PbP Game Day 2 Dot.
In the Grand Lodge of Absalom, Venture-Captain Adril Hestram has assembled you on a cool, breezy afternoon. He has a worried look on his usually-jovial face, so it seems prudent to expect the worst.
There's trouble at the Blakros Museum again, Venture-Captain Adril Hestram growls as you first entered the meeting room in the Grand Lodge. The museum's curator, Nigel Aldain, 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. The Society has helped him in the past, and he wants us to find her, before he loses his job, or worse. He takes a sip from a cup on his desk and continues. Now Nigel's an old friend and a former Pathfinder...but this kind of missing person deal isn't really our bailiwick. Normally I'd tell him to find the district guard and leave the Society out of it.
But then...then he made me an offer that was too good to pass up, he continues, leaning forward. 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. And Nigel promised the Society first pick of any of those pieces that catch our fancy. I don't need to tell you what those kinds of things might be worth, so it looks like you’re heading to the Blakros Museum tonight.
The missing daughter is named Imrizade Blakros—half-Osirian herself and a pretty successful adventurer and fortunehunter by all accounts. 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, and carrying an odd metal cylinder covered in hieroglyphs, like nothing Nigel has ever seen before. Nigel says 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 isn't unusual when someone is deep into their research in the archives, but he got worried when strange noises started coming 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.
Hestram leans back in his chair. So that's your mission. 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 is more interested in what she brought back with her. I've got a hunch it wasn't just grave goods and pretty jewelry. Whatever she found, the Society wants it, or at the very least some information about it. Any questions?
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"Osirioni you say? I love a little good luck, especially so early in the morning. You will forgive me, but do you have any coffee?"
Clara is a waif of a gnome, appearing to strain with her backpack that looks to be only about ten pounds. Long white hair is neatly done up atop her head in a style vaguely reminiscent of the eastern desert.
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Azimuth frowns, growing agitated as the captain continues. He was new to the Society, and had little experience with their dealings, but he was beginning to understand more and more why his allies in the Silver Crusade had tried to make sure he understood that as the Society fractured into smaller subgroups, doing the right thing was losing ground to pragmatism and for-gain only expeditions.
"It's good to know that the Society can still be motivated to do whats right as long as trinkets are involved."
He smiles at Clara, who seemed to be much less tense than he. Perhaps she had been around longer?
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Lore sat on the floor against the back wall of the office, head back and eyes closed. He was barefoot and his cotton shirt was on backwards, twigs and blades of grass were visible in his shaggy blonde hair and beard. Being woken from a nap didn't help his perpetual annoyance with Society leadership.
"Gods forbid we help people for the sake of helping people."
Lore had joined the Pathfinder Society to help people and had little patience for the endless fetch quests he had to put up with. He reaches out with his foot and nudges Clara's backpack.
"Robbing the dead brings many things. Good luck is not one of them."
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"The dead generally aren't any worse than the living, they are just a lot easier to control. We have to help them realize that there is good in them still." Clara smiles, trying to brighten the moon, "Besides, this is our job. Everyone needs to be paid. Even the bakers charge starving beggars for a loaf."
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"I always found the dead quite amicable until I started taking their stuff. And then one day I woke up with a skeleton in my bed."
Lore stands and stretches with a long, drawn out groan. He's tall, broad shouldered, and muscular, his knuckles scared and calloused from many many brawls over the years.
"So, exactly how many trained, armed, and armored guards have gone missing here?"
Adril points Clara to the table near the window, where a teapot and a steaming carafe of coffee sit, while staring at Azimuth incredulously. Trinkets?!? he exclaims. My good man, the Society is hardly interested in mere trinkets. We seek knowledge, my boy, cos knowledge is power!
The venture-captain grumbles to himself at Vayu's words. Please check with Nigel Aldain at the Museum. He's sent no fewer than three guards down to the basement after Imrizade, sadly.
The wealthy and prominent Blakros family is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivaling those of the Aspis Consortium who 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.
Rumored 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. Allegedy, of course.
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 has significant conditions — the daughters always keep their maiden name, all children must be raised as Blakroses, 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 artifacts.
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Clara does her best to explain the family to the others, "So, Miss Blakros is rich, probably spoiled, and whoever marries her has to take her name. Not a bad deal, but the family has a tendency to trade the various secrets they pry from their husbands as currency. Basically a huge spy network of super-fertile, beautiful, powerful, women. Now we get to rescue one!"
"With a lineage like that, I bet there are no curses at all involved. Probably perfectly safe. No reason to suspect foul play. So, what do we know about the museum?"
Hestrum responds, The Blakros Museum is a private museum located in Absalom's Wise Quarter. Owned by the far-reaching and influential Blakros family, it houses and displays an assortment of antiques and oddities the family has collected over the years.
As I understand it from Nigel, the museum's basement primarily consists of storage rooms containing those pieces of the Blakros family's vast collection that are not on display in the museum above. The basement also holds the family's private archives, an impressive compilation of scrolls, manuscripts, and correspondence, as well as a scriptorium where texts can be copied.
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"We should not keep them waiting I suppose!" Assuming everyone is done, Clara totters down from her chair, and moves to the street below to being the long journey to the Wise Quarter.
Upon arrival, she immediately asks Nigel, "What can you tell us about this building, and what is below? I have a hard time believing a girl and three guards were kidnapped by a scriptorium. Paper and quill are just to benign to act in such a hostile fashion."
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On the way out Lore leans on Hestrum's desk.
"If she's lost the relic or it's been destroyed or whatever should I...", Lore looks around slyly then drags his thumb across his throat. "Nah, I jest! I'm gonna leave some of my things, don't rent out my room."
Lore chooses to leave some of his heavy survival gear behind. "Not exactly a trek into the wilds." He hurries to the Museum and enters with the rest of the group. He quickly adds to Clara's inquiry "And why doesn't anyone but us seem to care about the missing girl and guards, namely her family and the REST of the guard?"
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Azimuths eyes widen for a moment, before he realizes what Lore is getting at. He too, ponders why no one else cares. Then again, the fact the Society is involved shows some level of concern, for either her or the knowledge she carried.
"Agreed. I don't see my horse having much luck in a library. Unmounted again."
He prepares to leave with the others.
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A young brown haired woman, wearing robes like a Priestess of Iomedae enters the room just after them.
"I apologize for my delay. My little brother was just installed as a Venture Captain, and I've been away celebrating with him his achievement. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Payj L'Outre, eldest of Percival and Katerina L'Outre's children. Devout worshipper of the Inheritor and student of the planes. No need to catch me up, I've been briefed on our mission, shall we?"
The briefing over, the five of you set out to see Nigel Aldane at the Blakros Museum. The elven curator is clearly flustered as he greets you and ushers you quickly to the North Exhibit Hall, where he opens a secret door in the ziggurat there to reveal a long ramp down into the library below. It is about 50 feet long and descends 25 feet down along the way. The ramp is wide enough to accommodate a draft horse moving large exhibits to and from the
basement storerooms.
The basement walls are hewn stone, carved from basalt, and mirror the gothic architecture found in the rest of the museum, though of a simpler design. At the bottom of the ramp, you can see two sets of double doors, facing each other to the east and west. Wooden placards on the doors are marked "Storeroom 1" (west) and "Storeroom 2" (east).
Unless I inform you otherwise, ceilings in the basement are are 15 feet high and all doors are strong wood. Most of the basement is unlit.
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"Nigel, before we venture down to our inevitable deaths, what can you tell us about this building and its contents?" Clara asks, only half serious.
Seeing only two doors, Clara removes a silver coin from her pouch, "Let us say heads is Storeroom 1, and tails is Storeroom 2." With that, she flips the coin into the air, deftly catching it in her small hands.
"Hmm, Door Number 2 looks slightly more inviting to me. Unless someone else has a more scientific approach?"
Nigel basically recaps all that you already know, including Hestram's detail about the basement contents.
He also appears exasperated that YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY RETRIEVED IMRIZADE BLAKROS WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS ARE YOU WAITING FOR SO HARD TO GET GOOD HELP THESE DAYS WHAT WITH THE UNIONS AND ALL.
Then he closes the ziggurat behind you, muttering something about Lore's parentage and how maybe Clara's people should never have left the First World.
At Clara's random selection, Azimuth goes to the eastern set of doors, which open with a grinding creak, revealing a large room filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes. Giant skeletons and stuffed taxidermic monstrosities are frozen in poses of snarling ferocity, while mummified corpses lie in sedate repose in ornately carved sarcophagi. As silent as a tomb, the air in the hall is stale and musty.
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"How dangerous can a little room full of statuary be? It is a taxidermist's dream come true! Should we head in without him, or wait politely? Do freaks wait politely?" Clara asks as she continues to scan the area, searching for any tell-tale magical auras. "I suppose if she had a powerful artifact, I might be able to detect it."
if any aura's are present.
Nigel gives Lore a withering look as he hastens past him on the way out, then another as he returns a few minutes later.
Clara is clearly distracted by the whole light/no light discussion. She doesn't notice anything with her cursory look into the storage room.
Vayu enters the room and does some looking ...he is particularly interested in the stuffed creatures and expects one of them to animate … they always animate ...
Vayu scans the opposite wall as he moves in, his eyes inexorably drawn to the stuffed owlbear in the far corner that begins to move.
Initiative!
Repost:
Clara 21
Lore 20
Payj 18
owlbear 14
Vayu 8
Azimuth 7
Clara recognizes this as a skeleton, though a Large-sized one made from the remains of an owlbear. Your check doesn't reveal anything else.
How does Clara channel negative energy as a wizard?
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"He is cute and fuzzy! Dibs! . . . Quit eying my toy like that, Lore." Clara announces, "I will call him George."
Got it, thanks. :-)
Clara steps up and channels energy. Black radiance bursts from her and the skeletowlbear turns its bony head in her direction, ready to do her bidding!
The chamber has a 20-foot-high ceiling and contains other assembled skeletons and taxidermic specimens of a variety of beasts, dinosaurs, and other monstrosities .
Two large wooden signs lean against one wall, inscribed with the captions "Hunting the Beasts of Legend" and "The Honored Dead." Unlit oil lamps hang from brackets in the center of each wall, and a door on the southern wall bears a sign labeled "Storeroom 3."
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"it was a big undead only fuzzy! Fuzzy ones are really hard to find. So I politely insisted that he help us, rather than rip us limb from limb. If you like, I suppose I could let him go; but I saw him first. Oh, and if I let him go, he may decide to continue on with the ripping limb from limb thing."
Flipping her coin again, Clara asks, "back to storeroom one?"
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"Assuming the taxidermist didn't overlook that Fuzzy was still alive when he mounted him , we've got someone running around animating the dead. Fantastic. Maybe we should check his insides for the Lady?" Lore trades the shortspear for a sunrod and moves back across the hall to Storeroom 1. He cautiously opens the door and looks around, pointing his halberd forward.
The doors open onto a vast hall draped in shadowy cobwebs and filled with haphazardly placed statues—some swathed in thick coverings like misshapen beasts, others bare and uncovered, all coated in a thick layer of dust.
Lore's halberd taps the floor as he points it within the room, and the noise echoes hollowly among the figures, through the musty, dust-laden air. Leering visages loom out of the darkness, fearsome wooden and stone faces carved in grimaces and scowls. It takes a few moments for his eyes to begin to adjust, after which Lore notes that these visages and frightful faces are grotesque statues in the shape of gargoyles.
The room has a 20-foot-high ceiling and unlit oil lamps hang from brackets in the center of each wall. A wooden sign on a door in the southern wall reads "Scriptorium—Quiet Please."