trying to get it to look groomed.
(Unless someone says something to him he will casually walk to the door at the far end of the hall.)
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As Mur proceeds, the twins no doubt consuming his thoughts, skeleton springs to life, (well sort of), reaching out to bite.
<MISS>
Seeing a real threat, and that due to the weirdness of the two planes joining, overlapping, your not sure what sense you can fully trust, the party of heroes, (one of them even had a parade), springs into action.
Group 1
Grace
Morvius
Mur
Kurvast
Darvan
Group 2
Skeleton
Group 3
Virgil
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Kurvast pauses to catch his breath, keeping a wary eye on the crumbled remains of their foe. If the Shoanti tribesman was ever wont to visit a museum of his own volition, such desire has been thoroughly extinguished.
"The Quah gathers our bones," he declares disapprovingly. "We do not mock them into these these puppet displays."
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Venturing further, you begin to notice that some of the objects and decorations of the Shadow Plane's version of the house are becoming more "real". You can easily tell them apart, but as the night grows, the two planes are becoming one. Making your way to the hallway, begin to see the specters of movement, realizing that you are seeing the denizens from the other plane, but can not interact with them. You are not sure if they can see you, but if so, they seem completely uncaring of your presence. One walks through you at one point, carrying an ornate and odd tray holding vials of some sort of liquid.
Just before leaving the entry room, you notice a plaque that reads “Wightir House, Experimental Laboratory of Onyx Alliance, Authorized by Order of Argrinyxia, the Shifting Lady of Ebony Scales.”
The door to your left (top), has a sign that reads “Treasures of Distant Goka,”, while a shadowy sign occupying the same space reads in dark, block letters “Cold Storage — Perishable Specimens Only.” On the other side of the hallway opposite it (bottum), the other door has a large placard above the entryway to this hall reads "The Evolution of Dragonkind” in bright, elaborate script while a shadowy sign next to the door describes the room as “Pain Laboratory—Tests in Progress.” At the end of the hallway, the sign above this high door reads “Biological Oddities” in clear lettering, while a dark reflection of the same sign warns that the room beyond contains a “Ritual Chamber.”
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Grace, being an Outsider, even one native to Golarion's material plane, you are starting to feel rather odd. In one sense, you feel a bit more at home than you ever had, caught at this unique place literally between two planes, two realities. On the other hand, you feel odd. Sort of truly like an outsider. It's silly, but being here sort of makes you feel dirty. Sort of unwelcome.
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Dozens of mannequins dominate this room, each decorated in the trappings of distant Tian Xia. Ceremonial armor of samurai from Minkai and the silk gowns of courtly ladies catch the eye, but the delicate tea sets in long glass display cases seems out of place next to the strange shadowy figures leaning against the fan-decorated walls. Humanoid bodies encased in ice stand scattered throughout the room, and a glaze of dark rime covers the floor.
Standing strongly at the far end of the room, is what appears to be an metal robotic snake , with another door just behind it.
Group 1
Kurvast
Cobra
Group 2
Grace
Mur
Darvan/Sahba
Group 3
Morvius
Virgil
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Before moving into the hallway, Grace turns to Mur, a completely innocent look on her face, "I am SO sorry, Mur! I didn't see you there! You know how big Kurvast is, and when I stepped behind him, I thought you were out of the way, because I didn't see you anymore. And then when the grease started spreading, and I didn't see you fall, because I couldn't see you anymore, you understand, I just figured that you were out of the grease. I never would have placed it there if I knew you were in any danger of slipping into it. Here, let me help you there, you have some on your back. And don't forget that patch in your hair. I don't know what the twins would think if you were to present yourself with grease in your hair. Maybe they're into that kind of thing! I know some women who are into men with greased back hair, so you never know, right?"
She then helps Mur out by wiping the grease across his back, smudging it further, on "accident", of course. She looks down at her greasy hand in mild disgust and wipes it clean on Mur's shoulder, "Thank you so much, Mur. I just don't know what we'd do without you here!"
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. . ."I know some women who are into men with greased back hair, so you never know, right?"
She then helps Mur out by wiping the grease across his back, smudging it further, on "accident", of course. She looks down at her greasy hand in mild disgust and wipes it clean on Mur's shoulder, "Thank you so much, Mur. I just don't know what we'd do without you here!"