Hello and Welcome. I will post as HeroicSort when I am doing the GM duties.
A hawkish young man presents himself. Chunks of flesh stand pinkish at the corners of his mouth. His pants sag noticeably, tugging at a whip-cord belt.
I look forward to some fine treasure. The Church of Pharasma has representatives accompanying the expeditions at random. Perhaps we shall be lucky enough to avoid those kinds of friends. I for one love the autonomy that grave robbing...ahem excuse me, exploring ruins affords a person.
The Osirion sun peeks through a crack in the exterior door. A man in the garb of a ranger looks over his shoulder to another man dressed in the robes of a Pharasman cleric.
The ranger shows a deep tan for his Keleshite heritage. He looks like the kind of man who could squeeze water from the very desert earth and subside on it for the next week.
They can't make you sin brother. I'm sure there's a barmaid with her clothes on willing to get you a soft beverage.
The chiding brother turns his warm smile on the group. His gear is sun-dryed and serviceable. The man is much the same.
The man who follows Reed in is dressed in unmistakable garb--Pharasman Cleric Vestments. Herbert's heart sinks. His hopes for a "little extra" are in serious jeopardy.
My Brother deals with his nerves by mocking me. He fears trouble from grave robbers hiding under the guise of explorers. Such is my task. My brothers and sisters of the Spiral will accompany several groups of adventurers and lend our healing, while also protecting the integrity of the necropolis.
The priest takes a seat at the table and calls to a barmaid. The drink he orders is a local favorite made with citrus and only enough alcohol to keep stores from spoiling.
I have been assured by Mr. Jaffur that our party will be free of any such sacrilege. However, Reed is not so easily convinced. He usually stays away from the temple's business.
Gribb left the rest unsaid. A chance at gold and to protect his brother was ample enticement for Reed. Truth told Gribb was happy to have him along.
1
A very short, very petite female walks into the bar and takes a seat at the table. Her long flowing hair is a most exquisite auburn and is swept up halfway to reveal her delicate, yet stern face. Her dusky tan skin glows with a youthful radiance, yet her dark brown eyes cannot hide the wild adventure she has seen in her few short years. Her garb appears to be of high quality and suited for the hot climate. She is clothed in the leather jacket and pants of an archeologist, but could that be chain mail glinting beneath her jacket as she moves and the sunlight catches just right? She hails the barmaid and orders a drink.
Could I trouble you for as glass of your finest ale miss?
This dry, sandy day has left me simply parched and I must refresh myself before I parley with these fine gentleman.
She says this with a sly smile as she glances around the table at each of you.
The man in the priestly robes removes a long tube from his sleeve. The parchment roll he slips out still smells faintly of the chemicals Osirions add to their ink to make it resistant to sun-fading.
Mr. Jaffur was kind enough to underwrite the costs of assembling this team. I've been instructed to defer to our vibrant friend.
He gestures with the rolled paper toward the gnome,then turns and begins unrolling the document.
This is a standard contract between adventurers. Each of us will receive one fourth of any profits we retrieve. For my part, I will donate anything I cannot directly use in the service of The Lady of Graves. Mr. Jaffur asks only that any treasure related to his ancient bloodline of the same name be returned to him.
Gribb's eyes make contact with everyone in turn. He lingers on Herbert and Isis a moment longer than his brother.
Two things are required to make this document binding, well three if you include the prayer I make to the Lady...it makes this contract binding in her domain as well. I will need each of your signitures, and a name for this merry band. Once those things have been recorded and the prayer made, even death doesn't absolve anyone of their vow.
I don't know how the rest of you feel about Mr. Jaffur's proposal, but I seen offers far worst than this. I am an Osirionologist by trade and have been part of many an adventuring party in search of riches and treasure.
Isis moves toward the document lying on the table with pen in hand.
I feel most comfortable agreeing to and signing this document. How do the rest of you feel about this arrangement?
Oh, I will sign. I've got an idea that my other options are less appealing. I've never been able to bargain once the deal has been struck. At least I'm not swimming.
Herbert rises to join Isis. One thought races through his mind.
So much for ANY extra. A contract that goes beyond life...well that's just great
What are we going to call ourselves? We'll need an official name for the contract.
I can't rightfully watch Gribb's back without signing on the line. As for Pharasma's judgement, Gribb's assured me that I'm already doomed.
Reed eyes his brother and levels another grin. He notes Gribb's usual response: a slight tightening of the facial muscles. That's all the pleasure he'll derive from the feigned blasphemy.
I will sign last. I am, in a manner, forbidden from doing anything else. Until I am legally and morally bound to a party I am a representative of the Church of Pharasma in Wati. I become an adjunct when I sign. So I may not make any business choices. It is simply a conflict of interest. The duty falls to you others. Please do us justice. When you three have agreed upon a name and signed I will finalize the document and the prayer.
How about "Tools of the Gods"? It rolls off the tongue.
Herbert scowls.
That's aweful
The "Persuasive Outsiders" sounds much better.
How about the "Obsidian Marketters"?
Herbert considers it before nodding.
That actually rolls off of the tongue.
Well it won't irritate Gribb every time we use our name, but it does sound rather heroic. Almost worth taking pride in a good name. Obsidian Marketers it is!
Reed beams. The smile wipes some of the cracks from his skin. He looks his age for the first time.
Excellent! Then it's decided?
The signing completed, Gribb removes a silver spiral. The holy symbol of Pharasma glows slightly as he mutters the prayer.
It is done. To the Obsidian Marketers!
The toast dissolves into conversation and laughter. A light-hearted night sings the sun down. The night brings desert chill. The dryness is apparent to anyone from outside.
Herbert's nose and lips are dry and cracking. The weeks at sea from Riddleport in contrast with Wati's dryness played hell on his Taldan skin. The Harak brothers had grown in dry climates. The night air felt normal. Cooling.
The river shimmered under the moon. From here it was only the smudged background between the buildings. Tomorrow would bring everyone closer. The dead city was bordered on one side by the River Sphinx.
Gribb had been there once. Pharasmans have powers of life and death, despite their universal recognition with only death. Gribb had gone down the Sphinx to to floating hovel known as Bargetown to heal the sick.
The memory held smells and sights. The barges and boats were strapped together haphazardly. Gribb believed the rumors that it never stayed the same. Boats would come and go, changing the float-scape. The older and less worthy vessels made their way toward the stagnant middle and relied on the tie-offs to stay afloat. The outermost vessels broke away and returned with profitable cargo.
We will be headed to the Grand Mausoleum for tomorrow's lottery. If you align your back to the Mausoleum and look to Pharasma's Needle--a large rune-covered obelisk-- you will see the route to the Necropolis.
The ale in front of Herbert has been skillfully nursed. But round after round of bread and cheese has made its way into his mouth. The food is standard fare; Herbert has never had better.
GRRGRR
Herbert grins and excuses his loud stomach.
It is time I turn in. Oddly enough Mr. Jaffur has been responsible for my sleeping quarters for a few weeks now. These are much nicer and I plan to take advantage of the comfort. Goodnight.
I must agree. Goodnight to you, Herbert. I too will revel in the Lady's bounty. Feather beds are not part of the average priest's worldly possessions. Good night to all. The morning will bring new excitement, so don't go looking too far for any tonight.
Gribb stares pointedly at his brother Reed. Gribb doesn't know what motivates that man, but he's happy to have family and a goodly task to undertake.
Good night gentlemen. I plan on drinking as much as this parched land offers. I don't need to be in tip top shape to listen to a Pharasman ramble on. The ceremony will be long and offer plenty of time to regain my grasp on the world.
To emphasize the point Reed finishes a large glass of ale and orders another.
Both men take their leave of Isis and make their way to the rooms Mr. Jaffur has provided. The feel of the bar switches to one of guarded danger. Plenty of other adventurers are in the area and not all of them play nice.
Goodnight gentlemen. I shall see you on the morrow. I plan on preparing myself and my equipment for tomorrows events and getting some rest. Who knows what the day may bring.
Isis retreats upstairs to her room alone.
The Sunburst Market forms the bustling heart of Wati. Decorated pillars mark a regular grid. The market is located between the Mausoleum and the Sanctum of Silver and Gold--an Abadarian Temple.
Khamet III is brazen in his policy if nothing else.
Gribb's words revealed more than an academic interest. Plenty of Pharasman's believe the sanctioned explorations are little more than tomb raiding. Khamet the pharaoh is convinced that these excavations are financial boons. In all other cases the influx of people, goods, and services have aided Osirion's economy.
Look at all these able adventurers. This square accounts for many great tales and one or two may be true.
Perhaps a sense of humor did live somewhere deep in the Cleric.
Oh Gribb! Where's your sense of adventure? Who knows what great treasures await us within these tombs!
Herbert looks amazed. His face is alight with wonder.
I used to laugh at my father when he'd mention adventure and tell of buried treasure. For all I know he could be across the square. It doesn't seem so stupid now.
His voice cracks at the last, but he gathers himself and pushes on...
I swore to give him back what I lost. Mr. Jaffur is giving me that opportunity and I plan on getting it done well.
Oh Gribb! Where's your sense of adventure? Who knows what great treasures await us within these tombs!
If I may answer for my brother Isis...I assure you I know the argument
Reeds body language and expression show a man who's heard the rap enough to repeat it.
The Osirions believe that the Lady of Graves judges all in the afterlife. They await her in the Boneyard and upon judgement can rejoin the Stream of Souls and move on to whatever is NEXT. The worldly possesions entombed with a person give Pharasma a good look at their life.
Reed takes a heroic pull from a bloated water blatter. Most of it makes it in his mouth.
Khamet III only opens the old and moldy tombs, but Pharasman's worry that our timeline and the goddess' are not the same. The unjust judgement of those long departed worries them.
Reed decides to try the contents one more time before replacing the cork.
I figure a godess is smart enough to know the difference. I'm not cleric though, as Gribb is quick to point out.
My brother's oversimplified explanation is essentially true. If the people you see around us were all pure of heart my sect would have little to fear. Any cleric can commune with a soul and determine if it has been judged and moved on or not. The problem is many care more for the treasures than the souls.
Sebti stands and her acolytes place a ceremonial rope around her shoulders. She makes her way to a small dais near the edge of the awning. Her voice is young, crisp, and clearly augmented by magic. She recounts some of the history of the Necropolis.
She finishes the lesson and makes a small invocation to Pharasma, sealing it with a spiral drawn mid-air.
My brother's oversimplified explanation is essentially true. If the people you see around us were all pure of heart my sect would have little to fear. Any cleric can commune with a soul and determine if it has been judged and moved on or not. The problem is many care more for the treasures than the souls.
Guess I better stick with you in the tombs then cleric. I wouldn't want to rob any souls that have yet to be judged of their proper afterlife.
Gribb and Reed think they may hear a hint of condescension in Isis's voice.
The Clerics will expect our leader to draw from their pouch. They may ask you of the three rules. First, Remember how this came to pass. A terrible mind-plague caused the city death on a level unknown in our times. Second, Every slave's hut is a memorial. Breaking and unnecessary maiming of the tombs is considered blasphemy. Lastly, Honor the Departed. This takes place is one's heart as well as their actions. Remember these tenets and I will be happy as well.
I shall keep these rules fresh in my mind as I draw from their pouch cleric
Isis files into the lottery line to draw from the pouch
The line progresses quickly. Isis finds herself in front of the Crocodile and reaches into the leathery pouch.
The priestess looks deeply into your eyes and then down to the medallion you've drawn.
To her Acolytes she says
The Obsidian Marketers will explore the Tomb of Akhentepi!
Isis holds the medallion she has drawn high in the air as she runs back to her group of fellow adventurers.
We shall explorer the Tomb of Akhentepi! Gribb do you know anything about this tomb?
The name is known, but not renown. I expect that the leaders at the Church are purposely holding back the better sites for the last two drawings. Akhentepi was around during the first dynasty. His tomb is one of the oldest. He was a general of the City during a relatively peaceful time. There is little known about him to tell of greatness. In all this is a fine place to start.
The Obsidian Marketers watch as leader after leader draw their locations. Reed edges up to Isis and bends down.
It's kind of a contest. You see there are many more medallions in the pouch on the first draw. Many of these people will take too long or be unsuccessful. The Church has the best and brightest draw again and a third time. Each time the tomb is a bit richer...and likely more deadly.
What do you know of tombs in general Isis? I would imagine an Osirionologist has to spend time researching such things.
Herbert seems as relaxed as anyone in the group. His lips and nose are still cracked, but his spirit seems well off.
The ancient Osirions had an elaborate set of burial customs that they believed were necessary to ensure their immortality after death. These rituals and protocols included mummifying the body, casting of magic spells, and burial with specific grave goods thought to be needed in the afterlife.
Bodies were buried in deserts because they would naturally be preserved by dehydration. A few jars of food and drink and slate palettes with magical religious spells were buried with the body. The size of graves eventually increased according to status and wealth. The simple graves evolved into mud brick structures called mastabas. Royal mastabas later developed into "step pyramids" and then "true pyramids." As soon as a king took the throne he would start to build his pyramid. While a pyramid's large size was made to protect against robbery, it may also be connected to a religious belief about the sun god, Ra.
In order to live for all eternity and be presented in front of Osiris, the body of the deceased had to be preserved by mummification, so that the soul could reunite with it, and take pleasure in the afterlife. The main process of mummification was preserving the body by dehydrating it using natron, a natural material found in Wadi which is like a combination of baking soda and salt. The body is drained of any liquids and left with the skin, hair and muscles preserved.
After the mummy was prepared, it would need to be re-animated, symbolically, by a priest. The opening of the mouth ceremony was conducted by a priest who would utter a spell and touch the mummy or sarcophagus with a ceremonial adze – a copper or stone blade. This ceremony ensured that the mummy could breathe and speak in the afterlife. In a similar fashion, the priest could utter spells to reanimate the mummy's arms, legs, and other body parts.
Having been preserved, the mummy was placed in a brightly painted wooden coffin. The decorations on the coffin usually fit the deceased's status. A central band contained symbols of rebirth bordered by panels with images of god and goddesses. The large djed pillar painted on the back of the coffin represented a backbone. This provided symbolic support for the mummy and was a place to write the deceased’s ancestry.
Next, the first coffin was placed in another wooden coffin. Like the first coffin, it was in the shape of the mummy, but was more simply ornamented. The inside of the bottom was painted with a figure of a goddess. The lid again showed the deceased’s face, wig and sophisticated collar. There was an image of a scarab beetle with outstretched wings hovering over the mummy.
Lastly, the mummy and coffins were placed in a rectangular outermost coffin mostly made of wood. Sometimes the wealthy had ones of stone, inscribed with religious texts. On the top of the coffin would sit a jackal, most likely Anubis, with various burial goods nearby.
Any other questions Herbert?
Herbert's mouth gapes. He takes the offered waterskin from Reed. The cool water and moment to gather himself are not enough to form a legitimate response. Another drink and he passes the waterskin back to Reed. Finally a thought replaces the shock at the wealth of knowledge the gnome had presented.
So do these tombs have traps? I've heard that grave robbing was a major concern and many of these tombs are trapped to the seventh hell.
The smile that Reed hides behind his waterskin is genuine.
The little one is feisty. The other has a backbone, but isn't nearly as quick of wit.
Herbert, lets go find some food for our friends here. I know Gribb's preferences. Lady Isis, what would you like? Some brain-food?
He tips the gnome a playful wink. His tone is light and despite the mockery,he is seriously impressed.
Yes Herbert, these tombs are known to be heavily trapped. However, with my knowledge of ancient Osirion tomb engineering and your rogue trapfinding skills, we should be able to avoid or disable most of them and avoid harm.
Thank you Reed, I wouldn't mind a bite to eat.
Isis replies with a sly smile
I'll find you the best my dear. Something spicy coming right up!
Reed grabs Herbert in a half-headlock hug and tugs him into the crowd. Herbert finally replaces the shocked look with a smile. The two of them let their noses help them navigate the crowd.
When they come back they are carrying several skewers of boar meat, spiced in the local fashion. The cuisine of Osirion reflected the weather...a hot hot heat.
These are delicious!
Reed hands a skewer nearly as large as Isis's arm to the gnome. The spices sing to her nose. He passes a much more subdued version to his brother.