As the Pathfinders race about the display room, Zornesk's fire continues to burn away at the shrew flies...
...and the smell of burning insects fills the air, replacing the sound of buzzing wings. The smoke clears, revealing countless husks littering the floor around Eranahu and Genryl like leaves from a very strange tree.
The Pathfinders collect themselves and begin to put the artifacts back into their displays when the doors to the room burst open! A breathless Mercival rushes in, followed by a small horde of curators and museum staff who all look prepared for the worst and confused to see none of the shrew flies they were told of.
"Pathfinders! Splendid work, absolutely splendid." Mercival pats his chest and adjusts his glasses as he glances about the room. "A shame about that hat - but thanks to your quick thinking none of the other artifacts were badly damaged. Since there are so few repairs to be made..." He pauses to look up at the missing skylight, beckoning one of his assistants over. "Let's find the invoice for the carpenter who made those repairs last year. I think we need to have some words regarding her craftsmanship." The assistant nods and hurries back out the door while the other curators spread out through the room and begin taking notes and assessing the damage.
"Now then, where was I?" Mercival rubs his chin thoughtfully before winking at Khapash. "Oh yes, I was saying that we won't need this wand, so why don't you put it to good use?" He hands the chemist a polished willow sprig with a note tied around it reading "for mending".
"Now then, if you can excuse me for a few minutes, I need to see the damage to the displays myself." Mercival digs in his pocket and pulls out a key. "I'll open up the book displays for you - perhaps what you're looking for is in those Chronicles. Or perhaps you can find some clue amidst the other artifacts. In any case, I will return shortly - there are some additional relics that haven't been fully processed yet I wanted to let you look through." With that, the head curator hurries off.
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Genryl holds onto the wand tucking it into his belt and then joins everyone in looking over the chronicles and everything else, but quickly realizes he would be in over his head if he tried helping and instead looks to set up a small repast if the museum people allow. He pulls out some hard bread, dried sausages, some pungent cheese and a good red wine to go with it all. "If you get peckish, there's some snacks over here. Go light on the wine, it can be a strong one and we are working."
The Pathfinders get to work - Khabash, Zornesk, and Spar on deciphering the ancient Chronicles, and Genryl, Eranahu, and MacDurmot trying out some excellent cheese and wine.
Zornesk quickly becomes overwhelmed with trying to read terrible handwriting in a foreign language and joins the others for some refreshments. Spar and Khabash shift their chairs to sit closer to each other (the easier to compare notes) and draw a few conclusions:
- Details of certain sites described in Helven Leroung's published accounts differ from recent maps and surveys of the same areas. Khabash suggests that perhaps Helven was never at those locations.
- The word choice and syntax in Helven's accounts are atypical of Chelish authorship, though they do remind Spar of stories passed down in an oral tradition.
"Thank you for waiting - ooo, is that a bottle of Riddleport '25 I smell?" Mercival looks very much like he would love nothing more than to join the Genryl and the other Pathfinders, but his sense of professional duty wins out. "As I mentioned earlier, we have some recent arrivals and artifacts in need of a bit of restoration that we keep in a separate room. If you could follow me..." He collects the wooden bowl from its stand, pulls out a large iron key, and leads the Pathfinders back into grand hallway to a small, unobtrusive door.
Two work tables occupy the room on the other side. 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 Mercival shuts the door behind the group, a soft sound of movement the Pathfinders' ears. Suddenly, a piece of broken pottery flies through the air to catch MacDurmot squarely in the torso. The other Pathfinders look up to the top of a crate and see a tiny, crudely carved statue of a robed man covered glowing runes that run across its surface bending down to pick up another piece of decorative clay.
"A shikigami!" Mercival's voice is awed even as he ducks another improvised projectile. "It must have come here with one of the artifacts - perhaps it heard the shrew flies and thinks its ward is in danger. Quickly, we must mollify it before we lose any more pieces of that antique vase it's throwing at us!"
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Genryl's face lights up as someone recognizes his wine and clearly shares some of his passion. With what almost looks like a rosy tinge to his cheeks above his beard, he responds with a emphatic "Yes, it most certainly is! From the Werebriar Vineyard as well. A minor vineyard to be sure but they produce solid quality wine and bottles don't tend to be prohibitively expensive. You should definitely have a taste... or if you're not able to drink on the job, you can have the rest of this bottle, we should get moving and I have a second one for later. Consider it a gift for the opportunity to look at your supplies and for letting us eat and drink in here." He then pops out a bit of wax to act as a cork, plugging the bottle and hands it over to Mercival. After that he makes sure that everyone else has had their fill of snacks before re-wrapping them and putting them back into his pack.
In the next room he watches the shikigami for a little bit, taken with the little thing and curious as to what might make it tick. He looks over at Mercival and comments, "I've heard these little guys can be considered good luck if they stick around. Lucky you, though it might now seem like that right now... Uhh mind if I borrow that bottle for a moment? I hear it's common to offer kami some kind of food as offerings." He hauls off his pack and then pulls out some of the sausages, bread and cheese from earlier and then a small flat dish in which he pours a little of the Riddleport '25 into, offering the small meal to the shikigami.
He seems to forget that most people, and therefore likely most kami, from Tien don't enjoy the sharp, pungent flavors of cheese or strong sausages...
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"shikigami...". Eranahu says to himself before he recognizes it. "Oh, these guys guard things like waymarkers out in the countryside.". He says to his fellow Pathfinders. Addressing the shikigami, he says "We are no threat to what you guard. We are off like mind to you. In fact, we just destroyed two swarms of flies that might have threatened to eat the thing you guard. Show is what you guard, and tell us where it came from."
Genryl's offering is accepted for but a moment before the shikigami throws it back at him with surprising force. Eranahu fares better, his understanding of the natural world helping him pick phrases to soothe rather than worry the spirit. MacDurmot bounces around like a gnome after drinking five cups of coffee, barely having time to set down one piece before leaping after another. Khabash struggles to activate the wand, but the shikigami seems to recognize the magic and the intent behind it. Spar has little luck, being more used to material rather than spiritual things.
Zornesk tries to speak with the shikigami politely and respectfully, even amidst a near-constant stream of thrown debris and a grippli desperately bouncing around to catch each one.
"See? You're doing gre-ah!" Mercival's accolades are interrupted by a cup flying at his face. MacDurmot snatches it just in time, and the nobleman chuckles ruefully. "But it seems we have not yet calmed the spirit. Please, convince it we mean it no harm!"
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Genryl realizes as soon as the food gets flung back at his face that he choose the wrong offering for this kind of thing. He pauses and thinks for a moment before pulling out a different bottle.
He holds up a small blue bottle of what looks to be a white wine. He looks to everyone else and asks "Anyone have a quick way to chill this? It's best served cold..." If someone chills it or not, he pops the cork out and pouts out some of the beautifully sweet smelling wine. "This should suit the shikigami better! An ice wine from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. Now to see if it likes this or not..."
Eranahu and Spar both notice that the shikigami's projectiles never come close to the table bearing the recent shipment from Tian-Xia and urge their companions to move away from it. Khabash finds the yelling and constant ducking to be quite distracting and can't think of anything to add. Zornesk and Genryl work together to prepare a suitable offering of sweet wine for the spirit, which MacDurmot presents carefully.
From its perch atop the crate, the shikigami allows the oread to place the offering on the nearby table before hopping down to investigate. Mercival smiles broadly. "That's the ticket! Well done Pathfi- oops!" The curator quickly hushes himself as the kami adopts a defensive pose, one hand on the cup of wine as if ready to throw. "Apparently it's not quite mollified. Give it one more shot?"
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Genryl gives a smile as the small kami takes his offering of wine, but frowns at Mercival as he sets the creature on edge again. "Shhh. Quietly. Slowly. Like you're bandaging the wounds on a man who has lost his senses." Genryl then very very slowly tries to approach the little figure and comfort it.
The kami relaxes as it sees Eranahu's efforts, but doesn't quite let Genryl touch it. It doesn't throw the cup though, and Mercival gives the other Pathfinders a hopeful smile.
Seeing the Pathfinder's persistence and commitment to helping it, the shikigami folds its tiny hands and bows at each person. It bows last to Mercival, who claps his hands delightedly and bows in return. "みなさん、四季神様をお迎えできて光栄です。 区をできる限り保護することを心からお約束します。いつか美術館全体を区とみなしていただければ幸いです," he says solemnly. The kami tilts its head in thought.
"Now then, let us see what we can find here to answer your questions." The head curator grins sheepishly before chuckling heartily. "I promise most days at the museum are not this eventful." With that, the Pathfinders split up to investigate the room - and its contents - more thoroughly.
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. "みなさん、四季神様をお迎えできて光栄です。 区をできる限り保護することを心からお約束します。いつか美術館全体を区とみなしていただければ幸いです,"
Genryl pauses somewhat surprised to hear the museum manager speak in Tien. Though he could be centuries old, so I guess it's less of a surprise than one would think...
Genryl then stares at the stacks of materials and frowns. He knows none of this, at best he might be able to sort through things based on his experience with handling wine, but that would probably be less than useful here... He decides to help whoever seems best suited to handle this.
Khabash quickly begins writing several observations on his paper as he examines artifacts and papers.
- Shoanti reliefs very similar to Helven accounts. Uncannily so. Chelish settlers not in region at time.
- Helven provided intel to Chelish army, location of Shoanti tribe. Reports tribe known to plunder regional sites. Unusual behavior from Shoanti.
- Montlarion account, Chelish man seen aiding Shoanti tribe during war of conquest, tribe slain soon after. No description of witnesses, but apparently trustworthy.
The alchemist pauses for a moment as Mercival wanders over. "Montlarion? Hold that thought - I think I just saw something a few minutes ago that's related!" The curator happily wanders off behind a stack of crates before returning with a set of parchment sheets yellowed with age. "Here, see what you can make of these!"
Khabash obliges, but doesn't find any hidden meanings until Genryl points out an alternative word for "Shoanti" that Montlarion apparently preferred - though the word is not used anymore at the Shoanti's request.
- Montlarion argued with Helven, maybe about Shoanti artifacts? Turned violent - no mention of result, but unlikely Montlarion wrote memoir from grave.
Mercival looks around the group of researchers with a furrowed brow. "Now that is certainly troubling. I'm at my wit's end though for where else we could look. Or did you already find what you're looking for?"
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Khabash rubs his head, then stands up to stretch. The fresh ink stains on his sleeves blend in with the many older ones; it's clear that this is not the first time he's done this sort of research. "There is a name here that also appears on the note, and in the first set of records we examined: Helven Leroung, from Cheliax. Have any of you ever heard of this person before? I suspect that the base of the totem is what Eylysia wrote of--the 'speaking artifact.' If so, Helven apparently took it away, perhaps to Absalom."
Mercival rubs his head. "If my ancestor Montlarion was writing about him, this Helven would be dead by now as well," he offers. "I'm afraid I can't help with tracking a dead man - Shaine's letter to me mentioned nothing of the sort, or I would have forwarded his request to someone else." He pauses to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "Or likely just returned it to Shaine - can't think of anyone I'd know who'd be able to do something like that. But perhaps this is all Shaine asked of you? If you want to write him a letter detailing your findings, I'd be happy to pay for the swiftest courier to carry it back to Absalom for you."
The Pathfinders spend a few days enjoying the museum's collections - and Mercival spends a few days enjoying Genryl's choicest bottles - before a messenger girl knocks on the curator's office and delivers a pair of letters.
"Oh dear," Mercival bemoans good-naturedly. "It seems our time together has come to an end. Tell me, where are you off to next?"