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The notice for the mission arrives late in the day and in a red envelope delivered by an out of breath courier. They bolt before you even get a chance to tip.
You've never gotten a red envelope before, but it holds all the usual hallmarks of a pathfinder mission. The sigil of the open road melted into the seal matches what you've come to expect from a briefing summons.
The main difference, other than the color, is that it is marked in several places .
A summons to the lodge is inside, room C4. No other details are given.
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The little halfling archer has never really liked the bustling city of Absalom, the constant stares, glares, and gazes. She'd prefer to be in the wilderness, far from the cities, on a mission in the woods. Alas, she hasn't really had the proper chance for such an assignment. Nearly every time has she been tasked to do something in one of the biggest towns.
Eveline has arrived in time for the briefing, waiting patiently yet annoyed in the lobby of room C4. For a halfling she's very tall, but to every other human-sized humanoid she's the height of a three-year-old. What other medium sized creatures might not see is her body type, which would probably be a better fit for a successful escort. She desperately does her best to hide behind her clothes, armor, weapons, and other apparel. With her arms folded across her chest she sits there, pouting and waiting for the venture-captain to invite her inside.
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Wrigsolar Daedelus Fencejumper is a gnome with a bright blue shock of hair running down the center of his head. His eyes are a matching crystal blue. By gnome standards, he's handsome, humans might say he has boyish good looks.
He wears a navy blue suit with a solid red necktie.
"Listen, we're both reasonable. Ms. Blakros would also like to be reasonable. No one wants to get in a ship and sail across the world back to Vudra to settle this in a Vudrani court, but if it does to come to that, my client does have evidence that your client is operating a cult of Lahkgha, the Patron of Monkeys, which is not exactly allowed by Vudrani law." he holds up a finger as another gnome enters his office, his secretary and sister, to prevent the other barrister from speaking. She has a red envelope in her hands. "You have our offer, counselor. I'm going to have to cut our meeting short."
It had been a while since Wrigsolar had gone on a Society mission. He grabbed his morningstar.
A pathfinder lodge guard in full regalia moves down the hallway and suppresses a yawn, "You can go into the room. The Venture Captain is still collecting information. Kitchen is closed but I can get you all some fruit and fresh water if you want." She pulls out a key and opens the door to briefing room C4. Inside is the usual conference table that has slots underneath full of assorted common maps. The usual variety of differently sized chairs surround the table in the middle of the room.
There are coathooks and cubbies for gear along the south wall and a small table for refreshments in the northwest corner. It is currently empty.
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Eyes half-closed, Eveline raises her gaze. She's even a bit startled by the lodge guard, but nods as acknowledgement. The halfling archer gets up, gathers up all her belongings, and moves in to the briefing room. She leaves her backpack and weapons at the cubbies, while keeping her armor on with all the utensils.
At least there's something to do here, Eveline ponders as she eyes the room with all its utilities. She begins to review all the maps she can find, daydreaming about a mission in some deep forest. But not Garund, that place is too hot.
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Looks around and catches his reflection in a mirror That hair is still too red maybe the colouring spell He brushes some imaginary dirt off his mithril breast plate and checks his weapons are in place. Longsword, Cold iron dagger, silvered mace, Sap All in place Hope my friends are doing ok at the pirate place. Where is everyone Takes out note Oh That office Puts note away and heads to the room shown on the note
Hello Fromagalli, Pathfinder for the mission He taps the wayfinder round his neck as he says Pathfinder
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Sneaking in this Halfling too grasps a red envelope.
"Guess we're in for a smashing good time!" she grins..
Tight vest over her considerable assets with long leather pants that do nothing but accentuate her slender legs. Red hair groomed but with the occasional feather marks her exotic good looks. Her iris reflects red sparkles but it a second glance it seems pretty normal.
A small backpack over her back, shortbow attached to her backpack within easy reach A long travelling coat tied around her waist, covering the back of her legs yet not so much to entangle in case of fast movement.
A miniature human woman if one would not see past her obvious lack of height.
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Eveline waves idly to Fromagalli as a way to say hi, and presents her own wayfinder to show kinship. "Eveline, pleased to meet you", she says formally as she stares at the bright red hair.
But once Hootie arrives, Eveline squints her eyes as she ogles at her, her body, and the bow on her back. Is she... an impostor or mocking me, or both? she thinks to herself, and after an awkwardly long time she only manages to utter: "Hello?" Absentmindedly she has uncrossed her arms and got up from the chair, walked towards her to examine her closer.
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lies Apollyanna from the depths of her bed sheets, in the dormitory in the Grand Lodge of the Pathfinder Society.
"Mmm, maybe I shouldn't have stayed up doing ghost sound karaoke all last night with Gwen and Hera." She stretches, and her hand hits an urgent-looking letter on her nightstand. "Oh no."
Five minutes later* Apollyanna bursts through the door to her rooms and pounds off down the hall.
A moment later her roommate shouts and Apollyanna is forced to execute a too-tight turn around some young, overladen wizarding students about her own age to head back and retrieve her primary weapon.
The door snaps open about five minutes after the pathfinder assemble inside. A sketchy looking well worn venture captain you all quickly recognize as Drandle Dreng steps inside the room.
Venture-Captain Drandle Drang looks tired as he calls an emergency meeting in the middle of night at his chambers in the Grand Lodge. “I’m sorry to call you in on such short notice and on such a dark night, but a friend of the Society needs your help immediately.” From an adjoining chamber, an elegantly dressed woman of middle age with olive skin and long, straight black hair and piercing eyes steps into the room. “Allow me to introduce to you Hamaria Blakros, of the esteemed Blakros family, whose name I’m sure you all know.”
Hamaria sits at Dreng’s side, smooths her satin dress over her knees, and speaks in a clear though pained voice. “I’m afraid my forebears made a terrible mistake, and I need you to help remedy the situation. When the Blakroses were first gaining a financial and social foothold centuries ago, my ancestors made a pact called the Penumbral Accords with a strange organization on the Shadow Plane called the Onyx Alliance, which granted us trade routes through its dark realm to avoid unpleasant searches, tariffs, and questions among the many parties with whom we traded. At the time, this was an invaluable service, but as our wealth and influence grew, the benefits became less pronounced. Now, almost five centuries later, we no longer want to pay the ongoing price of this agreement. Since that time, we’ve been providing a steady stream of slaves to the
Onyx Alliance... including the eldest of our daughters each generation. This year we have two eldest daughters—my twins Eleanir and Michellia—and I refuse to let them be taken!"
“But we can’t actively break the Penumbral Accords ourselves. We don’t know all the details other than our end of the bargain, which requires us to deliver slaves to our very own Blakros Museum on the night of each new moon—and to deliver the eldest Blackros daughter of each generation on the new moon after her 21st birthday. We are told to stay away until dawn, and have honored this command thus far. In every instance for generations, we’ve returned to find no sign of the slaves or our own heirs left in the building. They’ve got some device that lets them take our daughters to their plane, something that only functions one night a month, and only until dawn. That night is tonight, and my Eleanir and Michellia are already there! I need you to get in before the sun rises and deactivate or destroy whatever allows them to keep stealing our people. If that prevents them from ever threatening us and holding the Penumbral Accords over our heads again, even better.”
Dreng leans forward. “You understand, I’m sure, how valuable our relationship with the Blakros family is to the Decemvirate. Their assets at the museum are immense, and assisting the Lady Hamaria tonight will go along way to ensuring that both her family and our organization can form a long-lasting alliance that will benefit all parties.” He glances at Hamaria, who nods once in agreement. “Hurry to Blakros Museum, friends. There isn’t much time!”
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Hootie's eyebrow twitches at the mention on Blakros Museum and any information that could have being gathered and stored in her mind is instantly wiped from mind at the mere words.......
"I know that I'm sometimes called upon for item retrieval but this time...people?"
She looks at two obviously shiny knights in armor who are called paladins.
"So, you two ok with what we're about to do?"
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The door snaps open about five minutes after the pathfinder assemble inside. A sketchy looking well worn venture captain you all quickly recognize as Drandle Dreng steps inside the room.
Venture-Captain Drandle Drang looks tired as he calls an emergency meeting in the middle of night at his chambers in the Grand Lodge....
The door bangs open, and a girl in a mithril brestplate, with a tangled sword sheath is standing there red-faced, and out of breath.
"WhatdidImiss!?" she says between breaths.
Hamaria sits at Dreng’s side, smooths her satin dress over her knees, and speaks in a clear though pained voice. “I’m afraid my forebears made a terrible mistake, and I need you to help remedy the situation. When the Blakroses were first gaining a financial and social foothold centuries ago, my ancestors made a pact called the Penumbral Accords with a strange organization on the Shadow Plane called the Onyx Alliance, which granted us trade routes through its dark realm to avoid unpleasant searches, tariffs, and questions among the many parties with whom we traded. At the time, this was an invaluable service, but as our wealth and influence grew, the benefits became less pronounced. Now, almost five centuries later, we no longer want to pay the ongoing price of this agreement. Since that time, we’ve been providing a steady stream of slaves to the Onyx Alliance... including the eldest of our daughters each generation. This year we have two eldest daughters—my twins Eleanir and Michellia—and I refuse to let them be taken!"
"Wait so for five hundred years your family avoided paying taxes by selling people--including your own family members to these Aurochs Alliance guys!? And now that you are all rich, and stuff, you can just bribe people at the border to allow your trains through, you want to break your deal with these dark realm cow people because it makes sense for your ledgers?"
Dreng leans forward. “You understand, I’m sure, how valuable our relationship with the Blakros family is to the Decemvirate. Their assets at the museum are immense, and assisting the Lady Hamaria tonight will go along way to ensuring that both her family and our organization can form a long-lasting alliance that will benefit all parties.” He glances at Hamaria, who nods once in agreement. “Hurry to Blakros Museum, friends. There isn’t much time!”
"Well sure, but have you even finished negotiating? I mean how many of their daughters do we even get out of the deal?"
The lady frowns at the succinct summary if how absolutely horrid this deal is, "What my family did in the past was... regrettable. Things have changed. So many things have changed. But all we can do now is try to make things right. Will you help me do that? Will you stop my children from being taken away forever? Will you help break this horrid contract?"
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The paladin and Hootie know the barest basics about the Blakros Museum, both spitting out parts of the following tidbit.
In recent years, the Blakros Museum has been the site of a number of strange occurrences, many of which were handled quietly in the dead of night by agents of the Pathfinder Society.
And once the group leaves the lodge, Apollyanna insists they track down her roommate and pester her for information.
It actually goes quite well and only an hour of the evening has been wasted.
Gwen spits out the basic information about House Blackros and then shoes the annoyance away. She is busy with much more important things.
The wealthy and prominent House Blakros is a large, extended clan of eccentrics with trade contacts rivaling those of the Aspis Consortium, who made most of their money selling valuable antiquities across the border between Taldor and Qadira. Their daughters are known far and wide for their beauty, and marrying a Blakros woman is a sure path to power and riches.
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Eveline listens to Hamaria and Dreng explain, but all that happens is her eyes widen. A wealthy, influencial family has taken advantage of a devilish deal, and now when it becomes inconvenient, they want to abolish it regardless of custom or convention. And the venture-captain appears to acknowledge this and conceals it as a way to help a friend? All this really contradicts everything Eveline believes in. She understands the importance of the Society and its allies, but this is quite a stretch.
And Apollyanna phrases her concerns.
But on the other hand Eveline has no idea what the Onyx Alliance is. If the organization is vile and benefits from these heirs being sent as slaves, maybe there's something to gain.
"Hamaria, tell us what is this Onyx Alliance."
"And if I may be so bold and ask... you mentioned slaves other than your eldest daughters. How many slaves have you sent to the unknown abyss?" she begins her questioning as calmly as she can, "are you prepared to recompensate your past, regretful deeds?"
Eveline looks at Hootie—she's just too similar—who apparently was addressing her and Apollyanna. "Essentially, what's wrong about it?" the halfling paladin sighs, "we are tasked to save people. The backstory does make me cringe, sure, but it would be worse to walk away now."
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Eveline looks at Hootie—she's just too similar—who apparently was addressing her and Apollyanna. "Essentially, what's wrong about it?" the halfling paladin sighs, "we are tasked to save people. The backstory does make me cringe, sure, but it would be worse to walk away now."
Completely ignoring Fromagalli Apollyanna continues. "So how many slaves, you know, other people's daughters and sons, do you and your family own right now? I mean one way we could make sure that this doesn't happen again was if you didn't have people to sell to cow people from another dimension. Throw in all of your family's indentured servants, and you've got yourself a deal."
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A tall elf slips in in the shadow of Drandle Dreng, quickly taking up a spot near the door as if he'd been standing there for some time. He wobbles on his feet a little bit, and grins mischievously at the other Pathfinders--with a conspiratorial shrug--behind Dreng's back.
When the Blakros woman steps forward, dressed so formally, the elf stiffens, tightening his shoulders subconsciously as he tries to appear attentive, though the slight wobble continues.
As her story concludes, and people start to poke and prod at the various moralities involved--and there are plenty, at that--the elf blurts "I'm in," plainly and just loud enough to be heard.
"I'm sure folks will have plenty to say about the awfulness of your family for getting into this situation--and for not getting out sooner--but ending this ridiculous arrangement is pretty much tops on my list right now. Let's get it done. I'm just sick thinking about it; all those people! 500 years!?!"
Hamaria grits her teeth and breathes through her nose. She stands, "Well obviously Dreng your 'agents' don't care enough to help when asked. And they obviously don't understand how to follow orders, at least not from you."
She looks to be the type that expects people to jump into action at her mere glance, "I will not be negotiating with the help." She moves to the door, "If you can not get your underlings under control, then I shall seek other routes. I believe the Aspis have agents available and their methods are much less... controlled."
Drandle Dreng looks about ready to strangle someone, but he brushes his coat free of some piece of lint, "Now now Hamaria, let's not be hasty. You know full well my people are the best chance your daughters have at this point. If you had come to your sense earlier, then perhaps you would have more options. Look, we AREN'T asking you to free all your slaves or do anything crazy. We abide by the LAWS of the city and would never think to break them. Parts of our organization are just passionate about certain things, and you can understand how some of my more caring agents are reacting now that they know the truth about your past dealings. Perhaps if you would simply state that any slaves found during the recovery mission would be granted their freedom we would be able to resolve this little issue? I mean, to be logical about it you have already given them up so you aren't losing a thing. In return, we will work to negate the contract and return your daughters."
Ahmande fills in a bit more about the Museum when y'all head that way.
In the early days of Absalom, the Blakros Museum was originally the stronghold of an eccentric wizard. Abandoned for centuries, it was later bought by House Blakros, who turned it into a museum for their impressive collection of curiosities from across Golarion.
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"Oh, so you need someone to renegotiate a contract, eh? Well, excellent. You made the right choice. You could have come to the law offices of Fencejumper, Wolfscar and Jing directly, instead of coming to the Society, but I'm sure I can help you." Wrigsolar D. Fencejumper leaves out that his specialty is in trust and estates, not mediation. Also, this type of high level negotiation would ideally start with weeks of going through the old contract, not minutes away from some sort of deadline.
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Internally, Eveline is so pleased to see Hamaria get so cross over the issue. Oh the noble people, so sensitive, she thinks mockingly. Regardless, she does her best not to show her smile to others, instead composing herself once more.
Not wanting to be on Dreng's wrong side just for the heck of it, she keeps the sensitive topic out of the conversation, for now. She sure has issues to talk about for days, but maybe now's not the time.
"Can we, and you, leave the history behind for a moment?" Eveline demands, "we might need to know more about the Onyx Alliance, and what they might be capable of. I doubt they'll look kindly to a contract breach—Wrigsolar'll tell you more about that—and will most likely try and thwart us in any way they can."
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"I'm more interested if you have any traps in that Museum of yours. Every time I've being there, there's always something." hootie points out.
"It'll be helpful to us if you could tells us of any traps, guardians hidden monsters that we should be made wary of incase this Onyx Alliance turns them on us."
Hamaria seems about to say something but instead takes a deep breath, "Fine, the slaves are yours. Just return my daughters to me and break the contract. As for 'traps', this is a museum. We don't set traps where people could wander into them and be harmed. We also have no hidden monsters for the same reason and the guards usually posted there have been given the night off. I also know almost zero about the Onyx Alliance, they made their deal with my distant ancestors and there is little otherwise known about them."
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If we are dealing with creatures from the shadow plane the ability to see in the dark could prove useful. I have one casting of such a spell two at a push it should last 4 hours. Alternatively we can ask a wizard to cast it on us for three hours for the usual fee*
"If we have time to get that, I'd rather get a couple of scrolls for myself."
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Eveline will do a little shopping at the local Scroll Emporium. It always amazes her how the immediate surroundings of the Grand Lodge are filled with 24/7 shops selling anything imaginable. The real estate value around here must be stellar.
"You're right, Wrigsolar. Anything to help delve in the night and shade."
Purchases are made, information is gathered and the pack of pathfinders (paffies as some have called them) head on over to the Blackros Museum.
Great pillars of hewn black stone support the vaulted ceiling of the Blakros Museum’s grand entryway, visible through its wide, double doors. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light. A fossilized dinosaur skeleton occupies the northwest corner of the room.
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Eveline observes as Fromogalli does a pretty arduous routine with his armor just to cast a spell on himself. "They wouldn't let me in a wizardry school even if I wanted," she says, "they'd assume me to be an escort, and gods know what they'd do to me. So yeah, I have some preconceptions about wizards. I hope you can correct my views."
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Oh dear Sarenrae, why some paladins have the attentiveness of a small child? Eveline ponders, shaking her head as she carefully follows Apollyanna with her bow drawn.
"Apollyanna, I might suggest you don't rush there all by yourself," the halfling paladin says in a tone that some might take to be degrading, "while I doubt Hamaria Blakros might store traps and evil monsters in their museum on purpose, she seemed awfully oblivious about the state of her house's affairs... I wouldn't be all that surprised if Hootie's suspicions of this place were true."
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All the best people are rejected by wizard schools. I had to join the pathfinder society to be able to begin my studies towards becoming an eldritch knight. Rangers do not become wizards Fromagalli snorts in impression of a snooty wizard professor. Studying under the master of swords andmaster of scrolls has its interesting moments but I feel I am making progress. Just not enough try casting a potent somantic spell when wearing armour He smiles at Eveline as he finishes refastening his armour then chases after Apollyanna as she enters the museum drawing his sword Paladins!
Upon crossing the threshold, the air ripples and all visible surfaces shimmer as if they were momentarily composed of still, reflective liquid. As soon as the effect manifests, the strange sensation ends, leaving thick shadows covering all surfaces. The white light of the braziers glows an arcane shade of blue, illuminating the shadowy form of a different skeleton that overlays the more solid dinosaur from moments ago.
As they wait a second or start sneaking in, trying to hide behind pillars, those outside see...
...nothing really. It looks like the people inside just walked in and are looking around.
As you glance back out the entrance you see shadowy wooden doors standing closed across the entrance. You can't see anything outside anymore. The skeleton statue remains a piece of art.
Fromagalli recalls hearing about an planar oddity that only occurs in rare locations and times.
This is a 'planar convergence' between the shadow plane and the material plane. Anyone within the convergence can interact with BOTH planes at the same time.
Fromagalli also notices when he bonks his face against it that there is now a solid door blocking his way back out. He absentmindedly tries to open it and discovers it is locked. It looks pretty weird to Ahmande actually, since he can't see the door. Is Fromagalli miming?
Conditions inside are currently considered Dim Light. Not an issue if you have darkvision, but for the rest of you it might cause concern.
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Oh dear Sarenrae, why some paladins have the attentiveness of a small child? Eveline ponders, shaking her head as she carefully follows Apollyanna with her bow drawn.
"Apollyanna, I might suggest you don't rush there all by yourself," the halfling paladin says in a tone that some might take to be degrading, "while I doubt Hamaria Blakros might store traps and evil monsters in their museum on purpose, she seemed awfully oblivious about the state of her house's affairs... I wouldn't be all that surprised if Hootie's suspicions of this place were true."
"Honestly." Apollyanna says a bit put out. "It's just a museum. What's the worst that could happen?"
Wrigsolar takes a moment, taps himself with his wand of Mage armor. He was raised as an Orthodox Shelynite, so he feels a little protective of this Paladin.
He moves in after her. "Wait, wouldn't it be more impressive to get a living breathing dinosaur, from the Mwangi or somewhere?"
"Wouldn't they have to call it 'the Blakros Zoo' then?"
Apollyanna draws her glowing mithril longsword.
It sputters for moment and then shines forth in the gloom.