Welcome to Solstice Scar PbP for CORE Tier 1-2.
Feel free to dot in here. We will start with all of the other tables on August 25. If your character is ready, you may go ahead and post an in-character introduction as well.
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A tall, slender elf with pale hair tied back away from his face enters the Grand Lodge. He wears a chain shirt that's been carefully blackened so as to keep it from reflecting stray light, and the rest of his clothes are muted colors as well. The hilt of an elven curve blade protrudes over one shoulder, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. "The Blakros Museum? I've heard stories about that place. They're supposed to be almost as good at finding unique items as we are."
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"Aye laddie." A grisly looking dwarf clad in hide armor covered in mud and possibly blood or other viscera responds to the the mysterious elf. "Though from what I have heard the Blakros family aren't as versed in finding items but more in the procuring of said items." Tolinath adjusts himself in his seat moving the uncommonly large Dwarven Waraxe.
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A grey-haired man of average height and build enters the room. He obviously not a young man, but may be younger than his grey hair implies. He has a rugged handsomeness and looks both strong and fit, but maybe just bit uncomfortable.
I assume, I'm in the right place. Grand Lodge is a big place, I had no idea. Just got sent over here from the the Tempering Hall, I signed up for this Silver Crusade. You see a former student of mine, has had a great deal of success serving the Silver Crusade and encouraged me to join up. The man takes a second to study others assembled, checking to see if anything he is saying resonates with his new associates before continuing.
I told Boswick, that's Ser Boswick Bumbleberry, do any of you know him? He told me he was some kind of Seeker now, I told him you've always been a seeker since I met you. Anyway, I told Boswick, I was too old to start running around Avistan on crazy adventures. He told me it was never to late too put my faith into action. Told me I'd spent too many years reading the The Acts, and I should start living up to them. So here I am. Gotta admit, this has been on my mind for years now, I just want to make a difference. Having said all that the man seems relieved to have it off his chest.
Name's Atticus Atkinson, and I'm at your service.
You have all gathered together at the Grand Lodge for Torchbearing, an annual event to train Pathfinders and build trust between its diverse agents. It is a four day event, and you have the opportunity to learn some new skills or bone up on some existing ones.
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A slender elf enters the room. "I'm sorrry I'm late. The message got lost in the post. Did I miss anything? she slides to a stop slipping on a rug and managing to keep her feet. "Gaia Lightfairer at your service. I just finished a mission at a Fallen Fortress outside of Absalom. Despite numerous baths, I'm pretty sure I still have troglodyte smell in my armor."
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A burly half-orc walks in wearing a faded yellow shirt and strikes a heroic pose.
"I am Thran. I assume you have heard of me?"
He then lets his words trail off hoping for a positive response and his shoulders slump a bit as he stands there.
" ....it does not matter, if you've not heard of me or my exploits by now you surely will sooner or later."
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"Ooo Troglodyte ye say? I me self jus' returned from Magnimar rooting out some wretched little goblins that were cause'n a heap o' trouble fer the lady there." the gruff dwarf smiles eyeing everyone sittin at his table.
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Atticus made himself busy experiencing what being a Pathfinder has to offer. On the first 2 days he took in some of Marcos Farabellus' martial training classes, by the 3rd morning his old muscles ached from the fighting, the good kind of ache of muscles alive and growing. So he spent the 3rd day joining into several pray sessions with his fellow Iomedeans, before sitting in on a seminar where senior Silver Crusader Ollysta Zadrian and several other prominent cleric's discussed how the followers of the good and lawful deity's can work together reform the evils of the world, which lead him to a late night session where more Silver Crusaders detailed there recent experiences in the Worldwound.
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Joining in with others, Goblins and troglodytes! Tell me more about them; are goblins really as vicious and reckless as people say? He says with genuine interest.
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.
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 Dreng 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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"Well met Janira. Excellent job on arranging the classes. I took a class on Surviving in the wilderness. It was most interesting. Nothing like learning how to track creatures by their footprints. That's not something I normally do myself. I'd rather track them by their coin purses." Gaia's laugh is light and joyful.
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"Lady Janira the torchbearing was a great ceremony to witness in person this year. I did learn quite few things this year. I greatly appreciated your instruction on proper report writing. I believe i may take my skills to a new level after leaving. Thank you for the opportunity to learn from you this year." ending his conversation with a bow to Janira as she leaves to attend the group of the soon to be drunken Pathfinders.
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Tolinath begins asking a few questions here and there but in the end someone mistakes his line of questioning as an insult causing a small tussel between he and another pathfinder. As quickly as it started the fisticuffs stops in a loud eruption of laughter between Tolinath and the other. They laugh it off and Tolinath buys the man with a black eye a drink and comes back to the group again.
"Well i don' know about you lot.... but i got nothin'."
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As he get's back with a somehow empty glass even though he went to re-fill it he relays what he's learned
"The Three Masters use the event to keep an eye out for particularly talented agents that embody the Pathfinder Society ideals: Explore, Report, and Cooperate.
At the end of the Torchbearing, the most exemplary agents are publicly recognized and given special wayfinders."
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 crease-less piece of paper.
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"The Blackros museum..I've been there twice already on...."business". Those guys need to get their act together. We'd better go and help them out....again"
Thran holds his head as it starts to spin as he get's up from the table he was sitting at and can't seem to remember much for a moment
"I know I'm sslllightly drunk right now, but I do recall where the museum is."
"The Blakros are one of the wealthiest and most well-known merchant families from Taldor. They own a variety of businesses with interests all over the Inner Sea."
"The Blakros Museum is located in the Wise District, owned by the Blakros family, and curated by Nigel Aldain (a former Pathfinder). It is open to the public when an exhibit is on display. Though the exterior of the building is ugly and squat, patrons marvel at how much bigger it is on the inside."
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New to the organization and oblivious to the past history of the museum Atticus puzzles at the meaning of the note, as he immediately rises and readies himself as the note instructs.
"Wonder why this Valsin fella thinks we will find this museum business funny? Sound like it urgent plea from this Nigel."
Atticus looks around to the others with enthusiasm. Glad Thran knows the way, he takes note of the famous Bard's condition. "Perhaps we can find a cup of coffee for Thran before we go."
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Mavin glances over the document. "I wouldn't count yourself out so quickly, Tere. Pathfinders are known to disappear for hours during the Torchbearing. Some think it's to appear before the Decemvirate for special consideration, but it might be for missions like this one, which may even serve the same purpose."
The half-elf drains the remains of her tankard and stands. "The museum curator was once a Pathfinder. Maybe he's involved, or can put in a good word for us. I don't know why Valsin finds it funny either, but I guess we'll find out."
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"Well, looks like we got a job ta do. Ha Thran glad ta see ya enjoyed the drinks." Tolinath rises from the table settling his gear, affixing the large Axe to his back. "Let's go see what this Nigel is all about."
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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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"That's interesting. The museum has been closed for the past several months, ramping up for a huge exhibit, “Legacy of the Shining Crusade,” opening next week. I wonder if his note has something to do with the exhibit." Gaia rises from the table.
"A few years ago the inside changed drastically. Rumors say it was shadow magic." She gathers her things and heads for the doors of Skyreach with her companions.
She listens expectantly with the other Pathfinders as the mission is explained. "Issue with a Numerian Exhibit? This has happened before?" she murmurs to her fellow Pathfinders. "Something tells me our nice dinner party is over."
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.”
Atticus has no issues approaching the door. I does appear that you will be able to walk right in.
The sergeant stifles a chuckle at the questions, as Valsin simply response, "The museum was putting together a special exhibit of relics from the Shining Crusade. That banner is advertisement. As for the sights and sounds, what do you think we are sending you in for? You are Pathfinders, right?"
The sergeant turns away, trying hard not to burst out laughing. "I have ordered my men to secure the perimeter. They have been inside, and have no interest in returning. There are three floors, with the private study being on the third floor. There are artifacts that have apparently animated and are wreaking havoc on the place. Good luck!"
Then more seriously, he adds "If you get too beat up in there, come and see me. I might be able to provide a little relief."
You enter through the front doors and see some of the chaos for yourselves immediately.
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 fullplate armor.
Suddenly, a banner whips and twists through the air, and appears to be coming right for you.
You know for sure that a normal banner cannot move by himself. Even less when it is trying to attack you. One thing for sure, this animated object move like it was haunted. Like it is a part of the will of the Shining Crusade.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
Both attempts to grab the banner fail, although Tere was very close.
The cloth responds by slapping out against Tere, who dodges it, and then it flies up 10' out of reach.