• A magical attack that deals fire damage slows a wax golem (as the slow spell) for 2d6 rounds (no save). In addition, for 3 rounds after taking fire damage, every time a wax golem uses its slam attack, it deals an additional 1d4 points of fire damage due to its molten wax.
• A magical attack that deals cold damage breaks any slow effect on the golem and heals 1 point of damage for each 3 points of damage the attack would otherwise deal. If the amount of healing would cause the golem to exceed its full normal hit points, it gains any excess as temporary hit points. A wax golem gains no saving throw against cold effects.
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Mavin's jaw drops as she sees the Kellid collapsed on the floor. "Not another one! There seems to be some kind of connection between these attacks and my home in the northern lands. We have to stop whatever's causing it before more Kellids die!"
She grasps her glaive in both hands and charges at the strange crusader.
Both attacks are spot on.
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Tolinath comes rushing into the room hearing what this beast is he draws his axe and swings straight at it.
"A ha!!! You will not assault us!!!"
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Tere moves in and draws a javelin as he goes.
The crusader tries to smack Tolinath with his waxy sword, but the dwarf pushes the strike aside with his war axe handle.
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Atticus freezes for just a moment flying banners and angry mutts are one thing, waxy crusaders are altogether different. But seeing his fellow Pathfinders flying into action, snaps him too. He moves into the room and winds his way to Tolinath's side, determinedly swinging his longsword at the threat.
Between Atticus' sword and Thran's (retroactive) inspiration, the Wax figure falls into pieces.
You do not notice anything previously missed. However, Gaia's comments seem to make sense.
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Mavin pauses, then looks over to Gaia. "I hadn't actually. The Ulfen are known for being an aggressive people, but they're a long way from home to attack a museum of all things. If I recall there was also a Kellid in their midst, so it's not just the Linnorm Kingdoms present here.
"We should find Nigel and see if we can get to the bottom of this."
Mavin looks around the room, then searches the body for any sign of who he was or what his purpose might have been.
Both bodies have been Kellids, and from the looks of it, traveled together (similar clothing, equipment, decoration).
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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.
You head up the stairs to the 3rd level.
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.”
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Atticus works his way into the room.
Greetings, I'll stay back while we talk. I'm Atticus Atkinson, a follower of The Inheritor, Iomedae. He gives a slight bow.
Now the owner of this Museum is a friend and associate of our following. We are called the Pathfinder Society. And I dare say, if something was stolen from you, it must be a misunderstanding of some sort; or I think at least Nigel Aldain, the Museum Curator, likely doesn't know the item is stolen. At least I believe that.
Medda, if I may, what was stolen and can we help you locate the item? I'm sure if you have a rightful claim to it, then it shall be yours once more. Like in The Tenth Act, where the Inheritor ruled the city of Kantaria justly for a year and a half, until the rightful heir returned.
Atticus trails off at the last part, realizing he had probably gone on too long.
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Tolinath makes his way into the room brandishing his axe in a defensive gesture. As he listens to the face of his party speak he leans on his axe nearly dozing off waiting for the time for action.
Although nearly asleep he is taking guard of the stairwell insuring that no others will enter or exit the room until an accord has been reached.
While they seem skeptical at Gaia's comments, between atticus and Thran, they do calm visibly. Enough so, that they start to tell their story.
“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.”
“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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Mavin steps forward. "You may not think it from my elven blood, but I hail from the Realms as well. I cannot speak for the Blakros family, but we certainly would not want relics sacred to your following to be whisked away. Can you tell us more about your following and the significance of this weapon?"
“It 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. "We stand against evil, and cannot allow the Blakros thieves to prevent us from doing what we must."
"When the Shining Crusade defeated the dread lich Tar-Baphon in 3827 ar, the lich’s lieutenants scattered, hoping to evade the crusade’s triumphant armies. Eshimka, one of the nightwalkers serving Tar-Baphon, fled north to hide and build up its power. Ivvora, a disciple of the divine martyr Vildeis, tracked the evil creature into the Tusk Mountains."
"There she found our tribe, the Twinhorn following, and together formed a plan to destroy the nightwalker. On the winter solstice, they lured Eshimka to a circle of standing stones where Twinhorn druids used their powerful magic to bind the nightwalker. Ivvora leapt from the shadows and attacked, burying her sacred dagger deep into Eshimka’s flesh before the blade snapped off near the hilt. Try as it might, the nightwalker could not pry the blade loose. As our druids’ ritual concluded at the darkest hour of the solstice, Eshimka sensed its imminent demise and used magic to escape back to the Negative Energy Plane."
"After the escape of the nightwalker, Ivvora left the ruined hilt of her blade with the Twinhorn following, instructing us to place it on the center stone each year when the world grew darkest. She then traveled north, pursuing new threats in her never-ending quest to eradicate evil from Golarion."
"The Twinhorns have kept their promise to Ivvora over countless generations, ensuring that their nomadic circuit always brings them back to the standing stones each winter. And the Blakros thieves cause us to risk failure in upholding that promise this year."
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Ohhh. I think it is best we convince Nigel to let the Twinhorns take the hilt back and continue there ritual. The world is evil enough without letting some ancient evil back into the world. Atticus isn't sure if the hilt has a true purpose or if it's only ceremonial, but it definitely thinks they need to have it back.
I think it's time to seek out Nigel, what do you all think. He looks to the others for to see if they agree.
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Tolinath perks up at the mention of the stolen Heirloom. Me Brudder mention something about them Blakros and their sticky hands
"Aye, let us help them gather their fallen brothers. I will help carry them atop my shield along to the Halls of there forefathers." The dwarf begins to hum a tune akin to many a dwarven times of sorrow
“They came into our camp asking about Ivvora. Medda gave them shelter and told Ivvora’s story, but we would not part with the hilt. The next morning the hilt and the Blakros agents were gone. We tracked it here, to this building.”
As Medda and her companions gather their belongings, the chandelier in the center of the room suddenly crashes to the ground. Two of the Kellid's barely leap out of the way.
A roiling wave of flesh gushes forward. Amid the fatty surge wriggle half-formed limbs and a dripping tumorous face. It appears quite angry.
The shapeless mass of quivering flesh in front of you is a Lemure, the least of devilkind. This one, however, looks larger and more advanced than most. 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. Grotesque and useless, a lemure's features speak nothing of what it once was.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
Medda shouts "Quick, help us fight this evil!" while she motions for her Kellid companions to stay clear of the devil.
The creature attacks the twinhorns that just jumped out of the way. Tearing huge chunks of flesh from his body, the brave warrior crumples to the ground.
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Tolinath sidles up to the massive horror, going into a nearly uncontrollable rage he wields his Waraxe up high bringing it down with a vicious swing. Yelling in
And separates the floorboards
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As the lemure tears into one of the twinhorn warriors, Tere gets into a defensive stance and prepares to strike if needed. Tolinath steps up with his axe, but the swing goes wide and he cleaves a cushy chair in two. Gaia doesn't have any better luck, and stabs at the air with her rapier. The other twinhorn warrior rushes to his companions aid, but isn't able to do much to help. Meanwhile, Anok steps up and delivers a powerful ectoplasmic fist to the demon, though not as damaging as he expected.
Round 1
Devil (-6)
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Twinhorn Green (-16, unconscious, dying)
Tere
Tolinath
Gaia
Twinhorn Blue
Anok Orange
Atticus
Thran (11 NL)
Mavin
Medda Pink