A Pathfinder Society Special designed for levels 1-11.
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.
The Solstice Scar is a multi-table interactive adventure in which each group's actions can affect neighboring groups and contribute to the entire room's success. This is an ongoing adventure that will be updated and rereleased incrementally several times each season, collectively telling a longer story while also presenting exciting stand-alone chapters.
Written by Andrew Hoskins.
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As if summoned by the word 'Drab', Samildanach makes his way to his seat in the Grand lodge main halll, looking at the brief instructions thrown his way before his Captain abandoned him to hang out with the higher ups. Spotting the bright mess that is Prisim, the half orc sighs slightly.
Dressed in a ceremonial sea-stained grey robe and a long, fashionably cut, but still grey leather coat, he smiles to his neighbours to reveal pronounced tusks which betray his heritage along with his gray-green skin. Being in the Lodge, he does not wear his usual armour, but does have his worn leather boots and wooden Leaf holy symbol around his neck. His Black hair is combed back and his usual war-paint is missing.
"Evenin', the name is Samildanach, Quartermaster aboard the Archon's Shadow. Last time I went to the Blakros, living masks tried to eat me, hope this goes smoother!"
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A handsome halfling with tussled, curly hair wearing a cloak wrapped around a shirt of glittering mail walks into the room. "Greetings fellow agents." He turns suddenly at hearing a familiar voice. "Prisim! It is good to see you again!" He wanders over and smiles with a flourish. "Garrett Goodleaf at your disposal-Well, not disposal-but I am here to assist in any way I can!"
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"Hi. I'm Urktar. This is Bert." A very large, homely Half-Orc holds his cold iron greatsword up, clearly indicating it is Bert.
"I'm da brawn, Bert's da brains."
The Half-orc is sporting a chain shirt, and seems to have almost a halo of hilts and hafts sticking out around his hips, shoulders, etc.
"Bert said there might be some really cool stuff from the Shining Crusade..." Urktar's voice trails off as his attention is diverted by the nearest big weapon on display, and he seems completely unaware of anything else. A small dollop of drool pools at the corner of his mouth. "Sooo Shiny..."
He presses his face up against the display case, and when he finally moves on to the next cool weapon on display, he leaves behind a giant greasy smear.
"Now, Bert, don't be like that. You're the only greatsword for me....you know that!"
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"Well met all." Samildanach greets the new arrivals before taking to wander around the exhibit slowly to see what they have access too. "Anyone been to a Torchbearing thing before? Only been around about a year mi'self, so missed em."
Stepping back to avoid the drool of his kinsman, Samildanach shakes his head slightly, this might be a handful, but the conversation from most would be a pleasant way to pass the time.
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"I owe me fealty to The King o' the Storms, Gozreh." Samildanach answers good naturedly as he examines a particularly fine breastplate wrought from Mithral. "What about ye lass? To whom do ye pray? If you're of the praying sought?"
His question is pirely inquisitive and it is clear the Priest means to cause no offense.
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"What's that, Bert?" Urktar tilts his head to listen more intently to his sword. "You're right. Better not tell da pretty little gnome about what we did to that Blackrose place. And yes, I did buy more alchemist's fire...See?" He holds up one of the two bandoleers crisscrossing his chest to show his sword; there are a lot of flasks dangling from them. Some look like they contain water, others contain...murkier substances.
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For someone so large and burly, he keeps silence around him as a veil.
Admiring the paintings of those whose skill he could only aspire but not come close too. The scuptures and art done by others despite some of their more dubious orgins, nevertheless he admires them.
Standing close to 7ft tall, the hooded figure slowly persues the gallery, his occasionally scared hand reaching out to scratch his chin thoughtfully.
Looking up as he notices what sees to be a half orc talking to his sword and the others chatting and swapping tales, he slowly notes each of them as he realises that these are likely his new travelling companions............
He smiles. Aye. These companions look dependable enough.
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.
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A young dwarf mingles with your group of experienced pathfinders. His shortbow across his back matches his mithral chain shirt in quality, true dwarven craftsmanship.
"The ancestors' greetings upon you friends. The three masters should be pleased with the Torchbearing this year. I was always fond of Janira's sit ins for Master Shaine... a break from spellcasting to focus on the art of story telling was always a welcome reprieve."
The dwarf looks withdrawn a moment before snapping back to the group. "What lessons have you all learned in your time here at the Grand Lodge?"
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"Haha! I enjoyed that class too my bright haired friend!" Samildanach chortles, remembering the Master of Sword's strained face as he tried to explain the nuances of subtlety to a bunch of dwarves. Samildanach thought hard on the lessons learned and friendships acquired in this years grand ceremony, distracted for a moment by the memories. It was good to know that it wasn't all rough fights in the society and that the Camaraderie he had experienced in his quests so far travelled freely.
"I guess from the last four days... Was Master Shaine's masterclass on reading the tells of non-human races. Like how a Kitsune's tail twitches almost imperceptibly before a lie? Or a Grippli bounces oddly when they feel threatened?"
Prisim's telling of her class is well received and nods of agreement are seen.
Samildanach's story makes the Kitsune and Grippli that overhear a little uncomfortable..
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"I could listen to pretty Ollysta talk about not damaging too many ladders foreve--What's that, Bert?" Urktar cocks an ear and the tip of his tongue sticks out in concentration as he intently listens. "Oh yeah, she said we were suppose to min-nim-eyes cull-ladder-all damage. It's like she was talking to me the whole time! Stared at me the entire talk. And not with them soft googly eyes, neither. She was staring at me hard and angry, just like me mum used to, though it wasn't quite as scary without the green pock-marked skin." Urktar lets out a contented sigh before continuing. "Ollysta said it's sometimes good to try and talk your way out of a violence, and even a well-timed snarl could mean not having to hurt someone."
"Then she told me it'd be good if I came here and paid my respects, and 'try not to trash the place.' I told her I'd try, but y'know sometimes Bert has a mind of his own when it comes to smashin' things..."
Urktar trails off as the oddly bouncing Grippli nearby attract his eyes, making his palms itch for the familiar feel of a weapon. He shakes it off and offers his nearby companions his most winning smile. It is rather unsettling for a smile.
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Stepping out from his own day dreaming, Seiran grins and begins his own tale.
"I was one of those whom Ollysta deemed needing a more literal education and often sent me to Master Shaine for copying detail. There I found the good master was more then ready to answer my questions and further improve my hand writing though it was more that I learnt a great variety of manner of speech and conduct. Most importantly, I discovered Magic and my heritage." He chuckles as he remembers toiling with quill in hand and being splattered with the inkwell contents, upon an accident discovering his claws.....
"Janira discovered that I had a passable voice and though I learnt to school my features into a war like expression by Ollysta, Janira taught me that music could be an alternate and called me a potential singer." he shakes his head recalling that.
Urktar's story draws some laughter...
Seiran's story is well received as well..
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Prisim eyes up the ladder destroying half orc with a degree of concern.
"Well... I have to admit I find human ladders a bit too tall to get up.."
One quick glance is easy to see why. Prisim may seem to take up a lot of space with her personality. But she is small. Tiny almost. But very colourful.
"Would you like your skin made greenier Urktar? I mean I'm not sure it is your colour, but I could do it if you liked. I think a nice orange or flaming red might look better on you though."
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"I find Janira's quick tongue and skill in storytelling to be my favorite." Garrett pipes in, casting an odd looking at the strange half-orc that talks to...someone or something... called Bert, before looking at the other half-orc. "A singer, eh? Perhaps we could try a duet sometime, goodsir. I am a natural at the lute after all. I've find I do not have much skill when it comes to singing. I allow my fingers to do the work while my tongue wages war with my quick wit and words. Am I right, Prisim." He gives her a quick wink.
"As for Farabellus' classroom, I can concur with his teachings that strength is not the end all, be all of fighting. Why I once saw this rail-thin elven beauty dancing around a fight with a spear and you would not believe the things she could do with it! You'd think that weapon was an extension of her body."
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"Maybe flame-colored highlights burning up the side of my head? That'd be cool. Just make sure it really clashes with my skin tone. Gotta have he right contrast." He looks Prisim over a bit more carefully, then adds. "If it ever gets really bad, Bert and I will be happy to carry you to safety. Don't think you'd slow us down at all..."
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"Im afraid I never have had to try out singing despite what Janira might say." Seiran responds in good jest towards Garret though he eyes Urktar and tries his best to sport Bert. Whoever Bert was.....
Perhaps this Urktar was a wizard of sorts and he had a familar like what Master Shaine would have described?
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It is strange to see so many of us greenskins in one place, though Bert does somewhat reveal the stereotype Samildanach ponders as he laughs along with the dirty minded Gnome. It would be a grand meal with the company here and he looked forward to relaxing for a change.
Grand stories all, though I am not sure yours should be taken so literal Urk..." Samildanach replies as they wait for the dinner to begin. "So, anyone know much about the Crusade? Not much of a follower myself."
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Garrett grins at Prisim's flirtatious response. "Perhaps after our meal we could enjoy a leisurely stroll just the two of us." However, the rather rude half-elf interjects her derisive comment. "I'll have you know, young lady that I have been on several missions for the Society and always returned victorious and with all my companions alive and well." He winks.
"As for the Crusade, I have not participated in much of the World Wound investigation; however, i had the joy of assisting with a profound mission that involved the Sapphire Sage and locating others like him..."
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Reluctant to reveal anything of her history Devonalia stays silent until near the end of the tellings. "Usually these Society missions involve lots of talking and then a fight or two. And there is always a rush on the job so folks like me, with certain skills the local cools dont appreciate much, never really get to exercise or talents or test them to the fullest. Well there was this one time the Society sent me with some others to go rescue some dwarven diplomats. We had to travel to Razmiran held lands, and trust me those Razmirans are no fun. Anywho while the brawny folks wanted to bash everyones head in and the silver tongued members wanted to parlay with everyone I had the brainy idea of sneaking around first and then doing option 1 or 2 after a bit of intelligence gathering. These things right here made that mission go by quicker and safer. Instead of busting up every door and alerting all to our presence I managed to use these simple tools to unlock every locked door without fail... and most on the first attempt. I will admit I learnt most of that skill through the Society and not on the streets."
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"Ohh... I love playing with smart little devices." gushes Prisim.
"I make little clockwork traps at home all the time. They are So Cute!"
She tries to put a serious look on her face for a moment. "Although the neighbours cat doesn't agree. But she looks cute with no tail too."
She grins at the table half full of half orcs.
"Green isn't usually my colour, but I could make myself look green too. And then we would be like 2/3 orcs! "
She gives Garrett a good natured dig in the ribs. "After the amount you have been putting away tonight I still I'll need to get rolled home rather than stroll. I don't think I could eat another bite."
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Seiran guffaws at the byplay between Prisim and Garret. It seems like these two has hit it on great form the start which may prove favorable.
"Compared to all of you, I'm a lightweight! Besides a self deluded prince, spirit school and Mists, I must say that I don't have a lot I could share with you though I heard that Ladies of Furious components are not to be messed with." he grins.
"Also as you can see, green isn't exactly my color." he indicates his own strangely colored skin, more grey then green.
The party starts to relax together as they get to know one another...
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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.”
