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Shiv's arrow takes the construct in the knee and is enough to hinder the creature and set up Wilen for his bomb. As the bomb explodes, the heat radiates over the wax golem and the wax starts melting! The wax figure transforms slowly into a meaningless wax blob wearing off the magic that gave it sentience.
With the immediate threat and your path cleared, you are able to make a move to the investigate study, where the source of all this mess seems to be. But you find that the magical defences, which Nigel Aldain referenced earlier, hindering you from making an advance into the study. The magic is incomprehensible to you and it is likely far beyond your means to dissolve the magical barriers. But you wait patiently.
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Just as he threw his bomb several of his teammates had crowded towards the wax golem. He's pretty sure it did the trick, but edges forward and peers around Makon to confirm. He visibly relaxes when he sees the heap of wax on the museum floor.
"Yes, that definitely wasn't one of the artifacts. Anybody have a big candle-wick?"
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Atronia looks down at the heap of wax in front of her, lowering her blade. "Well, Wilen, you managed to melt that thing! Good work, everybody. Let's get to that study!"
When they come upon the magical wards, she visibly slumps. "I guess we will have to show some patience while Nigel fixes this. Ayla, how is the inspiration coming to you so far for that next book?"
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Ayla lets out a whoop when Wilen melts the wax monster.
"Wow! You're Hot Stuff, ain't ya' Wilen! Yeah, sure you are! You're on fiiiiiiire!"
She starts to dance and waggle her bum around happily.
When they reach the magical ward, she scowls. "Stymied! Well, no one can say I didn't try! No way, not me! Not THIS gnome!"
She begins to poke at the magical shield, and attempt eery concievable way she can think of to open it.
"Presto! ....Abra Ca-magic! ...Open canola! No that's not it... Open sesame? Says-me? Bah, who knows! How about.... Nepo pu!" Looking at the others she remarks, "You know I once knew a wizard who cast all of her spells backwards? Talk about weeeeeeeeird! In her defence she wore a rocking top hat. I've always been a fan of a styling hat! "
At Atronia's words, Ayla turns and smiles brightly. "I sure do! This book's going to be way better than the last one! And you guys are great! Atronia, you can be Ada's good pal! We'll have to change up your look, though. For some reason chicks in scale mail never sell. I'll turn it into an armour crop top, though, and we'll be fine. Makon, you'll be great as Ada's big dumb, strong friend. We'll have to change... well nothing, I guess! You're perfect! Naruda's nailing aloof and stoic. I'll probably make you a dude, though. Ladies love that in a love interest. Not sure why! And Wilen! You're the other love interest! I'm going to nickname you Hot Stuff! Plus you're all shy and meek. How's your heart? You a nice guy? We'll give you a heart of gold and the teenage girls will be swooning! And Shiv? Comic relief! It'll be great. As I said though, we'll have to add in some flavour... I mean, dogs? Ada can't fight DOGS! That's not nearly cool enough! I like the wax guy, though! That can stay!"
Ayla continues to happily ramble about how she will transform your epic adventure into a cheesy Ada Mantine novel.
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"Wow! You're Hot Stuff, ain't ya' Wilen! Yeah, sure you are! You're on fiiiiiiire!"
...
"... And Wilen! You're the other love interest! I'm going to nickname you Hot Stuff! Plus you're all shy and meek. How's your heart? You a nice guy? We'll give you a heart of gold and the teenage girls will be swooning! ..."
Ayla continues to happily ramble about how she will transform your epic adventure into a cheesy Ada Mantine novel.
"Hehe, well, I might have the heart but you might be replacing me with a different person otherwise. This is starting to feel more exciting than the prospect of being in a Pathfinder chronicle."
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"You may see me as aloof and stoic, but I'm actually considered somewhat impulsive among my own people. As long as you treat my character fairly and do not malign my actions, I will not be offended if you exaggerate the stereotypical traits of my people for your story. I have read this new form of literature that people in the Inner Sea call "novels" and I understand that sometimes a character's personal traits need to be simplified or exaggerated for the purpose of the narrative."
"Some of you look a bit banged up. We have a quiet moment. Perhaps it would be a good time for some recovery."
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Atronia smirks upon hearing Ayla's ideas and trying to imagine the silly idea of a cropped armor on her. When she speaks of Shiv, Atronia quickly glances at him, wondering what his reaction will be to being set as the comic relief. "Well, I'm usually one for telling the stories as they are, simply under a better light, but I understand the goal of your novels isn't the same as that of my stories, so... What if you made those dogs some kind of construct? That could give a nice theme to the whole thing."
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Ayla lets out a laugh. "Chronicles are for accuracy! Novels are for a romping good time! And absurdity! It'll be great!"
"You shouldn't sell yourself short, Wilen! I bet plenty of halfling lasses fancy you! And Naruda! You're a wild one among your people? That's awesome! Hahaha! Constructs... That's great! It works well with those crazy rune things and the banner! Wait! Banner? Man, I'm not putting a banner in the novel version! Unless is was some kind of assassin banner! Yeah, that might work..."
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After a loud crack and a ripple of arcane energy, silence falls across the museum as the construct guards freeze in place and haunted relics drop to the ground. Nigel’s voice rings out, magically projected throughout the museum: “We’ve disabled the magical security measures. Since we haven’t found the thieves yet, they must be hiding in my third-story study. Please subdue them; they have much to answer for!”
Nigel Aldain’s announcement echoes through a museum littered with shattered clockwork and toppled exhibits. There’s no question that the Pathfinders have quelled the building’s defenses, and perhaps the peaceful silence will set whoever hides on the third floor at ease.
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Upon the signal, you burst into the third floor to investigate what is going on!
The mahogany walls and domed, plaster ceiling both show signs of heavy damage. Most of the luxurious furniture and the large crystal chandelier are intact, so it has not suffered the same damage as the other rooms you've passed through.
The contents of cabinets and bookcases lie strewn about the floor. A small wooden panel near the door hangs open, revealing an arcane sigil covered in scorch marks.
You are not alone up here, however. A Kellid woman dressed in furs with intricate scars all over her body steps forward as you arrive. She holds a hand up and shouts, "Stay back. We are members of the Twinhorn following, and we have only come to retrieve what was stolen from us."
Two more kellid warriors stand nearby, both of them armed and on the alert.
A fourth figure steps forward with the woman, towering over her. Although it has the form of a man clad in heavy armor and wielding a warhammer in each hand, he, or perhaps it, is clearly not human, at least not anymore. He is entirely translucent-red, such that you can see right through him, his form distorting what's on the far side, giving it all a crimson tint.
Medda, The ghostly warrior calls loudly, sounding hollow and furious. "They must be in league with the thieves. They should die for crossing us."
As his voice bellows out, the chandelier far overhead glows with a dull light.
The woman, Medda, puts a hand on the figure’s arm and says in a calmer tone, "Maybe we should give them a chance to explain themselves, Anok."
All four of them watch you, three warily and one with barely contained anger.
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Shiv is about to snarl another retort at the insane gnome, but the new developments steal his attention.
"Bloody nutcase. If there's trouble, I'm leaving you to die," he growls as he heads up to the third floor.
Once on the third floor, Shiv sizes up the kellid warriors warily.
"Alright, hold on here. Don't matter to me how many horns you follow, but you're saying that something was stolen from you? 'Cos what we were told is that you guys were the thieves, breaking into this museum to steal artifacts from the crusade exhibits. Maybe you should do some explaining yourself. What's the story from your point of view?"
Despite Shiv's general demeanour, something in his fuzzy fox-face seems oddly soothing and compelling.
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"Our story?!" The transparent warrior roars, starting to step forward angrily, only to have Medda stop him short, with a hand on his arm.
"Anok, please." She looks back at the rest of you, frowning. "I have already told you our side. We came to retrieve what these Blackros people stole from us, not you... unless you are their agents as well."
"We simply recover one of our most precious heirlooms."She retrieves a bundle of what appear to be old bandages stained with long dried blood, which she careful unwraps to reveal the hilt of a dagger with just a fragment of a dark blade remaining.
"This belonged to Ivvora, a champion of Vildeis, who vanquished the great black evil from our land, over nine centuries ago." She holds one hand over it, reverentially, though doesn't quite touch it. "We have kept it safe ever since."
"Until those Blackros thieves stole it! The ghostly warrior, Anok, shouts, unable to contain his anger any longer. We gave them shelter. Shared with them our stories. And in thanks, treachery and theft!"
Again, Medda places her hand gently on Anok's arm, calming him down.
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Makon scratches his oily hair trying to follow all the words everyone was saying...He's a bit disappointed the group didn't immediately attack...Makon preferred his axe do the talking in most situations that, he couldn't understand. Huh? Makon's brow is furrowed in concentration...don't want to look stupid in front of the foreign warriors... besides the big suit of armor thing reminds me of a picture I once saw of Gorum. So you're saying we're thieves or we're working for thieves? huh? Well we're not thieves and i don't really know these Blackros people too much...our bosses at the Pathfinders seem to know them though and I ... Makon scratches his chin trying to think what to say next...he didn't want to make a mistake. Hmmm, I guess our bosses trust them because they wouldn't have sent us to help...But, I guess I don't always have to cut things to pieces to help...So tell me what you think they stole and we'll try to find it together...how about that! Makon slaps his hands together in triumph...proud of the fact he thought of a non-chopping way to help.
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"Our story?!" The transparent warrior roars, starting to step forward angrily, only to have Medda stop him short, with a hand on his arm.
"Anok, please." She looks back at the rest of you, frowning. "I have already told you our side. We came to retrieve what these Blackros people stole from us, not you... unless you are their agents as well."
"We simply recover one of our most precious heirlooms."She retrieves a bundle of what appear to be old bandages stained with long dried blood, which she careful unwraps to reveal the hilt of a dagger with just a fragment of a dark blade remaining.
"This belonged to Ivvora, a champion of Vildeis, who vanquished the great black evil from our land, over nine centuries ago." She holds one hand over it, reverentially, though doesn't quite touch it. "We have kept it safe ever since."
"Until those Blackros thieves stole it! The ghostly warrior, Anok, shouts, unable to contain his anger any longer. We gave them shelter. Shared with them our stories. And in thanks, treachery and theft!"
Again, Medda places her hand gently on Anok's arm, calming him down.
"Hey, if Nigel's in trouble - Nigel's the curator of this museum by the way - I'm all too happy to see him squirm for it. Never cared for the pointy-eared weasel anyway. He maintains a lukewarm on-again off-again association with our Society, in the sense that he openly dislikes us but still begs us for help when he needs it, like he's doing today. But it would really strain his relationship with our higher-ups if you brought this story to them and told them that our agents have been fighting through his security to solve a problem that was ultimately his fault. Personally I'd really like to see that, assuming your story is true of course. "
"Oh and it would also mean that you wouldn't have to fight your way out past us, 'cos as you can see, we fought through the same defences you did, and we're barely scuffed. Can't say the same for your guys. And A-hole-Nokky over there may think he's hot stuff and all, but tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum over in the corner look like they're fit to drop. Fight us, and most if not all of you ain't walking out of it, I can assure you. And that's not even taking into account all the other agents that are still behind us in this building."
"Your move, Medda. How do you want to play this?"
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Medda looks quizzically at Makon pointing the knife she holds replying "I assure you this hilt belongs not to the man named Nigel." She grasps the hilt tightly, then her eyes begin to glow with a brilliant white light as her scars begin to seep thin rivulets of blood. “Does that answer your doubts?”
Considering her options, she looks towards her comrades for some sort of affirmation on their situation, but they return blank looks with the exception of Anok who looks eager to draw blood. Turning around she responds calmly among the standoff, "We have no quarrel with you as long as you assure us what is ours remains ours, but we cannot say we will treat the man Nigel with the same respect."
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Shiv laughs openly.
"Hey, if you've got no respect for Nigel you're on your way to being a friend of mine already! Now I can't speak definitively for our venture captains, but Venture Captain Valsin fancies himself an honourable sort, so I'm pretty sure that if you give that light-show demonstration to him, he'll not only let you leave with the hilt, but also have some very stern words for Nigel. In front of all the agents who've been injured in this whole fiasco. Did I mention we were in the middle of a banquet when he pulled this s%!% on us?"
Shiv gives a wicked grin as he insinuates the extent of Nigel's impending embarrassment. It's a DC0 sense motive check to discern that Shiv is eagerly looking forward to it.
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Naruda whispers to her allies from the back of the group.
"I'm new to the Pathfinder Society, but I have already heard stories of this Nigel and it sounds like he is the type to add an item to his collection without properly determining it origin. They may have a legitimate claim but they also probably caused considerable damage when they activated all the defenses in the museum. I think we should detain them here until someone higher ranking comes along."
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She gives a quick command, then she and the other two kellid warriors move to gather up their gear. Anok stays where he is, obviously unhappy with this turn of events, glaring at you all as if he wants to say more... but, whatever that is, gets suddenly interrupted by a loud cracking sound from overhead!
Everyone's eyes turn upwards, where you see the chandelier swinging wildly, the crystals dangling from its arms glowing a bright reddish-orange light. Before anyone can react, it suddenly breaks free of its supports, and the entire thing comes crashing down, directly on top of Anok! The phantom reacts quickly, clearly expecting some sort of treachery, leaping to the side with an angry yell, as the entire chandelier comes down where he stood only moments before. It hits the ground with a deafening crash, bits of crystal and broken metal spinning and gyrating across the floor in every direction.
From the wreckage, a huge roiling mass rises up! The pile of quivering flesh has vaguely defined arms and legs, more pulpy blobs attached to a larger mass then actual limbs. On top, a semblance of a face has formed in the tumorous tissue: misaligned black orbs for eyes, and what passes for a mouth open in a soundless scream.
"Anok!" Medda screams, as the spirit is nearly crushed by the falling chandelier. She starts to motion to the other kellids to back off, unsure what the creature is, or why it is here.
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Naruda steps behind Atronia and begins casting a spell. The floor underneath the fleshy monstrosity becomes coated with a slippery blue slime.
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Fearless, despite her lack of knowledge but well aware that the thing looks otherworldly and dangerous, Atronia takes a step forward after drawing her sword once again and slashes the awful creature. As she does so, she glances at Shiv and addresses him. "Looks like you hate that thing, huh? Let's do this together."
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Makon looks at the revolting thing instantly recognizing it as an enemy ..he waste little time in reacting, Whatever you are and wherever you came from...I'm going to send you back there in pieces! Makon rages and 5'steps forward bringing his axe down hard as he can on the creature.
while using one of his destined strikes.
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Naruda recognizes this as a devil! The least of devilkind, a lemure lemures roil forth from the ranks of souls damned to Hell, shapeless masses of quivering flesh. What spark of instinct or memory lingers on within a lemure’s semi-consciousness regularly shapes its features to mimic those of its tormentors or the tortured souls around it. Due to the nature of it's grotesque form, weapons are not as effective, but those aligned with the power of good or made of silver are known to show abilities to penetrate the creature. Additionally, it is resistance to cold and acid.
Naruda coats the surface with grease, the lemure attempts to hold itself together but continues to slip on the slippery surface causing the mass of flesh to fall prone.
Guided by divine forces, the power of good is imbued into Shiv's weapon as it flies true at the lemure. The devilkin scowls in pain and agony as the arrow burns it through and through.
At it's weakest, Makon and Atronia are able to step in with their blades. With strong blows, the creature doesn't seem to recover and acts lifeless. Soon after, the entire thing seem to deflate like some sort of disgusting balloon, bits of foul-smelling puss oozing out, forming a vile lake around the tumorous island of its remaining bulk.
Anok continues beating on what remains well after it stops moving, until Medda steps in and gets him to stop.
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"Yeah!" Ayla exclaims, pumping her fist into the air. "Good work, team!"
She prances around and does a dance, shamelessly waggling her but around and waving her arms and crossbow to some imaging rhythm. With a grin at the angry ghost, Ayla remarks, "Come one! Give yourself a shake! Dancing's great for the soul!"
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With all the wards and protections in the Museum all going down at once, it is highly possible that some other things that were on lockdown here, managed to break free.
Medda sighs with relief sharing your enthusiasm, "It is good to see your desire to see such fiends put down is so strong!" She gives Anok an elbow tap, and the phantom scowls, and nods silently, relenting slightly.
"Let us talk to your leaders, before more surprises present themselves." She adds, with a rueful smile.