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As the loud boom burst through the museum, you can see that the swarm of living runes shimmer rand waver. Those with a a more arcane eye can tell that they are weakened somewhat. ()
Ree manages to avoid getting the black goo holding her down to the ground, but it would be some time before she manages to scrape the remaining off her body. Until then, they hold on fast, restricting her movement. She moves up and attempts to blast the swarm with a spray of fire.
Zantanax and Salarian both move towards the swarm as far as they can. Angela does the same, and for the first time since all these mayhem started, she swings her weapon and actually manages to destroy some of the flying runes. Volyana similarly moves up, and gets ready to strike as soon as the swarm comes within striking range. Sure enough, the swarm starts flying in her general direction and she lashes with her nine-section whip, but unfortunately, the sections just pass harmlessly through them.
The swarm washes over both Ridley and Ree, the two who are most threatening to it.
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Angela grins as some of the chaos settles down and grins even wider as the current target of her interest comes closer. Her smile drops into a frown as she watches it move past her and go for the others. Sighing she steps onto the edge of the fountain and using it to boost her vantage point stands and analyzes the magic of the swarm of letters.
She gives an exclamation of eureka, and forgetting where she is splashes down into the fountain to get near the seething mass. She starts muttering to herself, things about 'Doing this', 'inverting the somatic movements of this glyph' and 'erasing this single glyph'. She soon steps away and claps the residue of a few glyphs off her hands, exclaiming, "That should do something to help limit these."
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Ree's attempted evocation of magical flames unfortunately fizzles away as the black goo restricts her movements too much for her bring forth the magic.
Ridley manages to resist the nausea from the swarming runes steps out from their midst. He attempts to shut them down but made a mistake in deciphering the glyphs. Angela tries something similar, and managing to understand some aspects of the magic animating the runes, snatches out some key glyphs. The mass of living runes, however, wavers further, seemingly weakened. Salarian moves up and swings at the swarm with his scimitar and he slices through some of the flying glyphs. Xantanax's swing proves more effective, chopping up many of the flying glyphs and dispersing them. The runes, taken more direct damage than it was designed to take, gradually settled down on the ground, inert.
However, occasionally, some of the runes flicker somewhat and gather. As Ridley had shared, the runes will eventually animate again in a minutes' time unless you figure out its magical animation sufficiently to shut it down permanently.
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With a hyper-focus that is almost scary for onlookers, Angela stares intently at the chaotic mass of runes lying on the floor, picking out seemingly random ones and snuffing them out of existence. The mass of living runs quiver each time she does it until right before a minute is done, the entire mass wavers one last time before dissipating to nothingness!
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Angela gives a large, satisfied sigh as she plucks the last binding glyph from the pile. She watches as the rest of them dissipate. "I said I was going to tidy this mess up., just look how much neater this place is with out all of those seething glyphs! Now we just need to finish tidying up the insides.... but we should probably take a bit of a break as it's pointless to overwork oneself.
With this she looks down and realizes for the first time she's been standing in the fountain for well over a minute, with a frown she exclaims, "Abadar Dammit! when did I get into the fountain? Is this some unseen side effect of the runes? Now I'm going to be soggy for HOURS! Ugh!" She clambers out of the fountain and onto the grass and vigorously starts shaking the excess water off. "Any one have a towel I can borrow? I hate being wet for no reason."
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Xantanax sheathes his sword as he surveys the scene. {b]"I am impressed by the display of technical knowledge, Angela. That sort of knowledge was not emphasized by my sword master. The clash of blades was the knowledge he imparted, but it has served me well so far."[/b]
He then listens intently at the sounds emanating from the museum. "I wonder what else we need to do in there. Judging by the sound of things, I'd say we've done quite well compared to some of the others. That's what comes from solid teamwork! Let's keep that attitude going as we continue on!"
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After the swarm falls, Ridley rubs his hands together excitedly.
Alright boys, this is my wheelhouse. Stand back and watch me work
After he finishes speaking, Ridley turns to get busy and sees Angela already hard at work. As she deftly works through disabling the various runes Ridley tries to look like he is helping.
Ah yes, that's right. Ok, not pull that one... yea just like that. Good. Now that one in the back... flip it over three times and say the magic words. Erm... I see you already did that. Well... you seem like you know what you're doing. I'm just going to stand here and make sure you don't make anything explode. Well anything that isn't supposed to at least.
After she finishes, Ridley motions as if he were dusting off his hands and turns to Angela.
Good job! We sure make a good team. Yup. That was definitely a team effort.
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Ree gives Angela a pat on the back (harder than a pat but not so hard as to like hurt her or anything) "Yea great job Angela!"
Sleight of hand to wipe some of the goo off of her hand and onto Angela's cloak ;)
Ree whistles a little too innocnently as she walks to Salarian winking to him and looking down to where he has her wand tucked away.
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Angela takes all of the praise fairly well, and in return just adds, "It was something any competent secretary could handle. And anyways I had help from Ridley."
She goes back to drying off what she can with such intent she almost misses the other intent behind Ree's pat on the back. But the shock of the force breaks her contentration and she catches sight of the few strings of goo trailing from her back. With a quick flash of an indignant look, Angela rounds on the ifrit. Taking off her suit jacket, she tosses it to the other woman. In a clam tone of voice belying her anger, she comments, "I assume you will be cleaning that tar off of my jacket while you are washing yourself up or are we going to have a problem?"
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After a loud crack and a ripple of arcane energy, silence falls across the museum as the construct guards freeze in place and haunted relics drop to the ground. Nigel’s voice rings out, magically projected throughout the museum: “We’ve disabled the magical security measures. Since we haven’t found the thieves yet, they must be hiding in my third-story study. Please subdue them; they have much to answer for!”
Nigel Aldain’s announcement echoes through a museum littered with shattered clockwork and toppled exhibits. There’s no question that the Pathfinders have quelled the building’s defenses, and perhaps the peaceful silence will set whoever hides on the third floor at ease.
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Upon Nigel's announcement, the party races up the stairs, past the fallen wax goelm, up to the 3rd floor, before Ree has the chance to address the soiled jacket. The mahogany walls and domed, plaster ceiling of this chamber both show signs of heavy damage. Most of the luxurious furniture and the crystal chandelier are intact. The contents of cabinets and bookcases lie strewn about the floor. A small wooden panel near the door hangs open, revealing an arcane sigil covered in scorch marks.
A Kellid woman dressed in furs with intricate scars all over her body steps forward. She holds a hand up and says, “Stay back. We are members of the Twinhorn following, and we have only come to retrieve what was stolen from us.”
A towering figure steps forward; his translucent red form is that of a man clad in heavy armor and wielding twin warhammers. “Medda, they must be in league with the thieves; they should die for crossing us.” The man’s voice sounds hollow and unnaturally loud, and as he speaks, the chandelier glows with a dull light. Beside him stand two Kellid men dressed similarly to Medda.
The woman, Medda, puts a hand on the figure’s arm and says, “Maybe we should give them a chance to explain themselves, Anok.” They look with some trepidation at your party, their weapons lowered, waiting for some response.
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Well, I'll let my friends explain ourselves. They'll do a better job of it than I will. But maybe I can help you out in the meantime.
What's that rune back there? Maybe it means something important. Something was stolen? Maybe give us more info on what you're looking for and we can help you out?
Ridley will stand in front of the two people, not trying to pass, but will crane his neck to see around them and try to figure out what the sigil is as best as he can.
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Ree just grins playfully at Angela before the announcement from Nigel comes through. "Guess we'll figure that later come on!" she'll wink as she runs off towards the third floor at the head of the group with a laugh (holding Angela's jacket under one arm for now)!
Ree keeps her rapier in hand when they're confronted by the Kellids but not in an aggressive stance yet.
"Whoa there...we're Pathfinders not thiev...er...we take things from tombs sometimes but absolutely almost from people against their will!"
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Ridley knows little of Medda or Anok personally, but he had heard a passing reference years ago in a tavern of the Twinhorn, a tribe of Kellids far to the north in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. The traveler had remarked on their quaint custom of returning to the same stone circle every winter solstice, no matter where their nomadic wanderings have taken them for the year, to perform some primitive ritual.
Ridley also recognise the sigil as a expended magical trap. The burnt marks reveals its original pattern, designed to lock down a room on activation, preventing anything from entering or leaving the room. The Kellids must have activated it somehow, although whether by accident or on purpose is not clear.
" Something was stolen? Maybe give us more info on what you're looking for and we can help you out?"
"Indeed something was stolen!" Anok calls out in angry. Medda lays her hand gently on his arm, and he calms down somewhat, before responding, “These Blakros people stole our most precious heirloom but we have gotten it back. Although Karlon activated that rune by accident, trapping us here.” Medda retrieves a bundle of bloody bandages, then unwraps it to reveal a dagger hilt with only the fragment of a black blade. “It belonged to Ivvora, a champion of Vildeis who vanquished the great black evil from our land over 900 years ago. We kept it safe until the Blakros agents stole it three months ago.”
"Whoa there...we're Pathfinders not thiev...er...we take things from tombs sometimes but absolutely almost never ever from people against their will!"
"Are the Pathfinders part of the Blackros then?" While she seems to believe that you know not about the theft, she appears alarmed to hear that you are related to the Blackros. "Perhaps there are things about the Blackros that are kept hidden from you. But you have my word that this is a property of our tribe, before your agents dishonorably stole them." Anok adds on with bluster, “They came into our camp asking about Ivvora, saying they were agents of a Nigel Aldain of the Blackros family. Medda gave them shelter and told Ivvora’s story. They wanted to buy the dagger but we would not part with the hilt. The next morning the hilt and the Blakros agents were gone. We tracked it here, to this building.” He continues to glare at you, daring you to try to take the hilt again.
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"Interesting story... But perhaps we should try to hear Aldain's side of the story as well? You did cause quite some chaos and destruction by breaking in here. On the other hand, I for one am not in favour of people stealing heirlooms from tribes against their will..."
Salarian looks with interest at the translucent giant referred to as Anok.
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Angela visably prickles as Medda comments about the Society's relationship with the Blackros Family. "The Pathfinders are definitely not part of the Blackros. We have a good relationship, but we never condone taking important relics from existent peoples without cause, and certainly not for display in a museum. If the Blackros Family has stolen this relic from you we would be glad to give it back to you and investigate further."
Angela stops for a second and takes a deep breath. Getting angry here would be an inefficient waste of time. "However, please try to realize, from our position, you look like thieves. It would probably serve us both to set down our weapons and not escalate this any further, lest someone get hurt or says something unforgivable." With this Angela shuffs off her backpack and attaches her longspear to it. She tosses both items off to the side and spreads her hands wide.
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Salarian stares intently at Anok, seeing his red translucent form wavering from time to time, occasionally gaining more substance, occasionally fading somewhat. But he continues to cut an imposing figure. Anok notices Salarian staring. He puffs up his chest and growls, “I’m a phantom, protector of Medda, the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, Medda. What's it to you?!”
Medda immediately again lays her gentle hand on his arm, and he cools down almost immediately. She looks back and forth among Salarian, Xantanax and Angela, appearing deep in thought, before she nods her head. "The Twinhorns are honorable people. We are only here to take back what is ours. This hilt is valued by my people not just because it's an heirloom, but it is a crucial implement to hold back the darkness during the winter solstice. But I understand your point of view. And I apologise if we had inadvertently caused this chaos in this museum. When dogs attacked, Ivvora’s spirit called through the hilt to her allies’ armaments. She protects us, even now. I am glad that your Pathfinder Society are not part of the Blackros, because from our encounter with them, they do not appear to be honorable people. We confronted this Nigel earlier today, but he refused to return it. He said, and I quote, 'I do not honor ‘seller’s remorse.' I am more than happy to confront him again, especially with you by our side who can see reason." She gestures to her followers and sheathes her weapon. Anok, after a short while, does so grudgingly. The other two does so readily.
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Anok steps forward defensively and proudly announces, “You dare doubt Medda's words? She is the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, passed from keeper to keeper for generations — or for her, from parent to child. She is the first evening’s daughter in decades,” he boasts, earning him a withering look from Medda before he adds, “And it is she who can sense and wield the hilt’s power properly. This Nigel has no claim in this!”
As if chiding a child, Medda turns to Anok, "Enough Anok. I already said I would meet with this Nigel again. I have a few choice words for thieves." She grasps the hilt tightly while saying this, and her eyes begin to glow with a brilliant white light as her scars begin to seep thin rivulets of blood. The hilt glows in tandem with her with a similar light. "Come, let us get going." She gestures to her followers to gather their belongings and look to the Pathfinders to lead the way.
Just then, you suddenly feel a wash of fiendish energy burst forth, as if finally breaking free from whatever wards Nigel has set up in the museum. The chandelier above head crashes onto the ground as an infernal creature manifest atop the wreckage. Anok stands in front, bravely block shards of broken glass from Medda. The other two Twinhorn warriors, however, at not so fortunate and countless pieces of glass imbed in them.
Medda calls out to the Pathfinders, ”Infernal beings! They must be destroyed! Please help!” She gestures for Anok to move forward to attack while she gets ready to cast her spells. She looks at concern at her two companions, and gestures to them to keep back to tend to their wounds. Looking weak from the countless wounds, they nod and withdraw to the edge of the room.
One particular infernal creature, a roiling wave of flesh, gushes forward. Amid the fatty surge wriggle half-formed limbs and a dripping tumorous face. It appears quite angry.
Xantanax steps forward and chops down onto the quivering mass of flesh. It is not hard for him to hit, but some infernal force seems to dull some of his attack. Ree whips out his crossbow and fires, but in his haste, the bolt flies off tangent, sticking into the wall just beside one of the injured Kellid warrior.
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Angela bristles at the spirit's words, and giving him a cold withering look she comments in a low tone, "We have nothing but your word to go on. It's unsafe to completely believe the words of strangers." She pauses for a second while she gathers her thoughts and in the smae tone, staring down the significatly taller spirit, continues, "And while you may not have business with Nigel, we do. If what you are saying is true then the Society will have to take action, but there could readily be other reasons for him having the hilt and we won't know them if we don't hear his side of the story. So, please, stand down."With these last few words, the warmth in Angela's voice reaches south of freezing, but their impact is cut short by Medda's admonishment.
Glad she was behind taller members of her group when the glass shards gor scattering everywhere, Angela takes a second to examine the scene before her. Silently cursing herself for tossing away her long spear, she dives towards er pack and retireves the weapon. She then turns on the giant creature and tries to poke its hands away from the lightly armored Xantanax.
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Angela dives to pick up her spear, positioning herself to provide some protection to Xantanax. Volyana whips out her cold iron waveblade as she steps forward to the lemure. With supernatural precision, she slides twice deeply. Like with Xantanx's greatsword, neither weapons do their full damage. However, the deadliness of the attack were sufficient to slice the infernal being into pieces.
As you smash the lemure into an unmoving quivering mass of unearthly flesh, Medda sighs a deep sigh of relief. Anok and Medda turns to look at you with newfound respect in her eyes. She says, ”You are indeed most adept warriors. More than, however, you have proven to be honorable ones as well, to strike back at such vile evil without hesitation." She then turns to nurse the wounds of her companions with magical healing.
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Volyana flicks the fiend's ichor from her knife and slides it back into its sheathe. "Control is the essence of strength. Once you have assured there can be only one outcome victory is yours. The only requirement after that is the will to do whatever is needed." She turns to Medda and presses one fist against her open palm while giving a quick bow. "Our introductions were interrupted. I am Volyana, of the Pathfinder Society. You mentioned holding back darkness. Are these fiends connected with you?"
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"Quite an impressive display of prowess, I'm glad to have such capable companions in our party!" Salarian nods approvingly.
Following up on Volyana's question about the darkness, he adds "Yes, we would like to hear more about the legends of Ivvora".
He wipes some broken glass of a bench and sits down, ready to listen to the story.
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"Are these fiends connected with you?" Xantanax asked Medda. "That would certainly be knowledge worth knowing if we are to restore order to this place and justice to your quest."
He turns to the other Pathfinders and says, "This whole thing reeks of Blakros meddling. Why are the Pathfinders so involved with this family anyway? Major Colson Maldris wanted no part of them. The Pathfinders associate themselves with dubious supporters of liberty and freedom at times."
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Other than that the dagger is tied to Medda through some mytical bounds, you have no idea what caused it.
"No, I do not think this fiend is connect to the dagger hilt. The evil manifests at the Solstice Stones, up the Tusk Mountains. This dagger needs to be present at the Winter Solstice to hold it back. It should not have any connection to this."
Saying that, though, Medda turns to examine the runes in the room, and the remnants of the fiend then frowns to herself. [n]"Hmm, if I am not wrong, this museum has stored in it a number of items of fiendish origins. The Blackros collects such items?"[/b] She shakes her head in disbelief and continues. "I believe when the magical rune wards were disabled by you Pathfinders, it also weakened the safeguards that prevented the fiends from breaking through. However, you would not have needed to deactivate the magical wards if Ivvora's dagger had not triggered this chaos in the first place. So in that sense, we are responsible and for that, I apologise. It is a good thing your team was present to wipe out the fiend almost as soon as it had appeared. I doubt the four of us would succeeded."
"Ivvora? This starts back at the Shining Crusade. When the Shining Crusade defeated the dread lich Tar-Baphon in 3827 ar, the lich’s lieutenants scattered, hoping to evade the crusade’s triumphant armies. Eshimka, one of the nightwalkers serving Tar-Baphon, fled north to hide and build up its power. Ivvora, a disciple of the divine martyr Vildeis, tracked the evil creature into the Tusk Mountains. There she contacted our tribe for help. We lured Eshimka to a circle
of standing stones where our druids used their powerful magic to bind the nightwalker. Ivvora leapt from the shadows and attacked, burying her sacred dagger deep into Eshimka’s flesh before the blade snapped off near the hilt. As the druids’ ritual concluded at the darkest hour of the solstice, Eshimka sensed its imminent demise and used magic to escape back to the Negative Energy Plane. Every year, though, Eshimka attempts to break through with his army he collected from the Negative Energy Plane, and every year, it is with our druids' magic and Ivvora's dagger that holds him back. I pray that we would be in time to return with the dagger..."
Nodding to Xantanax' question, she asks, gesturing at the fiend "Yes, who are these Blackros if they are not part of your society? Their theft aside, how could they be allowed to keep such implements of foulness that draws evil to it along its wake?"
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Ree whistles in appreciation at Volyana's skill with that blade and gives her rapier a gentle pat on the swept hilt. "It's okay baby we'll get to stab the next fiend we see I promise" before sliding it into her scabbard and just hanging out listening to the conversation as she doesn't have a whole lot of knowledge to add to it beyond being generally friendly with the kellids.
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The crowd of guards, onlookers, and concerned citizens outside the Blakros Museum quiets as Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin approaches a woman clad in furs exiting the museum. "My Pathfinder agents tell me that you are Medda of the Twinhorn following, is that correct?"
"Yes, I speak for the following." Medda glares at Nigel Aldain, "I have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours. His agents stole our most sacred relic after we refused to sell it. We have traveled through dangerous lands to claim it back, and still he refused—"
"My agents claim they bought it," Nigel protests. "I’m not going to just give it to you because you stomp into my office demanding priceless artifacts."
Valsin interjects, "Nigel, let us listen to her story and decide how to proceed. Medda, tell us about this relic. Why is it so important to you?"
Medda takes a deep breath. "Over 900 years ago, a powerful warrior named Ivvora came into our camp. She spoke of an angel named Vildeis who guided her hunt for a great dark evil she called Eshimka. Several of our scouts had recently disappeared, later found ripped into pieces. The elders insisted that we help banish this evil and ensure the safety of our following. They laid a trap for the evil spirit, luring it to our sacred standing stones on the winter solstice. There, Ivvora and the great dark evil, Eshimka, fought a mighty battle that raged for hours. Just as the night was darkest, Ivvora dealt Eshimka a telling blow, digging her dagger deep into its flesh. The creature tried to escape, but it only snapped off the blade and then collapsed on the center stone. The elders finished their ritual and destroyed it completely.
"Ivvora rested with us for the winter before departing to eradicate more evil from the world, but not before leaving us the hilt of her weapon." Medda withdraws a bundle of bloody cloth from her bag, then unwraps it to reveal a small hilt with a bloody fragment of black metal. "She told us to bring the hilt back to the standing stones every year at the winter solstice to keep evil away. We’ve had to travel for so long to retrieve the hilt, I’m afraid we won’t make it back in time for the solstice. Please, let me leave now."
Ambrus Valsin contemplates Medda’s story for a moment, then nods, his brow furrowed. "Nigel, you should send for the Blakros agents who ‘obtained’ the hilt and hear what they have to say. Medda, I’m going to send as many Pathfinder agents as you deem necessary to travel with you and your following. I want to ensure we return this relic to its proper place." Nigel starts to protest, but Valsin cuts him off. "Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum," Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, "I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
"Pathfinders, prepare to head north to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords."
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Medda and Ambrus Valsin discuss long into the night how the Society might help the Twinhorn following. By the morning they have concluded that while teleportation magic might take the Kellids and Pathfinders as far as Lastwall, Medda insists that Ivvora’s hilt has lost some of its spiritual strength since being stolen. She believes the only way to restore its power is to walk the same path that Ivvora took into the Twinhorn’s land after the Shining Crusade—and that path leads straight through the Hold of Belkzen, an unforgiving land controlled by orcs!
Society mages gather to transport small groups at a time to Lastwall, and from there, the convoy of Kellids, Pathfinders, and supply wagons set off north. For all their brutal reputation, the orcs have become somewhat more welcoming of caravans at the urging of Grask Uldeth, one of the strongest orc chieftains and the ruler of the de facto capital Urgir. Those who stop at the Table of Ralock can purchase safe passage in the form of special tokens from tribal representatives. It remains to be seen whether the Pathfinders can secure enough.
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Urgir, capital of Belkzen, land of the orcs, is a dusty city composed of a discordant combination of crumbling dwarven architecture and rickety shelters. Medda has asked that everyone try and obtain tribal tokens, which allow safe passage through Belkzen and protection from the orc tribes. She has purchased as many tribal tokens as she can with gold but still needs more to have enough for her following warriors and the Pathfinders.
You have enough time to interact with one of several different orc tribe ambassadors. By impressing them or doing favors for them, you can obtain the tribal tokens needed to continue traveling northward. They might also teach you useful techniques or grant you other rewards.
The following list the various orc ambassadors and the associated skills (in spoilers to save space). Note that not all skills have the same DC. The brief description of each ambassador might give a hint of which are easier. And certainly, if you can justify some other skills or abilities, I may allow it.
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"Well my fellow Pathfinders, any ideas on how we want to do this? I have next to no prowess with non-martial skills. I perceive things fairly well and I can swim. Most of my other skills are below average compared to the people I've contested with in the past. Should we try to individually interact with the orcs or do it as a group?"
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Angela during the whole journey Angela is ever so slightly dour about the unexpected trip outside of Absalom. But she does take extensive notes of the journey.
In town, after being informed of their choices she contemplates for a moment before adding to the discussion. "There's a lot of options here. I can't really help Blenta, Graffa, or Kardook. I could readily help Bukog with developing weaponry, I've just been reading about the old Gebian blacksmithing practices and I know a few hand tricks that might impress Borbus. Gekgaro sounds like he could useless a skilled secretary to get things organized for moving his clan but I can't help much with finding a place to settle. And I'm loathe to say it, much less act on it, but I might be best equipped to help Mirtgog. Halflings are sneaky by nature. But I'm mostly here to observe and help where I can, so if anyone wants my help let me know and I'll see if I can."
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