|
Sal chews two legs off of the shrew fly! It is not looking healthy.
The robes look... chewed. Not destroyed, but definitely... chewed. Idril shakes the robes back and forth, and the swarm of insects begins massing and seems to follow the robe back and forth...
|
|
While Mercutio rues the day he bought from the student alchemists back at the lodge, his target--targets, really--decide to indulge their obsession. Idril is engulfed by tiny, hungry insects!
Idril takes from biting insects!
The robes fall under the combined weight of ten thousand tiny locusts.
Initiatives!
===================
18: Vin
16: The Pale Butcher
14: Idril
12: Manathiel
10: Swarm 3 (-1)
9: Dexter
9: Giant Fly (-18)
22: Mercutio
19: Swarm 1 (-3)
|
|
The components of the third swarm try to evade Manathiel's fireworks! Many of them do get out of the way of the explosion, unfortunately.
Idril makes his Fort save and isn't distracted by the locusts climbing all over him! And in his boots. And in his shirt. And in his undergarments. And one crawls in his ear.
The Pale Butcher flings her final flask and insects everywhere are caught alight!
On the other side of the hall, there's another CRACK! and an explosion of dust. Where insects once were, none remain.
Swarm 3, the only remaining swarm, is kinda on fire but the shrew flies that aren't on fire are enjoying the warmth and a warm bowl of ancient cultural artifact.
Initiatives!
===================
9: Dexter
9: Giant Fly (-18)
22: Mercutio
19: Swarm 1 (dead and buried)
18: Vin
16: The Pale Butcher
14: Idril
12: Manathiel
10: Swarm 3 (-6)
|
|
Salazar catches an indecisive shrew fly pondering with its tiny fly brain, and pastes it! Salazar is covered in delicious delicious bug goop. It's kinda blueish.
Initiatives!
===================
22: Mercutio
19: Swarm 1 (dead and buried)
18: Vin
16: The Pale Butcher
14: Idril
12: Manathiel
10: Swarm 3 (-6)
9: Dexter
9: Giant Fly (gored to death)
|
|
The swarm is pasted! Vin's blast does in fact scatter the remaining shrew flies, and a few stragglers escape through the gaping hole where a skylight used to be. Insect carcasses crunch underfoot, making the pavingstone floor just slippery enough to be unpleasant, but not dangerous.
After a few more seconds, Mercival Jeggare returns, with a portly woman in tow who wears expensive robes and carries far too many wands.
"Mercival, we've talked about this. We simply must take the proper precautions given the shrew fly infestations nearby!"
Mercival replies, "The skylight is original! Well, the original design. It's important to retain the air of opulence that Montlarion had in mind when he designed the space! You know we put a print of this space on the pamphlets--if we change that now, we'll never recoup our money."
The woman sighs. "The skylight was eaten three times in the first ten years... and after the flies got to the third floor, I hardly see how the rest of this could be considered original."
|
|
Dexter moves up quickly to Sal and wipes the gore off his tusks with a towel, ”Easy there, down now. Good hits kiddo, that bugger didn’t have a chance.”
He glares at the museum administrator who has decided form over function is the way to go, idiot.
But more pressing are the floating chronicles, he drifts over and mumbles to Vin, ”Nice uh exploding marble things. We sure would have been in trouble without them. Could you lower the chronicles a bit for me to peruse?”
|
|
The tomes, volumes 28, 29, and 31, regale you with tales of Montlarion's exploits.
You read about the origins of the museum, beginning with Montlarion Jeggare, who attempted to create an archive of Shoanti culture and history. Much of the early research--and many of the artifacts in the museum--seems to have been performed by a Pathfinder named Helven Leroung, however, not Montlarion. Curiously, the details Leroung published of many of the Shoanti sites don't match more recent Pathfinder surveys and reports. It suggests that this Leroung may never have been at those locations.
You notice that there are two distinct writing styles in Helven Leroung's reports--interesting, since there's only one author listed. Some of the passages seem to follow linguistic patterns that Pathfinder researchers have identified as characteristics of Shoanti oral histories, another indication that these reports were not necessarily compiled by Leroung himself.
Stories depicted in Shoanti reliefs predating the arrival of Chelish settlers bear striking parallels, and similarities, to Helven’s "first-hand" accounts.
===================================
After some time has passed and glass is cleaned up, Mercival Jeggare finally says, "Shaine, I will leave you to clean the remainder of this mess up, yes? Pathfinders! Come, let us see the restoration room."
Two work tables occupy this room. One holds a variety of Tian objects, including a wooden washboard, some bamboo flutes, and a pair of intricately-painted fans. The other is arrayed with aged curiosities, including a totem of a Shoanti man dressed in riding leathers as well as stacks of yellowing papers. Crates and sturdy racks, holding bits of fragile-looking sculpture and pottery, press against otherwise bare walls. There are doors along the northwest and southwest walls, and the latter is padlocked.
As the curator brings you into the room, a small figure covered in glowing runes (slide 5) emerges from the thin air. "どこかに行って！ 私の病棟を一人にしてください！" it yells, with an intricately-carved gourd held over its head. It flings the gourd at Mercival, who ducks just as a hundred-year-old artifact splatters on the wall nearby. "Oh my. Do any of you speak this tongue? I don't recognize it! Can you calm this--this thing down?"
|
The Pale Butcher doesn't react to the gourd right away, first scanning the room to see if any sort of objects looked as though they might have summoned this thing. Not seeing anything likely, she instead studies the creature's behavior, trying to see if there are any patterns beside mischief. Then she raps the pommel of her sword against the wall to draw its attention, slicing the edge of her hand through the air in a calming, final gesture.
|
|
Dexter nods as they figure out some details about the chronicles, "Lotta inconsistencies here between the writers of these. Disappointing."
_________________
He jumps back as the creature pops out of the air, "WHAT THE... Why is a Shikigami here? (a LN tiny outsider, kami, native) They are much more commonly found in the lands of Minkai in Tian Xia."
He turns to the curator, "We'll do our best. It just looks upset and not that violent."
_________________
|
|
Dexter whips up a little cantrip and orbs of light pop into view, he attempts to form them into a geographical feature that might be recognizable from the area this creature normally lives.
Then he just speaks calmly with his open hand out indicating he is no threat, "It's okay, we aren't going to hurt you."
|
Instictivel Manathiel begins to cast a spell, stopping short as he hears "...calm it..."
"Oh, right. Hmmm...from Tian you say? Perhaps it would help to hear from it's homeland..."
"Halo, bagaimana kabarmu hari ini? Kami berarti Anda tidak ada salahnya." he calls out softly. As the elf speaks, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, attempting to become less obvious that his companions.
|
|
The tiny shikigami flings a mortar at you--and then the matching pestle!--as you all try to calm the kami down. Mercival takes advantage of your efforts to slip close and begin whispering something to it in Tien, at which point the kami appears to start quietly arguing with the curator. He gestures toward you as though to suggest you search the room.
You find a treasure trove of notes, and one obituary--Montlarion's. Over the course of the next hour or three, you begin piecing together a story.
By reading contemporary accounts, you discover that Montlarion did know, in fact, a Chelish nobleman by the name of Helven Leroung who sought acclaim as a Pathfinder. As the Everwar closed, he joined other Pathfinders in Varisia, exploiting archeological sites made accessible by Cheliax’s advancing armies. Helven sought a quicker path to prestige, however. Traveling out ahead of the advancing army, Helven ingratiated himself with a Shoanti tribe (or Quah) by warning them of an impending Chelish attack. He then secretly began transcribing the Shoanti’s oral tales of the region’s history, sites, and wildlife. He also encouraged the quah to amass items of significance as “protection” from Chelish “invaders.”
Ultimately, Helven betrayed the quah. He gave up their location to Chelish forces, and in so doing garnered favor with many inhabitants of the recently-established Fort Korvosa, including Montlarion Jeggare. With the Shoanti put to the sword, Helven appropriated their tales and artifacts for himself. Laden with ill-gotten treasures, he left many relics in Montlarion’s care before departing on one of the first cargo ships to sail from the settlement.
Returning to Absalom, Helven recast the Shoanti tales as his own first-hand accounts, which were published in the Pathfinder Chronicles. Following a bloody internal struggle in the year 4411 ar, he then parlayed these accounts to secure a place among the first Decemvirate.
Helven returned to Korvosa, where the now Lord Magistrate Montlarion had begun to suspect Helven’s betrayal of the Shoanti, and the source of his supposed heroics. Montlarion had pieced together notes and accounts into a collection--much of which you have reassembled here in this workshop--and questioned Helven. The Korvosans demanded Helven’s ill-gotten treasures be confiscated pending further investigation.
Helven was furious and a fight erupted. Using his new Decemvirate helm, Helven channeled a burst of negative energy that consumed all those present, save himself and Montlarion. Weakened, Helven fled to Absalom, while Montlarion died soon thereafter from his injuries.
The totem in this room, worth 100 gp, is incomplete but otherwise similar to an array of Sklar-Quah Shoanti totems displayed in the gallery. It seems to have borne witness to the fight; the totem’s base, a carved horse, was documented in the earliest records, but seems to be missing. You easily notice a hidden compartment attached to the bottom of the totem: within is a sketch of a man wearing a triple-flanged helm without eyeholes, a black ring, and a scrawled note that says simply, “Helven took the base of this totem for some purpose I cannot ascertain. Perhaps he has taken it to Absalom?”
SLOT ring ... PRICE 1,250 GP ... CL 3rd
WEIGHT — ... AURA faint necromancy
This black ring’s carved pattern makes it resemble fossilized bone, such as a creature’s hollowed out vertabra. It grants its wearer a +2 profane bonus on Will saving throws against effects that deal negative energy damage. In addition, anytime the wearer takes negative energy damage, she subtracts 5 from the damage taken (calculated after the wearer has rolled her Will save against the effect), to a minimum of 0 points of damage.
CONSTRUCTION REQUIREMENTS
COST 625 GP ... Requirements Forge Ring, death ward
|
|
Vin waves super enthusiastically using her whole body. "Hello, Mr. Kreighton! We found books! And apparently some guy name Helven was evil and in need of smiting." She gives a bright smile.
A moment later, she looks a little down, "Oh and I had to break three marbles because some dummy didn't want to properly protect his stuff. Who does that?"
After a short pause, she cheers up. "Oh! That Helven guy may have taken some totem-base thing to Absalom. I'm not sure he was right in the head. Or maybe his helm was on backwards..." she pauses trying to remember...
"I guess it was mostly over my head!" she smiles.
|
|
Dexter smiles at the exuberant human giving her version of the debriefing, "That's... pretty close to accurate. We need to keep tracking Helven down and a note we found indicated he might have gone to Absalom next. There are some very concerning things we have discovered about his exploits and we need to make them right."
|
|
Idril eagerly discusses the groups findings with Kreighton. "Yes, interesting reads Master Shane. Looks as though we have uncovered a dark secret of the Decembvirate itself. I hope our mysterious leaders have developed better methods of choosing their members...though I could be mistaken as to their true nature I suppose. You would know better than I, Master Shane."
|
|
Kreighton listens carefully, and asks you several questions about Helven and what you've learned.
In an uncharacteristically level voice, he says "Thank you very much for your investigation, and your diligence. You'd best rest up. I expect there will be more to this story, and I'll need you to investigate."
|
|
As you work on an interim assignment in the Grand Lodge, a harried-looking halfling woman strides purposefully toward the rough-hewn table where Master Shaine has you cleaning and cataloging a shipment of artifacts from the Nexus House in Quantium. She takes the half-step on a stool and, with a practiced jump, is standing on the seat up next to the table.
She slaps down two sealed envelopes next to a stack of spent wands of dubious provenance. "Ugh. Okay, so Master Shaine has been working nonstop in the archives with Archivist Dralneen pretty much nonstop and he's come up with two leads. Get going and--"
All of a sudden, the frazzled woman stops abruptly and sighs. "Sorry, sorry! Let me start over. Hi! I'm Janira Gavix! I'm Master Shaine's chief assistant. Kreighton's been working nonstop in the archives, like I was saying. Something about your latest mission, I presume? He's not really keeping me in the loop, and it's got me off balance. A little bit."
"Anyway, I don't know exactly what's going on, and I'm not supposed to read those letters, so I can't exactly brief you. But I do know that you'll want to look into both of those leads, and brief Master Shaine when you're done. I'll coordinate your transportation and provisions if you need it. Okay?"
"Oh, and don't worry about these. We'll find some more initiates to handle them. I'm pretty sure the wand we're looking for is in the next batch of 100 anyway."
Zaul Blystone was one of the more famous early Pathfinders operating around the time of the Decemvirates founding. Tales of his deeds and exploits gave him a kind of folk-hero status during that time. He purportedly recovered many magnificent relics for the Society, each tied to a grand tale, but the items themselves were occasionally less ‘magnificent’ then the stories seemed to indicate.
According to her notes, Eylysia distrusted Blystone; she suspected many of his treasures were forgeries. She further postulates that he may have kept the genuine items for himself. She was particularly interested in Autumn’s Cowl, a headpiece allegedly discovered in the Arthfell Forest. Shortly before she disappeared, Eylysia traveled to Arthfell Forest to investigate Zaul’s claims.
Eylysia’s only remaining note about her time in Arthfell is simply ‘A wayfinder will provide the path.’ As such, I have included a wayfinder with this letter in the event that such is necessary to find whatever clues she may have left behind. I entrust you with the task of determing the truth behind the relic known as Autumn’s Cowl. In addition, keep your eyes wide open for any further clues Eylysia may have concealed within the Arthfell Forest. Tread with care Pathfinders.
Sincerely,
Kreighton Shaine
From what I can gather, your next clue lies within an old cavern, not terribly far from a dwarven outpost called the Rising Spire, which lies near the ancient settlement of Highhelm. I have little to go on as Eylysia’s notes provide hardly anything more than a location and an odd reference to ‘an old noble’s tale’. I have already made arrangements for your travel to the Spire and for an escort to the cavern. This should be a relatively simple and straightforward task if you can solve this riddle Eylysia has left us with.
Sincerely,
Kreighton Shaine
|
|
Janira looks around the room. "Well, it is hard to be decisive with so little information! Tell you what--I got this letter first, so why don't you go there to start?"
She shakes the pouch. "Huh, there's a wayfinder in here. Wonder what that means?"
=================
After several weeks' journey, you arrive safely in the Arthfell Forest. Sensing your destination nearby, you make happy work of the last few miles--right up until your path, the old cobblestone road, is blocked by a massive wall--well, a wall in name, perhaps.
Here, the natural splendor of Arthfell forest falls away to a barrier
of dried-out thorns that does little to obscure the lifeless trees
beyond. Frigid winds whisper through branches that claw at the
sky as a mist rises out from deep within the wood.
In the rough a few dozen feet away, you see a woman working with the dangerous hedge (slide 7). She looks up as you approach, and moves to put herself between you and the wall of thorns. "Stop! You can't come through here. Who are you?
|
Mercutio approaches the woman.
"Good eeeeeevening!!!" He announces with an aristocratic, cape-twirling bow before extending his hand in combined greeting, assurance, and invitation. "You need not fear us, nor for us, lest that be your true concern. We are here on behalf of the Pathfinder Society, and no doubt its reputation precedes us, though which of its reputations, one can never be certain. In any case, it has come to our attention that the Society has...unfinished business upon these grounds. Merely a trinket, from what we know, but one that may be of vital importance to our organization's history. Surely, a woman of the dark and mighty forest knows the importance of roots, and rings, and...intimate...knowledge of one's own secrets...?"
|
|
Dexter immediately knows quite a bit about this, but pulls out the wayfinder to see if anything odd happens.
As Mercutio gives his spiehl, he adds on in druidic, "nahn bbsatt nabhath ean khata qadim fi muhawalat litashihih. hum maei wasayahtarimun altabieata. hal ymkn 'an tasaeuduna?"
|
|
The woman stops. "Pathfinders, you say? Well, that's an interesting sight! And you seem friendly, so you're probably not Aspis. Or Shadow Pact, it looks like." She gestures at Mercutio. "You couldn't possibly be Shadow Pact. I bet you haven't gone a day in your life without a feather mattress!" She grins. And winks.
"As for helping... well, that's a different story. You see, beyond here is the Thicket of Endless Fall. When the land was cursed, the Auld Druids created this massive wall of thorns, but as of late the briars are drying. I'm spending more and more of my time maintaining the hedge. So I can't travel too far or else the wall might fail. What sort of assistance are you lot looking for?"
|
|
She gestures at Mercutio. "You couldn't possibly be Shadow Pact. I bet you haven't gone a day in your life without a feather mattress!" She grins. And winks.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far; a life of adventure being what it is, one never truly knows where next night will be spent...but I do at least bring my good sturdy cot with me." Mercutio winks back.
|
|
"We were told it was in the Arthfell Forest. Supposedly "a wayfinder will provide the path", but I'm not sure what that means." Vin says glancing down at her silver wayfinder. "We have been following these cobblestones..." Vin says looking at where they disappear under the thicket. "What is the curse? Can it be uncursed?"
|
|
The woman looks at the Butcher and shakes her head. "The land tells no tales of a Zaul Blystone or of a Cowl of Autumn, so unless their stories are secret even from the land itself, I have little advice to give."
To Mercutio, she grins. "Perhaps you'll discover the beauty of a refreshing night's sleep on a bed of moss or soft grass one of these days."
To Vin, she nods. "You lot did seem to be striding very purposefully toward the thorns, as though your goal was to be right in front of you."
"You asked about the curse--beyond the thorns, the plants all die and the land no longer speaks, it no longer breathes. The land is dead, and the stink of it disorients the animals and even travelers who venture inside. Perhaps that's why your Elder mentioned a Wayfinder? That such an artificial artifact might reveal your destiny in such a barren place, where nature's very soul has gone to Pharasma's bower, is a curious twist of fate indeed. And no, had we a salve or balm, we would have applied it."
Finally, she turns toward Dexter and speaks meaningfully and at some length. "baynama 'akhbarat 'asdiqa'uk bialbidayat , ln yafhamuu aledyd min alkhuyut almansujat huna. qabl mawsim kthyr , qutlt majmueat min 'iikhwanina , waintahat qasasihim , watawasalat alsharikat mae al'ardu. baed dhlk buaqt qasir , tawaqafat al'ashjar ean alkalam , matat al'aeshab walzhur. laqad bahathna fi al'ard ean hikayat , silayna litilk alalihat alqaribat min al'iiman al'akhdar , lkn juhudana ba'at bialfashl."
"mithaq alzili , 'uwlayik aldhyn yahtafilun bimawt altabieat wa'alama al'ard , yumkinuhum altahaduth mae aljulariuwn almayitin wayaqulun 'iina silah alquat aleuzmaa yakmun fi alddakhil , fi aintizar altahaduth ean malahamat shirae. 'aetaqid 'ana qasasak satakhudhuk 'iilaa dakhil kiabat alkharif. sawf 'atawasal 'iilaa alnasayim lihimayatik hataa tatamakan min muasalat mughamaratik , li'ana alnabatat la ymknha musaeadatuk bimajrad dakhulk. fi hadhih al'athna' , amal 'anah 'iidha tama nasj khayt dhlk almithaq almuzlim , fa'iin khuyutak alkhasat satakhudhuk 'iilaa hadhih alquat alkhatirat , watazayluha nfs alkhuyut min Arthfell. la 'urid 'an 'araa alfazayie alty tuhadithuha."
The Shadow Pact, those of our number who celebrate the death of nature and the anguish of the land, can speak with the dead Golarion and they say a weapon of great power lies within, waiting to pronounce a charnel epic. I believe your stories will take you inside the autumn gloom. I shall beg the breezes to protect you so that you can continue your adventures, since the plants cannot aid you once you enter. In the meantime I hope that, should the thread of that dark Pact weave true, your own threads will take you to this dangerous power, and those same threads remove it from the Arthfell. I do not wish to see the horrors it would describe.
She returns to the party at large, and to the common tongue. "If you believe that your path takes you inside, I can part the thicket for you and grant you entry. I shall ask the Winds to aid you."