"Coffee, sir, if you please. I've no intention of drinking in a tavern full of foreigners and rivals," Pherenike says firmly.
I would hope by now that you would also consider yourself amongst friends. indicating the group sat at the table,
Cheers to our first successful venture...may there be many more.
Kheled rolls the wine glass in his hand, savoring the vintage and the cool liquid in his dry mouth, I was thinking, are any of you interested in possibly pooling some of our newly aquired funds to purchase a magical healing wand? It would be a good addition to my healing skills and should keep us in the hunt longer.
While the professor is speaking, Myron discreetly lets his eyes wander across the room, searching for members of the other teams.
Once everyone have ordered, Myron volunteers to acompany the professor to the bar to get the drinks. On the way, he whispers "Perhaps you could discreetly inquire the bartender if he has heard anything about how the other teams have fared. I'll ask a few pointed questions to the other patrons while you do so."
Aristedes felt he had said enough and left the others to debate Kheled's query and make small talk. Finding the smallest member of his new companions accompanying him, he nodded in agreement as he rattled off the order of drinks to the establishment in fluent Osiriani.
Scoping out the competitors? No harm in it, I suppose. Bear with me though, I would rather obfuscate our identities while doing so.
Aristedes spoke loudly enough to be easily overheard by others in the tavern, but addressed the barkeep.
My good man! I've travelled from far-away Taldor, the finest city in the Inner Sea Region, to be here today. I have gathered an elite team of troubleshooters, problem solvers and warriors; all intent on receiving the honor of exploring a tomb in the name of Pharasma and the pursuit of long-lost knowledge. Much to my consternation, i've heard that the teams for the event have already been selected! By Grand Prince Stavian himself, I am utterly humiliated! Perhaps even ruined...
After a despondent moment, Aristedes seemed to sober a little and blinked as though seeing the bartender for the first time.
Perchance, a man in your position might know something of the teams? Perhaps if one of the tombs was... too much for one of the weaker teams to handle, there is a position open? Anything you could tell me about these teams might give me an angle to replace one of them. I could certainly give you a commission if your information led us to securing a contract... he hinted.
Mus'ad shrugs as the Professor goes to attempt to discern what threats the other teams might hold. He awaits his tea, and performs a pouring ritual after it arrives... where tea is first poured out, before being placed back within the teapot to steep again. When satisfied with the potency he raises an eyebrow and looks to the others, seeking affirmation of whether he is to pour more than one glass.
The group bypassed the hustle and bustle of the Sunshine market and made straight for the Tooth & Hookah. Moving past inns and houses, markets filled with brass lamps and striped rugs, until reaching a quiet section near the old city wall. Canvas awnings stretched over doorways, casting pools of shade on the avenue. A flag hung from one awning, painted with a grinning green crocodile sinking its teeth into a gold hookah.
Moving through the curtained doorway, the group was relieved by the blessed shade and darkness provided by mud-brick walls. The
floorboards rasped under your boots, a fine layer of sand covering the floor. Taking a moment to scan the room you spied pillows shaped like crescent moons surrounded low, round tables. Water pipes of dinged and dented brass with painted enamel bases sat in the center of each table. Clay bowls filled with the stubs of unlit candles hung from the ceiling. Filtered light from the curtained doorway left the room dim.
It takes you a moment to locate the bar among the many counters crowded against the walls. This inn seemed more a miniature market than a tavern. Old books overflow on a table next to a counter covered with cheap-looking necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Wispy scarves embellished with tiny shining coins hung on a rack in a corner.
The bar is in the opposite corner: a tall, narrow table, its legs hidden by a cotton skirt patterned with faded yellow palm fronds, its surface covered with colored glass cups, bronze decanters, and an assortment of liquor bottles. A low stone ring at the end of the bar marks an indoor well.
The Tooth & Hookah seems a popular place. Almost all the tables are occupied. No one seems to take much notice of your arrival. A haze of smoke hangs in the air. The spicy scent of shisha tobacco mixes with the fresh, mineral smell of the well wafting from the corner.
A set of stairs, half-hidden behind a screen painted with a camel, is just off to the side of the bar. The artist’s haphazard brushstrokes gave the poor beast a look of permanent indigestion.
You claim an empty table in a quiet corner and after seating yourselves amongst the numerous pillows Ahkenaten addresses the party before taking orders for the first round of drinks.
At the same time, Myron scans the room looking for familiar faces and spots the halfling team, the Dog Soldiers, at another table. A quick head count shows they have lost no members. The group's table is positively covered in empty vessels and mugs leading you to surmise that they have been here for some time already. The group's leader, Marrn, is head down upon the table.
Myron also notices the all female team, the Daughters of the Desert, at another nearby table. The five of them, apparently a cleric of Iomedae,
a barbarian from one of the nomadic desert clans of Thuvia, a pair of veil wearing twin sisters and their leader, Sigrun Firehair, an Ulfen woman with blazing orange hair, sit quietly talking amongst themselves.
Sigrun catches Myron's eye and nods politely, apparently recognizing the group as fellow Necropolis explorers.
Aerathiel has been extremely quiet since leaving the tomb, letting the Professor and the others handle most of the talking at the debriefing. Something is obviously weighing upon his mind.
|
I would hope by now that you would also consider yourself amongst friends. indicating the group sat at the table
Pherenike's only response to the healer's overture is a skeptical gaze before she turns her attention back to the Professor, across the room. She keeps a particularly close eye on the tables nearest him and any individuals approaching the bar. Nervously drumming her fingers on the hilt of her falchion, she clearly views the other inhabitants of the tavern as unscrupulous at best and quite possibly outright villainous.
Mus'ad doesn't seem to be o'ermuch aware of or concerned by the others within the room. His singular focus for the near term is his tea... and the consumption thereof.
Kheled considered as the others seemed to ignore his inquiry about healing supplies...
perhaps they believe they are invincible, no matter.
Kheled's eyes follow his fellow travelors as they mingle with in the tavern. He supresses the urge to walk up to the other groups and ask them how their searches went fearing the others would get angry with him...
Sooo, another crypt tomorrow? Looking forward to some more delving!
Myron asks patrons at the next table and is gruffly informed that the "wee dog loving ones have apparently lost some of their prized dogs" and have been "whining about it for most of the afternoon".
The lovely ladies haven't talked much, except to the halflings. And another team is seated over there, another man offers, pointing to a group on the other side of the tavern. The group indicated looks to the be the ones calling themselves the "Cryptfinders". The diverse group, apparently hailing from all over the Inner Sea, seems oblivious to the rest of the tavern.
They were braggin' earlier about how they explored the tomb of some important government official and they have been throwing around just as much coin as the halfings.
Meanwhile, Aristedes approached the bar and put his best effort into his charade. The barkeep listened stone faced, leaning with his arms spread wide apart, palms down and elbows locked, upon the tabletop. After a moment of silence the barkeep responds, Can't say as I know much friend. The halflings are all tore up about losing some dogs, but they have beenshopping around a sword they found. The ladies have been unusually tight lipped... especially for a bard like that red head.
Looking at the Cryptfinders pointedly, he motions for the Professor to lean in closer and in a lowered voice he says, Them boys over there claim to have taken on a mummy and lived. Not sure I believe them.
Relaxing his posture and grabbing a glass he begins cleaning out of habit he adds, I'm sure if you truly wish to participate, the church would be the place to petition.
Now, let me get you those drinks...
Back at the table, Aerathiel spots someone he recognizes and excuses himself to join her at the bar. She immediately recognizes him back and they begin chatting quietly between themselves.
The person Aerathiel spots smiles in surprise at the elf's approach. The two begin chatting as if they have known one another for a while.
Those who take notice of her find that the woman stands roughly Aerathiel's height at five-feet-seven-inches tall, and that she cuts a slim figure in richly-embroidered, blue and white robes, tailored to fit her form and held together at the waist with a sash. She wears a considerable amount of jewelry, with two platinum studs in the arch of each ear, a rain-drop shaped sapphire earring in each lobe, and several gold bracelets on each wrist, along with a what looks to be a signet ring. Bronze-skinned with almond-shaped eyes of rich sapphire hue, she wears her copper hair at shoulder length. Quick to smile in her conversation with Aerathiel, her pointed ears mark her as an elf, but with a certain beauty that's hard to place a finger on...almost angelic, and yet fey all at once.
Myron moves over to the Dog Soldiers table.
"Hello again," he says cautiously. "I'm sorry to see that some of your dogs didn't make it back from the necropolis. Please accept my sympathies. We had a pretty rough time ourselves, and I think we count ourselves lucky to all be in on piece."
Kheled gives the new, unknown women an appreciative glance but otherwise continues his discussion of their adventure today in the tomb.
The Dog Soldiers accept Myron's sympathies with a quiet nod, before Marrn jerks his head up and exclaims in slurred speech, Myron! Glad to see you made it out alive my friend! His breath is toxic, even from a distance. I wish my dogs were as lucky as us, you and I! Bloody gelatinous thing got half of them! I trained them all from when they was pups! Not a good way for a dog to die! His head sags as he talks. You aren't sure how he is still conscious given the amount of alcohol he must have imbibed to make his breath smell as bad as it does.
Before his head makes its way all the way to the table he lifts it again to inquire, Hey! You wanna buy sword we found? I need the coin to get some more dogs!
As dramatically as he can, Marrn pulls the sword out from underneath the table. Holding it aloft, the weapon sways in his unsteady hand. It is an exquisite scimitar. The blade glows with a soft red light. Ain't she a beaut? Yours for only 25 hundred scarabs!
Sigrun teases from her nearby table, Careful Mad Dog! Best not to cut a potential customer! before she rises and strolls over to join the conversation. Myron is it? Pleased to meet you. We've all heard how the Dog Soldiers here fared, how did your group? Delve anything interesting? Find anything interesting? she says with a plying smile.
Marrn's arm begins to sag, the effort of holding the sword up taxing his depleted stamina...
Meanwhile, back at the table, Aerathiel returned with his friend in tow. Everyone, this is my acquaintance Elrisiel Ielessar. I have asked her to take my spot on the team and she has agreed, pending your approval of course. He holds up a hand to hold off any questions that might be coming his way. This mornings delve has taught me that I am not quite ready to take on such ventures and for that I apologize. You will find Elrisiel a capable and willing substitute and I hope that you will accept her as you did myself. I shall stay on in Wati and help the group in any other way that I can, but for now, I am not willing to return to the Necropolis. I hope that you can respect my decision.
He then turns to Elrisiel, giving her a nod...
Kheled rises and grasps her hand, Welcome Elrisiel, I am Kheled, the healer and destroyer of undead...though we haven't met much yet. You are a user of magic like our friend Aerathiel? If so we could use your help if he is leaving. Please sit and tell us a little about yourself and the others can introduce themselves.
Kheled attempts to use his trusting manner to make the new Elf/Aasimar feel welcome.
Looking up the dwarf states simply "Mus'ad.... want tea?"
Myron smiles at Marrn's attempt at salesmanship. "Sorry, friend. I'm more comfortable sticking to my trusty sling staff and my kukri. I'd probably end up skewering one of my team mates if I tried to wield that thing. Not that a couple of them couldn't use a bit of skewering, between you and me. Full of fancy airs, as if you aren't worth a damn unless you got at least two centuries worth of Taldan blood running through your veins."
He turns and flashes his best charming smile at Sigurn, obviously not minding the female halfling's attention. "We found a bunch of things, and some of them even turned out to be worth a pretty penny. Some weapons, though none as fancy as your sword there. But we did find some magic armor and a shield shaped like one of those bugs they hold in such high regard down here. Wasn't no picnic, though. We ran into all kinds of critters, from giant scorpions to grumpy digger beetles and some tricky traps. The tomb had a fake main chamber that tried to drow us AND eat us. Barely got out of there alive. No gelatines though, and good thing too. I wouldn't know how to fight one."
He pauses his stream of words to draw breath and sip from his glass, when he spots Elrisiel talking to the Delvers.
"Looks like my team has some new company. Best head over there and see what's up. I'll ask my team mates about the sword, in case one of them wants to snag it up before we head back out. Stay safe out there."
With that, he excuses himself and heads back to the Delvers, giving Elrisiel a friendly and curious smile. "Who's this now? a new friend? I'm Myron." He holds out his hand for the Aasimar to shake while saying "The Dog soldiers say hi. Anyone wanna buy a magic scimitar that glows red?" to no-one in particular.
Smiling, Elrisiel glances at Aerathiel as he introduces her. Her gaze turns to Kheled, Mus'ad and Myron as they introduce themselves. To Mus'ad she replies, "I would love some."
"As Aerathiel said, I am Elrisiel. It is a pleasure to meet you all," she continues. "And I am indeed a wizard, and something of an archaeologist as well. I've found that my focus on divination magic complements my interest in Ancient Osirion's relics rather handily, if I may say so."
Mus'ad nods and pours Elrisiel a small ornamental cup of the pungent fluid.
There is also wine! he says with some excitement, his face slightly flushed due to his first glass.
We just successfully completed our first tomb exploration. We learned many interesting things about Akhentepi, once great general of Osirion.
Waitress, another glass! turning to the others, We should celebrate!
How about 2000 scarabs then? Marrn's arm gives out before Myron can even respond, the sword crashing to the table a split second before Marrn's head does the same. The other halflings continue drinking as Marrn begins to snore softly.
The red headed beauty smiles back at Myron. Sounds positively exciting! I would love to hear more if you have the time later!
Across the tavern, another group enters. Or, more correctly, half of the team calling themselves the Sand Scorpions enter and take up a spot at the bar where the leader of the group, a mysterious woman called Black Kiss, orders a number of shots for herself and her companion. They proceed to make private toasts before downing a number of drinks.
Looking to the freshly arrived Sand Scorpions and the collapsed Dog Soliders... and even the Daughters, Mus'ad sighs and leans back in his chair with the small glass of tea poured for him.
Elrisiel smiles politely at the dwarf as she takes up the cup of tea offered to her. She then follows Mus'ad's gaze across the room to the other adventuring parties. She settles into a nearby empty chair, sparing a raised eyebrow at the dwarf as he sighs.
As the Delvers sit silently and stare at each other, Sigrun moves over to talk to the newly arrived Sand Scorpions at the bar.
"So, Elrisiel. What's your story? How did you end up in Wati?" Myron says. He listens intently to what the Aasimar has to say, but from time to time he scans the room, especially on the lookout for the remaining teams.
Looking at the Cryptfinders pointedly, he motions for the Professor to lean in closer and in a lowered voice he says, Them boys over there claim to have taken on a mummy and lived. Not sure I believe them.
Before returning to the table, Aristedes approached the Cryptfinders with his arms mostly hidden in his sleeves, looking very much the humble scholar as he approached the Cryptfinders in a reserved, but friendly manner. He waited politely for acknowledgement of his presence before extending a hand to shake to the closest one.
Good evening, fellow explorers. I represent a small, fellow band known as the "Delvers", for lack of a better name. I had hoped that perhaps we could share our experiences for mutual survival and prosperity? A fair trade; I will tell you all about the deadly metal constructs that defended the tomb of Ahkentepi and you will divulge the details of your encounter with a mummy. You must surely be fearsome warriors, if the rumors that you met one are to be believed...
Meanwhile, back at the table, Aerathiel returned with his friend in tow. Everyone, this is my acquaintance Elrisiel Ielessar. I have asked her to take my spot on the team and she has agreed, pending your approval of course. He holds up a hand to hold off any questions that might be coming his way. This mornings delve has taught me that I am not quite ready to take on such ventures and for that I apologize. You will find Elrisiel a capable and willing substitute and I hope that you will accept her as you did myself. ...
Aristedes slowly nodded in acceptance of the Elf's withdrawal, hesitantly placing a warm hand on the mage's shoulder for a moment before turning back to business.
No more need be said on the subject. You acquitted yourself with courage and great competence. I'm sure Elrisiel will be a suitable candidate in your stead. Now, I just have some paperwork for you both. If you, good sir, could sign here and here, and Elrisiel, please sign this contract. Luckily, I took the liberty of producing spares... A convenient contingency!
The musetouched elf arches one elegant eyebrow at Aristedes. She spares a disbelieving glance at Aerathiel that can easily be read as Is he serious? Finally, she half-turns her head to simultaneously read the paperwork in front of her as she answers Myron. "Well, I got bored one year and decided that I wanted to be an archaeologist," she half-jokes. "So I left to study the field abroad. After all, most of the interesting ruins in Kyonin are infested with demons or corrupted fey. And...well, the particular teachers I had were very fascinated with Ancient Osirion's relics, and it kind of rubbed off on me. Even after I completed my studies, the pylons, cylinders and obelisks just seemed to have such a story waiting to be told. So when I heard that Wati's necropolis was being opened to visitors, it seemed like a good opportunity to get in to see it first-hand."
As Aristedes approached the Cryptfinders he quickly took stock of its members. The group consisted of a man-at-arms type, wearing scale mail and riding boots, with a longsword and slung over the back of his chair. The Professor noticed a Chelish pin upon the man's armor and recognized the coat of arms of a cavalier in the service of the Order of the Scales upon the man's shield.
A woman in loose fitting sky blue robes is chatting with a keffiyeh wearing man in Keleshite robes. He bears a scimitar and a Dawnflower symbol around his neck.
The fourth member wears well-worn leathers, a distinctive short sword and has an impressive number of daggers visible on his person.
This last man, with a dark mop of curly hair, catches Aristedes eye as he draws near the table. He stands with and easy effort and takes the offered hand. Well met. I am Falto. His accent revealed him to be from Absalom. I am the leader of this little fine troupe. This is Manius, Threshia and Akif, he indicates pointing to the three others. An exchange sounds wonderful. Please join us.
Our story isn't all that exciting I'm afraid. Well except for the ending! We were given the assignment of investigating the tomb of some important government official... I forget his name.
Masaharta Re'hotpe. Akif interjected.
Right, Falto nodded. The tomb proved fairly simple, seeing as how it was breached many years ago previously, but not fully as we were to find out.
I was able to locate the true, previously undiscovered, tomb and within that the good Masaharta had become a mummy! Falto paused for effect before continuing with false modesty, It was a tough fight but we prevailed thanks in no small part to Threshia's pet.
We did quite well by coins and such, but I don't think Sabu was happy with our report, Falto chortles.
Don't tell me you believe that fairy tale Aristedes!
Unnoticed by all, the last unaccounted for group had quietly entered the tavern. The group's leader, and source of the remark, is an average height woman dressed in a Taldan dandy’s idea of an adventurer’s outfit, with bloused pants and laced up shirt. Her light skin has been burnished a light bronze by the Osirian sun. She tucks her long, light brown hair under a rather large and flamboyant floppy hat, complete with a long feather. A large tome is lashed to her hip along with a dagger and light crossbow. A wand, carved and painted to resemble the head of a cobra, is tucked into her belt.
Behind her stands a tall Garundi man with expressive brown eyes. His physique is strong and healthy, though his movements are those of a cautious man. He wears scale mail and a pointed helm over simple bleached linen garments with a sash across his waist and shoulder, half black and half white. A distinctive quarterstaff is held in his hand, the head shaped of stirling silver in the shape of a crescent.
The next member is a beautiful half-elf woman standing a little over 6 feet tall, with a dusky complexion. A blend of Garundi and elven grace her features. Her long, dark hair is straighter than that normally found among her human parent’s people and is pulled back in a single braid. She has an athletic physique befitting one who is accustomed to running, tumbling, and occasionally fighting. She projects a cool, confident demeanor in her shapely blackened leather armor and carrying an exquisite khopesh. Chakrams hang loosely from her belt.
The last of the group is a handsome Keleshite man in his early twenties. He is not tall, but his body is lean and fit, and he moves with a catlike grace. His hair is a lustrous black, just long enough that he must occasionally brush it out of his eyes. Thin lines of kohl rim his eyes, obviously to make them stand out rather than diminish the sun’s glare. He wears a sleeveless shirt and simple sarong and sandals. A studded club and a dagger hang from his belt. A large satchel bag is slung over his shoulder, a book, wands and scrolls peaking out from under the flap. Resting upon his shoulder is a tiny green scorpion.
Each of the Scorched Hands, save for the half-elven woman, wear the same holy symbol around their necks. The half white, half black, mask of Nethys.
Come! By me a drink Professor! the woman continues with a thoroughly charming smile while taking his arm in hers and leading him towards the bar.
After her graduation from the Arcanamirium, Velriana became intrigued with the history of Ancient Osirion and its early meteoric rise to power. You met her as she studied at the Kitharodian Academy. She proved to be a capable researcher but was disappointed that she’d already missed joining the first wave of explorers, who plumbed Osirion's ancient tombs when they were opened by the Ruby Prince 7 years ago. Obviously she has not missed this new opportunity.
You know she is highly intelligent, driven, a natural leader and a proud Taldan aristocrat. She doesn't flinch from hard decisions or shirk from the responsibility they bring, but she’s skilled at rationalization. In practical matters, her knowledge of history, religion and the arcane rival your own. You are aware that her family has wealth as well as political connections that reach into Sothis and perhaps beyond.
The musetouched elf arches one elegant eyebrow at Aristedes. She spares a disbelieving glance at Aerathiel that can easily be read as Is he serious? Finally, she half-turns her head to simultaneously read the paperwork in front of her as she answers Myron. "Well, I got bored one year and decided that I wanted to be an archaeologist," she half-jokes. "So I left to study the field abroad. After all, most of the interesting ruins in Kyonin are infested with demons or corrupted fey. And...well, the particular teachers I had were very fascinated with Ancient Osirion's relics, and it kind of rubbed off on me. Even after I completed my studies, the pylons, cylinders and obelisks just seemed to have such a story waiting to be told. So when I heard that Wati's necropolis was being opened to visitors, it seemed like a good opportunity to get in to see it first-hand."
Well hopefully we won't run into Demons or corrupted Fey in our explorations of the Crypts...though we may run into some of the dead risen again. Kheled sips on the chilled white and considers, So is anyone doing anything interesting with their new-found wealth? I was trying to consider if I should buy anything...but to be honest all of the magics I have been told about that really interest me are beyond my purchase ability. Though I am sure we will hit it big in one of these crypts. Now that I think of it though my father used to say the same thing...
Elrisiel's gaze follows Pherenike as she tails Aristedes. She glances at Kheled. "She seems...protective."
The woman, Velriana as you heard her called the other day at the lottery ceremony, escorts the Professor to the bar. The other members of the Scorched Hand find a table nearby.
The Taldan woman removes her hat and shakes out her long brown hair before ordering a pair of Taldan brandis for her and Aristedes. I thought that was you at the ceremony yesterday. Left the security of the Academy to poke about in the field huh? Interesting decision, she purrs. Stealing a glance back at the rest of the Delvers and the rapidly approaching Pherenike she adds, Seems like a motley bunch. How did you fare today?
As the bartender delivers the drinks, Velriana looks at Ahkenaten to pay.
The Professor seemed not at all alarmed and was the essence of a true Taldan gentleman as he raised his arms in surprise and apparent delight at the sight of the Taldan dandy.
Why, Velriana! Well met, my lady. I almost did not recognize you in that attire; I see your taste for flamboyance has followed you across the continent. I should have predicted you would find your way here too- the studies of such ruins were always to your fascination, were they not?
Aristedes chuckled in good nature at the Taldan's words as he casually paid for the drink.
Quite well, quite well. We fully explored our assigned tomb and all lived to tell the tale. I've found myself with something of a mixed group, much like your own, I daresay. In truth, perhaps I am a little out of my depth in such ruins, for other than the occasional piece of lore; my associate's talents far outweigh my own, when it is life or death in such places. Ah... allow me to introduce one such skilled Delver; this is Pherenike Kyriakos- a hardened and disciplined warrior who has the unfortunate burden of both trying to keep us all alive with her swordsmanship, as well as teach me to load a crossbow correctly. Pherenike, this is Velriana Hypaxes; something of a prodigy in the field of Ancient Osirion, and quite the mage as well.
Elrisiel's gaze follows Pherenike as she tails Aristedes. She glances at Kheled. "She seems...protective."
Well, ahem, she is VERY serious about her duties. So far I haven't even been able to get her to crack a smile...usually I get at least a grin when I make a nuisance of myself.
Mus'ad doesn't say much either...or maybe we just haven't found anything interesting enough for him to really get into.Which one is it Mus'ad?
Myron, myself, and the professor make up for it though with our near constant chatter.
Kheled doesn't come across as insulting Mus'ad, just disappointed that he hasn't really gotten to know him yet. He comes across as a bit of a pleaser...
Looking up from his tea at the mention of his name, the pahmet listens before pausing a moment. All he then offers is a simple shrug of the shoulders.
Velriana gives Pherenike an appraising eye. She looks up to the task. Certainly zealous in the execution of her duties to "protect" you it would seem.
Turning back to Aristedes she continues, Well at least you got a tomb to explore! We were assigned a brothel for heaven's sake! Can you imagine? The historical significance of it all! she laughs.
The smile dissipates almost instantly. But seriously, it infuriates me that the Grand Mausoleum won't listen to reason. Some of us are just better suited to explore the sites of importance than others. Wouldn't you agree?
We petitioned to explore a site sacred to our faith... but they wouldn't listen...
She leans in closer, laying her hand upon Ahkenaten's arm. Can I ask a favor of you Professor? I would greatly appreciate if you let me know if you learn of an ancient temple or shrine being assigned, or hear any rumors of something called “the Erudite Eye”? I would be in your debt! She adds with a squeeze of his arm.
Myron nods, drinks deep from his cup and says "It's true. I do tend to chatter." with a wide grin.
"Pherenike is certainly very serious about her duties, as Kheled says...and about most other things. I'd only wish she'd stop regarding everything as a potential threat. It makes her kind of edgy, and I get nervous when people with with big swords are edgy."
Myron glances in the direction of the Sand Scorpions.
"Speaking of edgy - those fellows don't look too happy. I wonder if they encountered more trouble than they could handle."
Nothing wrong with a bit of chatter Myron. A man who speaks little can say much but the man who speaks a lot ensures he does!
Old Osirion proverb... he grins with some obvious sarcasm.
Me spells focus mainly on healing or detecting undead, how about you
Elrisiel?