Meanwhile, at the Pathfinder Grand Lodge, sometime after midnight...
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You all see a slight Wayang appearing with a gun in each of his two holsters - the guns are attached to the respective wrist with a very fine chain.
He wears a chain shirt and beneath that an engineering outfit with lots of pockets and a large backpack on his back.
He bows to the team and his tone is calculated when he says ”Tofang is my name. Gadgets are innovations with an inherent danger and potential utility in the right hand! I try have these hands. I just returned from a mission involving the Empyreal Lord Korada ... before that the mission involved the Empyreal Lord Vildeis. More Empyreal Lords on this mission?“ he asks innocently.
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A slight halfling with a pair of gladiī on his hips, humble and roughly-worn clothing, and a broad grin swaggers in.
"Hello, hello, surprised to be early. Derkhan, pleasure to meet you lovely folk and all of that. May Chaldira grant us luck, if not wisdom, on whatever nonsense they're about to set us to."
He nods sagely at the guns on Tofang's hips.
"Chains. Smart. Harder to steal that way. Not impossible, mind you. Speaking academically, of course, I never take anything that someone would miss, and you seem rather attached to them."
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Tofang looks truly surprised. Not because of the appearance of the Halfling but rather because of what he said!
“Ehhh ... you are follower of her as well!“ Tofang says with a big smile on his face.
He draws an amulet out from beneath his clothing that shows a Shortsword showing downwards and that has three notches.
“It is a pleasure to meet you! May The Calamitous Turn be on our side!“
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Tofang looks at the Wall of Names with some sadness.
”Many lost their lives for the society! Some of them died because they were not adept at using technology! I think that luck is important but it is also important to sometimes restrict innovations which can be harmful ... I especially think of those that know little about chemistry or engineering and just think they can consume technology!!“ and he looks at his two pistols.
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Fentar tastes the air as he approaches the two pathfinder beside the Wall of Names, his tongue flickering lazily from his thin ophidian lips, A halfling and... something new, interesting.
He approaches the two, "More restless pathfinders, up so late. It is our way, perhaps. What can be achieved by waiting?"
Holding out a clawed, scaled hand, he introduces himself, "Fentar Palomine."
More questions! Have any of the participating PCs had any interaction with Dean and Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine, or Zarta Dralneen the head of the Dark Archive faction within the Pathfinder Society? If so, how did it go? Did anything notable happen?
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A person-shaped mass of plants and vines enters the lodge. Not much hangs off his wood-plated torso other than an old sac. He stands over 6ft tall and seems heavy for being mostly plant matter.
Rectitude pauses as he crosses the threshold. You make out a range of facial expressions noting familiarity mostly. I've been here many times. Recently but also many before.
Rectitude sees the crew have found each other already, Good day. I am Rectitude. It is an honor to be called to the lodge once more.
More questions! Have any of the participating PCs had any interaction with Dean and Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine, or Zarta Dralneen the head of the Dark Archive faction within the Pathfinder Society? If so, how did it go? Did anything notable happen?
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Fentar shrugs, "Let's find out." He follows the directions to the overflow annex.
If he sees anyone, Fentar will call out, "Are you also pathfinders?"
"Yeah. I mean, why else would Hera, and I be outside on the Society's grounds in the middle of the night? I'm Gwendolyn. I work at some of the libraries here at the Lodge." Gwen leads the way off campus, and into the narrow, twisting streets of Absalom's Foreign Quarter.
To Gwendolyn, Could you direct us to the Overflow Annex? Seems we are needed.
Gwen unerringly leads the party to a building a couple of city blocks away. The structure itself looks rundown still showing visible damage from the Earthquake of 4698 AR. It's facade is cracked. Most of the structure seems to plunge beneath street-level with only a small overlooking upstairs filled with stained-glass windows that are as dark as all the other windows up, and down the crowded street. The only light beyond the stars, and moon above comes from around the entranceway of the building.
Gwendolyn opens the doors on an oval reading chamber lit by magical light.
“I have no love of puns,” announces a peeved Kreighton Shaine, the Master of Scrolls in the Grand Lodge the moment the doors open, “Yet it cannot go unremarked that the Overflow Archives have begun living up to their name.”
The pale elf gestures across the library’s stone lobby toward a pair of shut double doors from beneath which water steadily seeps.
Shaine is only one of the late night visitors bearing witness to this disaster. Next to Shaine, the ever-fashionable Paracountess Zarta Dralneen stands with folded arms, glaring at an initiate whose hair and clothes are utterly drenched. Both senior Pathfinders are in their night clothes.
All three begin to speak at once, but Shaine’s shrill voice rises above the din. “Magical shenanigans in the archives are prohibited.
Period!”
“Let us prioritize,” Dralneen suggests. “Are the artifacts within the vaults in danger?”
“How should I know!?” Shaine barks back. “This delinquent initiate—what was the name? Wormwell?”
“Virml, sir,” replies the sodden initiate.
“Virml says he sneaked into the archives on a dare,” summarizes Shaine, painfully emphasizing the initiate’s name with scolding disdain. “Presumably, he thought the holdings would be harmless. Instead, in his naivete, Virml triggered some dormant curse or other. So, yes, thanks to Virml here, the archives and the vaults below continue to flood, threatening all the books therein.”
Miserably, Virml holds up an armload of soggy manuscripts. “I salvaged a few, sir.”
Sighing, Shaine leads Virml towards the stairs in the southern side of the room. “Take them up to the scriptorium. Start making dry copies.”
Then, turning to survey the rest of the room, he continues issuing orders. “The remainder of you should wade in there and plumb the origins of this deluge. Stop it, if you can. I must report this debacle to my colleagues and begin organizing the cleanup.”
Abruptly, he seems to notice the Zarta Dralneen for the first time. “What are you doing here, Zarta? Don't you normally torment Chamberlain Valsin.”
“I’m branching out.” Zarta smirks and shrugs. “And unlike you, Shaine, I love a good pun.”
Concerned about her friend, and roommate, Gwendolyn sends her owl familiar out into the night to find the feckless paladin.
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"...and why would you turn a Desnan temple into a library of all things. It's like they're not even paying attention." Without an apology, Kolris immediately begins a snapfire barrage of questions, catching himself up on what was going on. He immediately jumps in with his own suggestions. "Indeed. Like the nagaji said, a map is going to be essential, and preferably an inventory of what was in the library--particularly anything dangerous." His eyes are scanning the room, looking for his own way to answer these questions. A card catalog? What kind of filing system are they using, even?
Looking up at Dean Shaine. "And something for the water, clearly. If you've got no magicks to aid, send for sandbags."
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Tofang is quite confused and looks at Gwen, Hera, Fentar, Jezu, and Derkhan.
"Do you know where we actually have to go to?"
Gwen points eastward. "Through those doors, I would guess."
"...and why would you turn a Desnan temple into a library of all things. It's like they're not even paying attention."
"It was abandoned after the Great Earthquake. The society purchased the property to house the Lodge's many libraries' overflow--hence the name. Nobody actually knows what's in there as much of it hasn't been catalogued yet."
"That's enough Gwendolyn, I need you, and Miss Sukino here to go rouse the other Masters of the Lodge and organize the campus. There will be a lot of work in the morning."
Looking up at Dean Shaine. "And something for the water, clearly. If you've got no magicks to aid, send for sandbags."
"As for magical aid, until we discover the source of 'leak' we run the risk of making things worse--if that's even possible."
Fentar looks sideways at Virml, "Where did you trigger this event? Was there a sign? A sound? Anything when it began?"
Then his gaze slides back to Shane, "Is there a map of the archives?"
"We've never really needed a map before. As the collection doesn't get many visitors, but structurally there isn't much too it." He grabs out a scrap of soggy papyrus, and a bit of chalk begins to draw.
“Our delinquent initiate is vague on the details. But clearly, some unclassified item in there must have borne a well-concealed curse.”
Shanine shouts for the soggy initiate to return from upstairs.
Once back, Virml hopelessly relates what happened under Shaine's stare. “I…I merely picked up a wee scroll, read part of it aloud for fun—some kind of riddle about birds, and fish? And then it flew to bits in my hand, and I caught the quickest glimpse of a handsome, distinguished-looking man…and then ker-sploosh! I washed out here.”
"Not the only place you will be washing out of to be sure." mutters the Master of Scrolls. No one can ever recall seeing him this angry.
Virml sheepishly produces a dripping fragment of damp parchment. "This was a part of the longer scroll of riddles entitled The Name of the Fox. I managed to save it when it blew apart."
Shaine snatches the parchment, looks at it critically, and hands it over, saying “It appears to be one of the rhymes from the parchment. It’s an odd trifle of Varisian doggerel, scripted in Sylvan. There’s nothing remarkable about it—”
“Nothing until now, perhaps?” quips Zarta Dralneen.
"Ah, I see that my awkward little duckling has arrived." Zarta coos at Kolris.