The world-renowned Blakros Museum has outdone itself, gathering an unrivaled collection of relics from the Shining Crusade, a holy coalition that felled the greatest lich to threaten Golarion. When trouble befalls the exhibit mere days before its debut, the Pathfinders intervene, only to discover that one of the relics is key to averting a far greater disaster that has laid in wait for a millennium.
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Thro’ the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking;
Damn’d daemons of despair.
Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of [Fall's weather]
Quench’d my youth’s aspiring ember,
Liv’d there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Gold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn’d it all was dreaming—
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.
But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing—
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel’s whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.
Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.
Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.
Humbert sets down his pen, and looks out the window at the desolate gray cityscape beyond, allowing the ink to dry.
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A grippli clad in dignified garments steps into the lodge, taking a moment to take in his surroundings before making himself too comfortable. A grin stretches wide on his froggy face when he spots a fellow grippli.
"Greetings and salutations to you, dearest Pathfinders. I am Enrique Karpadi, and I will try to help you solve this Blakros mystery and survive doing so."
With the formal introduction out of the way, Enrique turns to speak to Grubglub in their native tongue.
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An odd figure approaches the room, carefully looks about, then finds a comfortable seat on the edge of a foot rest. At just under two feet tall and clad in the loose fitting garb of a monk, the creature has to jump up.. which he does with remarkable agility. The frog creature has a few oddiments strapped around him and a rather light pack that he leaves on the floor below his chosen perch. As the others file in, he greets them solemnly with a half bow.
His eyes glint as a second grippli moves into the room, and he makes room beside him for Enrigue as the grippli addresses him in his native tongue.
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A grippli clad in dignified garments steps into the lodge, taking a moment to take in his surroundings before making himself too comfortable. A grin stretches wide on his froggy face when he spots a fellow grippli.
"Greetings and salutations to you, dearest Pathfinders. I am Enrique Karpadi, and I will try to help you solve this Blakros mystery and survive doing so."
With the formal introduction out of the way, Enrique turns to speak to Grubglub in their native tongue.
Humbert puts down more notes with a shaky hand.
The unwholesome amphibia spoke with a shockingly erudite, but no less inhuman tongue. Its sheer dapperness, and mocking clothing chilling me, to my core. I could not have been more shocked to have heard a half-breed orc or one of the lower primates reciting from Archimeles epic, The Shadow Siege of Absalom. I was aghast at the thing's mere existence. What murky thoughts lay behind those glassy, goggle eyes, what awful unnatural eugenics had crafted such a thing in mockery of man, but with the mottled, slimy, lustrous skin of a newt?
Horror. A second one flopped its way into our room. By contrast the second creature was of a wholly different colour and pattern. Its slick, lurid hues hinting at its not-improbable poisonous nature. Stunted, it could not have slouched taller than two-foot. Obviously whatever dark demiurge that had crafted these moist, flopping, living nightmares had not proceeded much past the experimental stage in their development.
They croaked at one another. Whether it represented some attempt at fraternal greeting, or challenge for supremacy I could not tell. I did not want to contemplate what might have been going though their alien minds, but a preponderance of imagination can be a double-edged blade. Would the larger frog-thing's amphibian instincts now crossed with its hideous semblance to early simian man force it to reflexively swallow its smaller poisonous companion? It was a thought as repugnant as it was to be wished for.
~H.P. Ardentask
You all answer your summons and realize you have some time before the actual required mission starts.
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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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?
Makon looks down at the gregarious little halfling and grunts, *hrmph*! Seems pretty much the same stuff as last year...do you know if anything interesting is... before Makon can finish his sentence, the little halfling is off talking to another group.
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After several very packed days of seminars and classes, GrubGlub moves through the crowded festival atmosphere. His nose catches a whiff of some delicious food, but he stops as he catches sight of a placard denoting the feasts exclusive nature. It is better this way.. he thinks. [I]Such a feast would only burden my mortal coil. Abstention shall be my path tonight."[/b]
GrubGlub mingles through the crowds, deftly avoiding being stepped on time and again. As Janira approaches, He grants her a courtly bow and responds "Well met, Janira. It has not been that long since our trip to the mountains.. but you have many such adventures, I am sure."
Seeing the Halfling woman depart with such swiftness and without a reply to himself or to Makon, the Grippli turns to address the half orc. "That one could learn much from some calming and meditation exercises.. but I think she would put even the most patient of teachers to the test. What is it that you seek, if nothing here serves to satisfy you yet?"
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Makon notices an effete human look quickly away from him [dice=sense motive]1d20; An un-intended, *snarl* escapes Makon's lips as the human turns. just another human bigot..pay him no mind Makon, if he insults you and you squash him....the pathfinders may kick you out....serenity now ...shhh...serenity now!...grrr!
Donotmakeeyecontact.Donotmakeeyecontact.Donotmakeeyecontact. BLAST! Humbert gives a sheepish grin to the porter.
Rumor has it, Janira Gavix offered an unauthorized but popular filking class for aspiring bards and other social misfits under 30--inches, not years.
'Twas the night before Game Day, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The minis on the mantle had been painted with care,
in hopes that St. Jacobs soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of adventure played in their heads.
And Mama with her fighter, and my redeemed Darkfire Adept,
had just stolen into the lair of that false Razmiran sect.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like CW's Flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should into view dance,
but a miniature sleigh and eight writers who freelance!
With a haggard editor, fresh from an all-nighter,
I knew in a moment it must be Wes Schneider!
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Tim! Now Amber!
Now, Greg and Russell!
On, Richard! On, Nick!
On, John and Michael!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wind elemental fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of gamer swag, and audio dramas too.
And then, craning my ear to the roof perpendicular
I could hear the heavy tread boots of each contributor.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Young Wes came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fake fur, for they are not overfond
of that sort of thing in blue Washington's progressive Redmond.
A bundle of books he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddling librarian opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was in need of a mow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He looked a bit high, and slightly less then regal,
but that's what you get in a State where pot is half-legal.
His character, a multi-class ninja, pirate, half-dinosaur elf,
its huge Hero Lab™ sheet made me laugh, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a flip of his thumb
he showed me the new archetype that was yet to come.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his editing work,
and corrected our character sheets, even Bill's--the rules jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Game Day to all, and to all a good game night!"
"Derivative. Honestly, I believe they need some authors with more stature in there."
"... I must thank you for that filking class...."
"Language please, Sir! There is a lady present!"
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Atronia, a red-haired woman wearing a greatsword at her hip, rushes to the meeting point, trying to keep a straight face despite her obvious tardiness. She sees a familiar halfling woman leaving the group and waves at her.
"Sorry I'm late, everyone. Did I miss anything? All the stories they had to tell in that history class were fascinating. I stuck around a little too long speaking to others."
Shelooks around, her eyes lingering slightly longer on the two grippli, smiles at everyone and extends a hand. "My name is Atronia. I'm looking forward to seeing this museum with you fine people."
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"Janira! The lessons on the history of Absolom were wonderful and very enthralling. I never knew so many people have attacked this place over so many years! Myself and Altonia know each other from those very lessons. It was nice to meet some fellow Pathfinders without also having to battle for our lives!" says Iovarl with a chuckle.
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Atronia smirks when she hears Iovarl talk about history and battles.
"I'm sorry, friend. I hadn't realized we had been assigned to the same team. Otherwise I'd have walked here with you. I'm glad you enjoyed the lesson as well. A good battle is invigorating and it's great to be part of history, but it is also a wonderful thing to hear about the past."
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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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Makon pounds a curled fist to his chest in imitation of a salute he had seen some Eagle Knights of Andor do. Yes Venture Captain! he shouts at the top of his lungs. Makon turns to face those closest to him and urges, Well are you Pathfinders or not? Lets get to the museum and carry out the Venuture captain's orders! Makon hefts his axe and motions the others to follow him but stops suddenly...
*umm* any of you know which way the museum is? Makon's sheepish grin is evident even through his fierce 1/2 Orc visage.
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GrubGlub gives a bow to the Pathfinder leaders, and then gives an appraising glance at the large not-quite-stranger looming over him shouting his obedience and encouragement. With a shrug at the others, he quickly grabs the half orcs trousers and swings himself up, using a combination of handholds, swings, and contortions to eventually arrive atop Makons pack.
Even with his pack on, his weight is negligible to the strong barbarian, and he is able to ride in relative comfort without having to dodge a stampede of legs and feet!
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Makon accepts the passenger with relish.. This little one is ready to defend the honor of our order will the rest of ye come? R we to go it alone?! Makon growls a challenge to the others..in a *whisper*: You know the way there right?..um you do speak common don't you? Makon glaces over his shoulder to the Grippli straddling his backpack with a pleading expression.
The party starts to relax together as they get to know one another...
After a quick review of what you know you will continue to the Blakros museum.
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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Iovarl mingles during the event and tries to introduce himself to as many people as possible while learning what he can about the event.
[ooc]Well that worked well![/b]
"This isn't the way i wanted to see the museum for the first time, but i'm always happy to lend aid tot he allies of the Pathfinder Society." says Iovarl as the
"Enthusiasm is certainly a good thing my axe wielding well muscled ally, though i admit that i don't know my war around the city yet. Does anyone else know their way around?"
"The Blakros are a pretty wealthy merchant family from Taldor. They have been allies of the Pathfinder Society for a number of years now and they sometimes invite notable Pathfinders to high-society parties and the like. I also heard that the Blakros family has been involved with some shadier groups during its rise to power though, so we should certainly be wary around them."
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Atronia frowns when she hears about all the things at the museum. "This all sounds very strange. And you would think the curator would have learned to be more careful, by now." She perks up. "Let's go take a look, shall we? I know the way. It's over in the Wise district."
She smiles when she sees the daring grippli climb on Makon's back, takes a few steps and stops to make sure the others are following.
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Time for Humbert Philmon Ardentask scribe of the ages to show the Masters of the Pathfinder Society his quality.
"Fear not, shall go!" Humbert says boldly, in spite of his rather librarian-like appearance.
And it wouldn't be too bad to be included among those Pathfinders favoured by the Blakros family. Yes, with their patronage a man could go far.
And I think I know just the man who could help....
Now, to say something suitably inspiring.... Ah!
"Who is with me!"
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"The Blakros are a pretty wealthy merchant family from Taldor. They have been allies of the Pathfinder Society for a number of years now and they sometimes invite notable Pathfinders to high-society parties and the like. I also heard that the Blakros family has been involved with some shadier groups during its rise to power though, so we should certainly be wary around them."
"Nonsense! They are allies of the Society. How could they possibly be involved in anything 'shady'?"
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Makon isn't much of a diplomat but he's shared a few pints with other pathfinders and knows a few things about the torch bearing event
like; there's always at least 3 Masters on the look-out for especially enterprising Pathfinders. Makon has also personally witnessed a ceremony were a couple of Pathfinders were rewarded and exemplified by being give special Wayfinders. ..
I'd like to get me one of those one day! Perhaps today will be my opportunity to prove myself...instead of always being set on guard duty at the lodge..
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.”
During the event, it is possible for characters at one table to
assist those at another with Aid Tokens. Each represents the
assistance of allied Pathfinder agents who assist the PCs. The
House should begin with a number of Aid Tokens equal to
one-third (1/3) the number of tables, and the Overseer GM
should distribute these at random to tables before beginning.
Once per encounter, any character at a table can use an
Aid Token to assist the group in one of the ways described
below. Once a table uses an Aid Token, one of the players
then passes the Aid Token to a neighboring table for them to
use. A table can only benefit from one token per encounter.
Because there are a limited number of Aid Tokens; hoarding
one means that somebody else doesn’t get to use it.
If a table receives an Aid Token and doesn’t need
its benefits, they’re encouraged to boost its potency by
expending some of their own resources or attempting a skill
check. Boosting an Aid Token, including attempting a skill
check, is part of passing that Aid Token to another table. A
table can neither retry such a skill check nor boost an Aid
Token more than once before passing it to another table.
A table may boost a token even while in combat without
taking any in-round actions; the scenario assumes the aid
was granted before that encounter began. Players should be
encouraged to write their PC name down next to the boosted
effect along with any other relevant information. Using a
boosted effect consumes the boost; the player should erase
the boost information from the Aid Token.
Some Aid Token benefits may only be used if already
boosted by another table. An Aid Token’s benefits vary based
on the table’s subtier, and these benefits can take one of the
following forms.
Allied Offensive: A Pathfinder agent strikes a creature at
the same time as the PC, increasing the damage dealt by one
attack by 1d8 points. In addition, after the attack, anyone
attacking the target is considered to be flanking it until the
beginning of the attacker’s next turn. In Subtiers 5–6 and
7–8, this amount increases to 2d8 points. In Subtier 10–11,
this amount increases to 3d8 points. To Boost: Succeed at
an attack roll against an AC equal to an Average skill check.
Boosted Effect: +1d8 points of damage.
Burst of Healing: A Pathfinder agent heals all of the PCs
of 1d6 points of damage. In Subtiers 5–6 and 7–8, the amount
healed increases to 3d6 points. In Subtier 10–11, the amount
healed increases to 5d6 points. To Boost: Expend one use of
channel positive energy or cast one spell with the healing
descriptor with a spell level greater than or equal to your
APL/2, rounded up. A PC must cast this spell, not simply
activate a wand or scroll. Boosted Effect: +2d6 points of
damage healed.
Timely Inspiration: A Pathfinder agent provides the
effects of a bard’s inspire courage bardic performance for 3
rounds. In Subtiers 1–2 and 3–4, the competence bonus is +1.
In Subtiers 5–6 and 7–8, the competence bonus increases to
+2. In Subtier 10–11, the competence bonus increases to +3.
To Boost: Expend 3 rounds of bardic performance or similar
ability. Boosted Effect: Increase the competence bonus by 1.
Provide Knowledge (must be boosted): Gain the benefits
of a Knowledge skill check or Spellcraft skill check used to
identify a magical item; the type and difficulty (Easy, Average or Hard) depend on the table granting the benefit. To Boost:
Succeed at a Knowledge check of your choice, the result of
the check (Easy, Average or Hard) should be noted on the
Aid Token.
Provide Spellcasting (must be boosted): Gain the
benefits of a beneficial spell cast by an ally as listed
on the Aid Token. To Boost: Cast one of the following
spells and note your PC’s name and caster level on the
Aid Token: lesser restoration, neutralize poison, remove curse,
or remove disease. Only these spells may be granted.
Expending resources that produce the effects of these
spells, such as a paladin’s mercy class feature, may also
grant these benefits.
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Atronia takes a look at the flashing lights, and listens to the noise. Surprisingly, her expression becomes one of excitement and wonder. "I can, if that's alright with you. Go ahead and follow my lead!" Without even waiting for a reply, she walks toward the entrance, nodding at the guards with a confident smile.
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When the little female ask to go first Makon is reluctant to give up the honor. However, feeling that she may be a more senior Pathfinder than himself, The honor of the lead shall go to this human lady. I Makon shall be her strong shield arm should she require back-up! Makon declares with genuine pride. Almost forgetting, Makon hastily adds, And my friend Glubglub shall be my strong shield arm!
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"I shall have your back, Humbert. I may be a tiny frog person, but I can hold my own in combat. Also, no matter what it may sound like while I'm fighting... I'm not going to backstab you."
Enrique smiles a mysterious, reassuring smile. "I have a certain condition that I can describe to you later, if you want me to."
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"I shall have your back, Humbert. I may be a tiny frog person, but I can hold my own in combat. Also, no matter what it may sound like while I'm fighting... I'm not going to backstab you."
Enrique smiles a mysterious, reassuring smile. "I have a certain condition that I can describe to you later, if you want me to."
It was as if the horrible thing were reading his mind! And now it wanted to show Humbert its necrotic rash (for all that's all Humbert could think of at the time)! The horror was enough to make a man of lesser constitution swoon and just then Humbert nearly did.
"T-that's f-fine." Says Humbert. Must be strong. They can probably smell fear.
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 full-plate armor.
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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.
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Atronia smirks when she sees the exhibit, but quickly realizes something is amiss. Not daring to look back, she asks her question to no one in particular, keeping her eyes fixed on the suit of armor. "Can anyone tell me what's going on here? And should I worry about that armor? Or something else hiding nearby?"
As Atronia looks around the room a red fringed banner begins moving towards the group in a threatening manner...
COMBAT 1st RND
Makon, Grubglub, Enrique, Atronia
Banner
Iovarl, Humbert
the barbarian is ever ready and once the banner starts to move Mako is quick to act on his feet followed by the gripplis and the inquisitive skald...meanwhile Iovarl and Humbert are still busy looking at the sights of the museum to notice a fight has started.