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Spring in Osirion means something different than it does in many other places in the Inner Sea region. Here are not the changeable storms or slow regeneration of new growth of more temperate climes. The relentless Osiriani sun is not pacified by the season. Here, spring means one thing only: flooding. The raging rivers savage the fields built along their banks and in return bring new soil, fresh earth from which another year's harvest will grow.
This year, though, the floods are not simply the waters of the Crook, Asp and Sphinx Rivers rising, and the harvest is not solely that of barley or corn. Today, in the city of Wati, the Half-Dead City, the floods are also adventurers, men and women pouring in from across the world to participate in the opening of the Wati Necropolis, and they plan to reap the rewards of relics and knowledge long-lost within the dusty tombs. With the solemn progression of the newly dead that marks every Day of Bones now complete, the Sunburst Market square situated before the Grand Mausoleum of Pharasma fills with adventuring groups and curious onlookers awaiting the beginning of the necropolis’ exploration.
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 that will determine which groups receive permission to explore which parts of the necropolis. 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.
Numerous adventuring groups stand in small clusters near the stage, made up of multiple nationalities and races. Most keep to themselves, but some teams engage in quiet conversation with other teams, mostly speculating about what they’ll likely face in the necropolis.
But Wati’s destiny was forever warped in 2499 AR, when the cult of Lamashtu unleashed a terrible disease called the Plague of Madness on the city of Wati. More than 60 percent of the city’s population perished in the streets and in their homes, and Wati was virtually abandoned for over 450 years. In 2953 AR, the church of Pharasma returned to Wati and established a new temple in the city’s ruins called the Grand Mausoleum. Walling off much of the original city, the Pharasmins transformed the abandoned settlement into an enormous necropolis, consecrating it in honor of the city’s dead. Over the next 1,700 years, people returned to rebuild a new city adjacent to the old one, and today the living city of Wati is more than three times the size of the old city.
Seven years ago, Pharaoh Khemet III, the Ruby Prince, formally opened Osirion’s ancient tombs and burial sites to foreign explorers. Khemet III understood that adventurers who’ve traveled great distances in search of treasure typically do not return from whence they came to sell their discoveries. Instead, they typically sell or trade what they do not keep as quickly as possible at the closest civilized community with an economy strong enough to absorb an influx of valuable antiquities. The Ruby Prince’s policy has attracted not only explorers to the desert nation of Osirion, but also countless scholars, private collectors, special interest groups such as the Pathfinder Society, and financial interests from all across the Inner Sea. A minor industry has sprung up just to support visiting explorers, and an even larger infrastructure has come into being to serve foreign investors and traders. Every opening of a major site has heralded an economic boom, for the local area and Osirion as a whole.
Unlike many of Osirion’s tombs and graveyards, however, the necropolis of Wati has remained largely untouched, in no small part because of local taboos and the protection of the Grand Mausoleum’s priests. But Khemet III has now ordered the local authorities and church of Pharasma to open Wati’s necropolis to exploration for the purpose of discovery, study, and economic stimulus. As you can imagine, the church of the Lady of Graves is not fond of this idea, but Khemet III gave them little say. He offered them only two choices: cooperate, and be allowed to set ground rules and provide guidance to the explorers, or refuse, and be shut out of the process entirely. Thus, the lottery came into being.
The priests of the Grand Mausoleum have decided on the lottery to distribute access to the tombs to make the process impartial and subject to the dictates of fate, in keeping with Pharasmin religious tenets. The church has mapped the necropolis and designated selected sites within it for exploration, dividing them into three pools, from the smallest and simplest of structures to the largest and potentially most complex. Each party of explorers is assigned three sites, one at a time, so that a group must complete its exploration of one site before gaining access to another.
This process wasn’t intended to simply be arbitrary. The church also seeks to avoid conflict between groups within the necropolis, the neglect of smaller sites in favor of those that might contain more wealth, and bribery and backroom deals with local officials to gain access to specific structures researched in advance. The Grand Mausoleum is dedicated to remaining neutral throughout the entire affair.
Pushing through the crowd, you join the other groups of adventurers awaiting the lottery's beginning, and discover that even among this cosmopolitan gathering, an assortment of beings such as yourselves draws a great deal of attention.
A Splendid spectical. A thousand blessing on the Ruby Prince! Shouts the jubilant Ifrit over the noise of the crowd. In a lower voice If we wish to succeed we should seek out contacts that may prove valuable in the future. Perhaps we should use the time before the lottery to mingle with the other explorers and see what we can accomplish?
Ashar uses his height and bulk to make his way in the crowd looking for beings of interest.
From the short time the Scions have known Slurk, the word assertive comes to mind to describe the little kobold, so long as the word not precedes it. Today marks the first day he's openly walked Wati's streets, and his eyes darted back and forth all the way to the Grand Mausoleum as though he expected to be ambushed at any moment. Once they arrive, he casts a puzzled glance to the trio on the makeshift stage. He looks up to the snake lady, and tugs softly on her wrappings. "They have sacrifice first? If so, Slurk volunteers to not be sacrifice."
Illuria glides through the Square as the crowd parts around her. Two-and-a-half feet of woman atop nearly six feet of a glittering green serpent's body, her movements are smooth and graceful as her tail winds back and forth across the sandy ground. To say she slithers is a crass and nearly obscene description of the powerful yet lithe manner in which her long tail propels her along.
Gawks, stares and averted eyes surround her, yet she keeps her head straight ahead with a light smile upon her face. She is not abashed or concerned by the reaction of the crowd, for what shame is there in being medusa?
This marked, however, the first time she ventured out into the streets of Wati. She had not been afraid to reveal herself, but there never was a pressing need to do so either. She wears the vestments of a cleric of Wadjet and her holy symbol, with the one addition of a sheer veil that falls before her face and about her hair. She does not cast her head about to take in the crowd, because the gauzy material allows both her main eyes and the beady eyes of her hair to easily see everything about her, especially in this dazzling sun.
Illuria's graceful and slender waist tapered in and flared out again before the start of her tail, so the belt she sported was secure. Off it hung a number of pouches and a light mace. When they stopped to view the ceremony, she casually placed her hands upon her waist and watched.
Responding to the tugging at the ground next to her, she looks down at the jittery kobold next to her. I do not believe so. Humans are strange about who they sacrifice. And many of them get frightfully offended by it.
In addition to the Scions of the Ascendant Sun, there are nearly a dozen other adventuring companies or archaeological expeditions (the difference between the two might be said to be more cosmetic than substantial) preparing to enter the necropolis on the following morning. To the surprise of absolutely no one, both the Pathfinder Society and the Aspis Consortium have sent contingents, the former lead by an Ekujae elf named Timatyah al-Rushiyah and the latter by a Chelaxian sellsword by the name of Kamlann of Egorian. Most of the rest of the groups seem to think it's a good thing that the two rivals are here, since it means they will be too worried about one another to interfere with anyone else's explorations.
Beyond the two biggest names, though, are a double handful of independent groups. These include the Amethyst Dragons, a three-person squad lad by an Osirian native from An, Melu; Chundren’s Champions, led by a Abadaran cleric named Valtius and apparently in the market for a skilled rogue; the Cryptfinders, a ragtag group of explorers from all over the Inner Sea, lead by bravo from the streets of Absalom named Falto; the Daughters of the Desert, an all-female group working under the command of an Ulfen warrior called Sigrun Firehair; the Dog Soldiers, composed entirely of halflings and their pack of trained Katapeshi fighting dogs, led by the loquacious and hard-drinking “Mad Dog” Marrn; the Flickering Four, commanded by the group's founder, Fergrim, a dwarven druid; the Sand Scorpions, four reserved adventurers lead by a mysterious woman called Black Kiss; the Scorched Hand, most of whom seem to be Nethysites under the command of a Taldan dandy called Velriana Hypaxes; and the Travelers of the Path Iconic, a mixed assemblage composed of a Katapeshi paladin, a Rahadoumi oracle, a gnome summoner and a Qadiran cleric of Iomedae. Unfortunately, you don't manage to pick up the name of the leader of the Path Iconics.
As the Scions of the Ascendant Sun move toward where the lottery will be held, the oread stays near the Garundi, eyes on the crowd and hand resting on his scimitar. His rolling gait as he moves somehow is reminiscent of a rolling boulder - so much so that a spectator might be convinced that he hears just such a stone.
At their destination, he lets the gregarious ifrit take care of the meeting and greeting of the other groups while he simply waits and watches for those that might be a little too interested in the Scions.
Most of the various groups are eying their competitors to some extent or another, and none of the others have anything like the eclectic combination of individuals that the Scions have. As a result, there are a number of lengthy gazes directed toward your party, but nothing that seems to represent a real threat as far as Q'urtaz can tell.
"They have sacrifice first? If so, Slurk volunteers to not be sacrifice."
"Do not fret, small one. Illuria is correct. Besides, you are far too scrawny to be a useful sacrifice. Come, let us mingle."
Bes moves among the crowd, greeting members of the various groups politely, and attempting to strike up conversation with their leaders.
"With so many here to plunder our history, seeing another Osirion-led party gives me hope that some of it will remain when they leave."
Q'urtaz follows in the regal one's wake, nodding in solemn acknowledge to anyone that meets his gaze.
Melu eyes Bes up and down, smiling tightly. "Does it truly?" she asks. "Aren't you the most adorable little... person. Well, if you're not interested in selling the things you manage to find, I assure you we'll be happy to step in..." Her two companions - a human woman with a large number of knives and a Chelaxian look to her face, and a half-elven man with a longbow and longsword on opposite shoulders - match her chuckle with low guffaws of their own. "I'd hate to see you violate that delicate nationalist conscience of yours."
Friend Valtius! Are these the mighty Chundren’s Champions that I have heard of? Only allowing the briefest of opportunities for reply Ashar continues, I am Ashar, born to the Clan of the Fire Eyes, and now a member of the newly formed Scions of the Ascendant Sun. May I have your blessing as a priest of the Lord of the First Vault upon this venture? This time the Ifrit awaits response, head bowed and hand on his holy coin.
Assuming a congenial response, Ashar offers his aid to his fellow explorers, and wishes them health and bounty.
In addition to the Scions of the Ascendant Sun, there are nearly a dozen other adventuring companies or archaeological expeditions (the difference between the two might be said to be more cosmetic than substantial) preparing to enter the necropolis on the following morning. To the surprise of absolutely no one, both the Pathfinder Society and the Aspis Consortium have sent contingents, the former lead by an Ekujae elf named Timatyah al-Rushiyah and the latter by a Chelaxian sellsword by the name of Kamlann of Egorian. Most of the rest of the groups seem to think it's a good thing that the two rivals are here, since it means they will be too worried about one another to interfere with anyone else's explorations.
Beyond the two biggest names, though, are a double handful of independent groups. These include the Amethyst Dragons, a three-person squad lad by an Osirian native from An, Melu; Chundren’s Champions, led by a Abadaran cleric named Valtius and apparently in the market for a skilled rogue; the Cryptfinders, a ragtag group of explorers from all over the Inner Sea, lead by bravo from the streets of Absalom named Falto; the Daughters of the Desert, an all-female group working under the command of an Ulfen warrior called Sigrun Firehair; the Dog Soldiers, composed entirely of halflings and their pack of trained Katapeshi fighting dogs, led by the loquacious and hard-drinking “Mad Dog” Marrn; the Flickering Four, commanded by the group's founder, Fergrim, a dwarven druid; the Sand Scorpions, four reserved adventurers lead by a mysterious woman called Black Kiss; the Scorched Hand, most of whom seem to be Nethysites under the command of a Taldan dandy called Velriana Hypaxes; and the Travelers of the Path Iconic, a mixed assemblage composed of a Katapeshi paladin, a Rahadoumi oracle, a gnome summoner and a Qadiran cleric of Iomedae. Unfortunately, you don't manage to pick up the name of the leader of the Path Iconics.
Inspired by his comrades, Slurk does his own investigation into the other exploratory teams, in his own style. He edges towards the group of halflings and their wardogs, singling them out as potential threats.
Illuria doesn't see the need to fraternize with the other bands of adventurers. She remains relaxed while taking in the scene from beneath her veil. The tip of her tail swishes back and forth slowly while a couple of her snakes slip out from underneath her veil and taste the air. She turns her attention to Bes's response to the derision she received while trying to build a rapport with another Osiriani. She tsks softly.
Inspired by his comrades, Slurk does his own investigation into the other exploratory teams, in his own style. He edges towards the group of halflings and their wardogs, singling them out as potential threats.
This can't possibly end badly :)
Friend Valtius! Are these the mighty Chundren’s Champions that I have heard of? Only allowing the briefest of opportunities for reply Ashar continues, I am Ashar, born to the Clan of the Fire Eyes, and now a member of the newly formed Scions of the Ascendant Sun. May I have your blessing as a priest of the Lord of the First Vault upon this venture? This time the Ifrit awaits response, head bowed and hand on his holy coin.
Valtius studies the ifrit shrewdly. "Indeed you can," he says, holding out an open palm. "For a suitable tithe, of course. Proper payment is, after all, the appropriate way to honor our lord Abadar."
Inspired by his comrades, Slurk does his own investigation into the other exploratory teams, in his own style. He edges towards the group of halflings and their wardogs, singling them out as potential threats.
At first it seems as though Slurk has successfully avoided the attention of the Dog Soldiers, but as soon as he gets within a dozen paces or so, the dogs all lift their snouts, sniffing the air, and begin barking his way. The halflings turn, questioning expressions on their faces, and a couple look toward their leader as their hands move slowly toward weapons.
Q'urtaz' head turns toward the Dog Soldiers and - to his surprise - the party's kobold companion. Stepping toward them, he holds up a hand to forestall any violence. In his deep, rumbling voice, he says, "There is no need for weapons." Leaning down to the kobold and speaking loudly enough for the halflings to hear, he offers, "These are trained animals, not pets. If you wish to pet them, you will need to ask permission of their owners. I suggest you do so from a distance."
He stands back up, hands away from his weapons, and waits to see what the little dragon does next.
Valtius studies the ifrit shrewdly. "Indeed you can," he says, holding out an open palm. "For a suitable tithe, of course. Proper payment is, after all, the appropriate way to honor our lord Abadar."
With a smile, Ashar places the coin in the priest's hand and kneels.
Illuria again studies the other adventurers and again singles out no one with whom she wishes to speak. She recognized a fair amount of posturing going on, and she guessed there would be desire amongst the humanoids to set themselves apart from the throng. Illuria, of course, needs to do nothing. They would need to come to her, if they desired.
The kobold lets out a short, high-pitched yelp as the dogs bark at him. He spies the rock man lumbering behind him, and quickly skitters behind him, his knees quaking. He looks back up as the rock man addresses him. "No, no petting necessary! Slurk was just leaving!" He slowly backs away from the halflings and their terrifying hounds, unintentionally backing into a bizarre creature - something not quite serpent and not quite chicken, but an unusual combination of the two. He shrieks as he sees it, and flees all the way back to the snake lady.
Bemused, Q'urtaz watches Slurk go. Turning to the halflings, he gives a small bow and says, "Please forgive the intrusion. May the gods smile on your explorations."
With that, he returns to Bes' side, a low rumbling chuckle accompanying his very solid footsteps.
Valtius murmurs a benediction over Ashar's head, but his eyes don't change. "Go then, and win our lord's favor in this venture," he says, turning brusquely away.
The Dog Soldiers eye the massive oread with bemusement, but their leader, "Mad Dog" Marrn, starts laughing uproariously. "Aw, c'mon back, little kobold! You can pet 'em if you want! They'll lick you right up!" He laughs some more, gesturing, and the others in his band settle back to their waiting postures, relaxed once more.
Giving no apparent thought to the chuckling, Bes responds brightly. "Better to sell it in our markets than elsewhere, for certain. And should you find yourselves needing a way to serve once you have run out of breath as well as coin, please feel free to contact us."
With a pleasant smile and a polite nod, Bes moves on to the Ulfen-led party.
** spoiler omitted **
The Daughters of the Desert greet Bes amicably enough; their leader introduces herself as Sigrun Firehair, and with her are a Rahadoumi cleric, a fierce-seeming warrior from one of the Thuvian desert tribes, and two veiled figures, each of whom coils an asp around an arm as they watch the Osiriani sorcerer greet the Ulfen skald. All are human women, and they seem pleased to think that Bes might also be leading the Scions - although Sigrun herself seems wary of choosing a pronoun as she greets her counterpart. She does, however, ask Bes the name of everyone in the Scions of the Ascendant Sun, for possible inclusion in a work of epic poetry she is composing about the opening of the necropolis. "We're not interested in trying to steal what you've won by right," she explains, "but I'd be thrilled to hear of your exploits between or after your explorations, if you'd consent to telling a few tales at the Tooth and Hookah later."
Well the Cryptfinders seem a diverse sort, perhaps they would like to meet other odds and ends of the world.
Greetings friend Falto, welcome to these blessed lands. It must have been quite a trip from the great city at the center of the lands. I am Ashar, a fellow explorer, and associate of the Scions of the Ascendant Sun. Please, let us converse as colleagues as we await our honored hosts.
Q'urtaz remains content to observe, moving with Bes as that one interacts with others participating in the lottery, giving a nod of mutual respect when another meets his eye, especially if they carry themselves with the confidence of one that has fought well and is willing to fight again.
The Cryptfinders are indeed a diverse lot, even by the standards of this lottery. In addition to their leader, there is a taciturn old salt with the sway of the sea in his gait and a large holy symbol of Desna on his chest; a carefully courteous tengu whose face is mostly hidden beneath a broad, conical hat; a tall Ulfen woman with long red hair in a single braid and a mighty longbow across her back; and an excessively energetic halfling woman, whose wide-eyed gaze bounces rapturously from Ashar's horns to Q'urtaz's chiseled skin and on to Illuria's veiled face and hissing hair as though the mere presence of each of you were a separate feastday gift just for her.
Falto bows acknowledgement as Ashar greets him. "The trip was not so long in space," he replies with a cocky grin, "and I believe our explorations in the necropolis will prove far longer in time. I have not heard of the Scions of the Ascendant Sun before, I think? And yet, word has reached my ears of sorcerer and an oread who rescued a medusa from durance in a fallen temple across the river. A fine piece of work, that - worthy of such treasures as we will soon find, no doubt." He bows again, gesturing flamboyantly. His manner is smooth, almost unctuous, making it hard to tell if his flattery is sincere or just subtle mockery.
Falto bows acknowledgement as Ashar greets him. "The trip was not so long in space," he replies with a cocky grin, "and I believe our explorations in the necropolis will prove far longer in time. I have not heard of the Scions of the Ascendant Sun before, I think? And yet, word has reached my ears of sorcerer and an oread who rescued a medusa from durance in a fallen temple across the river. A fine piece of work, that - worthy of such treasures as we will soon find, no doubt." He bows again, gesturing flamboyantly. His manner is smooth, almost unctuous, making it hard to tell if his flattery is sincere or just subtle mockery.
Matching his manner to the bravo, Ashar continues It is well that your journey was pleasant, but how could it not with such boon companions. My fine friends have truly shown their metel already in recent weeks. A fine start to an even greater epic. I imagine that the tale of how the Cryptfinders came to be is as curious as that of the creation of the Scions. Perhaps, we may find ourselves with the free time to share such stories among the excitement and travails of our ventures. I would surely provide the first round of wine and ale at such an event. The bard gestures to include not only the Cryptfinders but the onlookers that are likely listening in. In a quieter voice, Also, my clan has made many contacts with the merchants and officials in this city. Should you find you need to transform weighty treasures in to more convenient coin, I would be please to introduce you to them. Perhaps, also, if we are so blessed as to find items of magical significance, we may facilitate exchanges in such items to avoid the expense and hassle of selling and then rebuying differant items from specialized merchants.
and an excessively energetic halfling woman, whose wide-eyed gaze bounces rapturously from Ashar's horns to Q'urtaz's chiseled skin and on to Illuria's veiled face and hissing hair as though the mere presence of each of you were a separate feastday gift just for her.
But enough of business, it seems that one of your number is eager to expand her view of the world. If I might have the honor of your name little one, I would be pleased to introduce you to my companions.
"Your invitation is most appealing, friend Ashar, and your offer beguiles the ear and warms the heart with its generosity," Falto smiles back, bowing once more. "I've heard that several of the fortunate parties participating in this lottery will be gathering for a private celebration in the coming nights to exchange our war stories - the venue is a charming inn called the 'Tooth and Hookah,' as I believe? Perhaps you would consent to extending your largesse within its walls one night soon?"
As Ashar turns to the halfling woman, she somehow manages to smile even more broadly, as though the grin were about to burst her open. "Oh my goodness! I'm Roylenna, but you can call me Royl if you want, or Lenna, most people do one or the other, but Roylenna's fine too. Are you an ifrit? And is that a medusa? How did you meet such interesting people? I had a giant friend once, but he couldn't come with us to Osirion. We met in a cave a long way from here. Where did you two meet? Does your friend have to wash her snakes? I'm sorry, maybe that was rude. Was that rude?"
"Oh my goodness! I'm Roylenna, but you can call me Royl if you want, or Lenna, most people do one or the other, but Roylenna's fine too."
"Was that rude?"
"'Hoy there, lass! Catch a breath a'fore ye pass out -again, an' let yer new friend answer a question 'r three. Pleased t'meet ye, by the by," the sailor says as he makes a sweeping gesture with his tricorn. "Charles Thompkins, at yer service, 'cept only me bless-ed Mum e'r called me by that name. E'ryone else, they call me Jugger."
Bes smiles broadly as Sigrun offers to record the Scions' exploits.
"Indeed! Every great undertaking requires a talented scribe to document the bravery and majesty of everyone involved, and to serve as a warning for those who do not begin such endeavors properly prepared. It will be our honor to meet with you at the Tooth and Hookah."
One stony brow raises at the barrage of questions coming from the little halfling. Perhaps they don't need as much breath as a larger being. She did not seem to pause once. He looks over at their unusual companion. It is good question, though.
Sigrun smiles appreciatively. "Then good fortune, Bes," she replies. "Come back to me with stories worth the telling."
Across the square, Roylenna looks slightly abashed at Jugger's admonishment... but only slightly. Falto's other two companions - the red-haired Irriseni archer and the mild-mannered tengu - seem rather used to the interaction, as they exchange a look.
Before the conversations can continue further, though, a murmur sweeps over the crowd as Sebti the Crocodile, mistress of the Grand Mausoleum, rises from her place on the dais and raises her hands. "Quiet! I beseech you all in the name of the Lady of Fate, please hear my words!"
The noise in the square slowly drops down to a background rumble, and Sebti looks up to the sky.
"Praise be to you, O Veil of Fate!
Hail to you, O Mistress of Souls!
I ask that you may open the way for us through this life,
As you do for the blessed deceased;
That you would judge us by our true worth
And guide us to the path we will most truly walk.
Guardian of the blessed dead,
Mistress of the Spire of Judgment,
Queen of those who dwell in the Boneyard,
She who is upon her throne,
May we go forth with your divine blessing."
There is a moment of worshipful silence as the crowd absorbs her words before the priestess continues. "Nearly three millenia ago, the city of Wati stood as the prize jewel of Osirion, Sebti recounts, "her foundations laid where the nation itself could be said to take root: the mingling of rivers that forms the River Sphinx. Alas for the souls who dwelt here, though, that the Plague of Madness swept through the city, turning peaceful citizens into blood-maddened monsters. In a matter of just days, the city of Wati died a screaming, gore-filled death. For centuries thereafter the dead lay untended, until the coming of the church of Pharasma. It was her faithful, our predecessors, who founded the Grand Mausoleum and built the great necropolis of Wati, so that the dead would rest peacefully at last. Now the living walk the streets of the Half-Dead City once more, mindful of their ancestors so near by, in whose shadow we all still walk to this day."
Sebti takes a breath, and something - an complex emotion, impossible to name - flickers over her face. "It is the wisdom of the Ruby Prince, master of the River Sphinx, that the Half-Dead City turn its eyes once more to the necropolis, that her secrets may be brought to the light for the sake of all Osirion!" she calls out, and renewed excitement sweeps around the square. "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 token identifies the adventuring group, matching the token that group received when it registered for the lottery. The second token determines which tomb is assigned to that group. One by one, each of the adventuring groups around the square is called forth, until the first acolyte calls out, "The Scions of the Ascendant Sun!" and the eyes of the crowd turn toward you.
The oread looks first to Bes, then to Ashar, for what comes next.
Bow toward the priestesses and wait in respectful anticipation.
Illuria straightens a bit, as more of her snakes peek out from beneath her veil. She cannot help but smile in anticipation.
The crocodile priestess said many words, and they puzzled Slurk. Why bury treasures with dead people?, he wondered to himself. They dead! They can't use them! Tall people customs make no sense. He is lost in this reverie when the shout of his team's name breaks him out.
"That us! We go now!" He starts a few steps forwards, then turns to see if the rest of his group are following.
Bes steps forward with a dazzling smile, and places a hand gently on the kobold's head, as one might do to calm an excitable puppy.
"We have heard the wisdom of the Ruby Prince's words, and received the blessings of the Lady of Fate. We will proudly go where destiny has decreed, and eagerly seek that which we have been chosen to find. For the Glory of Osirion, and the Ruby Prince, we shall return the treasures of our ancestors to the keeping of future generations."
The red-headed archer from the north observes the Scions with her emerald eyes. Her face remains a mask as the entire crowd waits expectantly.
Q'urtaz shifts as Bes steps forward, but remains slightly behind the spellcaster.
Bes approaches the dais as have the leaders of the other groups. The tile the sorcerer presents is matches against the one drawn from the urn and found to be its twin; the second acolyte then draws forth a tile from the other urn and hands it to Sebti, who compares it to a list she carries. Turning to the crowd, she calls out, "The Scions of the Ascendant Sun will explore the Tomb of Akhentepi!" The first few such announcements had received wild applause, but as the ceremony and the naming of explorations has gone on, the crowd's enthusiasm has dwindled, and there is only polite applause as Sebti turns back to Bes and hands over a hand-sketched map showing how to reach the Tomb of Akhentepi from the gates to the necropolis. As she turns over the map, Sebti looks into Bes' eyes and repeats, "Hold true to the rules of the exploration: remember how this came to pass; every slave’s hut is a memorial; and honor the departed."
Slurk reaches out and tugs on the high priestess' tunic. "What is Akhentepi?", he asks with trepidation.
Sebti - who looks susprisingly calm about the fact that a kobold is molesting her garments - consults a sheaf of noes before answering. "We... are not sure," she finally answers. "The tomb is labeled with the occupant's name and death date, so we know that he died roughly a decade before the Plague of Madness. Other than that, we can make only guesses - guesses that will pale to uselessness before the facts your exploration will uncover. We encourage you to return with whatever history you find."
Illuria unwinds from the coiled position she was in during the ceremony. She glides along to meet up with Bes and the others as they leave the dais. Sliding up alongside Q'urtaz, she grins with delight. Well, this was a pleasant little diversion after all! I got to see the humans gather in their crowds as they like to do, and I was out in it! I've always wanted to do that. A bit more... pungent than I'd imagined, though.
Changing the subject, she studied the ifrit capitalist. You will be getting your beast of burden, yes? I noticed it had many supplies for our excavation. Being selected so soon in the lottery must be most pleasing to you. Did you expect such good fortune so soon?