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Jajee, lost in his battle haze, was completely oblivious to the disabling of the security and Nigels explanation..
"HAH! Look at that, they obviously realized they had no chance against us and shut off rather than to have to admit defeat."
Jajee takes Karu's lead and heads upstairs to the office, following slowly behind as usual
You proceed to hack into the constructs just as a wave of magical energy shatters their remaining sentience. The barrier around the stairs to the third floor fade away.
Elaborate, colorful runes are littered across the floor, walls and ceilings of the stairwell to the third floor. Normally they shield the upper floor against ethereal intrusion, teleportation, and brute force but now they lay inert. You move upwards.
The mahogany walls and domed, plaster ceiling both show signs of heavy damage. Most of the luxurious furniture and the crystal chandelier are intact. 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.
A Kellid woman dressed in furs with intricate scars all over her body steps forward. She holds a hand up and says, “Stay back. We are members of the Twinhorn following, and we have only come to retrieve what was stolen from us.”
A towering figure steps forward; his translucent red form is that of a man clad in heavy armor and wielding twin warhammers. “Medda, they must be in league with the thieves; they should die for crossing us.” The man’s voice sounds hollow and unnaturally loud, and as he speaks, the chandelier glows with a dull light.
The woman, Medda, puts a hand on the figure’s arm and says, “Maybe we should give them a chance to explain themselves, Anok.”
The relative quiet in the museum gives Medda and Anok a chance to calm down and perhaps listen to reason. They seem ready to hear you out, if you wish to learn more.
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Following the two larger men, Astolfo raises his hands and speaks up. "Now, hold on to your horses! We were called here because an ally of the Pathfinder Society had come to us for help. It seems that you, and your large friend are the cause for concern." Waving his hands, towards Madda and Anok, then the rest of the group, continues talking. "There's been enough fighting, and I am quite tired of it, as it is keeping me away from the brothels in the foreign district, so I'll ask as to why such a mess was made in the museum. If I thunk the answer is satisfactory, I'll vouch for you when the others arrive."
Astolfo speaks to the intruders. Agirran helps, too! The red tinted apparition laughs. His booming voice echoes through the room. "Do you hear this tiny one, Medda? We're delaying him from his trip to the brothel!"
Medda groans. "At any rate, we are simply reclaiming what was stolen from us. These Blakros people stole our most precious heirloom." Medda retrieves a bundle of bloody bandages, then unwraps it to reveal a dagger hilt with only the fragment of a black blade. "It belonged to Ivvora, a champion of Vildeis who vanquished the great black evil from our land over 900 years ago. We kept it safe until the Blakros agents stole it three months ago."
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In response to Agirran's question, Karu whispers, "One of the Blakros daughters, apparently."
When the Kellid warriors prove to be not immediately hostile, Karu steps to the side, keeping his hands away from any visible weapons, and speaks to them.
"Stole it you say? We need to know more. What is the Twinhorn following? How do you know the Blakroses stole it? Tell us more of yourselves, please, Medda and... Anok was it?"
He looks the phantasmal figure up and down, wondering nervously if he is some kind of ghost.
Medda nods. "Of course, how rude of me. We are from the northern lands—the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to you southerners. Our following, or tribe, has been searching for our stolen heritage for months. If you haven't seen the other Twinhorns in this... museum... then it is just I, Anok and my two tribesmen here."
Anok grunts. "These Blakros people came to into our camp asking about Ivvora. Medda gave them shelter and told Ivvora’s story, but we would not part with the hilt. They offered us various trinkets, thinking they could buy it. The nerve!" Anok roars before Medda calms him down. "The next morning the hilt and the Blakros agents were gone. We tracked it here, to this building."
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Medda nods. "Of course, how rude of me. We are from the northern lands—the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to you southerners. Our following, or tribe, has been searching for our stolen heritage for months. If you haven't seen the other Twinhorns in this... museum... then it is just I, Anok and my two tribesmen here."
"And all the dead guys downstairs I too, I'd guess."
Anok grunts. "These Blakros people came to into our camp asking about Ivvora. Medda gave them shelter and told Ivvora’s story, but we would not part with the hilt. They offered us various trinkets, thinking they could buy it. The nerve!" Anok roars before Medda calms him down. "The next morning the hilt and the Blakros agents were gone. We tracked it here, to this building."
"Don't worry though we broke a lot museum stuff gettin' up here, ain't that right Rabbit-Ears?" He jabs Sythka in the ribs with his elbow. "I bet Nigel keeps all of his favorite things up here."
Agirran looks about, finds some expensive piece of the artwork, and breaks it.
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"No constructs or bad guys are here right now you two! Calm down, this isn't the time to smash everything in sight! I'm sorry Medda, these two tend to be fairly heavy handed. As for what the agents had done, I do believe that while they did wrong, you also had done wrong, but to a lesser extent, as you were getting back what was taken from your people."
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Yoon follows the others upstairs and looks quizzically at the translucent man. As the others ask questions she adds her own...
"If you tracked it here...where is it? I want to see the fancy dagger plus we can take it to the owner and ask him his side of the story or something?"
Then the others start breaking things...
"What are we breaking things for? Should I set something on fire? Mister Ahgeeeran? Mister Jajeeee?"
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Jajee looks over at the group, his frustration clearly evident on his expression and tone, he pokes the chair once more for good measure..
"I'm not sure what to make of all this, my brain hurts. I've been attacked by a flag, a mannequin, and THREE clocks so far here, in this damn museum." Jajee says "jokingly". The Shoanti slings his shield back across his back, and begins staring intently at Anok, playing out a mock "battle" between the two in his head..
So first I poke it with my poleaxe.. is it a ghost? It's a ghost. Most definitely. How does one hit a GHOST? Maybe there the same as those ghouls I fought before.. Jajee thinks zoning deeper into his mock battle..
In his head Jajee swings at Anok, missing terribly and being subsequently pummeled into paste with Anoks counter..
Nope! not messin with that one... The Shoanti decides
As the party decides on how to smash all of Nigel's property, the chandelier joins in on the fun, crashing into the floor and sending glass everywhere.
Only for the glass to reform and melt into putrid flesh. Its hollow eyes scan the room and screams before forming two claws.
"What is that thing? Pathfinders, help us destroy this thing!" Medda calls out. Anok turns bright red. "Finally, a real challenge!"
Sythka
Karu
Astolfo
Enemy
Yoon
Jajee
Agirran
Twinhorns
Some of the party members are able to act before the monster moves.
The elf tries to peer into the creature's mind, but all she senses is an urge to kill. She is unable to affect it.
Astolfo begins to enhance everyone's fighting ability, and Karu decides to step into the fray. He sinks his dagger into the creature and finds his melting flesh actually resists some of the impact.
It turns and roars at him before unleashing two claws.
Karu feels one of the claws sink in to his arm, almost knocking him out in a single blow.
Yoon
Jajee
Agirran
Twinhorns
Sythka
Karu (8 damage)
Astolfo (Inspire Courage)
Enemy (5 damage)
The rest of the party swings into action.
Yoon flings a stream of fire against the monstrosity, but it seems unaffected.
Jajee and Agirran decide to take a more direct approach. Their weapons hit, but not as strongly as they had hoped. This thing is quite resilient.
Medda casts some kind of spell on herself and backs away. "Anok! Go help them!"
The phantom laughs. "Of course I'll help them kill this thing!"
And with his two fists, he pounds the creature into a putrid paste upon the floor, where it will never haunt the party again.
"You fought well, Pathfinders." Medda thanks you all for your efforts. "Karu, is it? Allow me the chance to heal your wounds."
"Now then- let us finish packing up our equipment, and then we can speak to your Venture Captain."
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Jajee, a little smitten by the combination of the woman's looks, prowess, and command of a friggin ghost, attempts to give her the best compliment the Shoanti can think of..."Medda, it's nice to meet you. I am Jajee Shinhan! You fought honorably as well, I hear women born from the Mammoth Realms give birth to some of the largest and fiercest warriors in all the land!" he finishes puffing his chest out
[Dice= "Compliment"]1d20-2[/dice]
"Dammit Karu, I’m a phantom, not a ghost!" Anok declares proudly. "I am Anok, and I protect the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, Medda."
He continues to boast even as Medda tries to respond to Jajee's compliment. "Medda does not need to spend her time birthing children, my friend! Medda is the first evening's daughter born in decades, and her duty is to guard Ivvora's hilt until another guardian is chosen!" Anok puffs his chest out proudly.
An awkward silence fills the room as you notice Medda glaring at Anok. "An evening’s child is one who realizes and expresses their true identity later in life. I am an evening’s daughter because when I was born, my tribe mistook me for a male child. My connection to our ancestral spirits has helped me transform in body, not just soul. As you are strangers, I would rather leave it at that." She gives Anok one more scolding look before she continues packing.
Anok turns a rosy hue as his pride turns to embrassment. "I misspoke, Medda. I forget that few are as open as I am about one’s past lives."
Medda hesitates, then shakes Astolfo's hand. "Well, met, Astolfo. The dagger is bound to me." 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. "When the metal men attacked us, Ivvora’s spirit called through the hilt to her allies’ armaments. She protects us, even now."
"As a conventional weapon, though, it is not useful." She holds the hilt out so you can tell the dagger blade has been snapped off. "Does that answer your question?"
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The crowd of guards, onlookers, and concerned citizens outside the Blakros Museum quiets as Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin approaches a woman clad in furs exiting the museum. “My Pathfinder agents tell me that you are Medda of the Twinhorn following, is that correct?”
“Yes, I speak for the following.” Medda glares at Nigel Aldain, “I have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours. His agents stole our most sacred relic after we refused to sell it. We have traveled through dangerous lands to claim it back, and still he refused—”
“My agents claim they bought it,” Nigel protests. “I’m not going to just give it to you because you stomp into my office demanding priceless artifacts.”
Valsin interjects, “Nigel, let us listen to her story and decide how to proceed. Medda, tell us about this relic. Why is it so important to you?”
Medda takes a deep breath. “Over 900 years ago, a powerful warrior named Ivvora came into our camp. She spoke of an angel named Vildeis who guided her hunt for a great dark evil she called Eshimka. Several of our scouts had recently disappeared, later found ripped into pieces. The elders insisted that we help banish this evil and ensure the safety of our following. They laid a trap for the evil spirit, luring it to our sacred standing stones on the winter solstice. There, Ivvora and the great dark evil, Eshimka, fought a mighty battle that raged for hours. Just as the night was darkest, Ivvora dealt Eshimka a telling blow, digging her dagger deep into its flesh. The creature tried to escape, but it only snapped off the blade and then collapsed on the center stone. The elders finished their ritual and destroyed it completely.
“Ivvora rested with us for the winter before departing to eradicate more evil from the world, but not before leaving us the hilt of her weapon.” Medda withdraws a bundle of bloody cloth from her bag, then unwraps it to reveal a small hilt with a bloody fragment of black metal. “She told us to bring the hilt back to the standing stones every year at the winter solstice to keep evil away. We’ve had to travel for so long to retrieve the hilt, I’m afraid we won’t make it back in time for the solstice. Please, let me leave now.”
Ambrus Valsin contemplates Medda’s story for a moment, then nods, his brow furrowed. “Nigel, you should send for the Blakros agents who ‘obtained’ the hilt and hear what they have to say. Medda, I’m going to send as many Pathfinder agents as you deem necessary to travel with you and your following. I want to ensure we return this relic to its proper place.” Nigel starts to protest, but Valsin cuts him off. “Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum,” Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, ”I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
“Pathfinders, prepare to head north to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords.”
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“My Pathfinder allies, thank you for bringing us much needed support,” says Medda, the Twinhorn following’s spiritual leader. She stands beside Anok, her phantom and constant companion. “After the orc ambush sapped our supplies and strength, we pushed north to our winter home. We are only hours away from the stone circle and our encampment—if we are going to make it there by midnight, we need to press on. Once there, we will use Ivvora’s hilt to perform our time-honored ritual and keep evil from our lands.” Medda produces the small hilt of a broken weapon with only a fragment of its black metal blade remaining. “Let us move. There are dangers in these ancient woods: orc raiders, bears that topple trees, and worse. Stay in groups and don’t get lost.”
As the Kellids and Pathfinders reach the top of the hill next to the Twinhorn encampment, they notice splashes of blood and the occasional corpse dotting the landscape. Medda raises her voice, calling, “My brethren, our families are under attack! Secure the camp and drive back any who oppose you. Pathfinder allies, join us in defense of our home!” The landscape opens into a burned hillside where blackened trees stand like lifeless sentinels. A crude blockade shields the entrance to a natural cavern.