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Feeling morose and useless after his mostly ineffectual fight with the cleric of Lamashtu, Ebon spends some time shopping around for a composite longbow and some arrows.
I won't be hindered by my opponents ability to fly next time! Nor have to worry about running thru that horrid fear effect. I must still use my sword or Earthbreaker when I can though, don't want to offend my patron.
With a grim smile Ebon unwraps his newest acquisition, and runs his hands over its oiled and smooth surface. He grips it and draws back the string, smiling at the stiffness and strength required to pull it.
" Ha! Gorum, Milord you can't be too offended. Look at the strength someone must have to pull it!"
Looking around, he wonders where his friends are, and what their next big adventure might bring....
A hot and humid summer storm rolled in over Absalom's shores this morning, and the weather has been unbearable since. Not even the short bursts of rain bring relief from the mugginess that leaves your clothes sticking to your bodies and your gear on the verge of malfunction. To make matters worse, in the late afternoon you were summoned to the Grand Lodge by a typically curt message from Venture-Captain Adril Hestram.
There's trouble at the Blakros Museum again. Get your asses over here. –A.H.
The more superstitious of you may have begun to wonder if the weather was merely a portent of horrible things to come...
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"Right. Good to see you," the bear of a man greets you brusquely, gesturing vaguely to the wicker chairs in his office. Hestram seems to be suffering under his large girth in this weather, rather fitfully attempting to fan himself with a small wad of papers. "You lot solved the problems they were having last time, so I figured you'd have the best shot of getting this wrapped up in a snap."
"Nigel Aldain, the museum's curator—if I recall from your debrief, he was strapped naked to a ziggurat last time—" Hestram chuckles to himself, "came to me this morning asking for help. Apparently, a wayward daughter of his illustrious patrons, the powerful Blakros family, has disappeared, along with a few of the museum's watchmen who went looking for her. Not great job security at that place, is there?"
"Now, Nigel's not dumb, and he knows his head's gonna roll if he can't find the girl before his bosses find out. So he came to us. We helped him before, after all. And, truth be told, he is an old friend and a fellow Pathfinder, but this kind of missing person case isn't really our bailiwick. Normally I'd tell him to shove off and get the district guard onto it. The Society's got better things to do than to babysit Blakros kids getting into trouble."
Hestram finally gives up on the stack of papers and chucks them unceremoniously onto the desk with a grunt. "Buuut you know, like I said, Nigel's not dumb. He made me an offer too good to pass up." The burly man's eyes shine with glee as he continues. "Not only will he allow the Society access to the Blakros Museum's extensive and very private library, but apparently this same missing daughter just returned to Absalom with a pack full of ancient relics collected throughout Osirion and northern Garund. Bring back the girl, and the Society gets first pick of any of those pieces that catches our fancy. I don't need to tell you what those kinds of things might be worth," Hestram jabs one of his meaty index fingers in your direction, "so it looks like you're heading to the Blakros Museum tonight."
Pausing a moment in his briefing, Hestram shuffles through his drawer and pulls out a dog-eared scrap of paper from within. "Ah, here we are. The girl you're looking for is named Imrizade Blakros. Half Osiriani, apparently, and a pretty successful adventure and fortune-hunter by all accounts." He passes the paper over to the group. On it is scrawled a brief description of the girl: long dark hair, light brown skin, light hazel eyes, lithe build. "She just arrived in Absalom out of the blue a few days ago after a couple of years' worth of tomb-raiding in the Osirian deserts," Hestram continues, "carrying this odd metal cylinder covered in hieroglyphs. Nigel said he'd never seen anything like it."
"Apparently she went straight to the basement of the museum to do some research in the family's library, muttering something about 'whispers in the dark' and 'old tapestries', or something. He didn't hear from her for a couple of days, which is apparently not that unusual for someone deep into their research in the archives," Hestram shrugs, "but he got worried when strange noises started coming up from the basement. He sent a watchman down there to investigate, and when he didn't return, Nigel sent a few more. That was last night, and they haven't come back up either."
"So! That's the story. Go to the museum and find out what happened to Imrizade Blakros and the watchmen. Nigel would prefer them alive, of course, especially the Blakros woman—but the Society's much more interested in what she brought back with her. I've got a hunch it wasn't just grave goods and pretty jewellery." Hestram grins toothily, almost hungrily. "Whatever she found, the Society wants it, or at the very least some information about it. So hop to it, folks!"
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Before heading to the museum, you may wish to briefly investigate the Museum or the Blakros family...
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Norine is happy to sail back from the mainland to Absalom with - to her great relief - all of her mates, crewing the ship for free just for the privilege of being on the sea again. That was an ... interesting ... journey, indeed! She was especially glad that she was awake at night, as usual for her love of the night shifts (better to see the stars), thus and only dreaming during the bright day.
Meeting up with the big Shoanti, Norine smiles and nods knowingly at his bow and displays her - quite small in comparison - new darkwood crossbow and array of bolt types. "When I have more coin, I have heard of a blanch for the bodiless, ghostly undead... Still, you and Gorum will be glad to know the tip of each has a heart of cold iron."
Norine relates what she knows about the Blakros Museum, new since their last trip, and about the Blakroses themselves, including many whispers from the dockside taverns and dives where she ministers the luck of Desna to travelers from near and far. Still, listening to V-C Hestram's briefing, she hadn't expected for the territory she was returning to in Absalom to be quite this familiar!
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Tod considers things pretty solemnly. He remembers getting whisked away by magic just after clearing out the cult of Lamashtu (or was it Urgathoa?) Probably just as well. It didn't hurt to have a far-off assignment to take his mind off things. A quick trip to Oppara had just about done the trick. But now he was back in Absalom and here THEY were again. Some of the very best Pathfinders he'd worked with, to be sure, but they had a knack for getting in awfully bad spots. Or maybe it was just him. Best not to think too much...
"Well Venture-Captain Hestram, it's a pleasure to be of service again. I've just recently completed an assignment at the Kitharodian Academy in Oppara. Very similar thing, too. Get in, gather information, get out without detection. And here we haven't even got to worry about sneaking our way in and out! What about this Ralzeros fellow? Some sort of powerful wizard who owned the old place ages ago. But what was his story?"
"Ralzeros? What are you talking about?" Hestram grunts with an arched, fuzzy brow. "Never heard of him before."
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"Since we were last at the Blakros Museum, I've taken up quite a little bit of book learning, trying to become a more proper Pathfinder. I remember, yes, see here it is in this volume of the Pathfinder Chronicles about Ralzeros the Overwatched, a 'mad astrologer' - I think that it must mean he is insane, not angry, but it might be both - who built an observatory to study distant worlds ... A traveler's dream! (But, perhaps, something terrible studied him in return, some say.) He disappeared in a battle with another ancient Absalom wizard."
"Abandoned for centuries - one might say for the best! - it was bought by the Blakroses to serve as a museum for what the have gathered from all over Golarion, as we all remember..."
"Here are the entries on the Blakros family:" - Norine puts on her spectacles for reading -
The wealthy and prominent Blakros family is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivalling (sic) those of the Aspis Consortium. They make most of their money selling valuable antiquities across the Taldor-Qadira border. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches.
"But everyone knows that... Here, it gets better:"
Rumoured to be originally Taldan by blood, the Blakros have since intermingled with bloodlines from all over Golarion, by marrying daughters to a succession of Qadiran trade princes, Vudran rajahs, and even the occasional Tian noble and Mwangi chief. Gifts from these foreign potentates (and the sale of illicitly gained secrets) provide the foundation for the Blakros fortune and their famous collections.
In reality, it is the many daughters who bear the Blakros name that are responsible for the family's wealth. Although beautiful and amazingly fertile, wedding a Blakros daughter comes with significant conditions—the daughters always keep their maiden name, and the husband's family must offer a considerable dowry for the privilege of marriage. Once married, the Blakros daughters join an unparalleled spy network that keeps the family well supplied in secrets and priceless artefacts.
"Hmm." Norine finishes, forehead wrinkle and lips pursed. "Another spelling error."
Hestram takes a glance over Norine's shoulder (easy to do, considering he's probably at least twice her height) at the Pathfinder Chronicles she's referencing. "Ah, see that name there? He's a Taldan fop, if I recall. They spell things differently over there."
"In any case, gotta be honest - I'm not up with this Ralzeros fella. Maybe try asking Nigel when you get to the museum?"
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Decidedly uninterested in the politics of the Blakros family, Ebon checks his gear and sits down to wait.
" So.. Does all this reading really tell us anything? I know it sometimes helps, but this is just stuff about politics or family marriages. Not artifacts or disappearances. I dunno. seems like private business to me."
He shrugs looking a little confused.
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Mez snaps awake as his head drooped far enough to throw him off balance, "AWAKE" he states before he realizes no one has asked a question. Reddening, he answers the unasked question while rubbing his temple, "Late night at the temple celebrating an acolyte casting his first spell of significant power. Also, if a Qadiran seductress asks you if you want to try something new, I'd recommend the answer NO" Suddenly, he starts rummaging through his pockets and backpack, a panicked look on his face before he finds his target and relief floods through him.
"So yeah, Blakros at it again. Hopefully no tentacly skullf@#$ers or monkey idols this time. Norine, did you save the facemasks from last time, I'll probably want one, just in case."
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Norine momentarily pales a bit at the mention of the last mission. "We sure could have used you out front, Mez."
"Yeah... I don't know if that information has helped us or not. We won't know until we're done, I suppose. Still, I have heard that 'Knowledge is power' and 'the pen is mightier than the sword'!" Norine, taking notes, playfully jabs in the air at Ebon with her quill pen.
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" Hah! Not this sword" he roars as he draws his two-hander.
" And while I have heard that knowledge is power, reading is so...so...blah!" Ebon finishes at a loss for words.....
Shrugging he puts away his sword.
" I really don't mind learning, but I'd much rather be out proving my valor or some such thing." Reddening he sits back down.
" Besides, I never seem to make much sense out of what I've read, or been read to....."
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"Well Mez, I have to say it wasn't the homecoming that I was hoping for. We got sent into the mountains to track down some dwarf. Once we got there we ran into mite and derros. I'd never even heard of a derro until then, but you can be sure that I won't forget those blasted buggers. We nearly bought the farm a couple of times, but in the end Calanthe and Norine gave us enougb magical assistance to pull through. And don't get me started on evil clerics..."
"Now, I was lucky enough to pull another job before this one. I guess the VC's heard about all my book-learning so they sent me into a library in Oppara with another team. We had to search a secret archive to find information on the old Shining Crusade. The Society thinks we can apply lesson learned in the war against the Whispering Tyrant against this new threat I've been hearing about up in the Worldwound."
With the conversation swiftly veering into general chit-chat that has absolutely nothing to do with the mission at hand, Hestram starts to visibly bristle.
"Alright, lollygaggers! You'll have enough time to swap diaries while you walk to the Wise Quarter! Stop wasting time and get that girl back already!"
He's quick to shove you out of his office and close the door on you all, muttering something about it being too hot to deal with lazy agents...
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On the way, Tod continues to talk with Mez.
"Well, she certainly had her moments, but I'll tell you - that little tiefling surprised us all. She took charge when we found some folks the derro had been experimenting on, and managed to heal them despite it being quite a nsty business. And she faceed down the cleric all alone in order to cast the hexes that allowed our attacks to succeed. There's definitely more to Calanthe than meets the eye, I can tell you."
"Say Mez, since we last worked together I've given up on my singing. The jobs just dried up too quickly. Now I'm more focused on swordplay, but I feel that my defenses may be lacking. You and I both use the rapier. How's it work with that big shield you've got? I've been looking at a nice wooden one myself that wouldn't slow me down."
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"While a bit unconventional, I find that it works well enough. With the rapier being mainly a thrusting weapon, you can hide the strike behind your shield so they cannot predict where it will strike based on the angle of the blade just prior to the attack. It's similar to the way hoplites fight, only I use a rapier instead of the traditional spear." responds Mez, lamenting the rule that no Pathfinder shall lift a blade against another. It would have been good to spar with him, oh well.
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"*Ahem*", Norine clears her throat as Calanthe is given sole credit for the healing.
"Pick up some blanched bolts and silvered and cold iron weapons as soon as you can, Mez: She only went down for good with silvered weapons, and it was a rough job making your weapons when you're in the battle you need them for."
"Also pick up something for darkness: Magical darkness enveloped us and everyone but Calanthe and Torvic were near useless and easy prey, too."
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As Norine clears her throat Todric's head jerks a bit.
"I meant no slight Norine! In face, you played as big a role in our victory as anyone. Norine here provided admirable care to the injured victims of the derro's torture and she called upon Desna herself for the blessing that allowed my arrows to fly true!"
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As you proceed, a tall man of obvious Kellish ancestry comes running behind you, calling, "Wait! Wait, my friends!" As he catches up to you, you note that he is dressed in dun-colored heavy robes. "You are Pathfinders, yes? I have been dispatched by Venture-Captain Hestram to join you on your expedition. I am Muluk al-Zadari, desert warrior." He makes a sweeping bow. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
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Norine nods back at Todric with a wry grin.
"Good to see that Nigel is back with the Pathfinders - a "fellow Pathfinder", not a "former Pathfinder". We and dear old Adril made a difference there, I think."
"Odd, though, that Adril would say, "Nigel would prefer them alive" and such, unless Nigel knows more than we have been told. Perhaps he thinks she is involved - maybe insane like poor old Lugizar Trantos. Sounded a bit 'off', muttering strangely and all."
"Does anyone, then, have skill with the sap or a net or something? Maybe a fancy wand? It seems we had best take her and the watchmen alive. I'll be ready, if I'm able, but it is a too-fine line between life and death." Norine shudders again, reflexively thinking about her last mission. Todric was fortunate to have something to get his mind off of it. 'Course, after last time I was at the museum I dreamed for weeks of being a giant black flying tentacle-head, and Ebon still hasn't made peace with the monkeys.
Norine bows low to the new arrival, almost falling forward due to the off-balance weight of her perpetually over-stuffed pack. How did he know we were Pathfinders? wonders Norine.
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As Adril's words continue to bounce around in Norine's head, she mumbles and then exclaims, "'Whispers in the dark' and 'old tapestries' ... 'Whispers in the dark' and 'old tapestries' ... 'Dark tapestries', perhaps?! Ah, the Dark Tapestry! The spaces between the glorious stars!"
"That does seem appropriate for an astrologer, 'mad' or not. Although the rumors were he might have been studied in return ... seems fair. Maybe that is why he was called 'the Overwatched'? I like to think I am watched over, myself, by Desna," Norine finishes with a point to the North star.
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" Well met Muluk. Yes we are Pathfinders. One o the best groups in my mind. As for Hestram, that grumpy ol' guy just shoved us out of his office. So I can imagine how he would have 'dispatched ' you to find us. "
Ebon slaps the man on the back, in way of greeting.
" None of that bowing stuff, we're all friends here..."
" Sorry little one, I didn't get all that... What do wall hangings have to do with our mission or stars for that matter?"
Norine knows a little more than the average person about the Dark Tapestry, likely because of her studies of Desna's faith. When the Song of the Spheres placed the stars in the sky, it is said she saw but a glimpse of the alien horrors that lie in the shadows behind her protective starlight--but even that was enough to convince her of the terrors of the darkness between the stars. Church doctrine warns against looking too deep into the Tapestry for the potential dangers it holds.
The priestess cannot recall too much more on that topic, though. It's apparently a bit of a taboo around the church for some reason.
The Pathfinders mingle, catching up on the paths they had found during their last mission without Mez, and getting to know their newest companion - the Kelish warrior with sharpened scimitar at his side. Norine fills the others in with a little theory of her own, but in the end there's perhaps nothing else to do but check out the place with your own two eyes... Theory can only take you so far, after all.
The Blakros Museum at night is as off-putting as ever, the great gothic-style building stretching high into the sky with its single black spire directed straight at the stars above. Thankfully, this time no accursed Mwangan vapours snake out from between the black iron gates, although they creak as loudly as you remember them. The huge oaken front doors easily swing open to reveal the grand entranceway, the room no longer terrifying but indeed somewhat beautiful for its exquisite architecture and the magical braziers casting light across the area. You move past a reception desk and some soft plush seats before hearing the tap-tap-tap of hurried feet headed your way.
Nigel Aldain appears from the direction of the museum's offices, the tall elven man appearing well-dressed in silken scholar's robes but gaunt-eyed and flustered. "Oh, thank goodness you're here," he says with a heavy sigh of relief. "I thought Adril would never agree to sending agents my way! Come, come this way."
He ushers the group down the central hallway into the North Exhibit Hall - one that you might remember to have previously been filled with chittering primates and one enormous King Kong. On display is an exhibit about lost and forgotten empires, including vases from Iblydos, magical rings and necklaces from Azlant, and the central ziggurat - now painted in sandstone hues - decorated with an array of coinage and sculptures from Ninshabur. Leading you to the back side of the ziggurat, Nigel presses a very well hidden switch in the back that causes a secret panel in the ziggurat to slide open, revealing a ramp down into pitch darkness. The opening is wide enough to accommodate two of you walking side by side through it.
"Down there is the basement," Nigel explains hurriedly. "Storage, mostly, and our larger archives. We sometimes use draught horses to help bring up or take down some of the larger exhibits when we need to." He looks expectantly and hopefully at the Pathfinders...
The ramp slopes gently down into the darkness for about fifty feet before reaching a small alcove. There are two sets of double doors doors here, one to the left and right of you. Wooden placards on the doors are marked "Storeroom 1" and "Storeroom 2".
You can hear nothing from either of the two storerooms. The doors appear to be unlocked.
The doors open with a grinding creak, revealing a large room filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes. As silent as a tomb, the air in the hall is stale and musty. Giant skeletons and stuffed taxidermic monstrosities are frozen in poses of snarling ferocity, while mummified corpses lie in sedate repose in ornately carved sarcophagi. Two wooden signs lean against the wall near the doorway, inscribed with the captains "Hunting the Beasts of Legend" and "The Honoured Dead". Unlit oil lamps hang from brackets in the centre of each wall.
In the far corner of the room you can vaguely make out the looming forms of a juvenile tyrannosaurus skeleton snarling at a stuffed chimera, poised to leap and attack. In the centre of the room, flanked by a diplodocus skeleton and a reconstructed mammoth is a taxidermic owlbear, its beak propped open in perpetual silent scream and its eyes replaced by opaque white spheroids of glass. As soon as the flickering light upon Todric's shield bounces into the room, the stuffed owlbear shifts and stirs, creaking as it twists its neck unnaturally to 'stare' upon the intruders. It them begins to shamble towards you!
Initiative: Owlbear | Mez | Todric | Ebon | Targost | Muluk | Norine
Status
Todric: 9 damageKnowledge (Religion) to identify this critter. Knowledge (Arcana) will also provide some information.
Todric leans over to fix his shoelace, not noticing the looming shadow drawing nearer and nearer... at least until it drags a sharp and bony claw along his back!
Mez feels his rapier break through the cured leather skin of the taxidermic owlbear, but realises a little too late that there's nothing much inside for him to stab! Stuffing and feathers aren't too essential, after all.
He knows about owlbears in general - vicious things that claw and bite (they're incredibly dangerous to remain up close to) - but realises that there's something a little... different about this one. Although he can't put his finger on why, he suspects it has something to do with whatever foul magics have awakened the stuffed beast.
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Norine, too, struggles with the concept of a taxidermied skeletal monster.
I got careless and forgot to ask for Desna's luck and guidance!
With a swift flick of her wrist she draws a wand of blessing, casting a Blessing over the party with a wave of her hand, then steps to cover to draw her wand of curing.
Initiative: Owlbear | PCs
Status
Todric: 9 damage
Muluk: 12 damageOwlbear: 8 damage
Mez warns the group of his weapon's limitations against the animated beast, although a little too late for Tod - he follows up with his own rapier to little effect, even with Norine and Ebon's blessings.
Targost peppers the stuffed owlbear with tiny fragments of greenish-silver energy, and it stumbles back a little from the force.
Ebon realises that this taxidermic owlbear is - as Mez may have suspected - nothing more than an animated skeleton that happens to be wearing some rather fancy clothes. As well as being resistant to damage that doesn't crush its bones, it's also immune to cold (as most skeletons are).
Muluk dashes around behind the owlbear, ducking under its flailing limbs to attack from behind. Alas, all he succeeds on doing is ripping apart some of the preserved skin and covering himself with soft downy feathers.
The undead owlbear mindlessly attacks the enemies surrounding it, slashing wildly at Mez with its sharp talons. Its right claw scrapes down Mez's breastplate, while its left screeches across his shield. It then spins about with a wordless shriek before sinking its curved beak deep into Muluk's jugular.