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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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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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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 bone-numbing 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...
The void at the centre of the Ritual pulses, and a blob of shadow-stuff oozes out, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid figure.
As it does so, dark energy crackles out, hitting each of the researchers...
Ritual (-)
Emoubu (-)
Sisya (-)
Cleva (-)
Luz (-)
Qetsiyah (-)
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Luz decides that this ritual is the focus of his current investigation.
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Between them, Luz and Sisya manage to stabilise the Ritual Circle.
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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Qetsiyah is left scratching her head even after the whole thing is over. "Wow, that was... something alright. Hi there, you're Tavvar, right? We're Pathfinders. The Society sent us to extend you an invitation to join up. This is some next level stuff you're doing here. Just imagine what you could do with the Society's resources at your fingertips, eh?" She gave the woman a friendly smile, hoping she was selling it after proving completely useless during the ritual.
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"Hello, my name is Sisya, and I for one will definitely be following up with you on this fascinating research!" Sisya says to Tavvar excitedly as they stand amidst the chaos of the dispelled ritual and its scattered components. "But my companions and I have a woman unjustly turned to stone to rescue before she is destroyed."
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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!"
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Luz looks to his fellow Pathfinders. "I say we all go one at at time. We use our numbers to simply overwhelm them as individuals. But first let me try and calm the crowd."
Luz takes in the situation and looks for an angle to defuse the tension as he tries to ease the crowd.
"Fine citizens of Westgate. Be ye not alarmed. One of these poor unfortunate souls before you, is not your enemy. My fellow pathfinders and I, are here to remove one of these eye-sores from your beautiful town square. Let us do what we came to do and remove one more worry from your shoulders. Do not let the outspoken among you foment fear."
Sufficiently satisfied with his efforts, Luz focuses on the socialite. Luz makes her the subject of his current investigation.
"What is 'lame' is there is no justice for these poor spirits. Would you want your name and your beautiful square forever marked with having trapped a creature against its will? What lesson does this send to the children?"
Luz will Clue In anyone who tries to convince the socialite.
As the man begins to talk Luz lets one of his compatriots take first crack.
Eventually Luz makes his arguments.
"Legally, I can not see that anyone should stop returning one of these creatures to flesh. But I appeal to you, not on the basis of law, but on moral grounds and the practicality of having more space in the square
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Luz looks to his fellow Pathfinders. "I say we all go one at at time. We use our numbers to simply overwhelm them as individuals. But first let me try and calm the crowd."
"Sounds like the right way to go about it, but as my parent's always said, i am technically half a person! Hehi!" Cleva giggles and claps on the spot.
Being quite short, Cleva tries her best to stand on her tippi toes and speak up, louder than she normally is. "What's all the ruckus about, HUH? You never seen a MONSTER BEFORE? RAAWWWRRRR! We can all be monsters, you know...these guys probably think all your butts are monsters too! Heh! Hey, have you guys ever done the monster mash? It's a cool dance - check it ou!"
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Sisya speaks to the Socialite.
"You never know what this person may be able to do for you and your friends. I'm sure her gratitude would be great once she learned how you spoke on behalf of freeing her. Nagas are very powerful, magical beings. Wouldn't it be impressive to have one as a friend?"
After talking to the Socialite, she will go over to the drunk. On her way, Sisya will set aside her Scholarly tools and glasses. She will add her shawl to the pile, uncovering her naturally muscular arms. Making sure to make use of as much of her 6-foot 190lb orcish heritage as possible, she stands behind Cleva and glower at the drunk.
"Hmm," Sisya growls, grinning, showing off the tusks in her lower jaw. "Did you say something about 'Monster lovers'?"
(The intimidating effect is somewhat spoiled by her brightly-colored shimmery shirt and skirt, and the shiny metal clips adorning her braids)
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Sisya begins wondering if she should have focused on improving her social skills a bit more before leaving the library in Jalmeray. Or at least learning some spells or techniques for influencing crowds like some magical musicians do. She files that thought away for future study as she readies the only offensive spell she knows, Magic Missile.
Sisya will spend all three of her actions shooting one missile each at the three toughest, angriest looking people in the mob, and really hoping she won't seriously hurt anyone.
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Sisya's missiles seriously injures several members of the crowd.
Luz thinks about the Socialite...
...then puts an arrow into her.
Qetsiyah prepares to take a swing if anyone gets close.
The mob, several members having taken what is (to them) nearly life-threatening injuries, disperses, screaming.
The Socialite draws a dagger, and charges forward...
...only to be cut down by Qetsiyah.
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After rubbing the salve upon the Naga statue, the human-headed snake is quickly returned to its original, fleshy state.
The naga looks you over, and nods thoughtfully.
"By the looks of you lot, it would appear that our mutual piratical friend with the love of alcohol came through. Please thank her for me."
As a show of personal gratitude, the naga gives you a pearl necklace, then hastily leaves the area.
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Janira Gavix races down the hall, her blond hair flying in her excitement. “I just heard you made it back—congratulations! It sounds like everything went, well, about as well as anyone could expect. Come with me, I have something for each of you.”
The halfling woman leads the way into a small office and distributes finely crafted wooden boxes. Within each, a gleaming compass lid emblazoned with the Glyph of the Open Road and an engraved name lies upon a cushion of silk. “I’m not sure if you’ve picked up your own wayfinders yet, but when you do, you should have ones that prove that you belong. Now it’s official,” she beams. “Welcome to the Pathfinder Society!”