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Wraax falls into a conversation with a couple of knowledgeable post-doc students at a local bar.
Tavvar Hamavsi and her research has been a major topic of conversation in the College of Mystery over the last few weeks. She’s been working on a ritual to create partially real shadow illusion manifestations of the memories from people, places, and things, so as to create 'as it was' historical records of important events .
However, the higher-ups have been pushing Tavvar hard; the 'publish or perish' culture at the College demanding that she produce results... so she has been forced to cut corners when it comes to safety, against her better judgement.
Consequently, she has been working on the ritual for several days at the Blakros Museum (which has excellent wards, so that if something does go wrong, it will be contained) after its normal hours of operation, with some assistants aiding her...
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Trevadar doesn't see anything wrong with the precautions being made for such experiments. He does think that the Society would endeavor to allow her the necessary time to work on her studies without the pressure to get it done.
"Let's head to the museum and have a talk with Hamavsi," He informs the group. "I'm sure that she'll be delighted with the opportunity to continue her research in less hostile company."
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When the party arrives at the museum, you find the front door closed, with a sign on the front noting: Closed for private function. Knocking, after a few minutes, results in a middle-aged man holding a mop opening the door.
"Hello? How can I help you? I am afraid that we aren't admitting visitors at this time..."
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"So sorry to disturb you - my name is Trevadar, and I'm a member of the Pathfinder Society. I was told that I might find Tavvar Hamavsi researching here? It's quite important we have a brief discussion with her. If you could point us in her direction, we can leave you to your duties here." Trevadar smiles as he clasps onto his golden key in one hand.
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"Oh, you're Pathfinders, here to see Tavvar? I guess that makes sense..."
He then directs the party to the unobtrusive staircase in the museum's northeast corner.
"She's in the tower on the third floor. You can reach it across the second floor. I should warn you: The shadows on the second floor are a... bit weird. They seem to be harmless enough..."
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Wraax nods politely then follows Nal, Mr. Kitteh hot on his heels. "Nal. Do try to show some restraint. We are in a museum after-all." He says catching up, while thinking to himself, And if the tales of my predecessors have taught me anything. It's that nothing ever goes as planned in a Blackrose establishment. Preparing for the worst, upon reaching the stairs Wraax draws his scythe, "I recommend you all do the same... 'Harmless', I hear, is not a common word used with anything in this place... They have the very powerful wards we were told about, for a reason after-all."
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As Trevadar pulls even with her, Nal gives him a mischievous half-smile and begins speed walking to keep ahead of him. She races up the stairs and enters the next floor ahead of the group.
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Heading upstairs, the party passes by a short corridor containing a series of staff offices, each of which is locked. The one at the end has a plaque saying 'Nigel Aldain, Curator'.
Moving next door, this long, narrow presentation space has seating for around thirty guests, all facing a low stage at the south end of the room. At first glance the room seems empty, but a moment later, it seems as though the shadows of an audience still fill the plush seats. A chill draft sweeps through the room, and of a whispery voice echoes from the podium.
“...and rather than engage in a responsible, controlled study of the codebook, Yargos Gill decided — imprudently — to simply execute the signals listed therein...” The voice trails off into a looming silence.
Alanossë is momentarily started when Trevadar pops out from behind them, and whispers BOO! in their ear.
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Alanossë jumps out of his skin before he turns around and brings his bow to bear on...a mischeviously grinning Nal...his face goes from shocked to angry for just a moment...then he shakes his head and grins back wryly in return...
"Erastil's antlers, Nal! You scared the hell outta me! Glad I didn't have an itchy trigger finger. You got me good, though," he says before switching to a whisper, "...not to mention, I almost wet myself..."
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Wraax listens grimly to the voice from the pew as the shadows fill the room for a bit. Turning to notice Nal sneaking up on Alanossë, he shakes his head wryly. "There is a time and place for levity.. That said, look closely at this room. Observe that the shadows are, indeed, acting strange here... Then tell me if you notice anything... missing?" Wraax waits only a moment before continuing, "We were informed that Tavvar Hamavsi was working on her experiment in this museum, due to the wards in place. Under the presumption said wards would keep it contained.... Unless I am mistaken, I do not see miss Hamavsi present in this room. Yet we are quite clearly seeing side effects of her experiment outside said wards... In my, unfortunately, storied experience. Side effects of such only get worse the closer to the source one gets." Wraax turns and continues down the corridors, looking for the individual in question, in order to stop this madness before it goes any further. ... Experiments... Always experiments... And always me, being stuck with cleaning up the messes of one magical mishap after another... And they used to call my kith and kin 'destructive' for a love of fire...
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"Heh. Yep. Got you good, Alanossë. No hard feelings. I just get so excited around shadows. They're, like, my thing." She gestures to her whole self, all blacks and dark grays from head to toe.
Then Wraax has to be a downer. "Aww, c'mon Wraax! We didn't actually search for wards up here, so there may be some we didn't notice. Wow, this is so cool! And, you know, the shadow at the podium is saying the type of thing Tavvar Hamavsi would probably be saying, so she's probably around here somewhere. Let's keep looking." Nal strides confidently around the perimeter of the room, looking for a live person or something that could lead to one, occasionally muttering little exclamations of awe or appreciation at the masterful shadow illusions.
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"Fascinating..." Trevadar looks over the auditorium in curiosity for a few moment while the drama with Nal unfolds. "I think that this is certainly research worth investing into - I imagine there are plenty of colleges that would pay handsomely for the ability to reenact events just as they transpired through illusions and shadow..."
Trevadar moves into the center hall, and still piqued by his curiosity and seeing no danger at the moment, takes a glance inside of B3, and across the way at B4, looking to see if there are any further shadow plays.
Hearing the argument between Wraax and Nal, Trevadar interjects. "The cleaner said that she's up above us on the third floor. There's no reason to rush, we should learn a bit about how all of this might work so we can impress her. Nal, you say you're versed in shadows? Does that mean you know something about shadow magic?"
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The party moves on.
Carefully framed spellbook pages hang along this room’s walls, while eldritch relics stand in small display cases in the room’s center. In the far corner, shadows hang thicker than the rest of the room, and it seems a boisterous half-orc woman stands there, surrounded by vague figures, as she welcomes newcomers. Her voice is thin and reedy, but eerily familiar. “Congratulations! Let me spice up that punch a bit for you — to celebrate, of course!”
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Visibly annoyed, Wraax will flash Trevadar and Nal an angry glower, This is why I usually work alone... These people are as blind to the danger around them as my kin were, and they are headed to the same fate. Biting back a retort, Wraax unhappily accepts he was assigned to this mission to be part of a group. "Fine... If you so wish to dally with this nonsense, then so be it... Just know I will be certain to report my objections to the Venture-Captains if we survive to tell of this mission. If I prove correct, I will never let you live it down, even if that means haunting your foolhardy selves after I die from this." Wraax will then spend the entirety of the time it takes the group to explore B3, watching and listening for any signs of the danger he is certain to exist.
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Her voice is thin and reedy, but eerily familiar. “Congratulations! Let me spice up that punch a bit for you — to celebrate, of course!”
Why is that voice familiar? Nal idly ponders this as she admires all the beautiful shadows.
After a bit, she sighs and slaps her hands against her thighs decisively. "All right, well, as fun as this is, we have a mission to do, and a bunch more after that. We should probably head upstairs and find the mastermind behind all this awesomeness." Turning, she strides purposefully out of the room to locate the next set of ascending stairs .
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"There's one more room down here, just a moment," Trevadar points out as he strides across to peek inside of B4, seeing if there's a shadow play here as well and what he can make out of the figures inside. "Oh, interesting, this seems to have a bunch of taxidermy exhibits inside of it...that one is big..."
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A gigantic reptilian beast is on display in the center of this expansive gallery, ferociously leering over the collection of taxidermy animals and monsters. Shadows flit between the displays, meandering and shuffling shapes reminiscent of museum patrons. Then a distant shriek echoes off the walls, as the shadow of a stuffed owlbear lashes out at one of the shadow-visitors with its talons. The shadow of the tyrannosaur in the room’s center departs from its source and snaps at the misty image of another patron, tossing its head back and seeming to swallow its meal nearly whole. Other shadows snarl and hiss, scuffling amongst themselves as shadow-guests panic and run toward the exit...
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Nal hurries back to see the shadowplay, and chuckles with amusement as the shadow t-rex tries to eat her shadow. "Awesome. Hilarious! I mean, that means they have some limited ability to make decisions, right? I mean, it's not just created to do one set of things, but can respond to spontaneous local stimuli. Way cool!"
Once it seems the show is winding down, she'll head back to the stairs reluctantly but decisively.
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Once the group has finished enjoying the little show and Nal heads for the stairs that Wraax us waiting at, Wraax softly grumbles. "I hope for your sake, you never have to deal with a real Shadow..." He then turns and heads up the stairs without a backwards glance, absolutely ready to be done with this madness.
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Droning voices echo off the mahogany walls and domed, plaster ceiling of this luxurious room. The sumptuous furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, making space for eldritch markings and mystical paraphernalia laid carefully over the plush carpet. The chamber seems muted and dim despite the crystal chandelier overhead, and a bonenumbing chill seeps through the space along with a metallic scent. A ritual is obviously underway here, but it doesn’t seem as though it’s working as planned. Shadowy energy lashes out from a twisting breach in the center of the room, and indistinct shapes flit and scuttle along the walls.
At your entrance, several of the ritual participants look up, surprised, and lose concentration, completely losing control...
Trevadar (-)
Grommfell (-)
Ritual (-)
Nal (-)
Wraax (-)
Alanossë (-)
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Grommfell and Trevadar do their best, but unfortunately, they don't have any success.
The rift at the center of the ritual circle pulses, then lets out a wave of necrotic energy!
All four of the Ritual participants (as well as Grommfell and Trevadar) feel it wash over them...
...attracted by the pulse, a blob of shadow-stuff oozes forth from the rift, and appears to look around... hungrily...
Nal (-)
Wraax (-)
Alanossë (-)
Trevadar (-; Fort save)
Grommfell (-; Fort save)
Ritual (-)
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Spying the creature, the dwarf draws out his pick, hoping that it may somehow injure the approaching mass if it should get closer to him.
Grommfell then using the pick in an attempt to etch out part of the ritual markings.
Grommfell continues "picking" at the markings.
Grommfell steps in the way, taking the brunt of the negative energy.
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Wraax sees the monster, and the ritual. He spits in irritation "I tried to warn you all." He then whistles to Mr. Kitteh while pointing at the monster. Mr. Kitteh will stride up and attempt to bite it.
Piercing +1 additional fire damage.
Wraax then moves to the symbol and attempts to also scratch out a mark, as he is trained in neither Arcana or Occultism.
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Nal strides forward, and with practiced ease, starts to reinforce the binding circle upon the floor.
Wraax's cat bites into the shadow, which clearly has substance... but it definitely doesn't taste good.
Wraax's attempt to help with stabilising the Circle doesn't help.
However, Alanossë successfully reinforces another section of the Circle.
Trevadar just *barely* fights off the worst of the pulse, then channels healing energy, bolstering the beleaguered researchers.
Grommfell...
...without really knowing what he is doing, kicks some dust just so, accidentally bridging the gap between two ritual components.
This causes the Circle to flash violently, in an explosion of pure white light, which banishes the shadows, and deletes the rift (and shadow beast) from existence!
The researchers, as one, sigh in relief, and sag to the ground, obviously exhausted.
Their leader, a woman with white hair, smiles wearily.
"Thank-you for the assist. I don't mean to be rude, but who are you, and why did you come here?"
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"It was nothing," Trevadar says, hiding his terror behind professionalism. "We're from the Pathfinder Society. Actually...Tavvar Hamavsi, correct?" He addresses the white-haired woman. "We were charged with discussing with you joining the Society. I can see that your research is quite astonishing, but needs quite a bit more time to develop safely. The Society can provide the resources necessary for that, and won't pressure you to produce results as quickly as possible. Does that appeal to you?"
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"Awesome! Done!" Mentally checking off this quest as a success, Nal inwardly squeals: Ooooh! And I can stop by sometimes to watch! WAY COOL! Her mind switches gears swiftly, inventorying the groups' remaining tasks. As they're walking away, she blurts: "Oh! Hey guys! Next should we go unpetrify that Naga over at Westgate, or check out that creepy collapsed house in the Precipice Quarter?"
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For several blocks, the quiet lanes of Westgate’s residential neighborhoods feature small houses, low-key cafes and taverns, and the occasional specialty shop. The fragrant scent of tended flower gardens in the warm sunlight blends with the low hum of distant conversation over what would normally be a pleasant boulevard. But the stone statues—at first appearing only here and there, like odd decorations—now number several per block, and the otherwise plain square ahead is outright cluttered with stone figures. They take countless forms, from humans and halflings to orcs, lizardfolk, and even stranger, all forever frozen in acts of desperation, defiance, or despair. The quaint, statue-filled square is also filled with people; several dozen townsfolk shout and argue, their voices somehow out of place among the silent statues.
They aren't quite a mob yet, but they certainly seem to be working themselves up into one...
"There they are! This is, like, totally lame!"
"*HIC* Monster lovers!"
"It would be a travesty of justice to let something like *that* go free!"