Bartok moves in and brings his blade down on the scorpion, killing it!
Janira runs into the wine cellar and peeks through the door.
"You all okay? Does anyone need some healing? Oooh, Josheb, are you alright?"
As Janira steps into the room, she's awestruck by what she sees.
"Wowww. This must be a secret Pathfinder office or something. Let's have a look around..."
With the creatures defeated, you can properly examine the files on the desk. The papers chronicle the personal exploits of Selmius Foster, a famous Pathfinder whose name you recognize from their training as Pathfinder agents. Most of Foster’s more infamous adventures appear here in varying amounts of detail, but it is evident there is another investigation he had been pursuing before he died: the lost records of a Society agent named Eylysia.
"It looks like Drandle Dreng sent you on a bigger mission than you expected." Janira says with a smile.
"Good luck, Pathfinders."
Janira casts cure light wounds on Josheb.
"Lucky you didn't get stung by that giant scorpion. I hear it's pretty debilitating. Hurts for days."
You don't mind poking me with that stick do ya, Janira? I buggered my ankle when the board broke as my lard butt was going across...
"Sure! Here ya go..."
"You all should take Dreng's wine back to him and see what he knows about all of this."
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You don't mind poking me with that stick do ya, Janira? I buggered my ankle when the board broke as my lard butt was going across..."Sure! Here ya go..."
[dice=boink!]1d8+1"You all should take Dreng's wine back to him and see what he knows about all of this."
"Yes that's an excellent idea. I'm sure he will want us to followup on the investigation started many years ago but I could be wrong."
Returning to Dreng's office...
He thanks you for retrieving his wine, then gives a slight chuckle as if he knows something.
Dreng adjusts his spectacles and gives the papers a quick scan before squinting at you with a gleam of excitement.
"Well now… this is quite something! Selmius Foster wasn’t just poking around old basements for the dust—he was onto something. Something big, maybe. And now you are, too."
He taps the papers with a knobby finger.
"It is important—vital, really—that Pathfinders respect the finds and claims of their colleagues, especially those who never got the chance to finish their stories. This mystery began with Foster, and now it’s yours to pursue. Consider it an inheritance."
He leans in slightly, dropping his voice as though sharing a secret.
"Besides, no one ever made a name for themselves sitting on their hands in a tavern. Go. Dig deeper. Follow the thread. Whatever Foster found, the Society deserves to know—and you just might be the ones to uncover it."
Then he straightens, brushing lint from his robe, and waves a hand dismissively.
"Off with you, then. Time and tombs wait for no one. I’ll be here, if you need any assistance."
"Do you know anything about the gnome Pathfinder Eylyshia?"
"A little...
Eylysia is a founding member of the Pathfinder Society, and witnessed the first century of its development—while also seeking to rein in its most dangerous practices, and later its systemic corruption—before being accused of assassinating a member of its leadership, the Decemvirate, and going into hiding."|
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"Do you know anything about the gnome Pathfinder Eylyshia?""A little...
Eylysia is a founding member of the Pathfinder Society, and witnessed the first century of its development—while also seeking to rein in its most dangerous practices, and later its systemic corruption—before being accused of assassinating a member of its leadership, the Decemvirate, and going into hiding."
"Which member and do you know of the investigation into the assassination? We might find useful information."
"I don't know very much. You should get on with your investigation pertaining to Foster's and Adolphus' letters, though."
As the second scorpion's life ends, Hakon looks around for any other threats, and upon not spotting any, ends his song.
He checks the blade of Limbrender to see if he damaged the axe when he took a chunk out of the wall, and is pleased to see that only the rock wall was damaged from the impact.
"Did anyone get stung?" Hakon asks just before Janira enters the room.
* *
"Janira, what is the toughest vermin you have come across?"
**
"Thank you for the aid, Janira. Bartok, you want to grab another coffee before we deliver the bottle, or were the scorpions enough to clear your head?"
**
"Inheritance and the opportunity for us to become legends." Hakon says in response to Dreng, "There are already minotaur and giant slayers among our number. A year from now bards will be singing the ballad I composed of the adventure we are just beginning."
Hakon asks his new companions, "None of you are shy about becoming famous, are you?"
**
In response to the info Dreng says about Eylysia, Hakon's voice deepens a bit more than his usual deep resonance, "Intrigue and betrayal by ones in power. A story that repeats itself time and time again."
**
Hakon looks at Dr. Watson, "Better we start with a grave then finish in one."
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"Janira, what is the toughest vermin you have come across?"
"Pathfinders, of course." she replies with a wink and a giggle.
You arrive at the eastern edge of the city in Eastgate, where the hustle of Absalom gives way to quiet reverence. Set behind a wrought-iron fence, the necropolis grounds stretch across a gently sloping hill, dotted with stone mausoleums, weathered statues, and clusters of old trees swaying in the breeze.
According to Selmius Foster’s notes, this is the resting place of Arkath—a man who paid dearly in life to ensure his rest would not be disturbed in death. His mausoleum lies among those maintained by the church of Pharasma. Though the main gates stand open to any who come to pay respects, a somber attendant patrols the path, eyes watchful.
The crypts themselves are sealed with heavy stone doors, each bearing the sigils of the families within.
As you wander the grounds, doing your best to appear as mourners paying respects rather than boisterous Pathfinders on a tomb-hunting mission...
Moving silently among the gravestones is a woman clad in dark gray vestments embroidered with silver spirals—Pharasma’s holy symbol stitched with practiced care. Her long black hair is streaked with a stark line of white that catches the light like moonlit marble. She walks with deliberate calm, her expression unreadable, eyes heavy with distant thought.
As you approach, she pauses beside a mausoleum and turns to face you fully. Her gaze lingers on each of you in turn—not unkind, but measured, as though weighing your intentions before a single word is spoken.
"May I help you... friends? What is your business in Pharasma’s domain?" she asks in a softspoken voice, almost a whisper.
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Dr. Watson bows. "Good day, dear servant of Pharasma! My name is Dr. John Watson. How are you today? And if I may ask: Would you be so kind as to give us directions to Arkath the Stonemason's grave? I am certain that you know this place inside and out. We would be very thankful for that."
You were trained in a now defunct philosophical tradition—such as that of the now destroyed Galtan universities or Lirgeni astrologers—and learned to use logic and reason to persuade others. You can use your Intelligence modifier in place of your Charisma modifier on Diplomacy checks to persuade others and on Bluff checks to convince others that a lie is true. (This trait does not affect Diplomacy checks to gather information or Bluff checks to feint in combat.)
"What is the proper protocol for paying our respects without disturbing those laid to rest in Pharasma's domain?" Hakon asks the woman.
Dr. Watson bows. "Good day, dear servant of Pharasma! My name is Dr. John Watson. How are you today? And if I may ask: Would you be so kind as to give us directions to Arkath the Stonemason's grave? I am certain that you know this place inside and out. We would be very thankful for that."
"I see." she says softly.
"What is the proper protocol for paying our respects without disturbing those laid to rest in Pharasma's domain?" Hakon asks the woman.
Hadriana’s pale eyes settle on you, calm and measured. She gives a slight nod, her voice barely louder than the breeze rustling the trees.
"Hmm. I see...""Speak little. Walk softly. Do not tread directly upon the graves, and do not touch what is not yours. The dead are not deaf, and Pharasma watches all who walk among them."
She folds her hands in front of her, expression unreadable.
"If your intentions are true, you need no grand gestures. A bowed head and quiet reverence will suffice.
Follow me... Arkath's tomb is over here."
She leads you to Arkath's tomb. Upon arriving she says,
"Please take your time to pay your respects. I must tend to the grounds and direct other mourners. May Pharasma watch over thee, friends." She bows politely and takes her leave.
The mausoleum door grinds open with a reluctant groan, revealing a cold, silent chamber carved from pale stone. The air inside is dry and still, heavy with the scent of age and dust. Faint carvings of warding symbols and funerary script in both Common and Osiriani line the interior walls—faded, but intact. A single stone sarcophagus with a heavy stone lid rests on a low pedestal in the center of the chamber, its surface engraved with Arkath’s name and a stylized sunburst crest, now dulled with time.
"Wow, this guy was loaded to just be a stonemason. Bet he was involved in something nefarious." Josheb suggests as he looks around the room.
[dice=Perception]1d20+1
You don't see anything out of the ordinary. Just a cold, silent chamber with a large sarcophagus in the center.
Hakon, remaining silent, enters and scans for anything of note.
Sombra draws upon his arcane powers to scan the area for anything magical.
Nothing in the tomb radiates as magical.
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"For a man to become this wealthy, he certainly did not have much expectation to be respected beyond the grave," Cazithiel observes. "No plaque detailing his accomplishments, no adornment, other than this crest," indicating the sunburst.
He crouched down to study it further. "Is this all the legacy he wished to leave?"
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"Yes. Whatever key clue the man took to his grave is certainly inside."
Dr. Watson gestures towards the heavy stone lid and then looks pointedly at Hakon, Josheb and Bartok.
"You are the strongest of us six. Can you move this thing quietly? I doubt that the priest will be happy if she notices that we opened the sarcophagus..."
Hakon looks at the doctor, then gestures for Bartok and Josheb to move over to the sarcophagus, as he walks over to the open doors to position himself to use his body as best he can to block the view into the mausoleum. He quietly and slowly stretches his arms upwards, then to the sides, then in front of him, and continues to cycle through the same motions.
(additional +1 bonus against Ulfen)
Cazithiel peers inside using his special door sight. Like with clairaudience/clairvoyance, he can tell the interior is naturally dark. He reports to the group that all he initially sees is a bare skeleton.
Wait... there's more...
As he continues scanning the interior, he notices an object—possibly a coin—resting in the skull's mouth.
Hakon does exercises at the entrance of the tomb, keeping watch on the outside. The priestess looks over from across the grounds after picking a weed between flagstones in the walkway. She gives a puzzled look, shrugs, then goes back to picking weeds.
Dr. Watson, Josheb, Caz, Sombra, and Bart go to slide the stone lid off —slowly and carefully— to avoid making too much noise.
Sure enough, a bare skeleton rests inside and a coin sits in its mouth.