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Testing her kinetic abilities within her new reality, Anri tires to magnetize herself towards the direction of the purple door. Gathering her aura, little pins and needles collect - she grabs several of them, and shaped them into a puzzle box, which she subsequently enters - another labyrinth! - and emerges from after a short spell, testing her theory before applying it to her current situation.
As Anri moves towards the door, she's surrounded by the heady scent of pesh. But the door itself is no longer there when she arrives.
Zarina hears chanting. The language is... Daemonic? But she has to catch Yakuthiel to stop him from going off-course.
Isaku and Zabu don't get lost, but they don't find any particular clues, either.
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Anri's hair snakes into directions as once!
➤One tendril plucks Yakuthiel from the ether and pulls him back into the proper tensor.
➤A few other bring her other party mates along, like a mother octopus keeping suckered puckers on her slimy pups.
➤Another continues to windle through the labyrinth of sights, smells, and sounds, and gripping the purple door once more, pulls her (and her entourage) that much closer.
➤She imagines one tendril forming into a perfect key, opening the door with transmutative contortion...
➤Yet another begins scratching at the surface that thinly veils the mindscape from the Paizo Forums peering through from the other side...
Are we being... watched!?
Anri picks up the chanting. Definitely Deamonic. And she catches sight through a door before it closes--a ritual circle?
Isaku hears voices whispering about vengeance.
Zarina catches sight of a shadow, the silhouette of a wasted wolf-like creature with hideous claws.
Zabu finds a doorway, like the entrance to a cavern, though which he can see a clear vision of Omira, alone and bleeding, smashing a sinister-looking thurible to pieces against a cavern wall. It's not actually part of the missing memory--he feels that Omira probably does remember this--but it's a link, a connection to the stolen memory that she's not aware of.
Yakuthiel keeps up with him, and sees glimpses of the same image. But nothing new.
But then...
There's a vicious hissing sound. Maybe someone is watching! Or... no. They aren't present here, but someone other than Omira is aware of the Pathfinders' venture into her mindscape. And they don't like it. They lash out! The stairs fall away, vanishing in an instant. The party falls and falls and falls forever, for at least a few seconds. It's... hard to be sure in the mindscape. Eventually, or possibly immediately, they all land on other stairs.
All seems stable for the moment.
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Falling upwards through a sudden vortex of mental gravity, Anri clutches onto the purple door to cushion her ascent...
...nearly losing her tentative tentacular grasp. Once the eddy passes, she instructs the young druid "Focus your Mind, and you can move Matter - Focus your Matter, and you can move Mind" she demonstrates, clasping her tentacles together, whereupon they "zip" into a slimy seal, the lower half of her body slithering with uniform motion - a single, thick , writhing serpentine tail.
"Try it for yourself - the mindscape will assist you if you make it"
Zabu and Anri see through a doorway an image of an adventuring party carrying new gear being attacked by daemons. They're clearly unexperienced and try to scatter; it's of no help.
The image is hazy. Perhaps something that Omira knows about, but did not personally witness?
Isaku notes that the adventuring party and their gear feel familiar... not that he's seen them before, but Omira has.
And he does.
When Zarina and Anri point it out.
The pieces are found, and everything fits together.
Unbeknownst to Omira, the purple door led to the private demiplanar pesh parlor of a meladaemon, Inusalia, the Lady of Wasting Intoxication. Omira attracted her attention after destroying an unholy thurible dedicated to the Horseman Trelmarixian during her final mission as an active field agent of the Pathfinder Society before she retired to open up her own shop. In retaliation, Inusalia took up residence across from Omira’s new shop, lured her inside, and performed a ritual that allows her to observe through Omira’s senses. She’s remained in her demiplane since, as the portal manifests only when she chooses, using her connection to prey on any of Omira’s customers who catch her attention. She’s careful not to do so in a way that leads back to the Barghest’s Bin, as she doesn’t want to endanger her hunting supply.
It was Inusalia who, sensing that Omira had allowed others to enter her mindscape, lashed out in an attempt to stop anyone from locating the missing memories. This attack is what destroyed the staircase and caused the Pathfinders to plummet.
Now waking from the dream in Barghest's Bin, who seems disturbed by this revelation. "I need a priest, but not for healing. I need an exorcism. Or maybe a curse-breaking. I think.. I think I should close up shop and see to that immediately. Don't buy anything from me today. Let's--here."
Reaching behind her, seeming to make a point of looking in the other direction, Omira grabs a brown leather satchel and shoves it towards the Pathfinders. "Take this. Misdirecting haversack. Don't hold it where I can see it. Oh, and your parchment..."
Snapping it up, Omira whispers a few nonsensical syllables to it before passing it back.
Its code broken, the paper now details the fate of one of Omira’s former companions, Mauhrim; he and Omira were separated in the tomb when a hallway collapsed. Trapped below in the tomb’s vault, Mauhrim observed that the sarcophagus exuded a dark miasma that appeared to be slowly rebuilding the corpse within. Though he knew he’d perish before any help came, he wrote down his findings and pushed the parchment through a crack in the stone ceiling, hoping someone would eventually discover his warning.
The Pathfinder Society will certainly be interested in this information.
As the Pathfinders return, Biglock has Mr. Glovely collect the parchment and nosechain with characteristic cheerfulness.
"I know Zarta suggested you call it a night after the first two, but let me show ya what we've got next. Mr. Glovely, bring out the ol' doorstops."
The gloves disappear through a door momentarily and return with a set of four grimoires, bound in black leather with metal clasps. Biglock shifts forms from a chest to a table, and Mr. Glovely sets the books down on top of him.
“Nice tomes, huh?” Biglock says, as Mr. Glovely gestures over the books. “They’re grimoires, written by five different wizards, each one a student of the last. The authors were all shadowcasters, and their grimoires contain a lot of insights into shadow magic and spells. Unfortunately, this isn’t a complete set; the last grimoire is missing. The Society did find all five of them in the vault--they’re catalogued as such—but we lost track of one. Seems it was mistakenly placed in a batch of other items the Society was selling, some artifacts discovered on an expedition in Varisia.”
The table quivers slightly, as if shaking a non-existent head. “Luckily, we managed to trace where the grimoire ended up, and even more luckily, it hasn’t gone far! Only as far as the Grand Bazaar, in fact; it was purchased by the proprietor of the Historia Reliquary, a lizardfolk named Erikanesh. They’re a bit… persnickety—I’m sure you know the type—so getting the grimoire might take more finagling than just buying it back. But I’m sure you can work something out, resourceful lot like you! Here’s a few silvers for the shop admission fee.”
In addition to covering the entrance fee, Biglock lends the Pathfinders a brooch of inspiration and a greater choker of elocution granting fluency in Aklo, Draconic, and Shadowtongue, hoping it will allow them to impress Erika with their scholarly knowledge.
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"You probably want to clean that before someone else wears it," Zabu says, nodding toward the nose chain.
He shrugs. "Just saying."
His eyebrows raise at the end of the briefing for the next mission. "What sort of business model involves charging people for coming into our store?"
The gnome stretches, yawns and scratches at his bare chest. "I could use a break. Want to meet up outside this History Relics place in the morning? It's a book...it's not like it's going anywhere," he asks the group.
After resting for the night, the Pathfinder team makes their way to Historia Reliquary. When they arrive, they find the front of the building is covered in a black curtain, blocking off the view of the windows. A box sitting next to the door is labeled, “Admission: 1 silver. Item sellers, please ring bell.” Once the Pathfinders place the coins Biglock gave them in the box, the door unlocks and swings open.
The inside of the Historia Reliquary gives the impression of being a museum rather than a shop, with neat exhibits encased in glass, all carefully labeled with lengthy descriptions of their contents. The items showcased near the front of the shop are Avistani, arranged by region, while a painted sign reading “Garundi Artifacts” points toward the shop’s rear. Floating orbs above the displays provide illumination, giving off a warm glow, and the scent of sweet rolls and tea suffuses the room.
Erikanesh, or Erika for short, greets the party politely but coolly, looking up from their desk as though bemused by the interruption.
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As nobody seems to don the provided items, she balks, and pins the Brooch of Inspiration to her outfit.
"Shadow magic" Anri is unceremonious in trying to pry the bookworm from her affixation "Black leather clasps" she pieces one detail at a time "You are Erikanesh I presume?"
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Zabu quickly eats one of the pastries and then grabs another and carries it around eating it.
Once they get inside, he follows his nose toward the smell of sweet rolls and tea, gobbling down the remainder of his pastry to pick up a roll in each hand.
He's munching on one as he joins the group to talk to Erika. He gives them a quick salute of acknowledgement with a sweet roll.
Erikanesh sniffs. "Yes. Of course I am. Shadow magic with black leather clasps? I do have such a book here, but I'm afraid it's not for sale at the moment. I'm referencing it for a research project."
When they hear the Pahtfinders’ reason for visiting, they frown, scratching the frills at the top of their head thoughtfully. They inform the team that although they don’t wish to impede the Pathfinders, they purchased the grimoire for their own studies because of its author, an
Issian shadowcaster who specialized in crafting shadow-infused relics.
"As I'm working on a treatise about these relics, the grimoire is invaluable to my research. Oh, it's really quite fascinating. You know that... Well, when she heard that... And 30 years after that... But that wasn't until after..."
Eager for listeners, they pass out tea and cinnamon rolls while rambling about their research for as long as it takes until someone stops them.
"Hem. Yes. Well. I understand that you didn't intent to sell the tome and that it's more valuable as part of a set, but my purchase was entirely above-board and I can produce documentation. No, I'm afraid I'm determined to keep it. The book's the next best thing since I wasn't able get into the--well."
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Rudely, as Anri has no desire to hear an enthusiastic nerd rattle on about the insufferably boring details of a research project nobody cares about, she cuts her off midstream.
”Important or not, the Grimoire belongs to my employer, and is not, was never, for sale.”
Her attempt to frame the tone of the conversation stark, she pivots now to watch the iruxi begin to struggle with anticipated frustration, knowing that sometimes emotions can get in the way of what’s right. But. That a proper scholar, who she presumes Erikanesh to be, is accustomed to coming around to correctly drawn conclusions.
”How would you like me to supply proof of my claim?” brutal, but to the point. Best not to waste time. Never-the-less, our mercurial hero braces for what she knows will be a much longer encounter than she cares to admit to herself!
"The library is the Forae Logos. What I can't get into is a special collection that's restricted to members of a university or other scholarly institution, the Darkrivil Archives. Apparently I don't qualify, which is, needless to say, vexing. I understand why it's restricted, and rules are rules, but--well."
Erika bristles a little at Anri's accusation. "Including the grimoire with other goods being sold may have been an oversight on your employer's part, madame, but include it they did. I assure you, I do not purchase illegal goods, and I have receipt and documentation of my purchase. I've no obligation to return it for a refund, and certainly none to give it to you.
"However," they pause and take a breath, "I understand that agents of the Pathfinder Society aren't all scholars, but it is a 'scholarly institution,' is it not? If you can get into the Archives and look some things up for me--and take good notes!--I won't need the book any more. And I'd owe you a return favor--the book, presumably. Yes... yes, this is a good arrangement that gets everyone what they want. Yes, excellent! A brilliant conclusion.
"Now... I'm sure you know where the Forae Logos is, it's famous!" They don't wait for an answer. "It's in Absalom's Wise Quarter, north of the Coins District where we are right now. You should be granted access to the Darkrivil Archive--now that's '-rivil,' not '-rival,' which I'm sure you're more familiar with--upon request. But go now, they told me they're loaning the Archive out to a university in Goka and will be packing it up soon. Let me get you a list of what I'll need..."
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Deliberately misinterpreting Zarina "I'm sure they have a door" then with less sarcasm "Access isn't a problem. It's time" she rolls her eyes and exhales with displeasure.
Aside:
"Chasing little nonsense,
Why must you vex me, oh mother,
Are my talents not enough?
Do I not please you?
Send me not into the depth,
For I have striven and strode,
That I may find a place among,
Your chosen"
To Erikanesh "Irregardless of the exact details, you leave me with no choice but to accept your offer on my employer's behalf" she turns with impatience to her comrades "I will go look into accessing the library - if you all wouldn't mind facilitating the surely laborious and elaborate enscriptions of our client"
Storming off like a devil wind.
Laborious and elaborate inscription indeed, though it boils down to "find out everything about this author you can."
The librarians are perfectly willing to accept the Pathfinder Society itself as a scholarly institution, and therefore the field agents are ushered in with no trouble.
Save one issue: "We do need to get this collection packed up tonight, so the Darkrivil Archive will be closing in eight hours."
Well, that's more than enough. Probably.
Navigating the Archive is easiest for those with knowledge of such academic institutions, though anyone knowledgeable about magic or history wouldn't have much more difficulty.
Someone who doesn't want to work directly with the research (or feels they're unable), can help collect materials. If they do an especially good job at keeping an eye out for just the right book (or lugging a lot of them at once), it may even make the scholars' job easier.