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A blue and green carriage with gold trim pulls up in front of the Blakros Museum. The driver swiftly steps down and opens the door, then announces, "Presenting the Emissary of Taldor, Redeemer of Sodded Lands, Savior of House Yagevna, Ally of House Thrune, Rescuer of the Minotaur Prince, Friend to House Blakros, General of the Army of Exploration, Defender of Katheer, and Hero of Magnimar..." The short driver turns and whispers into the carriage, "Did I miss anything?" He then nods and continues his declaration, "I present to you, Lord Ras'ka la Vas'ka, first of his name."
As the little man bows, Lord Ras'ka steps from the carriage. He is a taller man with stereotypical Taldan features, bedecked from head to toe in red and gold fabrics with dozens of sparkling gemstones. "Oh, Harold, you didn't have to go on and on that way. These are our close associates. Of COURSE they know who I am, even if I'm not entirely familiar with them." Following him out of the carriage is an attractive Chelish woman wearing a slim black floor-length dress which sparkles in the light. "Oh, and this is Elixia, my companion. Kreighton Shaine, pleasure to see you again. Please refresh my memory as to the rest of my new companions."
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Most consider Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine a peculiar figure within the Pathfinder Society. However, ever since the death of Aram Zey, Shaine’s demeanor and eccentricities have been subdued as he threw himself into a seemingly fruitless investigation of the Aspis Consortium agents that attacked Skyreach and murdered the Society’s Master of Spells. Kreighton has enlisted the help of several Pathfinders to follow up on a handful of leads relating to Zey’s death. To drive home the importance of this investigation, Kreighton has personally escorted you through Absalom from the Grand Lodge to the grim spires of the Blakros Museum. There, Shaine holds out a folded missive before reaching the doors.
“This is a letter of writ indicating that you operate under the direct order of the Decemvirate. It does not compel assistance, but anyone within Absalom will think long and hard before refuse to cooperate. I have reason to believe that an artifact—a magical lantern—played a pivotal role in stealing Aram Zey’s soul after his murder. The curator of the Blakros Museum, Nigel Aldain, informed me that the building once housed such a relic. However, Nigel claims the lantern is now missing from the collection. He has agreed to open the museum’s doors to the Pathfinder Society and cooperate with this investigation.”
Shaine quietly looks over each person assembled with a weary stare and turned-down lips. “Search the museum for clues regarding the lantern. If there is a connection between this relic’s disappearance and Zey’s murder, continue to follow any leads you find until you have exhausted all possible avenues of research, then report back with your findings. Precious days have passed since I began my investigation, and every additional day gives the culprit more time to hide; research rarely happens quickly, yet I cannot remind you enough that time is of the essence. The soul of someone I consider a dear friend hangs in the balance.” Kreighton takes in a deep breath then exhales slowly, trying to regain his composure. “I wish you luck, Pathfinders. Do you have any questions before I depart?”
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A tower of metal and scales stands beside Kreighton Shaine. Tall even by the standards of his large race, at seven feet Silas Proth stands head and shoulders above most humans and elves. Metal armor encases him from the neck down, and his serpentine head is covered in green scales. An iron holy symbol dangles at his chest, bearing the sword-and-sunburst of Iomedae. At his belt is a gleaming sword, its mithral hilt and jeweled pommel a contrast to the perfectly ordinary sheath it rests in.
says a metallic voice as Lord Ras'ka steps out.
"No," Silas responds, "but maybe we should have. He looks pretty important."
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Another Taldan, this one with brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, enters as his own adventuring gear transforms into a noble's outfit as well.
He is attended by a well-dressed, slight young man who moves to speak until the Taldan silences him with a gesture.
It's alright, Miguel. I'll handle my own introduction today.
He extends a hand in greeting to his fellow nobleman.
Lord Ras'ka, it is nice to put a face to the name. Lord Rolando Pascal, at your service. The singer bows, smiling, then offers his hand to Kreighton Shaine after listening to his briefing.
It is nice to see you again Master Shaine, though our circumstances are only slightly improved. I give you my word we will not tire in our efforts until we find something of value to your search. I've never been to Blakros, personally, but I recall hearing that they keep a detailed record of all relics contained therein. We should start there. Rolando says, solemnly and sincerely, before resuming his smile and clapping Silas heartily on the back.
You look like a warrior from the epics! I almost feel sorry for any foes we may encounter!
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That tall one speaks to itself, and in two voices... must be daft. Well, at least I can keep all that armor and muscle between myself and anything unpleasant. Lord Ras'ka steps past Silas with no more than a glance and a slight shiver.
"My dear Lord Rolando. It is wonderful to finally meet you in person. Your singing voice is legend. Perhaps when this is all over we can discuss a special performance in my theatre, here in Absalom." Ras'ka shakes Rolando's hand gently, lingering perhaps a second too long.
"I like your plan to start with their records. Dull, but perhaps we can hire a scribe or seven. Hrm... I wonder..."
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the metallic voice quips.
Silas laughs. "Oh hush, Gamin. Silas Proth's the name," he says to Rolando. "And it isn't me they should be afraid of-- it's the light of the Lady Iomedae that drives me!"
"Aroden's eyebrows! I thought that was a helmet. Is that... I mean—your face is—I don't know that I've ever seen a creature of your ilk before. What... are you?" Lord Ras'ka peers at Silas as if examining a bizarre painting.
"You mentioned the light of Iomedae, yet you have no radiance. Are you a crusader? Did this happen to you in the Worldwound? Yes, a curse. It must be a curse."
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"Well, I'm a nagaji, of course. A nagaji who's never been to the Worldwound. And no, I didn't mean a regular light. I mean the light that's in every single one of us. Just like it says in Act Seven, line 156: 'From whence the light shone, whether Star or Lady, they could not ascertain.' And let me tell you, where the light of Iomedae shines, darkness is powerless."
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"So you're supposed to look like that? Do your people also speak with two voices? As far as inner light, I don't know how effective it will be against true darkness. It seems that if you wish to banish the darkness, you need some actual light. Lord Rolando, wouldn't you agree?"
Lord Ras'ka turns to Elixia, "It's time to give this—", he glances back at Silas, "—Nagaji was it? Yes, it's time to give him a bit of a make-over. Please fetch me that pouch. You know the one."
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A dwarf in fine armor enters the room. He nods to the Master of Scrolls. "Master Shaine."
He glances at the others, his eyes drawn to Rolando and he smiles. "Pascal, you rogue! Good to see you again!" He laughs. "No zombies, time, ok?" He nods to Miguel and shakes the herald's hand.
The dwarf then takes stock of the tall nagaji. "Whoa. You're a big one." He squints to see the Silas' face. "Wait, big green one. Did you ever go into some weird temple inside the Hao Jin Tapestry? Some place with lots of weird traps to kill you. An academic friend of mine told me he was in there with a big green holy warrior. Fought some damned demon creature. Was that you?"
"Oh, sorry. I'm Torean from the Five Mountains. I'm one of Torag's Hammers. Ambrus told me about this excursion into the Blakros Mansion. He thought my unique skills would be needed to protect the rest of you."
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"So you're supposed to look like that? Do your people also speak with two voices? As far as inner light, I don't know how effective it will be against true darkness. It seems that if you wish to banish the darkness, you need some actual light. Lord Rolando, wouldn't you agree?"
He glances at the others, his eyes drawn to Rolando and he smiles. "Pascal, you rogue! Good to see you again!" He laughs. "No zombies, time, ok?" He nods to Miguel and shakes the herald's hand.
The dwarf then takes stock of the tall nagaji. "Whoa. You're a big one." He squints to see the Silas' face. "Wait, big green one. Did you ever go into some weird temple inside the Hao Jin Tapestry? Some place with lots of weird traps to kill you. An academic friend of mine told me he was in there with a big green holy warrior. Fought some damned demon creature. Was that you?"
Rolando hugs the dwarf in earnest, and puts a hand around his shoulder as he turns to Lord Ras'ka.
True, real light can serve us well in dark places, vastly more so than the metaphorical. Still, Torean and I have...seen much that defies explanation. When it's lost souls we seek and the dead start rising, I won't say no to any divine protection.
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Silas stares blankly. "Two voices?"
"Oh." That sounded a little insulting. If only he didn't use such big words. "No, that's just--"
Silas is interrupted by Torean's recognition, and he turns to the dwarf. "The cult in the temple. Yes, I was there. Someday I'll find that demon again and kill him for good, I still kick myself for letting him get away."
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"If you do, tell the Professor. He won't shut up about the 'religious implications' of that demon. Bloody man thought I would want to read his 80 page paper on Korada and Sifkesh. A lot of academic nonsense."
Torean glances at Lord Ras'ka. "What are you so excited about? Practically bouncing off the wall over there. If you're coming with us, Lord, you might want to contain some of the enthusiasm. I've heard of this Blakros place. Dangerous things everywhere."
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"Yes, dangers indeed. The Blakros tend to attract... well, formidable adversaries. Some of those adversaries detest the light, so we shall bring plenty. Ah, thank you Elixia." The woman in the black dress hands Lord Ras'ka a small velvet pouch.
"Now, Silas is it? May I see your sword please? A proper demon slayer should have a proper sword."
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"Master Dwarf, you bring up a good point. There have been many conflicts inside the museum, one of which I was present for. The lantern could have gone missing then, though I hate to suspect a fellow Pathfinder—Wait! Nigel used to be a Pathfinder, though he now has only ire and scorn for us now. It is possible that he had some hand in this, either directly or indirectly. We should be cautious. I have had positive contact with him in the past, during Michellia's wedding in fact. Perhaps he'll remember me and show us some good will."
"Master Shaine, I apologize for not getting to the point. I know you are a busy man, even for an elf. I did have a few questions:
What do we know about this lantern?
Do we have any leads at all about the culprit?
Nigel has not been friendly with the Society, of late. Any advice for how to approach him?"
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“After Aram’s death, several specialists and I conducted a multitude of divinations at the site of his murder. While many results were inconclusive, we did discern that a female Aspis agent bearing a magical lantern absconded with a vital piece of Aram Zey—we speculate that it was his soul, preventing him from being resurrected. Beyond this, we know little. I inquired with Nigel regarding magical lanterns, and he volunteered information about the museum’s former possession. I have not had the opportunity to speak with Nigel regarding the lantern he once possessed. That responsibility now falls on you, as I must oversee other administrative tasks pertaining to the inquiry.” He pauses before admitting, “As well as my other duties, which I have neglected too long.”"
Kreighton Shaine sighs and adds, "As for Nigel, be careful about who you trust. Anyone might have facilitated the infiltration of Skyreach—even someone within our own organization. Use Nigel as a resource, but be a critical recipient of all knowledge he offers."
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"It still amazes me that you can speak in those two voices... I've seen a performer in the God's Market do just that thing with a little wooden man. Enchanting.
Now, lets give you a proper demon-slaying weapon. Silas, please hold out your sword."
Lord Ras'ka reaches into the small velvet pouch and scoops up a handful of sparkling red sand.
"Whenever you are ready..."
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Silas laughs. "That's not me-- Lady Iomedae gives each of us our talents, but I can't do anything like that. That's just Gamin."
Silas slides his jeweled sword from its sheath. The gleaming mithral blade reflects the sunlight like a silver flame; an entire weapon made of the shimmering metal. Marring its surface is a jagged crack that runs the length of the blade, hastily mended with a thin line of solder that, to all appearances, won't hold longer than a day. "He talks a lot, but he's stronger than he looks."
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A broad shouldered half-orc who stands at 6'7 and has plenty of tatoos on him enters the room, kicking the door open with no great care. He is wearing a brand new breastplate with a mendevian flag on it. He has a Falchion at his side that has a special aura to it.
The man bears no sign of his belonging to the society nor to any faction, aside from one tattoo who looks like metallic wings burning, covering his muscular right arm.
Looking at the persons in the room, he yells [bigger]"YEAH, I KIND O' LOST ME WAY IN DA TOWN! BUT I'M HERE NOW, MASTER SHAYNE. SHAMAK REPORTING FO' DUTY!"
Shamak looks like he just woke with a really bad hangover and his breath stinks of a interesting mix of mead and beer.
He indeed looks pretty lost and shakes his head as he wrinkles his eyes, trying to figure out actually where he is.
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Lord Ras'ka clears his throat, then holds the velvet bag and handful of sparkling red sand up into the air. "Gods, hear my call! I ask you to grant this mighty crusader, slayer of demons, and champion of light your most powerful boon! Give him the power to smite the darkness, to rend his foes, and to burn away the intolerable corruption of this meager world."
Lord Ras'ka sprinkles the red dust on the sword, which glows with an intense light. He then begins to wave his hands about, making intricate gestures with his fingers.
"From whence the light shone, whether Sword or Snake, they could not ascertain. But the light did cast out the darkness, and the people were SAVED!"
Lord Ras'ka ends with a flourish, spreading the remaining red dust onto Gamin. As the intense light calms to a constantly burning silver fire, he casts the velvet pouch away and ends his display with a pose.
Elixia casually picks up the velvet bag off the ground while Lord Ras'ka simply poses.
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Kreighton Shaine clears his throat and says, "I will be off, then. Nigel is waiting for you all in the museum."
The museum is closed to the public for the investigation, leaving the entrance hall uneasily quiet. The curator Nigel Aldain waits anxiously in the middle of the foyer with his hands clasped behind his back, pacing across the tile floor in the shadow of a looming bronze statue.
He offers a practiced smile. “Such a pleasure to see my former comrades-in-arms on this somber day. I mourn the passing of a—ah—charismatic man such as the Master of Spells. An exceedingly tragic loss, that.”
Adjusting his spectacles, Nigel motions for you to follow him deeper into the museum. “When I heard about the relic that may have snatched Master Zey’s spirit from the ether, I suspected it could have originated from the personal holdings of the museum’s first owner—a mad old wizard who saw fit to vanish without a trace centuries ago.” Nigel escorts you from the foyer of the Absalom Gallery, through a pair of double doors, and into a grand display of historical relics from Taldor and Osirion. “The building’s purchase included a sizeable collection, much of which we have kept locked up under tight security due to its unusual and often dangerous nature.”
Rather than proceed to another room, Nigel stops before a bare stone wall, and with a deft touch of several mosaic tiles, he opens a concealed door leading into a freight elevator operated by a series of chains and pulleys. Gesturing toward it, he offers words of cold comfort. “The Collection Esoterica contains several unusual objects of little historical import, but curious magical properties. Only I and select members of the Blakros family even know about this collection. To have an item go missing seems... well, rather unthinkable, wouldn’t you say?”
The lift grinds into action, descending slowly into the subbasement.
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Before entering the museum, Lord Ras'ka casts enhanced diplomacy on himself and anyone else who intends to speak (Lord Rolando? Silas?).
As they enter the lobby of the Blakros museum, Harold starts to make a proclamation, but is immediately cut off by Lord Ras'ka, "That's ok, Harold. Nigel is a close friend of the Society and we are already acquainted. You can wait by the carriage... and maybe take the loud one with you, hrm?"
Lord Ras'ka saunters up to the bronze statue and gives it an appraising look, then turns to Nigel. "Pleasure to see you again, friend. How is the misses?"
"This Collection Esoterica sounds most intriguing, and it does seem unlikely that someone might accidentally discover it. 'Unthinkable' though? Come now, Nigel. There have been an overwhelming number curious events that have occurred on these grounds over the past several years alone. I was even unlucky enough to participate in one of them. Saving the girls from a certain Onyx Alliance? Surely, we've seen that the security here is less than perfect, as is all security. Wouldn't you say that it's possible someone discovered your little collection and thought to borrow one or more of the relics?"
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Torean glances up inside the elevator, then turns back to Nigel. "Aren't you coming with us? As one of the only persons who's been in here, it would be a great help. Are there any items in particular that are really dangerous, as in 'Don't touch them or they'll melt your face off'?"
"What if a member of the Blakros family took the lantern? Are any of them close with the Aspis?"
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Nigel looks curiously at Torean as he stands in the lift with the rest of the party. "I am, of course, happy to escort you to the collection but I expect you will be doing the bulk of the research yourself. The collection is one of the largest collections of occult ephemera in the entire Inner Sea region. Most of the objects are just curiosities with no real magical properties. A handful of them are more than what they appear, though defy simple categorization. They are... elusive in nature, hard to precisely divine the power they hold. A handful of objects came from the personal collection of Ralzeros the Overwatched himself."
As for the ongoing security issues, we have been working on that. There have been several unfortunate altercations here due to the value of the possessions I curate. The most recent involved a regretful encounter with Numeria’s Technic League that I would much rather not discuss in detail. Though, I will admit I am grateful for your organization’s assistance there.” Nigel scoffs. “The locals always said this place was cursed. Wouldn’t listen,
though,” he concludes wryly. “I swore off jumping at superstitions the same day I turned in my wayfinder.”
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Nigel looks curiously at Torean as he stands in the lift with the rest of the party. "I am, of course, happy to escort you to the collection but I expect you will be doing the bulk of the research yourself. The collection is one of the largest collections of occult ephemera in the entire Inner Sea region. Most of the objects are just curiosities with no real magical properties. A handful of them are more than what they appear, though defy simple categorization. They are... elusive in nature, hard to precisely divine the power they hold. A handful of objects came from the personal collection of Ralzeros the Overwatched himself."
Of course we will, Rolando nods agreeably. We just need you to take us to where you keep your records of your artifacts. Thank you for your assistance.
The singer says it politely but directly, purposefully not asking for permission.
[dice=Diplomacy, +3 additional if he is "noble", "aristocratic", or a politician] 1d20 + 12 [/dice]
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The sword seems to shudder with happiness in Silas's hand.
Silas waves the now-flaming sword a few times. It gives off no heat, so he expects the flames would be ineffective as real fire. Still, more light is never a bad thing, and Silas's serpentine eyes perform poorly in total darkness. "That'll come in real handy, thank you. Gamin, now you and I can really light the way!"
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"Well I don't know about cursed, exactly. But with items like these, a lot of times you'll find demonic influences. I'd be happy to help there." Once they reach the bottom, Silas closes his eyes and mutters a short prayer. "The Inheritor's light dispels all shadows."
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The freight elevator comes to a stop in a musty basement with walls of pitch-black stone. Beyond the lift’s sliding doors lies a cluttered archive stacked floor to ceiling with wooden crates, chests of documents, and other containers. The walls contain shelves that are cut into the stone walls, laden with bizarre trinkets and relics from across the world.
“Here we are,” Nigel proclaims, stepping off the elevator. “The oddities and archives belonging to the Collection Esoterica. I ask that you not disturb any of the relics in the crates, but you are free to peruse any documents. If you find anything, come let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be working on more pressing matters upstairs.”
Each research challenge is like an encounter and has two key statistics: a Complexity rating, which reflects the level of complexity of the information being searched, and knowledge points (kp), which are an abstract representation of the amount of information a given collection contains. A research challenge’s Complexity rating acts as the DC for a Research check to unravel that library’s clues. A Research check is akin to a Knowledge skill check, though many research challenges note additional skills a PC can use for that collection.
Attempting a Research check requires an uninterrupted 8-hour period of research, and a character cannot take 10 or take 20 on a Research check. Each 8-hour period of research grants a cumulative +1 bonus on Research checks in that collection. Up to two additional characters can use the aid another action to assist a primary researcher. In addition, some libraries grant a Knowledge bonus—a bonus on specific Knowledge checks (including Research checks) made within that library—due to the depth and completeness of its collections. Research checks cannot be made untrained unless the skill could normally be used untrained.
Succeeding at a Research check reduces a research challenge’s knowledge points, similar to dealing damage to a creature’s hit points. The damage dealt by the primary researcher varies based on her training in the skill she used for the Research check. A primary researcher reduces a collection’s kp by 1d12 + her Intelligence modifier if she has either the Skill Focus feat in the skill or has both 5 ranks in the skill and treats the skill as a class skill. Reduce this to 1d8 + her Intelligence modifier if she has either 5 ranks in the skill or treats the skill as a class skill (but not both). Otherwise, she reduces the collection’s kp by 1d4 + her Intelligence modifier. For every 5 by which a Research check exceeds the collection’s Complexity rating, the primary researcher decreases the kp total by 1 additional point. Rolling a natural 20 on a Research check acts like a critical threat, doubling the kp reduction if a second Research check with the same modifiers (taking no additional time) succeeds. Conversely, rolling a natural 1 on a Research check automatically results in failure, and the collection’s kp increases by 1/4 its maximum knowledge point total as the collection’s complexity causes a researcher to follow a wrong avenue of research.
As the knowledge points are decreased to various “trigger points,” the PCs uncover the collection’s corresponding secrets. By the time a collection’s kp total is reduced to 0, the PCs have learned all that they can from that library. In order to learn more, they must visit another collection and continue their research there.
Skill Focus OR Class Skill + 5 ranks – 1d12+INT
5 ranks OR Class Skill – 1d8+Int
Base – 1d4+Int
Exceed DC by 5 - +1 for every 5
Nat 20 – Critical Threat, roll to confirm to double KP reduction
Nat 1 – Critical fail, increases KP by ¼ maximum
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"WHAT?!? OL' ZEY IS DEAD? NO ONE TELLS NEVER SHAMAK ANYTHING! NEVER! COME ON! OL' ZEY WAS PRETTY TOUGH. FOR A WIZARD."
The half-orc truly seems to grieve the death of one of his former master.
"I WAS OFF TO MAGNIMAR THIS WHOLE TIME!" he eventually says, as an apology.
Later when Nigel shows the collection, the half-orc sighs heavily and asks boldly. "NO BIG WEAPONS I GUESS?"
After Nigel's speech, he'll think back about his previous adventures and recalls one in this very own museum. "BAH! THE TECHNIC LEAGUE! COWARDS WITH STRANGE CROSSBOWS! WHAT WAS IT ABOUT? THE MATTER WE CAME TO SOLVE? TELL US!" Shamak comes closer to Nigel so that he can feel his strong and disgusting breath.
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"Nigel, my dear friend. I don't suppose it would be ok to get some interns to come in and help us with this mess? They'd be under constant supervision."
"Meanwhile, who feels comfortable leading this research? I find novels more interesting that almanacs, unless it's a Chronicle featuring myself, of course." Lord Ras'ka lets out a pompous titter.