Mus'ad doesn't look up or turn his head, merely responding in a quiet voice "No reason not be careful. Don't worry Mus'ad can be quick when need be quick"
Mus'ad moves towards the other end of the corridor, intent on checking the next set of doors while the others linger over the corpse behind him...
...when he notices a hidden pressure plate in the floor in front of the other doors. From wall to wall and 5' deep it appears to trigger some sort of projectiles (darts he guesses from the size of the holes) that would shoot the length of the hallway from hidden holes in the walls.
He also realizes that the engravings on this set of doors resemble those of the previous set, except that the man depicted is now older, carrying the same scarab shield and riding a chariot. His free arm points at his own reflected depiction on the opposite door.
Holding up a hand behind him to give pause Mus'ad looks over the pressure plate...
While Mus'ad works, Myron takes the opportunity to search the corpse for useful items.
The corpse’s gear has suffered decades of rot and rust and is mostly unusable, though Myron is able to recover a couple of metal pitons and a usable hammer, as well as two vials of alchemist’s fire that have remained miraculously unbroken.
Sighing at the indignity of it all, Mus'ad carefully removes his armor, then attempts to neuter the inner workings of the darts.
"This poor fellow came better prepared than we did. Let's hope we can put his tools to better use. I already have a vial of alchemist's fire, anyone else want to hold on to these?" Myron says as he slips the hammer and pitons into his pack.
As Mus'ad removes his armor, Myron joins him and regards his discarded shield. "Perhaps I can hold your shield in front of the holes where the darts will fire, to offer you some measure of protection while you work?"
Myron held Mus'ad's shield protectively in front of them both as the Pahmet worked on jamming the pressure plate. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he worked without his armor. After almost a minute of careful work, and at the critical moment, Mus'ad's hand slipped and the pressure plate moved almost imperceptibly. This was immediately followed by a hiss and then the sound of darts being launched from the multiple hidden firing tubes...
...Myron was lucky enough to use the shield to keep himself from being hit by the hail of projectiles, but he wasn't able to stop some from striking the dwarf.
Breathing heavier but making no other sign against the free pouring blood, Mus'ad waves Myron away and attempts again to disable the trap...
Disable Device:
Realizing his mistake and correcting his motion, Mus'ad is able to jam the mechanism on his second attempt.
A check of the doors themselves reveals them to be apparently free of additional traps, while also appearing to be unlocked.
Sighing with some degree of workman's satisfaction that he managed to disarm the trap on the second attempt, Mus'ad begins the laborious task of re-girding himself with a protective second skin.
After putting his armor back on, Mus'ad pushes on one of the ornate doors and it opens relatively easily revealing a room 20' by 20' square. 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 and south.
You think it likely that the family is probably interred somewhere else and that this tomb was prepared much later, after Akhentepi’s continued successful military career.
Intrigued, Myron moves up to examine the tapestry and the preserved animals.
The tapestry appears to be a portrait of Akhentepi, his wife, and two children, depicted standing before their family home. The animals on the pedestals are mummified cats.
Mus'ad stays standing near to the door they just exited and looks towards the mummified cats with sadness. Shaking his head "Not right to abuse the poor things..." before waiting for sign of whether their path leads North or South from here.
Mus' ad finds no indication of traps on either door, nor do they appear locked.
"How... unfortunate," Aerathiel comments as he too studies the tapestry, his tone more or less impassive. "And how... mildly unpleasant," he adds after noticing the mummified cats.
"There are symbols and hieroglyphs on this," the elf informs the rest, indicating the faded tapestry. "It appears that Akhentepi was left widowed after some tragedy or other, possibly murder or disease, befell his family." His tone betrays little empathy to the man's plight as the wizard simply relays the information to the rest of the group. "Any further insight, Professor?"
Aristedes murmured an affirmation to Pherenike's words.
It is possible. But any manner of tragedy could have befallen them.
Nothing further- you and Pherenike have the right of it. His family would not have been buried here, according to ancient customs. This tomb is his alone.
Aristedes waited for Mus'ad's usual careful checks before they proceeded.
Why don't we let chance deside which door to open first? Heads we go right, tails left Myron says, and deftly flips a coin.
As good a method as any to decide with no data to inform the decision, good Halfling.
The doors to the south open easily revealing a short hallway filled with stairs that lead down to yet another set of doors. Mus'ad repeated his examinations before opening this set as well. Another 20' by 20' room awaited on the other side. A massive mirror stretches across the southern wall of this chamber, flanked by two statues. The statue to the east depicts a tall, gaunt woman in a flowing, hooded gown, holding an hourglass. The figure to the west is that of a jackal-headed man carrying a scepter or staff in his hand. Stone double doors, standing slightly ajar, lead to the east and west. Torch holders sculpted in the shape of bird skulls are built in each corner, and a thin layer of dust covers every surface.
Survival:
Looking over the room as he carefully picks positions for his feet to go, Mus'ad briefly stops and squints as though focusing on detail. He then takes his shield from his shoulder, gripping it firmly in one hand while the second sits on his axe's grip. "Not alone here... spider or scorpion... maybe big as dog" gesturing to the East and West doors "Move through here... should pick one way, close other so bug don't sneak behind."
Myron steps down so he's level with Mus'ad and peers towards the two doors.
We have a decent defensive position here on the stairs. Maybe if we make some noise and draw it to us. I can hit it with a sling stone as soon as it shows itself, and on the stair we have the higher ground. What do you think?
Mus'ad shrugs "Make noise, either come or hide... or more things than want come..." moving nearer the doors he weighs them mentally to see if he thinks a dog sized creature could move them on it's own...
Knowledge (Engineering - untrained):
Worth a try, Myron. The doors are slightly ajar; lets see if we can't draw something into our defensive formation.
Aristedes took position in the second or third rank and made sure his crossbow was loaded.
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Pherenike frowns back up at the multiple sets of closed doors between themselves and the surface. "There must be another way in and out. A predator that size couldn't survive down here for long, and it certainly couldn't move that stone." She draws her falchion carefully, in preparation for trouble.
Mus'ad moved a little further into the room to get a closer look at the doors. These doors, much like the last couple of sets since the trapped doors, seem to open more easily. The others lingered on the stairs, hopeful they would prove advantageous should something come scurrying out of either doors.
Just as some of you were about to start making noise, you glance at the mirror, noticing something strange. In addition to your own reflections, there is the image of a man, the likeness of those depicted elsewhere in the tomb. The man has bronzed skin, appears to be in his forties, and is wearing white ceremonial robes with a headdress.
The second odd thing you realize, is that your reflected facial expressions do not match your own. The "you" in the mirror wears a stern and disapproving look.
Mus'ad freezes and stares at his reflection, matching it in quiescence before raising a single eyebrow and seeing if his 'mirror' does the same.
"Hold on now. That's....odd." Myron says quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror. He slowly raises his hand, watching to see if his reflection mimics him. He then lowers his hand again, making sure not to make any threatening motions, but keeps it near his pouch with sling bullets, ready to send a stone flying towards the mirror.
"That must be Akhentepi himself. He sure don't look pleased with our presence here. The mirror must almost certainly be magic. Can you determine anything about it's nature?" he whispers back to the spellcasters.
Upon entering the room and having a better view of the strange mirror, Aerathiel once again brings the same simple spell as before to mind, his lips softly forming the brief incantation. Now with the ability to see magical auras, the elven wizard directs his gaze towards the mirror and the reflections within, doing his best to examine it from a safe enough distance, at least for the time being.
Aristedes was also quite unnerved, but worked up his resolve and addressed the unknown figure in the mirror- in the tongue of ancient Osiriani. Whatever he said, it was quite a mouthful of several sentences.
Our presence here is sanctioned by the Church of Pharasma. You may rest easy, Ahkentepi. Even today, your great deeds as the commander of Wati's garrison are remembered and honored. We do not come here to despoil your remains. I seek knowledge to save my family from a wasting curse.
Myron's reflection matched his motions, but his, like Mus'ad's, reflected expressions did not change from their disapproving stare.
Pherenike turned away from the mirror and tensed in anticipation of possible violence. She saw no indication of Akhentepi in their midst.
As Ahkenaten attempted to converse with the figure in the mirror, Aerathiel attuned his arcane senses upon the mirror, revealing faint auras of illusion and transmutation. Just as Aerathiel was about to reveal his discovery and the Professor waited for a response, everyone except for Pherenike and Kheled felt a peculiar feeling on their foreheads. Moments later it turned to seering pain...
While Mus'ad and Myron are able to resist the hostile attack, Aerathiel and Ahkenaten feel their foreheads burn and sizzle as Ancient Osiriani hieroglyphs are etched into their brows!
The hieroglyphs spelling "thief" are now etched into your forehead.
Growling as the mirror attempts to force it's reality upon him, Mus'ad resists the assault dwarf-fully. With fluid reaction to being attacked, the pahmet transfers his warhammer to hand and attempts to shatter the mirror...
Warhammer: for
Myron rubs his forehead vigorously, then looks around at his companions in confusion. Realizing that Pherenike and Kheled don't show any signs of being affected, he calls out.
"Don't look at it! Pherenike, you turned away just before it burned us and Kheled was too far away. We have to cover it up. We can use the tapestry....help me, somebody."
With that, he rushes up the stairs and up to the tapestry, trying to figure out how he can get it down without tearing the faded fabric.
Crossbow still in hand, Ahkenaten winced as the brand was put onto his forehead while he was mid-sentence. Angry, his action mirrored Mus'ad's- firing a crossbow bolt at the mirror.
Ahkenaten and Mus'ad's attacks have the desired effect as the hammer blow and crossbow bolt crunch into the mirror, causing a veritable spiderweb of cracks to appear. With the shattering of the glass, the image of the figure disappears and the reflection returns to "normal", as the magic is unravelled.
Moments later the entire thing collapses to the floor in cacophony of crashing glass.
As the last pieces drop to the floor, everyone's eyes return to the slightly open doors on either side of the room...
"Well, the mirror seemed rather immune to your assurances and flattery, Professor," Aerathiel remarks with only a slight hint of annoyance in his tone as he rubs his forehead on the spot where the hieroglyphs have appeared. "Not quite so immune to a more... shall we say, direct approach? The magic was a combination of illusion and transmutation, by the way, with the former probably responsible for the various reflections and the latter for the charming little brand presently decorating our heads."
Myron resumes his previous position on the stairs, and tugs at the jumble of feathers and beads decorating the top of his walking stick. A leather strap unfolds, and Myron grabs a sling stone from his pouch and slips it into the sling, ready to hurl it at anything threatening that might emerge.
Moving to the fallen pile of shards, Mus'ad kicks them apart to be sure that they will trouble them no more.
well that wasn't very nice. But I suppose the dead don't e joy being pilfered. Do you want me to cast a spell to bolster us? bless?
As Mus'ad toes the pile of shards and Kheled finishes casting his blessing spell, a large tan-colored creature resembling a ten-legged spider emerges from the eastern doorway. Oversized twin vertically aligned mandibles grind together slowly beneath beady eyes.
With unfailing accuracy, Myron launches his readied sling stone, striking the critter on the body.
"Mus'ad, watch out! It's a giant solifugid - a camel spider. It can cause terrible wounds with it's rending claws." he calls out, as he rushes down the stairs and positions himself so the solifugid can't jump the distracted dwarf before he can get his defenses up.
From the personal journal of Myron Drumbarrel, scribbled in the margin next to the entry for Fireday the 24th of Sarenith, 4711: IMPORTANT - do NOT get between Pherenike and her target, and don't do anything to anger her!!