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Marrowtusk, the 6'9 Shoanti/Kellid half-breed monster of a human, arrived early to his Pathfinder Society gathering fully clad in his spiked full plate with his greataxe strapped to his back. He found a place to sit and take off his helmet, unveiling his scarred and bald head with his green eyes keeping an eye out for trouble as he unstrapped his axe off of his back so he could take a whetstone to the edge and sharpen it for the upcoming battles.
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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 has hosted a grand banquet in the visiting agents' honor. 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.
If you are a member of the Restful Pathfinders’ Lounge (by possessing the vanity of the same name from page 61 of Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Pathfinder Society Field Guide), you can attend a special private banquet that grants you the benefits of hero’s feast for the duration of Part 1. Each player character with this vanity can invite one guest (such as another PC or an animal companion) to gain the benefits, too.
During the annual Torchbearing, the Three Masters, along with other notable Pathfinders, taught a variety of seminars and panel discussions, from Golarion’s history to spellcasting techniques, and ran obstacle courses and a triathlon. Rumor has it, Janira Gavix offered an unauthorized but popular filking class for aspiring bards and other social misfits under 30--inches, not years. You also heard some salacious gossip about an exclusive, late-night VIP experience Zarta Dralneen arranged for some her favorites. According to one hungover Pathfinder who claimed to have been there, a disgruntled Drandle Dreg was turned away at the door.
Speaking of the imp, ever the social butterfly and self-appointed mentor-to-the-masses, the halfling bard Janira Gavix approaches your small group. “Hi, friends. It’s been awhile since last we met. Have you enjoyed the Torchbearing? I volunteered to organize all the classes again this year. Kreighton Shaine always said I should have been a teacher. Did you learn anything useful?”
Janira looks over her shoulder as she catches sight of another group of Pathfinders refilling their tankards at the grog bowl. “Oh, those are some more students of mine!” She bounces on her toes as she waves at the group and they wave back. “Excuse me? I’ll need to check in with them too!” Pleased that you appreciated her pedagogical efforts, she excuses herself with a smile and moves on.
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Marrowtusk scoffs at the idea of sitting through a seminar and almost refuses to partake in the event until he runs into an old "friend" of his, Venture Captain Nomos, the Pathfinder who took him in and trained him during his initial time as a fresh Pathfinder. He had ended their friendship on not-so-great terms but was curious to see why he was at the Torchbearing so he followed him to an area where the small gnome stood before a crowd of Pathfinders before spontaneously growing in size to that of a large silver dragon. "Welcome Pathfinders, to my class on Fear and Intimidation..."
After the class, Marrowtusk walked up to meet his old mentor, "It seems I still have a lot to learn from you, Nomos." the tall Shoanti/Kellid looked down at the gnome. "And had you not STOLEN from my stash and run off to start your own "business", you would still be learning from me. I hope it was all worth it." replied the gnome with a disgusted look on his face, hoping his former protege wouldn't come see him after the lesson. "It was." the cocky brute smirked and turned his back on his former mentor and walked off to meet with his Pathfinder group, having learned a little more about how to strike fear into his enemies.
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William looked about symposium, a little overwhelmed. He had been trained in diplomacy and public work, sure, but nothing of this scale. And nothing of this... frivolity, at least at times.
He was far more comfortable in a more ordered setting. Or on a battlefield.
The young paladin spun about in the crowd a moment, his clean cut face frowning in consternation as he attempted to decipher the directions to his next meeting. One hand idly sweeping through his close cropped brown hair, ice blue eyes slitted in concentration.
Never the cleverist of recruits, he was still confused why his order sent him to work with the Siver Crusade and how he ended up in ... this. But, his superiors said to go and he went. Iomedae wanted him here and he would discharge his duties as best he could, such was to serve.
At least that last presentation on extra planar creatures was fascinating, I hope I can use some of the tips I learned will help in the future.
Finally locating where he needed to go, he set out in a jangle of clattering armor.
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A kitsune tips his wide-brimmed at Trixxex. "I am honorred by yourr prresence, I am Rrenarrdagnan, memberr of the rroyal, no, rrevolutionary Galtian musketeerrs!" he declares in a poorly imitated Galtian accent.
"I am a saviorr of adventurrerrs and prrotectorr of ladies, and imprressive in skill, to complement the fearr caused by size and strrength of ourr frriend heree", he continues, nodding to Marrowtusk.
Renardagnan rests his hand on the hilt of a rapier, which looks well-made enough to support his confidence. His musket, though, is held together by haphazard pieces of scrap and looks like it is more dangerous to the wielder than the target.
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Marrowtusk meets up with the group and merely nods at each person as they introduce themselves. "You're right about strength. I'll let you weaklings handle the talking and magical nonsense but when it comes to a fight, just stay out the path of me and my spikes. I'm not here for any of you or the Society, I just want my gold."
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William contents himself to a simple nod in greeting to his companions before he finds a comfortable wall to lean against, studying the room contemplatively.
Certainly a mixed group, I have never encountered such varied personalities and... races... before. Perhaps that is why I was sent, to broaden my knowledge. And, wow, that warrior is a real piece of work
While young, clean cut, and proudly wearing the tabard of Iomedae there is something, off, about the young paladin. Something in the eyes, or just a sense of impending misfortune.
While friendly and polite an observer just can't shake the feeling that time spent with the young man will draw violence amd bloodshed like a moth to flame and none can shake the feeling that prolonged contact will only bring more.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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As the Pathfinders conclude the dessert course, 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 creaseless piece of paper.
Pathfinders,
My apologies for interrupting your feast, but Nigel
Aldain has just informed me that there is trouble at
the Blakros Museum. Once your bitter laughter has
subsided, let us continue.
Nigel says it can’t wait until morning. We don’t want
to jeopardize our relationship with the Blakros Family,
so we will do what we can to aid him. Please gather
your gear and meet in the main hall within Skyreach.
I will give more instructions then.
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin
You’ve probably heard of the Blakros family...
… you’ve likely heard of the Blakros Museum as well…
… and anyone with knowledge of the Blakros Museum, probably knows something about Nigel Aldain.
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William follows the group, knowing nothing of this local matter, family or museum.
I am here to learn, better pay attention. Then again, an immediate matter sounds like something interesting is happening, so that's nice.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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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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Renardagnan jumps excitedly when hearing the news, and draws his rapier. "Ha! A possibility to prrove ourr worrths, once again! It's not about saving a prrincess, but a herro's job anyway! We will go and rrescue the trreasurre frrom the vile thieves. Go in, snatch the things and stab all the sentinels!"
He makes a couple of thrusts in the air, then stops, looking at his blade.
"Ee, does stabbing stop them? Do they brreak? And do you mind if yourr expensive sentinels get brroken?"
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As most of the Pathfinders gathered around Valsin and Nigel cheer when hearing about troubles in the Blakros Museum, Renardagnan's questions were heard only by a dwarf next to him. Holding his axe in two hands he answers "Don't know. Let's find out!" he shouts and rushes away.
Dozens of Wise District guards surround the Blakros Museum. 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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William is swept along with the group as madness breaks out. Upon reaching the muesum and hearing the guard's report, William can't help but smile.
This is more my style
His hands briefly run across his gear, checking that his weapons are in place and loose in their holders. He draws his great sword and briefly kneels in prayer, preparing his soul for battle.
Standing and strapping on his helm, he agrees with the large warrior, "aye, the gardens sound as if they need our help first and we look a hardy group."
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"Rrunes? Little things? They don't even have weapons to clash with mine. If we win, we just smashed pathetic small crreaturres, and losing is even sadderr. I say, grround level, trrue honorrable combat with flashing blades and swinging, ee, some kind of animated appendages of arrtifacts", Renardagnan says, not comfortable with his inability to fit any choices to his fantasy of ideal combat.
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William turnes to the Kitsune, "ah, but you must realize these runes turned aside even these great guardsman. Truly a challenge to be overcome, and much honor to be had!"
Its the right thing to do, tackle the greater challenge first
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I should like to see these 'rune-swarms,'" Says a gangly, disheveled human woman of Ulfen descent as she makes her way up from behind the party. She appears to have just come from the Torchbearing festival, if her handful of the rune-stamped cookies that had been offered at one of the magic seminars are any indication. "Are they harming the garden?"
Behind her is a slow, strange noise, like one drawn-out *squissssshhhh*....
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*squissssshhhh*
...It turns out to be coming from a bright blue slug, as long as a human is tall, following closely at the tatterdemalion's heels. It has a small, ripe melon in its maw.
*scrumpf...scrumpf...scrumpf*
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ground: Trixxex, Renardagnan, Marrowtusk
up: Gray
garden: Angrboda, William
Under a sign that reads “The Shining Armory,” priceless Shining Crusade artifacts displayed on pedestals creak and move by some unseen force. Eerie light seems to dart between the objects while the din of a raging battle echoes throughout the chamber. The central feature is a low, artificial hill atop which stand two stuffed owlbears surrounded by shattered undead foes. Each of the beasts wears chainmail barding and an orange-and-black caparison depicting a stylized owlbear. A dead man dressed in furs lies on the floor before a suit of full-plate armor.
When you enter the exhibit hall on the ground floor you suddnely see the banner move towards you.
Gray Son
Trixxex
William
Renardagnan
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Banner
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Marrowtusk
Eniac
Angrboda
It's a construct.
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William sucks in a deep breath as he sees holy artifacts apparently possessed by malicious spirits, but there was a job to be done.
Seeing the floating banner, the paladin strides forward to place himself between the banner and his group, readying his greatsword to strike if the banner attacks.
If such a thing is possible, how does a banner attack
Whispering a prayer, he intones "I am ready"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Renardagnan runs next to William, pulling out his musket on the way.
"Line up as trrue soldierrs, defeat enemy and take theirr bannerrs! No, kill theirr bannerr? Anyway, firre!"
With a huge boom, Renardagnan fires his musket at the floating construct.
"My earrs! That's loud!" he cries in surprise.
Parry & Riposte:
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While William prepares for the approaching banner, Trixxex moves to the side and strengthens her armor. Renardagnan shoots a bullet at the banner, which hits it. Gray Son sends two shuriken at the banner. One of them hits.
The banner moves up to Renardagnan and is immediately attacked by the Paladin. William cuts out a piece of fabric. The banner attempts to attack the Kitsune who tries to parry the attack.
Renardagnan parries the attack and tries to bite it. The bite is not successful.
Gray Son
Trixxex
William
Renardagnan
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Banner -27HP
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Marrowtusk
Eniac
Angrboda
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William feels the druid's blessing surge through his veins as she passes. Feeling empowered he lashes out with a mighty overhand chop.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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William grunts as the acid eaten pennant falls to the floor. Seeing no further enemies he looks about and mutters, "Pity to ruin such a nice pennant."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Marrowtusk makes sure to keep himself at the front of the group, protecting the fresh new Society recruits as he is used to defending caravans from attackers. He keeps his weapon strapped to his back but his armor spikes are always ready to be used at a seconds notice. "I think we need to go this way."
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William matches pace with the large warrior as a paladin's place is in the front line, between the foe and his companions.
This warrior seems uncouth and possibly untrustworthy, yet unquestionably effective. As long as he stays pointed in the right direction, he is a useful asset.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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You move into the second exhibition hall on this floor. Long shadows cast by ruined displays and broken furniture litter the floor. A humanoid-shaped figure made of shattered clockwork lies slumped over a bench. Above, an elaborately painted sign reads “Crusader’s Chronicles.”
Four black animals are barking at you.
They are more confused and afraid from the chaos around them. Nonetheless, they are aggressive.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
That is a big dog. Perfect for a halfling to ride on it. Now, it is just trying guard the place.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.