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The bustling desert city of Wati is near bursting with excitement. Adventurers from every corner of the Inner Sea region have assembled here beneath the hot Osirian sun to explore the tombs of the city’s necropolis, waiting only to be assigned their first sites for exploration. Surrounding the participants, the public has gathered to observe the ceremony as well. There is a festival-like quality in the air, and numerous street vendors are hawking goods and refreshments to participants and spectators alike. Some merchants have even brought what can only be considered adventuring gear to sell as last minute convenience items to explorers, while others advertise that they’ll buy recovered treasures and antiquities from those who visit their establishments.
In front of the imposing edifice of the Grand Mausoleum, an immense awning has been erected between decorated pillars in the market to provide shade for the priests of Pharasma overseeing the lottery. Beneath the awning, two urns sit atop a table elevated a few feet above the ground on a wooden stage constructed for the event. The high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, sits behind the table, while two acolytes confer with her at either side.
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A stout sand dwarf clad in a crocodile-like scale armor and armed with a massive curved blade treads through the crowd, making his way to the Grand Mausoleum. The Pahmet couldn't care less if his pushing and shoving raised eyebrows or hostility from competitors and priests alike - he knew that this was an important day for him, and he wasn't about to let anyone stand in his way.
"Make way for the Coils of the Ouroboros! Now just you return to your hole and hide, lad," he jeers as he gazes upon a young boy set for adventure, but whose eyes betray a profound inexperience. "Best leave the job to the professionals."
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The Pahmet is shadowed by the much leaner figure of a half-elf wearing ample robes designed to resist Osirion hotter climes, and bearing a scarab amulet around his neck. Despite his pointy ears, you can tell he's obviously a locale from his suntan and strong Osiriani accent. Yet what appears to be odd is that the half-elf isn't armed at all, and that his hands are severely burnt, almost charred.
"Come now, Anakh-Ka, leave these people alone. You know very well that your boisterous attitude won't be the cause of our success - our fate will see that the lottery will favor us today." His voice is calm and soothing.
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Whereas the soothing voice may have sounded to belong to a half-elf for all its soothing tone, it comes in fact from another pahmet dwarf, one that could easily have been mistaken with Anakh-Ka, were it not for their drastically opposed demeanors. However, Khal-Ib is also wearing a scale armor, alongside a protective wooden shield painted with the open palm of Irori. A dwarven waraxe rests, hanging from his thick leather belt.
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The ceremony begins when the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, rises to her feet and looks over the crowd. Sebti seems surprisingly young to hold such a distinguished position, but she has a confident air of authority. Holding out her hands, she calls for silence. Immediately, all voices come to a quiet halt.
"Welcome to Wati, adventurers. I know you are every bit as impatient that I start the lottery, and that will come momentarily. For now, let us remain in respect of the dead, and pray to Pharasma."
"O Lady of Graves, in this day we seek your guidance. We are not graverobbers, we are not plunderers, we are not sinners. We present ourselves to you in humble respect of those who have already passed judgement in your Boneyard, and who do no longer need the mortal abodes that were gifted to them as they departed. In this day, we Osiriani wish to see its grand history restored, and humbly ask for your permission to explore the remains of yore. May all souls find their final rest."
The whole plaza in front of the Grand Mausoleum, which had turned completely silent during the prayer, then comes back to life as the sound of hushed conversations can be heard again.
"Before we proceed with the lottery," Sebti explains,"you need to understand where we are, and what this place used to mean. Long ago, Pharaoh Djederet II ordered the construction of our fair city to mark the birthplace of the River Sphinx. With its early foundations magically laid by the church of Nethys, the city sprang to life within just a year. Named Wati, the riverside town soon dominated trade across southern Osirion. Hardwoods and spices from Katapesh and the Mwangi Expanse bound for Sothis, and manufactured goods and luxuries from the nations surrounding the Inner Sea bound for Osirion’s southern territories, all paused long enough in Wati’s warehouses and markets to make its citizens famously wealthy. For centuries, Wati endured through political upheaval and the births and deaths of entire dynasties as it dominated its younger sister cities of An and Tephu."
"But Wati’s destiny was forever warped in 2499 AR, when the cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness among the city’s thriving populace. Many of those whom the fever did not immediately kill were driven to murderous insanity, and within months, more than half the city had fallen in painful, anguished death. Most of the survivors fled Wati to make new homes elsewhere, but a stubborn minority remained behind, determined to reclaim their city. But even once the plague had run its course, their livelihoods collapsed as An and Tephu took over Wati’s once exclusive trade routes, and their floundering community struggled against recurring outbreaks of the undead from the city’s many abandoned buildings-turned-tombs. It took almost half a millennium for Wati’s fortunes to reverse thanks to the church of Pharasma. With the tacit permission of Osirion’s Keleshite sultan, a Pharasmin priest named Nefru Shepses marched on Wati in 2953 AR with a small army of alchemists, masons, and morticians under his banner, intent on consecrating the entire city to the Lady of Graves, beginning with a new, monumental temple to Pharasma called the Grand Mausoleum. Over the next 30 years, Nefru Shepses and his followers recovered the bodies of those slaughtered in the Plague of Madness from their hasty, makeshift graves and the Pharasmins walled off that portion of the city that had been abandoned, transforming it into a metropolis of makeshift tombs. Thousands of corpses were given formal burial rites and reinterred in this dead copy of the living city, which continues to serve as Wati’s necropolis today."
"The consecration of the city and its necropolis revitalized Wati, and though it never reclaimed its dominance among the cities of the south, over the next 1,700 years Wati grew until its necropolis—once more than half of the city—took up less than a quarter of the city’s total area. Today, long after the necropolis’s completion, we need to reclaim that territory and learn what we can from the past."
Allowing for a short respite after her long-winded history lesson, the priestess motions for her acolytes to come closer to the two large urns.
"You have been patient, and the Lady is grateful for this kind of honor you pay to the dead. I shall have you wait no longer. Let the lottery begin! Although many of you have requested specific sites to
explore, we must leave these matters to fate. The Lady of Graves is a far better judge of destiny than we of this mortal sphere. The gates of the necropolis will open at sunrise tomorrow. Use this evening to prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Let these rules guide you in your
endeavors in this holy place: remember how this came to pass, every slave’s hut is a memorial, and honor the departed. May you go with the Lady’s blessing."
After Sebti returns to her seat, the two acolytes accompanying her each draw a wooden token from one of the urns on the table. The first Garundi shows the token he's drawn for everyone to see. On it is engraved a severely burnt hand. After a split-second of hesitation, one hand emerges from the crowd "Here, that would be us!" The smooth, tanned hand belongs to a fair Taldan woman clothed in red, wearing a large feathered hat to ward herself from the sun. "I'm Velriana Hypaxes, leader of the Scorched Hand. I believe we're the first, aren't we?" she expresses with a playful voice. The acolytes nod as the second one presents her with a stone bearing the symbol for a given archaeological site. The Taldan woman's large smile is overshadowed by a hint of disappointment. "What? But that's one of the smaller concessions. Surely there's more to it."
Sebti quickly intervenes. "There is. Every team on the lottery will be first assigned to one of the minor sites, before we trust that group with a larger, richer concession. Such are the rules of the lottery." she explains with a matter-of-fact voice leaving no room for arguing.
"Very well, we shall return tomorrow evening with results, and will claim a larger site." concludes Hypaxes before leaving the awning.
At that moment, the first acolyte draws another token and shows it to the public in the same manner. A coiled ouroboros can be clearly made out from the wooden token.
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Khal-Ib mutters a prayer, then silently steps onto the awning. Bowing respectfully to the acolytes and the priestess, he clears his voice before speaking out. "Our deepest gratitude upon you, Priestess Sebti. My twin brother and I are honored for that chance to explore our beautiful nation's past and bring its glory of old to light. We are the Coils of the Ouroboros, and will endeavor to be worthy of that honor. May I inquire which concession we are given to explore?"
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Once again, Sebti quickly answers, but this time not without taking a good look at the wooden token the other acolyte is holding out. "Of course. It seems you are given the Tomb of Akhentepi, a tomb actually predating the Plague of Madness. A promising site, if I may say so." As the priestess expresses her opinion, you can see a dismayed look on the face of the Taldan woman which token was drawn right before yours.
The ceremony continues until all the concessions are granted, at which point several groups take their leave, more or less vocal about their disappointment. Sebti's voice can once more be heard over the noises of discussions.
"Congratulations on all those Pharasma has deemed worthy of exploring the half-dead city. Allow me to state three simple rules to conclude with."
"Remember How This Came to Pass: The Plague of Madness was unleashed upon the city of Wati while religious authorities were engaged in infighting. This rule is a reminder that the necropolis remains a holy place, and those who engage in needless conflict and banditry are not only criminals, but accursed."
"Every Slave’s Hut Is a Memorial: Every structure within the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and died in the city. Explorers must not desecrate or vandalize standing structures and tombs, but preserve them as the memorials they were intended to be. Some structures may be trapped or decrepit, but willful and unnecessary destruction will not be tolerated."
"Honor the Departed: The dead should be treated with dignity and respect. If the interred need to be disturbed to recover an antiquity or relic, they should be returned to their resting places carefully. It is understood that the ancient dead are often brittle, but there is no need for the contents of a sarcophagus to be summarily dumped on the ground. This rule does not apply to the undead or other abominations, of course."
"Now go with the Lady's peace."
As the priestess's speech comes to a close, the crowd quickly disperses, although some linger to make some last-minute purchases to the merchants selling their goods on the plaza. However, most do not tarry and prefer a quick return to their inn to get a full night's sleep before the Necropolis is opened at dawn.
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The next morning, you wake bright and early to meet your first challenge: the Tomb of Akhentepi. Finding its location proves relatively easy with the crude map you've been given the previous day.
A rectangular stone mausoleum sits alone in what appears to have once been an actual cemetery. The trunks of a few dead trees poke out of the sand around the tomb, and a hot breeze whistles through their desiccated branches. A set of massive stone double doors is affixed to the northern side of the structure, beneath a facade bearing the likeness of an Osirian man. Windblown sand is heaped around the crypt, partially burying the doors that lead within.
The doors swing outward, but they cannot be opened normally until the sand blocking them has been cleared away, which requires no more than an hour of sweaty labor.
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Anakh-Ka leads his brother, taking point.
The Pahmet dwarf halts in front of the door, inspecting the stonework carefully before venturing further.
"These doors were meant to be sealed permanently, but telltale traces of mortal along the seams also suggest that the doors would yield, given a little work. Someone has been trying to enter - there are signs of a crowbar here and here. Mind giving me a hand, brother?"
Anakh-Ka then starts clearing the sand, after which he'll try opening the door.
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With much toil and effort, the doors slowly give in to the twin brothers' physical prowess. Once they’re opened, it’s apparent there are no handles on the inside of the doors either.
This rectangular room is empty save for some engravings and fixtures upon the walls, a pair of heavy stone doors to the north, and an immense stone wheel against the south wall. The air is stale, and a layer of dust and sand covers the floor, lying in a thicker layer to the south. All four walls bear sunk-relief engravings and hieroglyphs, while small stone faces are affixed to the walls at about shoulder height in each corner. The stone wheel to the south is engraved with a large spiral and is set in stone tracks in the floor and ceiling.
The hieroglyphs on the walls are Ancient Osiriani.
The stone wheel against the south wall is large and incredibly heavy. However, applying sufficient strength would allow it be rolled to either side.
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"That I can! They're warnings for graverobbers, nothing to care about. However, they mention that the tomb is well defended. Help me with that stone, will you? It probably conceals the entrance to the tomb."
Anakh-Ka then retrieves a clay vial containing a strange liquid. Upon consuming it, the dwarf's muscles start to bulge! Every bit more salient, they grant the Pahmet the strength he needs for his feat.
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In a formidable combination of raw strength and brotherly complicity, the twins manages to roll the tomb's door to the side!
While you were sweating over that heavy stone, a tiny scorpion ventured into the room, surprising Khal-Ib completely! Anakh-Ka sees it, but not before the scorpion is upon him.
The lurking scorpion - surprise round
1. Scorpion
2. Ka, Ib (surprised)
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Anakh-Ka easily dodges the incoming strikes, and steps sideways to circle around the scorpion. He speaks out in Terran, knowing full well that his brother can't understand anything else while under great stress. "Khal-Ib, flank it!"
He then waits for a split-second for his brother to move in position before striking himself.
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A vibrant testament to the Iroran disciples' discipline, the two brothers bring down their mighty blades at the same time, rending the scorpion into pieces of chitin within a few moments of its venturing inside.
The door opened into a square room starkly devoid of any markings or adornment. In the center of the chamber’s floor, a square shaft drops straight down into darkness. A faint musty odor rises from the pit. A single piton has been hammered into the stone floor by the northeast corner of the pit, and a dusty length of rope dangles from the piton into the darkness of the shaft.
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"I'm fine, don't worry. About that shaft, I suggest we use our own rope and grappling hook, I don't trust this moldy one."
Before setting up his own rope, he thoroughly inspects the shaft, hoping not to find any traps.
Once he's satisfied that no immediate danger is at hand, the Pahmet will set up his hook and rope, then climb down.
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Anakh-Ka doesn't see anything suspicious, and easily climbs down the shaft. Mirrored images of a warrior in side profile, facing inward, are carved on an ornate pair of stone doors in the west wall of this square room. The figure is depicted wearing padded armor, with a scarab-shaped shield on the arm facing the viewer, and a raised khopesh held aloft in the other. A crumpled humanoid body lies directly in front of the doors. A hint of decay hangs in the air, and a dried stain mars the stone floor under the body.
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Khal-Ib safely descends into the shaft and lands next to Anakh-Ka.
From this perspective, the purpose of the shaft rooms becomes evident—they’re deathtraps without a mechanism. Creatures that descend the shaft without a reliable means to climb back out are effectively trapped, permanently. The opening in the center of the ceiling is 10 feet up with no adjoining walls, making it next to impossible to climb back out without a well-secured rope at the top of the shaft, flight, or magic.
The body in front of the doors is mostly skeletal, with a thin layer of desiccated tissue.
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The corpse’s gear has suffered decades of rot and rust and is mostly unusable, though a thorough search yields a couple of metal pitons and a usable hammer, as well as two vials of alchemist’s fire that have remained miraculously unbroken.
As for the door, it appears to be heavy and in need of a good shove.
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The walls of this ten-foot-wide corridor feature bas-relief carvings of great battles. Armies with spears and shields clash at the direction of generals, while other leaders direct troops from chariots that are ruthlessly overrunning their enemies. Engraved stone double doors stand at either end of the hallway.
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The door swings open. A faded tapestry hangs on a wooden frame on the western wall of this chamber. Faded and delicate, the tapestry depicts a middle-aged man, accompanied by a woman and two children, with a small estate in the background. To either side of the tapestry are two small pedestals, upon which sit two dead and preserved animals. Stone double doors exit the chamber to the north, south, and east.
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The door opens into a small corridor and some stairs, immediately followed by another door.
A brightly painted chariot sits in the center of this chamber. Beyond the chariot, a large canvas stretches between two stone columns. The skins of several animals—antelopes, great cats, and crocodiles—now faded and deteriorated with age, are tacked to this canvas. A wooden chest, lacquered white and trimmed with gold inlay, sits in the southeast corner. In each corner of the room a small stone shield is molded into the masonry at shoulder height. An open hallway leads to the east, and a set of stone double doors leads south.