The archaeologist misses another shot, but the inquisitor lands another solid blow against the statue. Chips of marble scatter across the floor, though the creature itself seems not to notice.
The aasimar's spear strikes true, sending vibrations rattling down the weapon's wooden hilt.
[dice=GM]6 hp remaining on caryatid.[/ooc]
The animated stone warrior swings his blade again at Brother Felinros, but the blow fails to penetrate the half-orc's armor.
With a last mighty swing, Felinros cleaves through the guardian column, severing neck and shoulder from rest of body, and sending the entire mess crashing to the floor.
Amid the dusty wreckage, the group spots one chunk of stone that seems to shine a bit brighter than the rest. On closer inspection, you recognize it to be an opal, larger than a man's fist and of fine quality. The more learned members of the group realize that, in many modern societies, in addition to being enjoyable to behold, such precious stones form a valuable medium of exchange, and may be traded for goods, services, or other forms of currency. This excursion just became a bit more worthwhile.
A door sits closer on the far, western end of the room--if the sign above it is to be believed, it leads to the scriptorium. The door through which the party entered the statuary remains open, beyond it the ramp and the other door leading south.
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After cleaning the rock dust from his blade, Brother Felinros nods in agreement with Asim. "You humans should grab the extra lamps as well... wouldn't want to have to wait for your squinty eyes to see again." The war priest then laughs entirely too hard at his poor joke. While he is good at carving up columns, he may not be the easiest to get along with.
This dark, vaulted chamber serves as a scriptorium, where texts from the archives next door may be read or copied at leisure. Bare wooden shelves, empty except for some extra writing supplies (sheets of parchment, bottles of ink, and quills), line the eastern wall, and three desks with high stools stand in the center of the room between six columns. A small sign on the southern door reads “Archives—Private.”
A body lies slumped in the southwestern corner, still clutching a club. Its legs have been eaten away by acid, and the corpse is already showing signs of putrefaction, with patches of mold on the skin. A broken hooded lantern lies next to the body, its oil spilled on the floor.
The two northern desks each contain small, empty candelabra, two bottles of dried ink, and old quill pens. The southern desk has been used more recently—the candelabrum holds the stubs of half-burnt candles, the ink bottles are still wet, and fresh ink stains the quill pens. A handful of books and scrolls lie open on the desk.
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That had to be some impressive acid. I wonder what could have done that.
It might not be safe to touch the body.
Alkenstar approaches the southern desk and begins examining the scrolls and books, attempting to find whatever was recently written here, or, barring that, to determine what was being researched.
One tome in particular seems to have been of particular interest to a recent reader. The book sits open, its pages covered in underlines, arrows, and scrawled marginalia.
Beneath one of the desks, Alkenstar notices a scrap of parchment with some peculiar markings. Further inspection of the paper reveals a series of strange sketches depicting a rounded, sealed jar, and some sort of gateway or portal. The organization of the drawings suggests a link between the two objects.
The annotations in the tome and the scribblings on the parchment, judging by size and gesture, may have been written by the same hand. The content of the texts is not immediately apparent, however, as both book and notes are written in some foreign script, which the more well-traveled in the party may recognize as Osiriani.
The annotated passages of the text make reference to the “the Dark Tapestry” and the “Dominions of the Black,” as well as something called the “Gate of Beyond.” References to an ancient aberrant sorcerer named Kubburum Ishme-dagan and the mad wizard Ralzeros the Overwatched are also highlighted.
The notes shed further light on the significance of these terms: the Gate of the Beyond is the name of the depicted portal, a terminal connecting this world to an alien realm beyond the stars which lies somewhere beneath the Blakros Museum. The jar, a millennia-old relic discovered by the author of the notes in an ancient Osiriani tomb, contains the physical brain as well as the ethereal consciousness of the aforementioned Kubburum Ishme-dagan, who was in life a powerful aberrant sorcerer. According to the writings, the brain canister is somehow an essential key to operating the Gate of the Beyond.
Alkenstar doesn't recall any information about Ralzeros, Kubburum, or the relics that the group doesn't already have.
Asim suddenly remembers a matter of vital importance, greatly sensitive to time, and which he, and only he, can resolve. With profound apologies to the rest of the party, he makes his retreat.
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Late at night, an empty street.
Step in a pair of boots.
A yellow-haired Taldoran walks in, hushedly whistling a tune from Oppara.
Good evening he halts the song. Sorry to be late. Nigel told me of the girl in danger, we should make haste, shouldn't we. Did I hear somebody say 'archives' just now? Is that where we're headed?
Love the new hairstyle, Caern. he points with a wink.
Lords, I hope they don't notice how much I'm trembling. If it's anything like last time here... How close that was.
This musty storeroom is filled with boxes and crates stacked in disorganized piles, some only a few boxes high and others reaching all the way to the ceiling. Small puddles stand on the floor, and the occasional drip of water echoes in the darkness.
Upon entering the room, the party immediately notices a strange plant sitting next to a pile of crates. The flora's yellow flows emit a sickly-smelling mist, and its long vines writhe violently.
Initiative:
Felinros
Fissa
Alkenstar
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Enemy
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Caern
Between the saffron-colored flowers and ominous cloud of pollen, Fissa recognizes the plant as a yellow musk creeper. When shambling slowly about and lashing out from a distance with its long vines, the creeper is at its least dangerous. More deadly are its intoxicating spores, which, when sprayed at a nearby creature, entrances the victim, causing it to wander helplessly towards the floral predator. The creeper will snake its vile tendrils into the creature's brain, slowly sapping its mental energies, until the victim's death--an hour following which, it will be reanimated as a yellow musk zombie.
Unfortunately for their curiosity, but fortunately for their health, the Pathfinder do not get much of a chance to observe this strange plant-beast in action. Spurred on by Fissa's jaunty battlecry, Alkenstar and Felinros swiftly deliver arrow and blade into the center of the writhing mass of verdant tendrils. The creeper's vines thrash violently for a moment, and then go still.
On the eastern side of the room, the Pathfinders can see a wooden door much like those they have already opened, above which hangs a sign reading "Storeroom 2." The southern and western walls are mostly obscured with high-piled stacks of both crates and barrels.
Fissa hears nothing from beyond the storeroom door. Alkenstar is about to complicate matters, however, as his scattered inspection of their surroundings catches the edge of another door, leading west, that was mostly hidden behind a stack of crates. A closer look would reveal a sign, in a style much like the others encountered in the basement, reading "Archives - Private."
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This other room seems empty. But yes, that other door didn't wish to be found, so let's find out what its reason for that was.
Fissa makes a little hop as he turns around, then moves around to the door, first to listen, then to move through it. Though his mood is upbeat, he does seem to turn a bit pale.
No sounds reach Fissa's ear from beyond the door. Trying to open it, however, he will find it rather difficult to move. The door should swing outward into the next room according to the placement of the hinges, but it feels as if something is impeding its progress. The door gives a little to pushing, but is pressed back into its frame, suggesting that whatever obstacle lies beyond is flexible yet resilient. One good hard shove might serve to dislodge the object .