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The emergency nighttime meeting called by none other than Venture-Captain Drandle Drang has resulted in all of you being roused from your beds and called into his office at the Grand Lodge. His secretary brings around strong Qadiran coffee and Vudran tea to help you wake up.
Drang, a solidly-build, grey-haired Taldan man, leans against his desk, sipping his own stimulating drink. "I'm sorry to call you all on such short notice, and on such a dark night," he says, referring to the fact that this was the night of a new moon, "but a friend of the Society needs our help immediately. You have achieved a bit of a reputation -- the recent troubles in Oppara, the delve into the Drownyard that some of you went to, the auspicious Confirmation others of you had, and notably the rescue of the curator of the Blakros museum from those horrible mists. In fact the request was for everyone involved in that venture, but some of them are out on missions right now. Not that any of you are my second choice, mind you."
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Kastarr takes the time to pull his chainshirt on and collect his gear. The ranger is staying in a loft over a bowyer's shop while he learns the trade. It's a somewhat dingy little room, Kastarr doesn't care if he comes back.
As Kastarr hurries across town, he marvels at how much activity goes on, even at this late hour.
He accepts a cup of coffee, and takes a sip. He frowns at the mention of the mists. That had not been his finest hour. Rubbing absently at his stubbled chin, Kastarr waits for Drang to outline the mission.
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Tim seems wide awake, but he quickly snatches a cup of coffee suggesting that he might be more weary from the trip and late night summons that his manner suggests. "Thanks Venture-Captain Drang. I don't think any of us doubt that we're the right ones for whatever you have in mind. Probably something that needs doing right away?"
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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. “Allow me to introduce to you Hamaria Blakros, of the esteemed Blakros family, whose name I’m sure you all know.”
Hamaria sits at Dreng’s side, smooths 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, my family has been providing a steady stream of slaves to the Onyx Alliance. This I regret—I do not wish to perpetuate this inhumane practice, but it is also more personal to me. The Accords also require that the eldest of our daughters each generation be provided to the Onyx Alliance as well. 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 the first new moon of the new year, according to the calendar followed in Shadow Absalom that is, 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.”
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.
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Sormy has heard little of the Blackros family and can hardly keep her distaste from her face as she realizes the price this family has paid for generations for financial gain. Finally she asks Why did you wait until tonight to seek us out? And if you are against keeping your end of the bargain the year who took your daughters into the museum? Stormy will also ask for a map or details sketch of the museum with any traps or secret doors clearly marked.
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"Just because I am the eldest woman doesn't mean I rule my family like a dictator. If the others knew I was planning to violate the Penumbral Accords, they would have locked me in my rooms and put my children there anyway! My brothers and husband are terrified of the Onyx Alliance. I waited until tonight because I was afraid that my coming to the Society would be marked by my family and they would stop me, or prevent you from entering the Museum to help my daughters. And the reason we took both is, again, my family's fear of the Onyx. I argued that only one of the two girls would be enough to satisfy them, but my husband refused, because, well, we're not entirely certain which of the two was born first. They're identical, and we had some confusion in the first couple weeks after their birth, where nursemaids would place them in the wrong cradles by accident, until we arranged to have a tiny identifying mark tattooed on their legs. I don't know for sure that the child I named Michellia, who was first out of my womb, is the same child I call Michellia now. Not that it matters to me, as each loves their name now and wouldn't change it even if we knew for sure that they had been switched. But there have been times when someone other than the first born daughter was placed in the museum, and the Onyx were merciless in punishing the Blakroses of the time for their transgression. The others refused to risk it."
"I admit that I have been a coward for refusing to end this sooner. I can only plead that obedience to the Penumbral Accords is deeply instilled in my family, and it has taken all my will and love for my daughters to come to you and ask that you find a way to break them."
Blakros asks Dreng for a sheet of parchment, and sketches out a rough floorplan of the ground floor of the museum. "On one occasion, the slaves left for the transition slipped their bonds and, unable to get out, ran and hid in the basement. They were still there the following day, and we received a nasty threat from the Onyx Alliance for missing a delivery, so only the first floor seems to make the transition. Mind you, I have no idea what you might find in there tonight -- no one who has been in the museum on the night of a full moon has ever returned."
Dreng leans forward. "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 at Hamaria, who nods once in agreement. “Hurry to Blakros Museum, friends. There isn’t much time!”
Hamaria gives you a key, which she says is a key to the front door of the Museum, which is normally locked after the offerings were placed inside. "I must return home at once so that my absence does not arouse suspicions," she says, and leaves immediately, ignoring any further questions or requests.
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"I had no idea the Blakroses had such skeletons in their closet." Mutters Kastarr after Hamaria leaves. "If she wants to lead her family to a kinder path, then I am happy to help."
Kastarr stands up, stretches, and shoulders his pack. He uses his foot to flip his darkwood bow up to his hand. "Well, I'm ready."
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A young half-elf walks in quietly and listens politely to Dreng and Harmia and the others. He looks odd. Like an old weather beaten sculpture. Ruddy bronze skin. Silver hair streaked with blue and green. And bright sea green eyes.
His striking elegant voice voice is at odds with his weather beaten artificial appearance.
"I am Beronûsh. I only recently found my own arcane talents. This all sounds sounds very interesting. I am not a strong sword arm. I help with the talents I do have."
After a quick look at the museum floor-plan, Beronûsh adds:
"How does one get to the basement those slaves hid in?"
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"Ah, good," Dreng says at the entrance of Beronûsh. "I asked for one of Aram Zey's promising newcomers, and I see that's exactly who we have here."
Dreng shrugs at the question. "I've never seen the basement, though I'm told there are many wonders in storage. I've only seen what they have on display, which is changed on a regular basis to keep people coming back and paying admission, of course."
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You hurry across Absalom in the carriage provided by Venture-Captain Dreng, and soon find yourselves standing before the imposing, gothic edifice of the Blakros Museum. Kastarr and Fatham recall the time, not so long ago, where they stood here and watched mists ooze from the open doors. Now these doors are closed shut, and the building looks even more ghostly and shadowed in the faint twilight of the stars.
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Stormy does not care for the ride inside the carriage ride and her bird companion simply refuses to enter the cramped space. He chooses to fly along and look for potential threats in the big city. Standing in front of the museum Stormy notes Its like a big dark cave. She then casts a light spell onto her shield and Longstrider on herself. Her companion comes to her, perching again on her shoulder. Based on what we know there should be no traps but I would prefer to check first. Do we have anyone to deal with traps should we find one?
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Fatham also casts light on his shield, which along with Stormy's spell, creates an advancing wall of light.
The druid pats his animal companion, a young dinosaur, and then prepares to enter the museum again.
"I dislike this place immensely. A storehouse for all kinds of unnatural objects. Nature will destroy it all soon," he mutters.
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Beronûsh detects strong magic suffusing the entire structure of the Museum. It is not focused on any one part of the door, however.
Fatham notices that the doors appear to have two different designs superimposed on top of each other, one somewhat familiar to those who have been to the museum before, and the other unfamiliar.
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Kastarr has his wayfinder to provide illumination. He does not trigger it's light, though. There seems to be enough light for now.
The ranger fails to notice the strangeness with the doors until it is pointed out.
"It has already begun, we'd best be moving."
Kastarr fits the key to the door and when he hears the click of the lock mechanism he swings the door open, just enough to slip inside.
He looks around the interior, while listening and even sniffing the air.
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As you step past the threshold, the air ripples and all visible surfaces shimmer as if they were momentarily composed of still, reflective liquid.
Tim's and Bertha's darkvision is able to pierce the gloom and they see great pillars of hewn black stone supporting the vaulted ceiling of the Blakros Museum’s grand entryway. Braziers mounted on the pillars have blue flames rising from them that seem like they should illuminate the room, but instead do nothing but increase the shadows. A fossilized dinosaur skeleton occupies the northwest corner of the room.
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Stormy's light spell manages to dispel some of the darkness that surrounds the party. You can see that the dinosaur skeleton is labeled "Fossilized Deinonychus", and that a shadowy plaque on the southeast column declares the building to be “Wightir House, Experimental Laboratory of Onyx Alliance, Authorized by Order of Argrinyxia, the Shifting Lady of Ebony Scales.”