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Welcome to GM Fuzzfoot's PFS #0-05 Mists of Mwangi! Please introduce yourself, and make yourself comfortable while we get ready to begin.
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A serious looking elf walks in, "Name is Durothil, from Kyonin." He nods gruffly at Arngtim, noticing his half-even heritage. Looking at the assembled he wonders how much true experience they have.
"Any of you ever been to Mwangi? My little brother sent me a note from there, sounds hot and miserable."
He hefts his Bardiche and waits for the inevitable venture-captain briefing, all the while looking forward to slicing creatures in two with his half-moon bladed polearm.
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Draped sideways across a chair, peeling a pear carefully into one long strip with a dagger, he peers out at the elf from behind his mussy hair. "I kusoma kuhusu hilo katika kitabu," Fool smiles shyly showing off his skill at language. "It sounds wonderful, but I've never been," intentionally mis-translating his Polyglot.
"Bark!"
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Arngrim returns Durothil's nod, and smiles at the carefree halfling and his pet. "I have not. My name is Arngrim Fleetfoot, and I come from Magnimar origionally. I grew tired of being a ranger for the city and decided to travel. A failed trip to Sandpoint and a few adventures in between, and now I find myself here. Well met, companions."
A halfling with unruly brown hair, the mark of Iomedae on his chest, and a greatsword on his back enters the room.
Greetings, my name is Marcus and I am new to the city and the Pathfinders. I heard about mists and a library does anyone know more about what I have gotten myself into?
He grins at each person in turn.
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Greetings, my name is Marcus and I am new to the city and the Pathfinders.
"Greetings Marcus! I heard there was a museum trip, but there is fog also?"
Extending your hand to shake, you find a wax paper wrapped sandwich where his hand should have been. "I made some PBJ's for the trip. Pear, Brie, and Jambone! Delicious." He produces another from his right jacket pocket and offers it to the others, motioning for them to take one.
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A man walks into the room, wearing a simple black outfit with a red sash. Two bandoliers cross his chest, with a few flasks and vials stored within, and a wickedly curved sword is strapped to his back. He takes up a position in the back of the room, and maintains an air of silence.
His almond shaped eyes bespeak a foreign heritage.
I am Hanzo Hashashi, of Tien Xia. I have been assigned to this mission. I am pleased to meet you all.
The Blakros Museum rises into the night sky, its single black spire severing the full moon in twain. The black iron gates surrounding the exhibition hall grind in protest against the wind. Beyond, the museum’s large oaken doors stand wide open, a silver-gray mist belching forth from the cavernous darkness within. You wonder how you ended up here, standing at the precipice of unknown terrors, and instantly Venture-Captain Adril Hestram’s wide looming face is conjured into your minds’ eye. His booming words ring out from memory as clearly as he spoke them only one hour ago:
"The Blakros Museum is cursed. Some darkness has descended upon the place and those who enter are blasted with evil and left raving through its halls, more beast than men. The curator, Nigel Aldain, is an old associate of the Society, though he chose to leave our organization some years back after a disagreement." Adril looked sheepish then, as if remembering some distasteful incident from his youth. "Nigel has long denied the Society access to the Blakros Museum’s considerable collection of relics and scrolls, using his extensive contacts to nab several excellent finds right out from under us... he always had a nose for the hunt. Whatever is past between Nigel and the Society, he needs our help now. Perhaps if we can come to his aid, he may think on rejoining the Pathfinder Society, or at least offering to share his discoveries with us."
"Apparently the trouble at Blakros Museum began this morning, shortly after a wayward Pathfinder named Lugizar Trantos returned to Absalom after months spent in the Mwangi Expanse. Supposedly, instead of coming straight to the Lodge to report in, he went to Blakros, sold his finds to Nigel, and then disappeared with a hefty sum of gold. The few who glimpsed Lugizar claimed he was much changed by his time in the Mwangi... gaunt, his eyes yellowed and unfocused, a strange rasping cough that seemed to wrack his now wasted frame. Whatever he brought back with him, we believe it is the cause of the Blakros Museum’s ills. Root it out."
Adril also gives you a map of the museum and suggests they head to the offices first to find Nigel as he may have some insight into whatever foul curse vexes the place.
Much of the Mwangi’s darkest interior worships a demon lord named Angazhan, who is described in the Book of the Damned as a thing of primordial darkness, a foul-breathed demon who grunts prophecies of blood to apes and madmen. The jungle is his beating heart.
Lugizar Trantos spent the better part of a year in the Mwangi Expanse. At first he wrote letters to his brother and wife, but after a few months these stopped coming and most gave him up for dead.
His letters spoke of a lucrative find at one point, three idols of dark wood carved in the shape of bearded
monkeys.
The last of his letters evidenced an unhinged mind, and was covered in strange sketches of monkey
paws. He described dark eyes glaring out from the mists. Shortly after his return to Absalom, many of the monkeys
and apes in the city’s menageries attacked their keepers and fled into greater Absalom.
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Serp listens carefully as Fool shares his knowledge with the party, and can barely contain his excitement...I mean dread."Yes, yes I see. Do we know where one might get his hands on such a scarf?" He nods approvingly to Fool, and is quite impressed with his display.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The V-C answers Durothil gruffly. "Sometimes, Pathfinders do not find the right path. He did not come here and deliver a report, so we do now know what the details are."
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"yes we should be cautious, mysterious magics and devilish idols, yes..."he says loud enough to be heard but it seems as though he's talking to himself or maybe his snake...
-Posted with Wayfinder
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As they arrive, Hanzo pulls the sash from around his waist and turns it inside out, revealing the back to black like his outfit. After a series of folds, it becomes a mask, covering all but his eyes. He then takes the scarf he bought before leaving and wraps it around his face, covering his nose and mouth.
The mask inside my belt is thin, only for disguise. I don't trust it to block out this foul fog we have heard of. We should establish some sort of marching order before we enter, and determine who shall have what responsibilities. I have some skill with locks and traps. I also have a healing wand, but I lack the skill to use it yet. It is in my bandolier, if I fall and need it's power, or if someone else needs its magic for their own well being.
He then looks forward, to the mission.
You enter the building. An unnatural cold permeates this chamber and the tendrils of silver-gray mist flowing out the front archway into the courtyard beyond seem to effortlessly pierce the flesh and gently caress the bone in a cold embrace. The grand entrance way’s vaulted ceiling is supported by six great pillars of hewn black stone. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light. The light glimmers eerily in the silvery haze that fills the atrium, giving the impression of something alien watching from the glowing fog.
If you missed it, the map of the building is here. You are in the Atrium now.
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Fool directs the four shifting globes of the dancing lights through the fog from one side of the room to the other so the group can carefully examine the room for threats. As they move through the fog he shifts the light through the spectrum to try and find a color that penetrates the fog well.
"Spooooky," he taunts in a low voice as he wiggles his fingers above his head.
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Serp will haversatile his familiar scan the area."Yes Vivi tell me what you see."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Other than the now blood-red tinted mist, nothing seems out of place in the atrium.
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As Durothil moves through the halls, he feels the chill permeate his clothing and armor, sinking deep within his flesh.
What I wouldn't give to be back at the Lodge, drinking in the bar rather than roaming these halls.
He grips his Bardiche in both hands, moving as swiftly and silently as he can next to Arngrim. Those these are not his foremost qualities, he moves purposefully, with a practiced step, ready to slay the first foul beast that rears its ugly head. His head ever swivels to the side, making sure that Arngrim is doing things the right way.
Not going to let a bunch of green recruits cost me.
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Hanzo stays at the rear of the group, using the shadows, and even the mist itself, to stay hidden.
No use in being in the middle of the group when it's attacked... I can do better work if I surprise our attacker, take them out while they think they have the upper hand...
As they move through the halls, he tries to not let the mist permeating his very bones affect his movements, the fluid grace which he strives to keep every day.
The door on the left (top of the map) has a placard above it that reads "The Honored Dead" in blood-red calligraphy.
A large placard above the entryway to the opposite hall reads "Hunting the Beasts of Legend" in great block letters.
At the end of the hall, you can barely make out a sign that simply says "North Exhibit Hall".
Arngrim hears nothing beyond the door, and the door itself appears safe.
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Humming softly to himself to bolster his courage, Fool touches the two in front of him in turn and hopes his luck cantrips will give them an edge. He then positions the four red globes around Mr. Foot, ready to illuminate the hall and immediately casts a divination so he might examine the room when the door opens.
Finishing the ditty, singing softly in a whisper as the door opens, "We'll pray for the names of the honored dead;
We'll drink to the Empire their dying has made;
It's their blood, and our blood, the banner has stained;
It's their land, and our land, their dying has gained.
Go pray for the souls of the dead."