| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Between Sturm and Z’ael’s determination to explore the Necropolis and what all lies within, the odd assortment of allies managed to cobble together an effective crew for doing just that. Once you all agree on a name, it is time to register for the lottery that will provide the assignment you are awarded as to where you have permission to explore. Singing up under the title ‘Architects of Fate’, the priests of Pharasma scrawl the name on two matching tokens, they hand one to you, and the other is placed within an urn between them. They then ensure that you all hear and understand the three basic rules of the Necropolis exploration.
After explaining the rules, they finish with a word of warning, ”Failure to comply with these rules can result in, but is not limited to, expulsion from the necropolis, a ban on continued exploration, seizure of recovered valuables, and arrest and prosecution by local authorities.”
The Pharasmins wait until after all registrants have applied before they begin the ceremony of drawing lots. The lottery’s opening ceremony takes place in the Sunburst Market in the center of the living city of Wati, between the Grand Mausoleum and Abadar’s Sanctum of Silver and Gold. 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.
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.
The ceremony begins when the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum 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. After calling for silence, she begins with an invocation to the Lady of Graves, followed by a brief history of the founding of the necropolis. Sebti concludes by saying the following.
“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. A single representative of the chosen group is then summoned to the stage to present the token his group received at registration to one of the acolytes. Once the group’s identity has been confirmed, Sebti shows the representative the location of that group’s first exploration site on a map of the entire necropolis. She also gives the representative a smaller, sketched map that shows the site’s location in relation to the necropolis gates. Once a group has received its assignment, the process repeats with a new group.
The process seems to take forever, as every token drawn fails to result in your group being called. Eager ears listen intently, only to be let down when the name does not belong to your hodgepodge group. Finally, it comes, the call rings out so that it feels like the only sound in the raucous throng of adventurers, merchants, and citizens,
Now that your name has been called, a representative is expected to approach the stage to receive your assignment. Who will be the representative for the Architects of Fate?
Gus chews thoughtfully on a stick of chalk (it keeps his tusks white) before rinsing his dry mouth out with a swig of water from his canteen, ignoring the odd looks this might attract from those around him. He looks at the rest of the group around him: Suru, clad in local garb and the only one clearly at ease in this heat; Sturm and Z'ael, whose idea this was; and Morana and Brennan, conferring together. He hasn't had much opportunity to talk with Brennan, but he trusts Morana - and any friend of hers...
He wonders why he is doing this; the architecture itself is distinctive but not his particular interest, and he's never been into riches. Actually, that's not quite true, he corrects himself automatically - as a Paladin, he's never been into riches. Joining his companions on this task, though, seemed somehow right - is this what Ragathiel sent him here for? If so, this is not a simple treasure hunt expedition: the Empyreal Lord has a habit of putting him in danger. It's one of the many things Gus appreciates about his Patron. Best, then, to be wary.
At the call, Gus looks up, and murmurs: "Well, that's us: Sturm, Z'ael, this was your idea - and Sturm, the name was your suggestion; I vote one of you should represent us."
What do you suppose we'll get? I hope we get an official's tomb, or someone of distinction. They will surely will be laid to rest in the most ornate masonry. This is great! Sturm, why is Ms. Sebti so young? Do Pharasmin's appoint leaders based on purity instead of experience? Do you know her? What's she like? She sure is beautiful. Do you think she would agree to sup with me sometime? That would be so cool. I bet she knows all sorts of things about tombs and their design. Do you... The Tomb of Akhentepi! Yes!!! He must have been someone important. Just listen to that name. Ahh..Ken..Tepii. Yeah, definitely someone important.
Z'ael misinterprets Gus's comment.
What? You want me to represent the team. I... I don't know what to say. I'm honored. Of Course I will represent. Personally, I would have picked Sturm given his affiliation, but I see know reason why I couldn't stand in this regard.
Z'ael starts walking towards the stage. Barring any interruption from members of the team, Z'ael will proceed.
Brennan leaned back against a wall, casually cleaning his fingernails with one of his daggers. The lottery was boring him, and the early shade offered by the wall had long since disappeared. He glanced up as the name was called - Architects of Fate! What a load of drek. As if this motley crew had any grand influence on the outcome of the color of spit. Still, it was good that they had gotten at least an assignment. It would make the coming days less boring and more likely to fill his pack with gold. He glanced at Morana and nodded his head, eyebrow raised in a manner that clearly said "this was your idea".
Aloud he said "Just get up there, shorty, before they give the gig to someone else. Maybe somebody less gabby." He knew the gnome would be useful, arcanists usually were, but why did he have to be so chatty? As for the orc, Brennan hadn't decided yet. The odds were good the two of them would have to throw down soon, but Brennan wasn't unduly bothered. Paladin's had to take off their armor to piss, eventually.
Oh! Suru's eyes round in excitement as 'he' hears the Architects called. Then it really is happenning! I can hardly believe it! Gus will look so distinguished, poring over the maps with the high priestess, as everyone watches! Not like those short stubbly rascals who swaggered up there as if they deserve the Ruby Prince's benevolence.
Suru's eyebrows, one of 'his' few normally visible features, arch and rise almost into the headscarf in astonishment at Gus's murmur.
"Ehm..?" Suru mumbles into 'his' scarf, but doesn't go on, as the gnome's chatter continues without missing a beat.
'He' looks perplexed and disappointed as Z'ael rushes forward, but then beams an admiring smile at Gus, thinking You're so modest, and ready to give up your rightful place to let that kid have his childish fun!
Z'ael reaches the stage and addresses Sebti.
Z'ael Breccia here for Architects of Fate. I promise that we will respect your wishes and rules. We are honest people and wish only to share the Necropolis's secrets and history with the people of Wati. Will you be accompanying any of the teams during the exploration? You can come with us if you'd like. Looking down and scuffing his boots in the dirt, Z'ael offers his company for this evening's repast. Would you like to have dinner sometime? I know a great little place in the Veins that serves this peculiar meat seared in the most amazing spices. It's a little hot going down, and even more so coming out but that shouldn't bother you, since I suppose you're quite used to the food food here. A little salt and pepper is all my kin use for seasoning. We could go there tonight. I have so many questions for you about the Necropolis. Gosh, you're awfully pretty. Z'ael abruptly goes quiet, realizing that he, as usual was rambling on.
Sebti remains impassive as the little gnome speaks incessantly at her, answering briefly when given the opportunity. "No, I will not be going. I must remain impartial, and cannot display any sense of preferential treatment. I must also decline your invitation. Now look at the map here. This is where you're going. Take this sketch. It will show you how to get there." With that she is done with Z'ael, and dismisses him, ready to draw the next group and assignment combination.
Sturm just shrugs as Z'ael heads up to the podium in his place - he's not espcially interested in the limelight, nor is stepping out of the shade of the wall into the blazing heat of the Osirian sun. He then winces at the gnome's clumsy dinner invitation to his high priestess, and quietly wishes that maybe he'd been a little more forthcoming. To distract himself from the embarrassment, he racks his brains for information on their destination.
Sturm is not familiar with this particular tomb. Either the name itself isn't a big enough one, or there just isn't a lot known about a lot of the tomb in the Necropolis. What he does know, though, is that by the simple fact it is a tomb named after its occupant, there is a good chance that it will be both sealed and trapped fairly well to deter tomb robbers.
Now that you guys have been granted your assigned location, you have the rest of the day to gather and prepare whatever you need, before the gates to the Necropolis are opened in the morning. At dawn the place will be crawling with adventurers looking to make their fortunes amongst what remains of the area.
"Not specifically aware of who Ahkentepi was, but as a tomb of a named person it will most likely be well-defended with traps. Do we have everything we need for our endeavour?"
Morana is happy that her group and associates were picked to help explore the Necropolis. Ecstatic, even. Still, the transition from emotions on the inside to emotions on the outside takes a few moments. She has to process it, and decide that she's happy about it. She has to, but she's caught up in the midst of her memories. In fire and ash.
She shakes her head, putting on a wide and bright smile. There was no time or money for orthodontia in the village of her youth, so her teeth are a little bit crooked, but it's somehow in a charming way. "Yay, us!" she says.
She laughs as she hears Z'ael fumble his flirting with the Priestess of Pharasma, and turns to Sturm as he asks about equipment. "I've got everything that I think I need...There are a few things we'll probably need among all of us, that not everyone needs to get. Rope, a grappling hook, a few light sources, a communal place to store big loot items, lockbreaking tools, a hammer, and a few bags of flour, just to name a few. You know, for climbing, seeing, carrying, opening, tapping, and revealing."
She smiles again at the dour dwarf. "Wouldn't want to fall down a cliff while getting slashed at by invisible ghosts and burdened by lots of unnecessary loot, would we?"
"One of the lunks can carry the swag bag. I've got all my tools, though I think I want to replace my lantern. My other one's still busted after smashing that orc in the face on the way here."
Cringing, Surubi says "Letting the... little one represent us may have been... not the best choice."
A moment later 'he' continues, " As you suggest, Brennan and Morana, everything necessary for tomorrow must be prepared today; especially water--several days' worth for each person--many, many waterskins. Not all of it need be with us every moment, perhaps it is safe to leave much of it just inside the tomb, or even just outside. Likely as not, much of it will not be needed... but too little water is deadly in the desert."
"'Ere ya go, lad, safe 'an sound in Wati at last. Soz fer th' delay. I reckon I ain't one t'cross one of Pharasma's own, so 'ere's haff o' yer fare back fer the trouble."
Andrei savors the solid and non-rolling nature of the wooden docks beneath his feet, a drastic change from the nearly two month sea voyage. Though the horizon is motionless for a change, when he closes his eyes his body still imagines the incessant rolling of the ocean swells.
Andrei opens his eyes and focuses on the grizzled master of the tramp barque that brought him to the Living City of Osirion. Like the ship he commands, the captain is a rough and sea-worn specimen, an honest man plying an honest trade. With a gentle smile, Andrei reaches out and closes the man's outstretched hand around the gold coins presented upon it.
"That will not be necessary, Master Thaneson. You can no more control the winds than reverse the flow of time, and I am grateful to arrive safely. I found your accommodations very pleasant, and wish you well in your trade here. Good day, sir."
Without any further ceremony, Andrei hoists his heavy pack to his shoulder and sizes up the city before him.
It's damnably hot, for one, he thinks, squinting against the glare of sun off sand and adjusting his wide-brimmed hat to shade his face as best he can. It was good advice well followed to exchange my black garb for white. This is a joyous occasion worthy of joyous clothing. That, and it's too damned hot to wear my black robes.
Andrei strides down the street, lungs assailed by the air that manages to be utterly dry and yet tinged with salt spray. Sighting the unmistakable gothic architecture of a temple to Pharasma, Andrei heads into the city without so much as a look back.
I am almost certainly too late to be considered for the expeditions, he muses, but I will no doubt find some purpose here at the Church. Every heart vibrates to that iron string!
A short introduction.
Boats, boats, boats! Oh, such marvelous pieces of engineering, but after having to spend a couple of weeks on various ships and barges, the petite sized engineer was looking forward to having his feet back on solid ground. From afar he saw the majestic architecture of Wati looming, beckoning him ever closer. So many books he had read about Wati's buildings. A book filled with sketches, by an Andoran diplomat named Cornwalt Haga, showed the cities of Sothis and Wati in charcoal black and grey. Without realizing it, Gustar had copied those colors through his excitement. Gustar's hair now was a stylish sagely charcoal grey while his eyes mimicked the faded yellow of the pages of the books he had studied.
The barge croaked as its captain and crew forced into the harbour of Wati. Commands were issued back and forth while crewmembers made sure the ship followed its intended course. Eventually the ship came to a grinding halt, ropes were thrown overboard and a boarding plank was presented to its passengers. The lifeblood of Osirion presented new people to Wati, and Gustar was one of them. Caught up in the magnificence of it all, he eventually ran into another gnome - a fellow named Z'ael. They soon found out they had something in common: both were dying to visit the Necropolis of Wati and had traveled quite a bit to see it! The topic of architecture was discussed in a manner only gnomes could.
The lottery.
Tall people, everywhere! Gustar had read about a Gnomish World Enlarger and day-dreamed about its usefulness as the Pharasmian priests started the ritual. Z'ael had told him he might have a spot for him in his group, but Gustar had seen his companions and knew that, unless Brigh wanted it and made it happen through a miracle, he'd have to wait in line.
And that line consisted of others having to die first before a spot would open up.
Through some mishap of timing, delays, weather, or scheduling, the companions that were each in their own way originally set to join Gus and Z'ael respectively arrive. They are at first disheartened to know that the group is about as full as could be expected and their roster had already been registered.
Then Gus made an odd decision. He had come because he had heard about the event through Andrei himself, and that he was only present by feeling that it was the will of his god to continue in the man's absence. Having Andrei arrive, just in time was sign enough that he was merely a placeholder, and that his particular task was accomplished. Surely this paladin of Pharasma was more fated to enter a Pharasmin Necropolis and search within to cleanse the place of any unclaimed souls than he. So he gave over his spot on the task, asking that Suru guide this man as ably and willingly as he had helped him. Asking that Andrei look after Z'ael all the same, he bid his farewells, and advised that he would go find the next step of his god's plans for him.
While this all took place, Sturm was forced himself to reevaluate his plan and role for this endeavor. He was initially curious, and somewhat determined to ensure that the others held strict adherence to the rules of the church in rummaging through these tombs. Now that there was a paladin of his own faith, who also came to vanquish the undead, he realized that he was just interested in study and would rather do so at the reliably grand libraries of the very temple to Pharasma right here in Wati. He didn't want to be trudging through the dangerous and possibly violent catacombs. So, also entrusting the role to Andrei, he excused himself, adding that he would still be available at the Grand Mausoleum if they ever needed his assistance or advice.
Now the group was one shy at five, when they were just recently too many at seven. But it seems the fate of Pharasma had listened to their needs, because that was when Z'ael's original traveling partner, Gustar, had finally arrived. They had set off together, but had lost one another, and now here he was standing before them at just the right time.
The night is filled with getting acquainted and reacquainted, filling out any gaps in equipment, and fully preparing for whatever the morning will bring when the gates finally open.
Finally, the morning of the event had come, the excitement and anticipation was almost palpable. Crowds of adventuring teams were pressed against the walls, all vying for a spot nearest the front, as if it were a race where they would find more treasure if they were the first ones to arrive and clear out their assigned tombs. As the sun rose and the heat began to rise with it, the Pharasmin officials arrived to oversee the opening of the Necropolis. With a quick prayer to Pharasma they opened the gates, and standing right beyond them, the sun rising behind it, stood Pharasma's Needle. The Needle is an impressive eight sided obelisk, easily two to three stories tall, covered in ancient Osirion glyphs. The capstone is made of some odd black stone, the sunlight directly behind it neither reflecting off of or refracting through it. The Pharasmins say another prayer, before the press of people break like floodwaters through a ramshackle levee. The rush is on, and the push all around is hard to resist, but you almost find the excitement intoxicating in its fervor.
Once inside past the small opening, the groups all scatter, flowing through the old city streets heavily buried in drifts of sand. Following the sketch you were given, the Tomb of Akhentepi is not hard to find, just a fair walking distance to get to. 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 name of the individual interred within the tomb, Akhentepi, is engraved upon the doors in Osiriani, along with the dates of his birth and death, indicating that the deceased was born in 2416 ar and died in 2488 ar, eleven years before the Plague of Madness decimated most of the city. The doors are roughly ten feet tall and made of solid stone, with no visible handles or hinges.
More than once Brennan had to restrain himself from driving a dagger into someone's kneecap or elbow as the crowd of treasure hunters pressed and flowed around him. He watched as one old man, an archivist most likely, was knocked to the ground and trampled by the crowd. His companions dragged the crumpled man to the lee side of a merchants stall and were feverishly trying to heal him as Brennan lost sight of them.
Once out in the Osirian sands, the crowd eased as each band of treasure hunters went to its assigned location. Brennan kept his eyes peeled for anyone showing undue interest in his own group. He had been part of expeditions before where one group of explorers let another do all the hard work of tracking, mapping, and defeating monsters and traps, before swooping in to "claim" the looted artifacts.
Reaching their assigned tomb, Brennan had to wonder why so many tombs this close to a small city had gone without exploration. Surely other adventure seekers and historians could have had ample opportunity to come here, being less than an hour's walk at a leisurely pace from the gates.
Business at hand, boy! ran through his mind as he began to examine the stone doors leading into the crypt.
Surubi first chuckles at Gus's unexpected decision, thinking it a good joke, but the chuckles dies as Gus earnestly asks Suru to serve as a guide to Andrei. "But, but, what if," 'he' stammers, "what if your next quest takes you into the scorching sands?!" 'He' looks like a small drowning animal clutching at straws, as Gus calmly explains that Andrei's certain need of a guide, not to mention Surubi's commitment to the rest of the team, surely trumps his own hypothetical next quest. Blinking away tears and trying to swallow the lump in 'his' throat, 'he' manages to get a strangled agreement out before rushing away.
Jostled by the thick crowd, Surubi seems lost in her own city. 'He' looks up at every foreign-accented booming voice - and there are many tall warriors from all over the world around 'him' - hoping against hope that Gus changed his mind, or at least came to see them off. Uncharacteristically distracted, 'he' almost bumps into her older brother leading one of the better-outfitted teams; 'he' awkwardly turns away sharply just in time to avoid him recognizing 'him'. Oh, why didn't I tell Gus to go to them if he ever does need a guide?
As the throng carries 'him' towards the just-opened gate, Surubi spots Andrei's white robes and finally joins the team. With a stiff bow, 'he' resumes the over-formal tone from your first meeting: "This one begs your pardon for the delay, and brings some tools and extra water for everyone." 'He' points to two sacks, tied together with a bit of rope and slung on 'his' right shoulder. 'His' eyes look red, a little puffy, and there are dark circles underneath them. As 'he' moves close in the press of the crowd, the smell of strong coffee wafts forth.
"Perhaps a prayer for... the departed... before this team enters the necropolis?"
"Yes, yes, yes! Prayer has been said to optimize the flow of hope and believe in a positive outcome in individuals. Let us go through this ritual so that we are as optimally prepared as possible!" That being said, he brings forth a small cup to accept some of Surubi's water.
But the first challenge soon presented itself: a large herd of tall people. It's a hard knock life sometimes when you're a gnome. The rush of excited tall people meant that Gustar had to get in the slipstream of a strong tall individual. As the caravan got into motion he hoped that no one took the challenge of bumping into this impressive Ulfen man and so causing him to be trampled underneath not just one, but (at least) two giants! Luckily this was a good day for science and none of the sort happened, because Gustar didn't get far past the gates at all. All around him beautiful structures beckoned him on. It was too much. Too much!
Concentrate! You're an adventurer now. Be professional. Act like one, Gustar!
Impossibly large eyes settled themselves on the closed doors to Akhentepi's tomb. Fingertips silently clacked against one another as the gnome tried to channel his excessive enthusiasm into something useful. Perhaps this door was the first of many riddles that would stand in their way on the road to success. Maybe this wasn't a door at all! Ha-ha!! You're a genius, Gustar!
Armed with a plan, he went about looking and searching for the entrance. He mumbled to himself at times, as if his spoken voice was conversing with the voice inside his head - something altogether possible - and completely forgot to ask the assistance of his colleagues. New to collective adventuring, this one.
Morana barely keeps her feet as she tries to keep up with her compatriots among the crazy, rioting crowd. "Excuse me! Pardon me!", she shouts, although she's hardly audible among the roar of the excited crowd and the tromp of the many booted feet.
She slows down to a jog, and then to a walk, as they find the Tomb at last, separated from the other groups. "I hope there's something exciting in there!" she says, with a beaming smile.
"Just gimme a minute, will you?" she says, and then she closes her eyes. Concentrating hard, a light glow begins to emanate from her body, slowly coalescing into solid, whole white plates of armor. She grows as the armor forms around her body, rising to a height of over six feet. Claws extend from her gauntleted hands, although she draws a longspear when she's finished growing. "Ready." she says, her voice bollow and overlaid with a deeper, more distant tone.
Andrei finds a bench on which to sit and temples his hands, observing the mad rush for the tombs.
"These burial grounds have remained sealed for untold thousands of years," he comments to nobody in particular. "They can surely stand another half-hour."
His contemplation is interrupted by the sight of the old man being trampled. With alacrity, Andrei springs to action and stands over the fallen adventurer, forcing the stream of mercenaries to part around him. When the crush is over, he helps the old man up and dusts him off, tending to any cuts or bruises he may have suffered.
The crisis averted, Andrei walks calmly into the formerly sealed district and pauses to take in his surroundings.
"Oh wise Pharasma, who sees all and judges fairly, let me be Your hand today."
Andrei catches up to his companions in time to see Morana armoring up. Seeing his new companions already investigating the strange door, and having no particular talent in that field himself, Andrei makes small talk.
"Now that is quite the extraordinary armor you have there. Some form of glamour to keep it concealed?
"Not exactly," she replies with a smile (not that her smile can easily be seen), turning to face the holy man. "Think of it like...shape-shifting. It amplifies my strength and toughness, and protects me from harm...and there's no glamour here, I just summoned it."
Surubi looks at the sand piled at the doors, sighs, and mumbles in Osirian.
"Allow this one to ensure the door is safe before you touch it." 'he' says interposing 'him'self between others and the door. After looking it over thoroughly, 'he' begins to dig away some of the sand so that the doors could be opened more easily.
As the group inspects the blocked portal before them, a few of them notice that the doors are on concealed hinges and swing outward. There are also telltale traces of mortar along the seams and jamb that has since crumbled or been chipped away, indicating that the doors were meant to be sealed permanently and not intended to be opened again.
Gustar's keen eyesight and familiarity with almost all common tools, given his particular religious beliefs, notices signs of a crowbar or similar tool having been inserted between the doors at some point. It is clear to most of them that, before these doors can be moved at all, Surubi has the right of it by needing to clear away the sand drift piled in front of them.
Since the others busy themselves shoveling with away sand, Gustar will take the moment to study the door with something a little less mundane. A flourish of the hand, the utterance of the Gnomish word reveal! and all things magic become apparent to the tiny inventor.
1st Round: Presence or absence of magical auras.
2nd Round: Number of different magical auras and the power of the most potent aura.
3rd Round: The strength and location of each aura. If the items or creatures bearing the auras are in line of sight, you can make Knowledge (arcana) skill checks to determine the school of magic involved in each. (Make one check per aura: DC 15 + spell level, or 15 + 1/2 caster level for a nonspell effect.) If the aura emanates from a magic item, you can attempt to identify its properties (see Spellcraft).
Gustar inspects the building with an enchanted eye for auras. Sadly, even encircling the one story, twenty-five by forty foot, rectangular building, he senses none. It seems this first draw may be a short quick trip, given the small size and lack of anything interesting thus far.
I can't believe we're actually here, doing this! This is great! Eying the sand blocking the door... Anyone bring a shovel?
Um, Ms Morana... can you summon up a shield, or better yet, a couple of shovels? We could surely use something.
Studying the masonry of the tomb...Just look at the craftsmanship. See how they adorn the outer edge of the doors with angular scrolls. Most indicative of the ancients that built these tombs. Exquisite work!. I should have brought something to make a rubbing of the pattern. Do you think we have time for me to go back to town? We may need to anyway, for some proper tools.
"When two minds become one! Here, Z'ael, you can use some of my paper! Ignore the Gigglephizz signature on the back in the corner, I may or may not have anticipated on others using my paper."
"This one begs forgiveness for being unprepared." Surubi bows 'his' head in shame. "This one will return with a shovel as soon as humanly possible." 'He' starts off at a trot towards the gate back into the city, intending to hurry to the nearest store and purchases a shovel there, then run back with the shovel and begin to dig again in earnest.
"I believe we can dig reasonably well with bladed weapons and hands, folks."
She calls back to Surubi, "Wait a moment, I want to try something."
As the companions watch, her armor shrinks her back down, imploding with occasional small pop noises, until she is once again a small half-elven girl. "I cannot summon a shield or a shovel quite yet, but I can summon..other things."
She begins to chant, and after a few seconds, a dog with gleaming golden fur and the spark of intelligence in its golden eyes appears beside her. "Dig.", she says.
"It seems I purchased my goods from a shady merchant. My "tomb exploration kit lacks a shovel."
Andrei draws his greatsword from the sheath across his back and begins clearing the entrance by using it like a hoe or rake.
Between the efforts of the group, and at least two summoned dogs, they manage to clear away the mound of sand from in front of the doors. So the easy part is done, now to see about opening them.
After most of the sand has been dug away, and a little more has been swept away, Surubi stands and takes a position near the door. "This one does not know what dangers may lurk inside. Everyone, prepare yourselves before we open the tomb."
The gnome readies his scientifically 'enhanced' crossbow and checks if all the random gears and modifications are functioning. Whether they are actual improvements is something else; the gnome has managed to reduce the recoil, but with the firing rate of ye standard crossbow..
Andrei ceases his digging and straightens up, working the kinks out. "Summoning those dogs was clever, Miss Morana. Saves us a mighty bit of digging ourselves."
Thrusting his sword into the sand by his feet, Andrei prepares to haul on the door with his new companions.
Morana merely smiles cheerfully as she re-forms her armor around herself. She takes a frontal pose in the group, helping to tug and yank on the big door if her help is needed.
"Let me take point here," she says, "I'm...protected." Her voice seems to echo, although there's little to echo off of.
Gustar applies his knowledge of physics and engineering to aid his companions. Sadly, telling others how to lift and pull doesnt increase their actual muscle mass when theyre already doing it the right way.
Brennan had been quiet during the examination process, studying the door for signs of traps and other peculiarities. Once the door was clear, he moved in to lend a hand at opening it, wishing he had thought to have one of the others carry a crowbar for just this sort of occasion.
Surubi takes a careful stance to pull on the doors. Before 'he' braces to pull as hard as he can, 'he' spends a few moments looking for a handhold that is not likely to damage the monument. Once everyone is ready to pull, Surubi pulls along with the rest, straining 'his' muscles against the weight of the doors.
Wow! Those puppies sure can dig! What are their names? Hey Morana, what else can you summon? I wish I could do that. I've always wanted a dog, but Father said I wasn't responsible enough to care for one. I would have been a great dog owner.
Um, This One... If you need a hand, please step aside. I have just the ticket for opening doors. Please take care not to cause any damage.I did promise Ms Crocodile that we would do our best to preserve and respect the tombs.
Andrei wedges his large blade between the base of the two doors, and with an angling motion causes them to maintain a gap between them. Only with the help of Suru and Morana, with a little assistance from Brennan, is the group able to pull the large heavy doors open. This allows the outside light to reach the interior of the chamber beyond.
This rectangular room is empty save for some engravings and fixtures upon the walls, 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 ten foot tall stone wheel to the south is engraved with the large spiral of Pharasma and is set in stone tracks in the floor and ceiling. The hieroglyphs on the walls are Ancient Osiriani.
Image Reference for Armored Morana
Morana reads the glyphs with a grin. "'The only thing the Lady of Graves despises more than the grave robber is the unsuccessful grave robber'...sounds like a challenge to me!"
Surubi looks at Andrei's sword--used and abused for digging, shoving into the ground, and then as a lever to pry doors open--and winces, then mumbles again in Osiriani, "Crowbar... shovel and now a crowbar..." 'He' turns to the preacher with the sword "This one is... humbled by your sacrifices for the group, but... please next time let this one go retrieve the items we need. Your sword is surely of greater importance, and this one can run fast, even in the heat."
Moments later 'He' lights a torch and uses it to test the air in the tomb before entering. 'He' looks carefully around the floor of the room, checking the area for any dangers.
'He' turns his attention to the glyphs on the walls, spending several minutes reading and translating the story of Akhentepi aloud before 'he' notices that most are reading for themselves or not listening at all. "They tell the story of the man who is buried here. And there is a warning. It says 'Akhentepi’s tomb is well defended, and those who defile it tempt the wrath of the gods. The only thing the Lady of Graves despises more than the grave robber is the unsuccessful grave robber, turn back while you can'--as Lady Morana said."
Finally, 'he' glances at the wheel. Without touching it, he looks at the mechanism, seeming somewhat puzzled by it.
"But but, science demands we push on! And and, we're not grave robbers, we've been blessed by the Pharasmites of Wati! I should write a note to have the Pharasmites send a hieroglyph carver to rectify the text on these walls. I can't stand conflicting messages."
That being said, Gustar carefully falls in behind Surubi and studies the room. Excitedly he blurts out the fact that the southern faces depict Pharasma and the norther faces depict Anubis, a local god of burials and mummification. Still, the room might be trapped and he forces his eyes and mind to focus on the task at hand.
Andrei shrugs. "'Tis honest steel, friend, it works for its bread as we all must. Just a common sword it is, should it shatter I'll find another. A warrior's might flows from his resolve, not the chunk of metal in his hand."
After the trapfinders have swept the room, Andrei walks in. Bowing his head respectfully to the image of Pharasma, he makes the Sign of the Peaceful Grave and mutters a prayer for the dead to rest easy.
"No grave robbers are we," Andrei says, "but explorers sent to bring knowledge from a past age. And," he adds with a slight smile tweaking the corners of his mouth, "I'm sure our fated purpose here will make itself known in time. I do not fear the wards, but I do respect them."
Brennan stepped inside, along with Surubi. His eyes scan the floor and walls carefully, looking for signs of a trap. He listened to the translations without much interest. "Go away" was written on practically every tomb and ruin he had ever explored. Not a lot of good that it did. The wheel had the most interest for him, and he wanted to go and examine it...but carefully, oh so carefully.
The gnome wiggled his fingers and called upon Brigh to show him any and all magical auras.
"This one... apologizes for any impertinence." 'he' says to Andrei, bowing. For just a moment, a frown is visible at the edges of his eyes That sword is worth a lot of gold; a month's worth of work of my whole family, at the best of times. These days, I'm lucky if I see that much in year... Gus would respect the value of people's work. 'He' returns to looking at the wheel with Brennan.
The gnome butted in. "An opinion is like a thesis - one must quote sources to give it credibility. I see no error in your behavior so don't quote me on the need to apologize."