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Pathfinder Society Scenario #6–15: The Penumbral Accords
A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 1–5.
The daughters of Absalom's mysterious Blakros family have long been among the most pursued maidens in the Inner Sea. Now the family's matriarch approaches the Pathfinder Society to help her break a centuries-old pact with the denizens of the Plane of Shadow to save her twin daughters from a life of servitude at the hands of the Onyx Alliance. Heading into the fan-favorite adventuring location of Blakros Museum, the PCs have only a short amount of time to break the Penumbral Accords and solidify the Pathfinder Society's ties to the powerful Blakroses.
Written by Owen K.C. Stephens
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This semi-closed campaign is part of PbP Gameday VI, Session II, October 6-November 17, 2017.
Instructions: Once you have been accepted into the party by the GM, please "ninja-dot" here in order to enter this scenario into the list of your campaign threads.
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The tengu sits quitly on the bench, dressed in an immaculate kimono, he is feeding a thrush some seeds from his outstretched hand, sometimes stealing a nibble for himself.
"අනිත් අය ඉක්මනට එන්නම්. නැවතත් ඇස්ටිස්ටන්වල කොතරම් සතුටක් ලබන්නද, එහෙම නේද? මම හිතන්නෙ ඔයාට හරියටම ගරුන්ඩ්ගේ තාපය අතපසු කරන්නේ නැහැ!"
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a rather strange person walks in she stands 6'1, a Scythe on her back, honey colored hair and eyes, her voice speaking as if it was coated in honey, and just as smooth
"We must be the first to arrive, I'm Honey, and this is Tera" as she motions to the wolf at her side
she takes a seat and waits for the others to arrive
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Clink clank clang... The sound of his armor gives fair warning to all, as Ptehp comes tramping along.
Dressed in full plate with a heavy wooden shield strapped to his arm, a tall Half Orc appears, some 6 foot 10 inches tall and well over 200 pounds.
The shield is painted with a large Red Scorpion, the same animal that dangles from a chain on the Half Orc's chest, a red enamel scorpion as his Holy Symbol.
And, finally - or maybe first of all - you see that this bright Red Scorpion is magically tattooed on the man's face, the tail on his chin, and the pincers on each side of his eyes.
He carries some gear, and a backpack, with coils of rope and a grappling hook hanging from it, as well as a finely crafted whip of red leather, set with obsidian "scorpion stingers".
"Hullo. I am Ptehp. I serve Selket, the Mistress of the Beautiful House. You may call me Ptehp of Selket. I am a Pathfinder. Hullo".
Then he just stands there.
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A tall ulfen human follows closely behind Ptehp. As if routinely hiding behind the noisiest person in the area to assess the situation before revealing his presence, the middle-aged but completely white-haired man slowly approaches the gathering of Pathfinders.
Not exactly small himself, this human is wearing a shiny silvery breastplate covered by a network of leather straps and black ribbons that almost makes it appear dark. A longsword with a wide and intricately carved guard in taldan fashion is strapped behind his back.
"Greetings, fellow seekers of secrets." He nods to each one of them in turn. "I am Gweld of Clan Hornuglan, from Kalsgard, currently known as the White Owl. Formerly a devoted agent of Damerrich's will, now just a humble explorer in the service of the Grand Lodge."
On closer examination, each one of them in turn notices an unusual mutation in his eyes - the pupils are widened almost to occupy the whole of his somewhat enlarged eyes, indeed granting him some likeness with an owl.
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A half-orc stumbles upon the five other Pathfinders that had gathered, holding a rubber ball in one hand and squeezing it rhythmically. "Those undead really took a toll on my claws. Luckily, the shaman provided just the thing for pain." He takes out a square of paper, drops in a pile of strange-looking, greenish-brown plant matter, rolls it, and lights it. Exhaling, Zavubak stretches his arms into the air and approaches the group.
"I take it you've all received the same missive? It sounds like we'll be going back to Blakros Museum. I was... Actually just there last week, when it was broken into, but for good reason. Anyway," he takes a drag on the cigarillo. "Zavubak's the name, from somewhere in Cheliax - you don't want to know about my history any more than I do, trust me - now full-fledged Society agent. I've been called Mister Claws, though I resent that name. Pleased to meet you." Pulsing veins of black run down his burly arms, directly into the tips of his hands. His fingertips show signs of overuse, cracks and scars dotting the edges. Whatever sort of blood runs through Zavubak's person isn't your standard half-orc body juice.
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Gweld sits on the bench. "It is an honor to make acquaintance of you all. Blakros Museum... So another mission right here in Absolom? It is a shame, I am growing bored without travel. I'd much preferred another tour to Sargava or Tian Xia, would give me an opportunity to practice my cartography more. What about you, friends, have you been anywhere interesting lately?"
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Ptehp stands in front of the bench, and scratches his head, thinking, before answering: "I was in a forest. It was very nice. There were big trees. A wide river.
The Sanos Forest it is called. It is in Varisia. Gnomes live there. They are small".
He looks at those who will probably be his companions in this adventure: "Have you been to the museum? I have. It used to belong to some person who looked at the stars. And the stars looked back. And sent something. It was not pretty. But there were nice stuffed animals to see".
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"Ah, gnomes... Annoying little things," Zavubak grunts. "Sorta cute ... in an annoying way. I just got back from the Hold of Belkzen, a dangerous place home to dozens of orc tribes. Even pure orcs are much more civilized than they're given credit for," he says with a glance at Pteph. "Those nice stuffed animals aren't the kind you'd give to a child to put them to bed. They're magical, and protect the museum as wards. I wonder if they'll give us any problems this time..."
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"I don't think those mask things were placed there deliberately..." Gweld shudders. "I am pretty sure that Blakroses, and their designated keeper - this washout - specifically, are extraordinarily bad at handling dangerous artifacts they gather around the world. I could bet a nice three-course dinner in 'Bold Olive' that that's the case this time as well."
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Venture-Captain Drandle Drang looks tired as he calls an emergency meeting in the middle of the night at his chambers in the Grand Lodge. “I’m sorry to call you in on such short notice and on such a dark night, but a friend of the Society needs your help immediately.”
From an adjoining chamber, an elegantly dressed woman of middle age with olive skin and long, straight black hair and piercing eyes steps into the room. Drang reaches for her hand, grasping it with the blushing enthusiasm of a smitten schoolboy.
“Allow me to introduce to you Hamaria Blakros, of the esteemed Blakros family, whose name I’m sure you all know.” Drang holds a handkerchief up to his lips, dabbing at the drool before he can embarrass himself any further.
Hamaria sits at Dreng’s side, smoothes her satin dress over her knees, and speaks in a clear though pained voice. “I’m afraid my forebears made a terrible mistake, and I need you to help remedy the situation. When the Blakroses were first gaining a financial and social foothold centuries ago, my ancestors made a pact called the Penumbral Accords with a strange organization on the Shadow Plane called the Onyx Alliance, which granted us trade routes through its dark realm to avoid unpleasant searches, tariffs, and questions among the many parties with whom we traded. At the time, this was an invaluable service, but as our wealth and influence grew, the benefits became less pronounced. Now, almost five centuries later, we no longer want to pay the ongoing price of this agreement. Since that time, we’ve been providing a steady stream of slaves to the Onyx Alliance... including the eldest of our daughters each generation. This year we have two eldest daughters—my twins Eleanir and Michellia—and I refuse to let them be taken!”
“But we can’t actively break the Penumbral Accords ourselves. We don’t know all the details other than our end of the bargain, which requires us to deliver slaves to our very own Blakros Museum on the night of each new moon—and to deliver the eldest Blackros daughter of each generation on the new moon after her 21st birthday. We are told to stay away until dawn, and have honored this command thus far. In every instance for generations, we’ve returned to find no sign of the slaves or our own heirs left in the building. They’ve got some device that lets them take our daughters to their plane, something that only functions one night a month, and only until dawn.”
“That night is tonight, and my Eleanir and Michellia are already there! I need you to get in before the sun rises and deactivate or destroy whatever allows them to keep stealing our people. If that prevents them from ever threatening us and holding the Penumbral Accords over our heads again, even better.”
Dreng leans forward, accidentally brushing his forearm against his guest’s knee. “You understand, I’m sure, how valuable our relationship with the Blakros family is to the Decemvirate. Their assets at the museum are immense, and assisting the Lady Hamaria tonight will go along way to ensuring that both her family and our organization can form a long-lasting alliance that will benefit all parties.”
He glances—he can’t seem to help himself—at Hamaria, who nods once in agreement. “Hurry to Blakros Museum, friends. There isn’t much time!”
As you scurry out of his chambers, you hear the Venture-Captain murmur, ”Hamaria, please, won’t you stay for a nightcap? Or I can order us sushi, fresh from the Shackles, or axebeak hotwings, whatever you desire… “
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The sudden nature of Dreng’s assignment leaves you little time to investigate if you are to arrive at Blakros Museum in time to save Eleanir and Michellia.
However, some of you might know something about Blakros Museum, the Blakros family, and the Shadow Plane. You should probably share that information with the rest of your team as you race to rescue the fair Blakros maidens.
Blakros Museum is a large and well-furnished gothic building that rises out of the night like a great looming shadow. You stand before its massive doors, panting after your mad dash, trying to catch your breath.
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"While I have never been to the Blakros museum I have some knowledge about it and the family itself. In recent years, the Blakros Museum has been the site of a number of strange occurrences, many of which were handled quietly in the dead of night by fellow agents of the Pathfinder Society.
In the early days of Absalom, the Blakros Museum was originally the stronghold of an eccentric wizard. Abandoned for centuries, it was later bought by House Blakros, who turned it into a museum for their impressive collection of curiosities from across Golarion.
The mad astrologer Ralzeros the Overwatched built what is now the Blakros Museum thousands of years ago as an observatory to study distant worlds and even other planes of existence (and some say, to be studied by them). He later disappeared following a mage-duel with another of Absalom’s early wizards.
The wealthy and prominent House Blakros is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivaling those of the Aspis Consortium, who made most of their money selling valuable antiquities across the border between Taldor and Qadira. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches. Although I prefer a woman with a bit more feathers."
"Let me cast a few spells before we go in"
Myrd caste Heightened Awareness (50 min), Protection from Arrows (5 hours) and Mage Armor (5 hours)
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Ptehp rises and bows deep to Lady Hamaria: "Yes, of course, Ptehp knows the Bleakmoss family well. Ptehp faced some unknown threat from the Great Beyond in those walls".
On the way to the museum, Ptehp scratches his head - despite wearing a helm, which means he does not do much to calm any itch he might have - but then smiles at Myrd: "Nice. You smart. Thank you for sharing knowledge".
Just outside the doors, Ptehp looks at his companions: "I am a Templar of Selket", pointing to the Holy Red Scorpion symbol on his necklace, painted on his shield, and tattooed in the middle of his face, "who is the Mistress of the Beautiful House and the Goddess of Healing. May I ask you for a drop of your blood, to join in a life pact and save our lives if we are to fall?".
Ptehp takes a small scorpion stinger from his component pouch to prick all with, and place the drops in a small beaker.
If people ask, he pulls a small parchment from his pouch, and reads to you--- explaining how the spell works.
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"Hamaria, what's your relation to Nigel, the museum curator?" Zavubak asks. "We recently assisted him in disabling some wards that had gone rogue. Sort of. It's a long story."
Zavubak looks at the scorpion stinger produced by Ptehp with curiousity. "See, the last time I accepted something strange from someone I'd traveled with, it turned out to be life changing," he pulls more rolling paper and dried herbs from his backpack and rolls another cigarette. Exhaling, he continues. "Yeah, man, I'll gladly take a hit of that thorn if it comes to it. I hope no one minds a little dragon essence in their blood," he smiles.
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Gweld hears Myrd and Ptehp out before carefully considering an array of small flasks and vials on his belt.
"A life pact? That is quite interesting. I don't see any reasons to refuse such a generous offer." He finally decides on one of the flasks and frees it out of leather strap holding it. He breaks a wax seal and everybody can feel a strong smell of alcohol and see the stream of bubbling liquid flowing out of the small flask under pressure. Gweld quickly downs the liquid in one swing, winces, and looks at the rest of the group. "Skol, friends. To your health."
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Hamaria, matriarch of the Blackros family, provides Zavubak a curt reply, My foolish daughter Dhamri married the half-elf Nigel Blakros. Do not refer to the man as Aldain in my presence. Dhamri flaunts our traditions, allowing Nigel to continue to use his own surname rather than properly adopt our family name. Dhamri's father was Vudrani. No doubt that explains her excessive romanticism."
It's clear she doesn't think highly of her son-in-law. "Thank you for your assistance, em, Zavubak, isn't it? Nigel has difficulty handling challenges on his own. I suspect that has something to do with why he left your Society."
Gweld examines the doors and the area around them, and he's satisfied there aren't any traps. To demonstrate his confidence, he opens the unlocked doors.
Great pillars of hewn black stone support the vaulted ceiling of the Blakros Museum’s grand entryway, visible through its wide, double doors. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light. A fossilized dinosaur skeleton occupies the northwest corner of the room.
Upon crossing the threshold, the air ripples and all visible surfaces shimmer as if they were momentarily composed of still, reflective liquid. As soon as the effect manifests, the strange sensation ends, leaving thick shadows covering all surfaces. The white light of the braziers glows an arcane shade of blue, illuminating the shadowy form of a different skeleton that overlays the more solid dinosaur from moments ago.
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Having switched on your lights, you enter the museum.
Last to enter the building, Myrd checks the party's six. He finds that shadowy wooden doors stand closed against you, occupying the same place as the doors of the Material Plane’s Blakros Museum. Myrd rattles the knobs. The doors are locked.
You search the entry and atrium. A shadowy plaque on the southeast column declares the Shadow Plane version of the building to be “Wightir House, Experimental Laboratory of the Onyx Alliance, Authorized by Order of Argrinyxia, the Shifting Lady of Ebony Scales.”
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Staring out through the windows, Ptehp experiences the same unsettling, duality of existence he and the others sense within the museum.
The intermingling planes create a unique effect as light and shadow mix. The entire building may be considered to be in shadowy illumination, the combination of the brightly lit Material Plane and the pitch-black Shadow Plane.
Honey's sunrod works normally, as does Ptehp's and Zavubak's darkvision. Mryd's ioun torch also functions as it should. However, Gweld's wayfinder fails to produce the light it normally would when activated.
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"Indeed," Zavubak nods at Ptehp. "It's an unnatural darkness. The lack of proper light is just as unsettling as this fossilized beast." Hefting his double axe over his shoulder, Zavubak runs his hand along the bones. "This isn't an ordinary museum exhibit as we'd see so in the Material Plane. It's the skeleton of what was once a young copper dragon."
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Satisfied you've learned everything you can in the entry/atriu, you begin to move deeper into the museum.
However, as soon as Gweld and Ptehp step foot into the long hallway, the shadow plane skeleton guardian awakens.
The skeletal dragon, attempting to block further trespass, attacks Honey with its fangs, claws, and bony wings.
Skeletal Guardian
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Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Honey
Tera
Ptehp
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Here we go again, Ptehp thinks, different name for the museum, but just as crazy things on display!.
The Warpriest raises his Scorpion painted shield, and clatters into the fray, past the dragon, lowering his helmed head to try and avoid a passing attack.
Coming around to the other side, so as to try and attract the wyrms' fury, and give flanking help to his comrades, Ptehp lashes out with his whip.
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Myrd just answered Gweld before the copper dragon animated "I am afraid I am not a scholar, I tend to take these this things as they come. I am not that interested in the why."
Just then the dragon decides to move "See, a scholar would be eager to understand how and why a skeleton animates. I prefer to get rid of it before it rips our companions to pieces"
"It is an undead young copper dragon that is somehow connected to the plane of earth!"
Myrd moves back and fires a scorching ray at the skeletal dragon
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"Friend, please, you were much more charming as a museum exhibit," Zavubak grunts at the animated dragon. "Whether its anger mirrors its recklessness in its youth or is the work of some unseen planar energy, I do not know, but let's have it returned to its peaceful state immediately." Extending his claws, Zavubak rushes ahead and swipes at the dragon opposite Ptehp.
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At the same time the dragon starts clawing at Honey, Gweld curses and darts back, drawing his sword out. "Stupid, Gweld, should have paid attention to the inconsistencies instead of blabbing your mouth..."
Darting back into the aura of light shed by Myrd's Ioun Torch, Gweld aims a couple of swift strikes of the sword between the skeletal dragon's cervical vertebrae. With the skeletons usually being resistant to everything sharp, crippling this thing with one decisive beheading strike seems like an only option for the Pathfinder.
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Badly wounded by the dragon skeleton's attacks, Honey and Tera step away from the creature, Honey healing herself and Tera defending her mistress.
Myrd and Gweld recognize the creature is an undead young copper dragon skeleton with the earth subtype. Myrd also recalls that such a creature has DR5/bludgeoning and has a number of common
Immunity to bleed, death effects, disease, paralysis, poison, sleep effects, and stunning.
Not subject to nonlethal damage, ability drain, or energy drain.
Immune to damage to its physical ability scores (Constitution, Dexterity, and Strength), as well as to exhaustion and fatigue effects.
Immunity to any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects or is harmless).
Myrd's scorching ray torches through the creature, blasting bone to fractured splinters.
As Ptehp maneuvers into a better tactical position, the undead skeleton's neck strikes out, and its maw crunches through his armor.
Zavubak swings a mighty claw at the dragon skeleton, but its natural armor and agility deflect the blow.
The skeletal guardian is fixated on Ptehp, its most recent target, determined to take him down, ignoring the threats posed by the rest of the party. Weakened as it is by Myrd's scorching ray, only one claw wounds Ptehp!
Skeletal Guardian
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Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Honey
Tera
Ptehp