Drongos - The Blakros Connection (Inactive)

Game Master rpblue

Most consider Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine a peculiar figure within the Pathfinder Society. However, ever since the death of Aram Zey, Shaine’s demeanor and eccentricities have been subdued as he threw himself into a seemingly fruitless investigation of the Aspis Consortium agents that attacked Skyreach and murdered the Society’s Master of Spells. Kreighton has enlisted the help of several Pathfinders to follow up on a handful of leads relating to Zey’s death. To drive home the importance of this investigation, Kreighton has personally escorted you through Absalom from the Grand Lodge to the grim spires of the Blakros Museum. There, Shaine holds out a folded missive before reaching the doors.

“This is a letter of writ indicating that you operate under the direct order of the Decemvirate. It does not compel assistance, but anyone within Absalom will think long and hard before refuse to cooperate. I have reason to believe that an artifact—a magical lantern—played a pivotal role in stealing Aram Zey’s soul after his murder. The curator of the Blakros Museum, Nigel Aldain, informed me that the building once housed such a relic. However, Nigel claims the lantern is now missing from the collection. He has agreed to open the museum’s doors to the Pathfinder Society and cooperate with this investigation.”

Shaine quietly looks over each person assembled with a weary stare and turned-down lips. “Search the museum for clues regarding the lantern. If there is a connection between this relic’s disappearance and Zey’s murder, continue to follow any leads you find until you have exhausted all possible avenues of research, then report back with your findings. All avenues... Precious days have passed since I began my investigation, and every additional day gives the culprit more time to hide; research rarely happens quickly, yet I cannot remind you enough that time is of the essence. The soul of someone I consider a dear friend hangs in the balance.” Kreighton takes in a deep breath then exhales slowly, trying to regain his composure. “I wish you luck, Pathfinders. Do you have any questions before I depart?”

"We will not let you down, Master Shaine," the old mans says removing his weatherworn hat in an act of deference. "We know the importance of finding all clues, and every possible connection, is of the utmost importance to the society."

"Aram Zey's loss is tragic, and will do everything in our power to help in this endevor," Ibid now replaces his hat atop his head and wrestles within his pack for a moment, at last pulling free a worn, well-used journal. With his quill in hand, the old man opens to a new page, an eager zest clearly visible in his eyes. "I assure you, we will find every connection we can. Nothing piece of information, no matter how small, will escape our gaze."

The old man is clearly excited to be on a mission more befitting to his skill set, tussling with dusty tomes and manuscripts rather than water logged specters and effigies of lost friends.

"Kreighton, old friend! Marvellous to be seeing you," Xûll strides over to give the flighty elf a massive hug, "From what Haafiz has told me of Nigel, something suspicious must be going on for him to open up his library for us! Suspicious, or maybe he's scared. Let's hope it's that he's scared of us and not someone else! Ha!"

Lort wrinkles his nose, as he thinks a while. "Trying to save Zey's soul so that it may rest, or trying to resurrect the man? And... um... why not get some initiates to do the reading? We're not exactly your lowest ranking field agents."

Lort is relieved to have the Master of Scrolls giving the mission and not bloody Valsin again, but he really dislikes these 'reading missions'.

FYI, Lort - against all the odds - is my recipient of the 'Student of Scrolls' GM Star reward.

Also, 'after Aram Zey's murder'... f#+#ing magnificent to be finally on a mission that relates to what we did at GenCon (what we saw, and what we did! Haven't played "Serpents Rise" yet? What's wrong with you? It was on PbP Gameday 4!). Almost wish I were playing this with Haafiz. He and Nigel met at the same event he met Damian Blakros - the wedding!

"Visit museum? Sound very easy... What could go wrong?*"

A mission that doesn't require travel? A promising thought. Besides, Amaranti has never visited this famous museum, so this is a good opportunity to cover that as well.

"While we there, can we spend time looking at museum things? What is the exh.. hib.. exhi... uh.. معرض? Things being display, I mean." Amaranti looks at Cyrus for help to translate the word he means. The is very familiar in Osirian, but the Garundi's tongue doesn't quite wrap around the Taldan word.

* Amaranti clearly hasn't visited the Blackros Museum before

Thinking back to all the classes he had with Master Zey, the patience, the kindness he had shown. That he was not there to help save him, but Durothil was there. Killing all that he could, friend or foe. And now Nigel. Nigel and Durothil had met. Once. And that was all it took to know Durothil.

"Master Shaine, so nice to make your ....acquaintance once again. Know this, I will have retribution for Master Zey's death also. Had I but been there....things... well what is done is done.

"A few questions - are the curators present or any other ... staff? Can you tell us a bit more about this lantern you ...suspect. Its origin perhaps?"

Cyrus inhales deeply, soakin in his surroundings and doing his best to listen intently. He is distracted however, staying up late for obscene hours in the library at the Grand Lodge, looking into denziens and devils that should not rightfully recieve the attentions of any well-meaning folks.

Frustrated at his lack of progress, and almost no mention of the name Auxziauk in any of the tomes he has searched, he has resigned himself that he must approach the sultry and dangerous Zalta Dralneen. He shudders at the thought, knowing that simply asking the question could lead to equal parts pain and pleasure, and he isn't quite sure yet how he feels about that.

Definitely better that Ibid knows nothing of this part.

The soul of someone I consider a dear friend hangs in the balance.

We are not to different Master Shaine, you and I. We both desperatly seek the lost soul of someone we care for deeply...

Cyrus' attention is caught up and focused at that statement, and he mentally joins the conversation, ableit a little late.

"I've never been to the museum, or met any of the Blackros family before like my countryman, Haafiz. I admit, I don't know anything about the museum. I also know that not everyone likes us, but why exactly would the museum have kept the pathfinder society locked out and away from its contents?"

Cyrus hopes his ignorance doesn't derail anything before they even get started.

The old man looks up while thumbing through his journal, a restrained look of shock hinted at behind the aged lines on his face. "Are we not excited to visit the museum?!" his rising voice echoes the surprised look on his face. "The Blakros Museum, my friends! What a grand adventure."

Clearly the old man is excited to find a mission more befitting his skill set.

"A day spent pouring through books and parchment, observing ancient artifacts, learning the secrets of the past and compiling knowledge!" Ibid continues on, closing the book sharply causing a loud thump sound to reverberate off the walls. "Finally a day spent with our swords and blades sheathed, no particular dangers present, and our noses pressed up close to take in the sweet smell of aged papers."

"“After Aram’s death, several specialists and I conducted a multitude of divinations at the site of his murder. While many results were inconclusive, we did discern that a female Aspis agent bearing a magical lantern absconded with a vital piece of Aram Zey—we speculate that it was his soul, preventing him from being resurrected. Beyond this, we know little. I inquired with Nigel regarding magical lanterns, and he volunteered information about the museum’s former possession.”" he remarks as you inquire about the lantern.

"While the reading may be easy enough for an initiate, you are chasing down leads to the Aspis agent responsible for killing my dear friend. I doubt initiates would be able to handle someone of such power should their search be successful." states Kreighton Shane dourly.

"You will not have time to peruse the museum. This mission needs to be completed as fast as humanoidly possible." the Master of Scrolls says with a nod to Lort and Finarin. "The lantern is an unknown, so I cannot tell you anything of it, but that is the purpose of this mission. However, Nigel thinks that it might have been in his custody at some point, so best to check their records."

Knowledge (local or history) about the Blakros Museum

---

The museum is closed to the public for the investigation, leaving the entrance hall uneasily quiet. The curator Nigel Aldain waits anxiously in the middle of the foyer with his hands clasped behind
his back, pacing across the tile floor in the shadow of a looming bronze statue. He offers a practiced smile. “Such a pleasure to see my former comrades-in-arms on this somber day. I mourn the passing of a—ah—charismatic man such as the Master of Spells. An exceedingly tragic loss, that.”

Adjusting his spectacles, Nigel motions for you to follow him deeper into the museum. “When I heard about the relic that may have snatched Master Zey’s spirit from the ether, I suspected it could have originated from the personal holdings of the museum’s first owner—a mad old wizard who saw fit to vanish without a trace centuries ago.” Nigel escorts you from the foyer of the Absalom Gallery, through a pair of double doors, and into a grand display of historical relics from Taldor and Osirion. “The building’s purchase included a sizeable collection, much of which we have kept locked up under tight security due to its unusual and often dangerous nature.”

Rather than proceed to another room, Nigel stops before a bare stone wall, and with a deft touch of several mosaic tiles, he opens a concealed door leading into a freight elevator operated by a series of chains and pulleys. Gesturing toward it, he offers words of cold comfort. “The Collection Esoterica contains several unusual objects of little historical import, but curious magical properties. Only I and select members of the Blakros family even know about this collection. To have an item go missing seems… well, rather unthinkable, wouldn’t you say?”

Nigel operates the lift, which is a slow mechanism that takes several minutes to make its descent to a subbasement.

With Kreighton Shane...

The old man bows his head at the cutting remarks of Kreighton Shane, knowing he has acted out of turn, and inappropriately for such a somber time. Of course they would be of much better use than simply pouring through books and papers, they had a serious task to attend to, and he would not allow silly excitement about something so trivial as research to get the better of himself until they solved this mystery.

"Right you are, Master Shane," the old man says. "We will work to solve this mystery with great haste."

Once more opening his journal, Ibid quickly sorts through the scattered notes he has on all manner of subjects, hoping to spark some remembrance of the Blakros Museum.

knowledge(history): 1d20 + 12 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 12 + (3) = 19

knowledge(local): 1d20 + 17 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 17 + (5) = 32

As each thought comes to him, Ibid explains what can remember about the surrounding history and lore of the Blakros Museum...

The spoilers above can be read now.

"I am Lord Finarin Moonstep, and it is nice to meet you. I ask that you refrain from any prejudice based upon my ... surname. Durothil and I are as different as .... well black and white.

"My investigative skills are subpar next to the great Ibid here, but could you be more ... specific with whom in the Blakros family knows about the Collection Esoterica? I have always found that the best kept secret is the ... one never told."

Finain looks at Gunari once the lift begins to move. "Are you sure this is structurally .... safe?" The lithe elf places a steadying had on Lort's shoulder as the lift begins its decent.

Time for Lort to use his GM Star reward! Let me know if you need a copy of it, GM.

"Nice to meet you, Nigel," Lort smiles, mischief in his eyes, "I've noticed your build is quite slight. Have you ever considered working out, maybe doing some heavy lifting? It should help with those hunched shoulders and what I'm sure must be tired muscles after being cramped up in here all day."

Knowledge, history (untrained, student of scrolls): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18 -- I was hoping for at least an 18 on the die so I could show Ibid up. Fie to thee, dice gods.

Lort nods along, agreeing with all that Ibid says. For the history lesson, the companions get the impression that Lort already knew what Ibid knew... astoundingly.

"It may seem unthinkable, but my time as a Pathfinder has taught me that if you have only one lead, however unlikely, then that's what has happened," Lort looks around to his companions proudly, then notes their looks, "What?! When hasn't that been the case?"

Back with Kreighton Shaine - Apologies if I missed something. I had to go back and read just to make sure.

"What, if anything, do we know of the agents who murdered Aram Zey?" Cyrus asks, as if the player controlling him didn't have an insane amount of fun playing those characters at Gen Con last year...

On the trip down the elevator...

"It is unthinkable," Cyrus says with a forced, serious look of concern on his face. "Say, you said only a few people even know of this collection. Who would those people be?"

Cyrus asks this time with a forced non-chalance, trying to keep his question innocent sounding, despite the leading implications behind it.

If only a handful of people knew about the items in here, and one of them went missing that was used to steal Aram Zey's soul... well... even I am smart enough to connect those dots...

kn:engineering: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

"Looks safe to me. I think. I may have been drinking, however."

Gunari takes everything in. "Mr. Aldain, I've heard of some strange goings on in your museum... including a complete magical makeover! A... friend... of our team, Faustus, suggested that the place is rather unsafe, and should be demolished. He does go to extremes, though. Have you gotten rid of those killer row-bots though?"

"As your friend said, the elevator is safe." Nigel remarks to Finarin.

Turning to Cyrus, the curator addresses his question. "Myself, of course, a few workers and the Blakros family themselves. The stuff you will see is mostly mundane, but many of the items defy reality sometimes. It is quite interesting, but most of the Collection Esoterica is quite interesting for the normal historical reasons."

In response to Lort, the man smiles. "I got quite the workout when I was with the Society. I quite enjoy spending my time here."

"I believe that the robots have been shipped to our sister museum in Osirion for the time being. Roving exhibition and all that." Nigel remarks as the lift comes to a halt. The doors to the freight elevator open into a musty basement with walls of pitch-black stone. Beyond the lift’s sliding doors lies a cluttered archive stacked floor to ceiling with wooden crates, chests of documents, and other containers. The walls contain shelves that are cut into the stone walls, laden with bizarre trinkets and relics from across the world. “Here we are,” Nigel proclaims, stepping off the elevator. “The oddities and archives belonging to the Collection Esoterica. I ask that you not disturb any of the relics in the crates, but you are free to peruse any documents. If you find anything, come let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be working on more pressing matters upstairs.”

This is where you begin your study of the Collection for something related to the lantern.

Please self divide into two groups and roll three checks each on one of these skills: Knowledge (arcana), Knowledge (history),
Linguistics, or Perception. All three players in a group must roll the same check and you must be trained in the skill if the skill requires it.

"Thank you for helping us here, Nigel," Lort grins, "But a workout doesn't last for days, weeks, months and certainly not years on end. You need a regular routine..." Lort continues to espouse the merits of exercise long after Nigel stops listening.

As with most half-orcs, Lort has little love for reading - though he does try to challenge himself from time to time (like during his time as a Student of Scrolls). When on a mission, however, he prefers the more martial aspects of being a Pathfinder. "Okay, you boys do it however you like... but I'm going on book hunting duty!"

Lort perception #1: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (20) + 17 = 37 -- Not sure if we're aiding or not, but at +17 this should be the primary.
Holy Hell! Should it ever be! Now where was that 20 when I was trying to upstage Ibid?

Lort perception #2: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (13) + 17 = 30
Lort perception #3: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (19) + 17 = 36

EDIT: Included 3 perception rolls as per Cyrus's suggestion below.

Having played with Lort only online, I cannot understand how "Lorting it" can refer to low rolls... :)

"Amaranti not good with reading. Not much help." Amaranti shakes his head. This visit to the museum is starting to sound more and more dull. But where he lacks, he has allies to complement him.

"Kaisharga good at finding things. It help!"

"CRATES OF WOOD AND DUSTY TOMES!?! IS THIS WHY I AM SUMMONED? I AM THE DEVOURER WURM, I REQUIRE PRAY OF FLESH AND BLOOD!"

But it cannot be helped. Upset as it may be, Kaisharga obeys it's master's will. It moves carefully in the constrained space and scans the documents with it's sharp eyes.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25

@Lort - I believe we need to make 3 rolls each, if I understand it right.

Cyrus remains silent as they discuss how they are going to go about doing the research. Ibid begins giving instructions, often forgetting that Finarin is about the only one with enough experience to grasp the finer points of what he is saying.

Retreating into his mind, the room around him sharpens in focus while the sounds of the others begin to dull. His imagination is transported back to the vast libraries in the Grand Lodge. For months since learning of his father's fate he had called upon the favor Janira Gavix promised him when he completed his confirmation. The halfling had spent hours trying to teach the young keleshite how to search through the tomes, what clues to look for, and how the dewey decimal system worked.

His search so far had seemed to prove in vain, finding nothing that would give him clues on how to rescue his father, or even find the devil he was looking for. For all of that effort though, it seemed his experiences were about to pay off for the society at least. What he didn't know about the finer points of the arcane, or lanterns, or magical objects, he could make up for his keen perception to detail, and finding the anomolies in the texts.

His clouded moment of reverie coalesces back into focus on the room and his friends. "Here Lort, let me show you a trick Janira showed me just last week..."

Cyrus completely misses the withering stare that Ibid gives him, the perceptive investigator reading between the lines, knowing exactly why the youth was in the Society's library.

Perception #1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

Perception #2: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

Perception #3: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

"Huh... looks like you already knew that trick!" Cyrus says with a smile.

perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Beer in hand, the warpriest of the drunken hero searches through the crates and stacks. Obviously the beer has had its effect by the end.

"Well Lort ... time to stretch out your mind rather than those hamstrings of yours. Shall we warm up with some sort of .... cerebral exercises? I like to start with some breathing."

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Finarin closes his eyes and begins to steady his breathing, breathing in and out to a five count. After a moment, his companions can hear him counting softly to himself, " 1...2...3...4 <>, 99...100...99...98 <> 2...1."

Rising once again to his feet, Finarin moves over to the shelves cut into the stone wall and begins pouring over documents, whispering arcane words, looking for anything magical.

"I liked it better when I was searching the wine labels in that gods-forsaken-cavern."

Pausing momentarily, "So friends, I know we are not supposed to, but mayhaps one of us might peer into some of these .... crates should this particular search prove fruitless."

Kn Arcana , roll #1: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (14) + 15 = 29

Kn Arcana , roll #2: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (12) + 15 = 27

Kn Arcana , roll #3: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (13) + 15 = 28

Lort you are an ass

Finarin, you roll alright, I guess. ;-)

Lort notices Gunari filling his mug, "Oh, yeah, we're not in Rahadoum anymore! Fill up please, Mr. Caydenite!" No-one saw where Lort was keeping his pewter mug engraved with the holy prayer of fill 'er up, Gunari, it just appeared.

Cyrus looks up, pulling his nose and gaze from one of the crates he has carefully jimmy'd open as Finarin makes his suggestion.

"Uh... good idea. Who's going to know, right? We are pathfinders after all, it wouldn't do to not at least get a sense for what is in here."

Good idea Finarin!

Cyrus will take Finarin's suggestion, provided it doesn't interfere with his perception rolls.

Also: You know you PbP to much when you type BBCode to italicize words in your yahoo email out of habit.

The old man tries not to lecture the others for too long on the finer points of examining potentially magical artifacts, but cannot help from liberally peppering his meaty dissertation with a side discussion on, what should be, truly fascinating historical discoveries of various powerful items thought to be long lost to time. He only realizes his lesson has surely crept into the realm of extreme boredom for the others upon seeing their glassy-eyed stares and slack-jawed countenances looking back at him.

Cast back in time, the old man thinks back to his early years in Promise, and the crippling boredom of stuffy lectures by old, boring teachers, and Ibid laments that he has inevitably become what he once rebelled against.

As the group disperses to search together, Ibid paired with Finarin, he cannot help but wonder about the other party and its members having not been classically schooled and brought up, such as himself and his elven friend. Surely, he and Finarin would draw upon vast stores of knowledge and learning, while the others would be relegated to arduous, labor intensive searching conducted by bending, crouching, and crawling to find sight of anything useful.

The poor souls...

knowledge(arcana), check #1: 1d20 + 13 + 1d6 ⇒ (13) + 13 + (6) = 32

knowledge(arcana), check #2: 1d20 + 13 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 13 + (1) = 20

knowledge(arcana), check #3: 1d20 + 13 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 13 + (4) = 31

Throughout the day, you mostly stick with the sheaves of paper stacked precariously in the southeast corner of the room. Lort works like mad man as he furiously rifles through a ton of papers with a little aid from the giant worm creature and Cyrus. Gunari and Amaranti smile as they use the reclining chairs in the study to kick their feet up for once.

Finarin and Ibid use this time to check the stacks for any magical reference tomes, hoping to find a clue as to the whereabouts of the lantern, but their first day turns up nothing as Gunari occasionally taps Ibid with his finger, helping to clear his mind.

Excitedly, Ibid flips a page in a water-logged journal and finds a sketch of a lantern. He quickly points this out to Ibid and the pair examine the two pages that detail a metal-framed lantern of exquisite (though infernal) design. The writing indicates that the lantern was gifted to the Blakros Museum, but with no legible indication of when or from whom.

As no plans were made for lunch, the group subsists off of whatever trail rations they packed and, by 5pm, their stomachs are rumbling. They see a hanging rope near the freight elevator and give it a pull, hoping that this may let them free from the dusty room.

After five minutes, the doors to the freight elevator open and Nigel stands there with a somber face. "You raaaaang?" he says slowly and deeply. "Get it? It's like that play 'The Monsters' with the construct butler. Never seen it?" he asks a bit puzzled.

As the doors are closing, something catches Lort's eye and he makes a grab for it, barely snatching the parchment through the doors. He quickly scans it, finding it to be a substantial list of unusual supernatural objects from around the Inner Sea region and beyond, some even come from unidentified lands. However, this paper contains no reference to any kind of lantern, which seems odd if the lantern truly originated here as the journal alludes.

As the lift reaches the ground floor, Nigel bows to them, a bit mockingly. "See you chaps tomorrow for another rousing day of fun, eh?"

With a wink, the elevator doors close and you here the machinery pull the metal box in one direction or another.

Here is time for RP if you wish! I will have you lot start your second day when I post again tomorrow! No rolls are needed as I got all I need from the current rolls. We are just in RP mode at the moment.

"Yeah, I think I remember the play from when I was a street orc," Lort grins at the memory and nods his head, "The one that had the crazy vampire grandfather... you were the butler, 'Lurk' or something, wasn't it?"

"Hey guys, check this out," Lort whispers - as ever, audible to all - showing them the manifest, "No lantern. Think we should ask Nigel about it?" He looks over at Nigel conspiratorially, for all the world as though the elf couldn't hear him as clear as day.

As a side note, watched reruns of that show a lot growing up. For almost a decade, that's how my father answered the phone! So many embarrassing memories of being a teenager... thanks for bringing that one up again, Ronster!

"Guess it could be a lead, Lort. Lemme see. Looks like a manifest of some sort. Where are these places on it, though? Ibid, I think this is something more up your alley."

He casts a quick spell, filling Lort's mug. "You've earned it, big guy. Now, we should probably hit the hay, and start out fresh tomorrow. I'll talk to Nigel a little... maybe he's got something we can focus our investigations on."

Gunari makes his way to Nigel, clapping him on the back. "Nigel, old chap. Good joke, that. Didn't know you had it in you. Maybe we should go grab a beer or something... I've got a few questions."

Assuming he's willing to talk...
diplomacy: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (5) + 18 = 23

"So, is there anything else you can tell us about the lantern, or the collection? I would have thought that a curator like yourself would have kept better track of everything... especially in a museum where odd things happen so frequently. No, I am not suggesting anything, just curious. Maybe there are some other... more restricted documents that you'd prefer not letting just anyone read through?"

Waking red-eyed and sleepy to the half-orc ever loud voice, "Lort! If you please ... some of us are not as fortunate as you lot to just receive our magics. Some of us ... namely .. ME ... have to work and study for it. So I would appreciate it if you could ... keep it down!

"Gunari, a bit of your ... holy tonic if you please." Taking the mug, Finarin drinks deeply of the brew, swishes it around his mouth, then frantically begins to look left and right before spraying it all over Cyrus.

"Ah, my apologies, Cyrus. I had forgotten how ... vile this beer is. Here, let me get that." Producing his silken kerchief, he wipes some beer-spittle from Cyrus' goggles. "There all better." he says as he throws the kerchief on the floor.

"Now where were we? Yes in the ... middle. Come, the day waits for no man and I for one long for this task to be ... complete."

A bit later
"Seriously Ibid. Can you not breathe out of your ... mouth? The sucking in of your breath is more that I can handle. You may be aged for your ... race, but is there not some magics that can ease your congestion?"

Oh how I wish I was working with the worm. At least he does not breathe like a wounded hippopotamus.

Spend 1 arcane pool point for Knowledge Pool, replace Fireball with Thunderstomp, Greater.

When Ibid and Finarin discover the text about the lantern

Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

"Hey, look at this! The smudged text here. No... here. Look, you aren't looking where I am pointing. Yes the smudge. I know it doesn't look like anything. Ugh. Let me show you." Cyrus pulls out one of his daggers and snatches Ibid's pen from his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, the pen is severed in two, and a pool of ink puddles on the floor.

Cyrus leans down, scraping some of the ink up with his dagger and huddles back over the text.

"See, the letters are here. You have to use your imagination just a bit, but if you connect..." the ninja sticks his tongue out of his mouth as he carefully traces the missing portion of the smudged script with the inked dagger, "This, with this... There!"

The text now clearly shows to everyone that the Lantern had been gifted to the museum 47 years ago.

"So what does that tell us then? What was going on 47 years ago, and why was the lantern given to the museum then? I wonder if Nigel knows. That time frame probably doesn't mean anything, but it might help at least figure out who might have donated it to the museum."

Later...

Why is he asking Gunari for a drink...

"Yeaaahhh!" Cyrus leaps in the air as the beer sprays all over him from Finarin's mouth.

"You alright my friend?" Cyrus gives the elf a quizzical look instead of what would perhaps be a more expected angry look.

"You seem a bit out of sorts. You weren't even this upset when we had to trudge through the sewers back in Absalom. And let's not pretend you don't prefer a clean... everything." Cyrus says as he picks up the embroidered textile, tucking it into his pocket.

Later as they continue to search

Its his shoes!. That's gotta be it. That has got to be the only thing that would upset Finarin this much.

The naive ninja begins searching the shelves and boxes diligently for any sort of footwear.

Maybe a stylish and ancient pair of arcane boots will cheer him up...

...

.....

...

Ugh. Nothing. Cyrus looks disgusted at the 17th crate he has turned over. He kicks a 9-faceted ring, making it skitter off into a corner under a shelf on the other side of the room.

Better get back to searching those documents before someone notices... he thinks to himself. Oh... better put this stuff back before Nigel notices too...

Lort decides to do a bit of a workout while they wait for Nigel's responses. He first does some push-ups but seems dissatisfied. "Pull-ups!" he notes with pleasure as he looks up at the book shelf. He leaps for the top one, grabs it and begins pulling himself up manfully. At his 4th repetition, however, the weight of a fully armed and armored half-orc proves too much for the poor shelf. It buckles and splits apart, dumping Lort to the ground.

"Ah, sorry," he looks to Nigel as books continue to slide off the shelf and onto the ground at Lort's feet.

Luckily, the half-orc has been in many a similar situation and new just what to do.

"Mending," he intones, again and again at 10 minute intervals until all is better.

Amaranti is in trouble. This is the first mission he has encountered an enemy that might be able to kill him. That enemy is boredom.

While the others were working on finding clues about the lantern, the Garundi was browsing through book-filled crates, in hopes of finding at least some secret stash of esoteric erotic art or literature. But closest thing he came across was an ancient osirian pictogram writing on a fertility ritual, and that requires a bit too much imagination to be of any interest.

So the idea of spending another day in the document archive sounds absolutely terrifying. When Cyrus reports on his finding about the smudged entry, Amaranti releases a loud laughter of relief and happiness, and gives the young ninja a big (and suffocating) hug.

"YES! Ask Nigel. Not go back to archive. Good find, Cyrus!"

The old man remains silent at his friend's harsh words, and wonders if he has done anything to upset or insult the elf. He could not remember such an act, but something had to have upset Finarin so. Perhaps his own breathing was that loud and annoying, and Ibid quickly adjusts his breath and tempo in embarrassment.

"Well done, Cyrus," the old man congratulates the clever ninja, trying to change the conversation from the embracing jab of Finarin. "Your skills with linguistics have far surpassed my own." He continues to ponder about the lantern being gifted to the Blakros Museum 47 years ago, and how to determine the specifics now regarding who had donated it, and furthermore, how it had gone missing.

"At least have something to go on tomorrow, perhaps that will lead to a more organized search. And maybe our dear host can shine further light onto our questions."

"So, is there anything else you can tell us about the lantern, or the collection? I would have thought that a curator like yourself would have kept better track of everything... especially in a museum where odd things happen so frequently. No, I am not suggesting anything, just curious. Maybe there are some other... more restricted documents that you'd prefer not letting just anyone read through?"

The next morning, the group meets Nigel at the gate once more and he allows them into the museum, taking the same path back to the basement. Gunari's question causes Nigel to laugh a bit.

"Hah! I wish that I would be able to help with that, but the Collection Esoterica is... also a bit of an overflow archive." he remarks. "Basically, I just toss whatever doesn't seem of value down here. It contains historical relics not currently on display, damaged or uninteresting artifacts and just a bunch of stuff that I haven't had the time to look at yet."

He kind of looks like he considers how to phrase his next sentence before he actually speaks. "The vast majority of the relics in the Esoterica have not yet been properly categorized or recorded by me. My predecessor was ... a woman of unorthodox methods. Perhaps that had something to do with her disappearance ten years ago."

"Either way, I have no record of the transaction you found on my books. Perhaps you should continue to search..." he says with a devilish smile as the lift doors close, leaving you lot in the basement once more.

---

The group, some already tired of this search, begin to horse around a bit more on this second day. Cyrus begins to crack open crates and Lort takes it upon himself to do pull-ups on a bookcase.

The bookcase cracks under Lort's weight and the whole structure collapses to the ground as the half-orc lands on his ass, books slamming into him from above. Unluckily, a small statuette slams into the ground near the man and a puff of fog escapes from the broken glass figurine.

At the same time, one last book falls from the shelf and hits the Kurgessian right in the forehead: Blakros Codices of Acquisition: 4,650 AR to 4,675 AR.

The man flips through the pages and a parchment falls free. Most of the words are faded but he can make out a few bits that seem relevant to their search.

...perty: Ticklefish Tavern - Sold to (Unrecognizable), 576 GP
Assorted Items: Haunted Paraphernalia (including metal lantern of unknown origin, toilet seat from Harrowstone and a sometimes animate doll created by a C. Black. - Sold to Unknown, Amount Undisclosed, Note: To be delivered to Blakros Museum upon receipt of funds.
Sword: Supposed Holy Avenger of Asmod...

The sale seems to bear the mark of Kintargo and the year reads 4,668 AR.

---

The group continues to search, but they quickly run into a wall, not finding much else, though they just need one more lead to follow the trail.

Bored, Cyrus continues to open cases, carefully enough to not have Nigel suspicious should the man visit them. A small statue in a crate catches his eye and the man picks it up.

The bronze statuette is quite atrocious. The ghoulish figure wears a tattered robe and stares with milky-white eyes, a proboscis-like tongue snaking out over its distended jaw. Cyrus shivers just holding it, quickly putting it back in the crate.

---

Ibid and Gunari have less luck this time around as they just pour through books as Amaranti and Kaisharga impatiently tap and fiddle with stuff.

The group hears the lift start and, a few minutes later, the face of Nigel greets them. "Hey! Find anything good? Time to get you lot out of here. Back again tomorrow?"

Gunari Maximoff wrote:

"So, is there anything else you can tell us about the lantern, or the collection? I would have thought that a curator like yourself would have kept better track of everything... especially in a museum where odd things happen so frequently. No, I am not suggesting anything, just curious. Maybe there are some other... more restricted documents that you'd prefer not letting just anyone read through?"

The next morning, the group meets Nigel at the gate once more and he allows them into the museum, taking the same path back to the basement. Gunari's question causes Nigel to laugh a bit.

"Hah! I wish that I would be able to help with that, but the Collection Esoterica is... also a bit of an overflow archive." he remarks. "Basically, I just toss whatever doesn't seem of value down here. It contains historical relics not currently on display, damaged or uninteresting artifacts and just a bunch of stuff that I haven't had the time to look at yet."

"That doesn't seem quite wise, for a museum that has already been plagued with outbreaks of wild magics. Perhaps a full inventory would be of value down here. Or, perhaps you would want to enlist the Pathfinder Society to do some of the work for you?" He thinks a minute, realizing that is exactly what Nigel has done.

Were the three rolls for three days, GM Bold Strider?

... realizing that is exactly what Nigel has done.

Were the three rolls for three days, GM Bold Strider?

Nigel laughs as if you have caught on to his master plan. "I assume you shall gain some benefit, however!" he remarks with a grin.

Yes. You guys made three rolls for three days and my last post was day 2 in the Collection.

This seems a task better suited to Fastius.

"Ah Ibid, I thank you for the concerted effort. I apologize if my mannerisms have been .... offensive lately. I am accustomed to a bit more rest than I have been getting these last few ... nights. I hope to make amends.

"Now, I still have some hours worth of study for .... my own purposes. If you all would be so kind as to allow me a bit of .... solitude? Many thanks."

All I need is Miro here singing a busty ballad and I would never get anything done.

Finarin take a corner desk that has been cleared of paperwork and begins the arduous task of arcane writing. The spidery scratch on paper, the 'clink' of quill tip tapping on an open ink pot are all that can be heard form the Lordly Elf.

Spellcraft, take 10: 10 + 21 = 31

3 hours to copy Thunderstomp greater into my spellbook. 90 gp for 130 gp total so far, next day I am going to spend 1 Arcane Pool point for Knowledge Pool, Ray of Exhaustion.

"Thank you Finarin." Cyrus smiles politely.

I'll Just wear this... For now.

Cyrus waves his arms and does a few squat thrusts to test the mobility of the garment. *riiiiiiip*

Uh oh.... I don't think he heard that...

Cyrus continues his search for the rest of the day with his back away from the elf, hoping he won't notice.

"Hey Gunari, how about another mug?" Cyrus asks while he combs through yet another tome.

"Wyrms, Worms and Warms. An Esoteric review of the dark side of summons. Hey Amaranti, you might like this one..."

-Posted with Wayfinder

"huh? What? Oh, yeah. Found me a great book in here! [i]Magical Draughts and Curatives"! It's an older tome, out of Katapesh, it seems. Talks about making your curative potions out of the finest beers. Sounds like a grand idea, why hadn't I thought of it myself?"

Amaranti was just showing Lort an illustration from the tome The Vivisection - A Study on Orcish Musculature, when Cyrus points out the book on summons. Gladly he grabs the book, and starts flipping the pages, stopping only when there are pictures in the page.

”Look, Kaisharga! This look like you. Old you.”

”How interesting…” Kaisharga replies, not even bothering to look his master’s finding. For the first time, the new form of the eidolon speaks in a voice that hurt the listeners ears. ”But here’s a book that surely has your picture in it - The Idiots of Osirion”

Without hands or arms, the giant worm has limited means of perusing the archives. So it works with it’s eyes, scanning quickly through all the titles of the books in a crate.

”Finarin. The red book in third row. Titled Cargo Manifests of The Chimera 4,660 - 4,670

"He wants us to sort this for him, does he?" asks Lort, slighted at the suggestion and growing tired of the weakling elf, "Well, let's pile everything we've already searched through... over here. Messily." Lort's grin isn't evil per se, but it is very orcish. He finds that looking at items and not placing them carefully back on the shelf really helps him to search through things quickly.

"I'm trying to remember what Haafiz told me about the curator... didn't Nigel marry some Blakros woman or other and refuse to change his name (like Damian Kastner - now Damian Blakros - did)? I wonder if that's why they left him stuck here looking after this museum - even if he is terrible at it. What the hell kind of elven name is 'Nigel' anyway? You'd think he wouldn't mind being called 'Blakros'..."

Please let me know if I'm using too much player knowledge here... but I ran the Blakros Matrimony and my players had quite a bit of fun messing with Nigel in that one.

A little while later, Lort looks at the chaotic pile behind him and notes several broken objects. "Just as well I asked Kurgess for a make whole prayer this morning, eh Gunari?"

The old man looks on as the zealous half-Orc searches in his own unique way, but cannot help but cringe at the chaotic, haphazard pile and assortment of possibly broken artifacts. "Shall I help you put those books, at the very least, back on the shelf, when you are done searching through them, Lort?" intentionally ignoring the fact that the half-orc has proceeded down such a messy path on purpose. "Or perhaps, I'll just do it myself and save you the trouble, so you can... ahh... do something else you might like."

"I'd at least like to replace them on the shelf in alphabetical order, if not chronological, if there is time," Ibid continues on, crouching next to Lort's pile of items and books. Reaching out, the old man grabs a few old volumes and gives them a quick inspection.

Pathfinder Society Journal: Kuru migration patterns due to Shackles expansion, Ibid reads a random book cover then thumbs through a few pages. He wishes there was more time to sit and read everything here.

Looking at the pathfinder society journal dedicated to the Kuru, Ibid wonders what had ever become of the relatively unknown, tiny island kingdom of Enya with its sparse, yet oddly civilized population of kuru cannibals. It had been ruled by Akikonu, the might Cannibal King, who sat upon something known as the Fifty Father's Throne, that is, if Ibid's own ancient memories from his schooling in Promise could still be trusted to be correct.

Stirred form being lost in thought and closing the pathfinder journal, he continues on. "So, yeah... Lort... why not just let me clean up this pile for you?"

"You don't have time to clean up," Lort waves a dusty tome under Ibid's nose, "You, more than anyone, needs to be using what's in that head of yours for a productive purpose. Here, read this! Looks like it could be useful."

Lort lets the book drop into Ibid's hands and throws several more 'useless' on the pile, pocketing a particularly pornographic riffle-book.

Gunari finally sees a task that he and Amaranti can accomplish. "Hey, Amaranti. Get your big Garundi ass over here, and let's start straightening up. Least we can do... and we don't have to make life hard for poor Nigel.

"Ibid, you just get back to searching, please."

With that, Gunari starts sorting and filing. "Hey, look at this tankard! Still smells like beer... I wonder if it is anything special..."

The group both causes a mess and cleans it up over the course of the second day before meeting Nigel at the lift. The growling stomachs fill the silence of the elevator as Nigel waves them off once more, though the group returns for a third day.

---

2d100 ⇒ (28, 80) = 108

The group descends into the lift once more on the third day and the minutes tick by as the machinery whirs in the background.

The doors to the area open as a whiff of brimstone fills the lift. "Hmm... well that's new." remarks Nigel as he plugs his nose, ushering the group off the lift.

The group proceeds off, but Lort and Kaisharga feel a bit off about the situation as a bearded devil with a vicious glaive steps out from the stacks and takes a swing at Ibid.

Glaive @ Ibid-15 FFAC: 1d20 + 11 - 2 ⇒ (19) + 11 - 2 = 28
Damage: 1d10 + 6 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 + 6 = 19 +2 Bleed

As Ibid feels the saw-like blade slash through his armor, two mysterious entities lash out at Lort, though there doesn't seem to be anything in the direction of the attacks.

Slam @ Lort-24 FFAC: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 12 + 2 = 31
Slam @ Lort-24 FFAC: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 12 + 2 = 30
Damage: 4d6 + 8 ⇒ (5, 5, 3, 6) + 8 = 27

The attacks are vicious as they crush into the half-orc, nearly breaking a rib. "What the hell?! A bearded devil in my overflow archives? Figures... Hold them off while I go get help!" yell Nigel as the doors shut and the lift begins its slow journey to the ground floor.

Initiative-SURPRISE ROUND:
1st: Devil Thing; Invisible Thing (Red; Blue)
2nd: Lort; Kaisharga

Initiative:
1st: Devil Thing; Invisible Thing (Red; Blue)
2nd: Gunari; Cyrus; Ibid; Lort; Finarin; Amaranti; Kaisharga

Map Rules: Any square that is quarter to half full can be moved into, but is considered squeezing. Any square that is more than half full is impassible on the ground floor. Boxes are stacked 8-10' tall. Room is 20' tall. Anything with a light source on it is 3' tall.

Status:
Lort @ 54/81 HP
Ibid @ 36/55 [Bleed 2-Jagged Wound]

"Hold them off? Thats all you have to say you lazy coward!?" Cyrus shouts, the surprise and brutalness of the attack getting the better of his verbal filter.

"Ibid!" Cyrus shouts as he sees his mentor nearly cut in half. He is already shouting when Lort is nearly knocked over, his hand flashing towards the hilt of his magical blade.

Ooohhhh Feeling helpless when my initiative roll sucks.

"Ha!" cries Lort, delighted that battle has begun, "Thank you for alleviating the boredom, but you're going to have to do better than that if you want to kill me."

The brash half-orc utters a quick prayer to Kurgess to smite down all of his enemies with holy light as he steps forwards to allow Gunari better access to whatever it is was attacking him (channel positive energy to harm, then 5 ft step).

Channel positive energy: 3d6 ⇒ (2, 6, 3) = 11 -- standard action (doesn't provoke), 30ft radius, should get them all... DC 11 will save (yeah, Lort ain't the best cleric).

"Don't suppose any of you can get rid of these things' invisibility?" he asks, as he realizes his enemies can now flank him.

Sorry guys, not the best option really, but I figure Lort wouldn't have his weapon drawn and this was the only way he thought he could damage them.

"Lort, I don't know what you're talking about. None of use know how to purge invisibility!"

bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Yeah, no one is going to believe that, now.

"Devils? In this unholy place. Who would ever have .... thought? Yes, what the chubby man said. 'Hold Them Off.' I just need to find my ... DAMMIT! Where in the nine hells is my .... ground mica?!?!"

Watching the battle unfold in front of him, Finarin searches for his material components.

"Didn't you hear what Xûll and Pooka faced at Blakros mansion?" asks Lort, realizing only too late that his burst of holy energy will have no effect on these creatures, "Those Blakros f$+*ers are sick with devilry. I guess that's why whatever-her-name married a Hellknight... Damian Kastner. Good first name. Spelled wrong."

Amidst the chaos, Lort manages a smile and continues to keep a conversational tone, "Oh, and if Ollystria Zadrian invites you to a feast hosted by Blakros family, my advice is to decline... firmly but politely."