Alexander glances at the group of women again, then harrumphs.
"Either 'withces' are breaking the usual mould," he says, "or they are being unusually sacrilegious, wearing the regalia of the Inheritor."
"If it is up to me, and these are our only options, then I choose 'Seekers'," Alexander sighs. "The name is not ideal, but 'savant guard' just feels too... 'avant guarde'."
Holbrecht nods, "That was the point. It was supposed to sound like Avant Garde, meaning innovative in respect to art and culture. Regardless, we have officially voted on a name, and are almost ready to register. We have one more task to accomplish. We have to appoint a designated leader. I would suggest, for simplicity, someone should nominate someone. Then another would need to second it. Then as long as there is at least one more in agreement, they have majority vote. To avoid bias, no self-nominations. As a sub-text, we as a group reserve the right to re-vote in the chance we feel the current leader is not performing as befits the position, to the favor of the group and its goals."
Nulyth watches the newcomers with interest, noting the clerical vestments of Iomedae. "A very interesting group..." He continues to watch them as they approach the bar while the strange dwarf continues to debate the group name.
The paladin replies off-handedly. "I agree. I would prefer we not use Savant Guard. Though were we to add 'The Five Signs' to our potential list, I would vote for it."
Holbrecht nods at Nefer for once again being the first to stand up and adopt the method used to produce results, "I will second the nomination for Nulyth, under one stipulation." he turns to Nulyth, "If your search for vengeance puts the group or the mission at serious risk, I will demand an immediate re-vote for a new leader."
Turning back to the others, "If we have one more vote for Nulyth, then he can leave to register us right away."
"Go register," Alexander tells Nulyth, "please. You have my utmost confidence."
'And having a local as our leader can only help our cause,' he adds in mind, somewhat cynically.
Scene 2: The Grand Mausoleum
The rag tag group of hopeful new adventures calling themselves 'The Seekers' head off to the Grand Mausoleum to register for the lottery. The sun is beginning to set but the temperature is still well over 90 degrees as is common here. The heat making the rather short walk seem like an eternity.
When they get close to the Grand Mausoleum the sheer size is astounding to the new comers.
So Nulyth gives the group a somewhat small lecture as they approach.
"Rivaled in size and importance only by the High Temple of Pharasma in Sothis, Wati’s temple of Pharasma dominates the cityscape and handles the business of the city’s births and deaths, as well as the details that occur in between. Since the Lady of Graves eclipsed Nethys and Abadar as Wati’s patron deity, her followers have assumed control over much of the city’s infrastructure, and have combined the Grand Mausoleum into a cross between a house of worship and city hall. All final decisions are still made by the city council and overseen by the haty-a—the pharaoh’s personal representative—but council meetings and the day-to-day affairs of state are held within the sprawling complex. The temple’s high priestess, Sebti the Crocodile, rose to power from the common rabble. Daughter of the previous keeper of Pharasma’s sacred crocodiles and largely self-educated, Sebti has been a constant thorn in the side of Wati’s nobles since assuming control of the church a decade ago. Preaching a doctrine of personal fulfillment rather than happiness, wealth, or achievement, Sebti invariably sides with the common citizenry on government matters, making her popular with the common folk but loathed by the rest of the council and even some members of her own faith." Nulyth says as if giving a tour.
Picture of the Grand Mausoleum
"In addition to the temple’s clergy, the Grand Mausoleum hosts an arm of the militant wing of the church called the Voices of the Spire, dedicated to eradicating any undead within the city’s sprawling necropolis. They are led by the humorless Nakht Shepses, a bastard son of the influential Shepses line." he continues but then pauses.
"Yes, I have lived here awhile." he says with a big grin.
At the entrance to the Grand Mausoleum the group finds a cleric of Pharasma setup at a folding table outside the main gate. The cleric is dressed in full vestments with two fully armored guards standing behind holding an umbrella over the clerics head.
All three look to have been in the sun way to long. Obviously the full parade dress was not the best choice for the occasion. However you can only guess that this was ordered by the High Priestess to give a proper appearance to the strangers flocking to the city to join in the lottery.
The clerics rich colorful vestments are all but ruined with sweat and sand as well as the fully armored guards look like they could collapse at any moment. The strain of the day would probably had lesser men in the infirmary for days.
On the table before the priest lies a stack of paperwork and a jar with a what looks to be a few silver coins inside. As you approach the table, the cleric looks at you through strained eyes and simply says:
"Register here for the lottery. All other business of the temple is closed for the day."
"Please state your groups name, number of members and who the spokesperson is."
With that he simply grabs a piece of fresh parchment and dips his quill and awaits your response.
The angelkin nods to the group in appreciation for their confidence in him. "I would gladly accept your confidence and guide you well. As to your concerns, Holbrecht, I vow before Sarenrae herself that I will not place any of you in jeopardy. I will give my life before I see any of you fall." He solemnly places an armored fist to his chest and places it over the wooden holy symbol dangling from his neck.
"I was not aware that the Lady of Graves counted crocodiles among her favourite animals," Alexander remarks. "Whippoorwills and scarabs, yes. Glorified walking luggage with teeth, no."
Before the group reaches the table, Alexander glances at Nulyth. "As our native guide, do you think you could guide me to the local temple of Nethys once we are done here?"
Before arriving
Nulyth looks back at Alexande a moment. "Of course, though currently there is no temple per se. There is one under construction in Wati, but it is not quite complete. I can direct you to several shrines, but I fear that is all."
At the Table
The sweltering heat of the desert takes its toll on Nulyth as he escorts his party members through Wati. He wipes the perspiration from his brow as they all walk, occasionally taking sips from his waterskin to keep his core temperature down.
Once at the table he frowns at the ostentatious display of the fully armored guards flanking the cleric. He felt it would be better suited to show the newcomers to Wati the proper desert attire, as opposed to making a statement. Nulyth addresses the cleric respectfully as he approaches. "We are The Seekers and we number five members. I am Nulyth Shenir of Wati, I shall be the spokesperson for The Seekers."
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The priest takes the information down on the paper.
When done, he removes a silver token from the glass jar on the table and hands it to Nulyth.
"You will need to turn this in when your group is called tomorrow. If you do not have this then you can not enter the necropolis and will be expelled from the lottery. Guard it well."
He grabs a piece of parchment from the stack on the table.
"The lottery starts in the market square at high noon. Don't be late."
He then places the parchment in the hands of Nulyth.
"Here are the rules, if you have any questions they will be addressed tomorrow. When your team is called only you may go up on stage and get your assigned site. No one else will be allowed up."
Here is what the parchment says:
The priests of the Grand Mausoleum expect groups exploring sites within the necropolis to follow three basic rules.
The Plague of Madness was unleashed upon the city of Wati while religious authorities were engaged in infighting. This rule is a reminder that the necropolis remains a holy place, and those who engage in needless conflict and banditry are not only criminals, but accursed.
Every structure within the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and died in the city. Explorers must not desecrate or vandalize standing structures and tombs, but preserve them as the memorials they were intended to be. Some structures may be trapped or decrepit, but willful and unnecessary destruction will not be tolerated.
The dead should be treated with dignity and respect. If the interred need to be disturbed to recover an antiquity or relic, they should be returned to their resting places carefully. It is understood that the ancient dead are often brittle, but there is no need for the contents of a sarcophagus to be summarily dumped on the ground. This rule does not apply to the undead or other abominations.
Alexander takes a step forward, lightly claps his hands and recites a brief Pharasmin prayer, common to lay-followers, in Osiriani.
"Priest of the Lady of Graves," he says once the prayer is done, "of your courtesy. In case we may be elected to tread Pharasma's garden on Golarion, might we receive the Lady's holy symbols, to honour her in her place?"
"Holy symbols, holy text, meditation candles, religious items and other articles relating to our ladies flock can be purchased at the temple during regular business hours. The temple is open from 8am to 6pm Monnday through Friday, except for major holidays and festivals. Donations are also welcome and accepted during services which are held on each Sunday at noon." the priest says almost as if he was reading from a script.
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Neferteri is curious about the Daughters of the Desert and will discuss them with the group on the way back to the inn. Not a local group like they are trying to appear, I'll wager. Never heard of them, and I would have heard of them before if they were from Wadi. And what of that holy symbol? Was it subterfuge? What all did you pick up from them. Perhaps they could make good allies?
He will point out to the group where he lives. Its that window there. Its not much, but there is seldom trouble and no one currently is sick. he explains.
Holbrecht is actually quiet during the brief tour, his attention garnered by the impressive structure of the Grand Mausoleum. He gazes upon the more unique stylizations and shapes, counting and writing in the air with his finger while he mumbles numerical calculations. At one point, when Nulyth mentions the high priestess Sebti the Crocodile, he turns and takes a breath to ask a question. He stops though when the man continues to explain she is the daughter of the previous crocodile keeper.
Periodically, the dwarf tugs at his shirt top, or fans himself in the heat, not prepared for it. When the priest mentions the rules for entering the building, Holbrecht draws out parchment and writes them down. The page is just as cluttered with marks and calculations as the one the night before, but it looks like a different piece. After he writes the rules, he flips it over and makes a few quick notes while looking up at the temple proper. He stops briefly and strokes his beard, leaving a few light streaks of ink in it, then writes a little more before putting the page away.
At the end of the day, he only makes note of one thing he needs to buy, "I need some lighter clothes. I am sweating way too much to keep from smearing my inks. While we're at it, what else will we need? ... do we need food... I don't think we'll be more than a day... what about a pry bar, that may come in handy... I can get water easily... as long as they can hold it.. Do you guys have waterskins on you? I can make sure we have water. I think I'll buy a crowbar. I've never really been to unused ancient structures before, usually only maintained ones. Are there any other specific tools we'll need for archaeology?"
Holbrecht gives his estimation of the women, as he saw them. "They appeared well prepared. They have a combat trained leader, a priest of Iomedae, and two arcanists. Maybe, as women in a largely male-dominated world, they wanted to appear more imposing by being pushy and mysterious. I imagine with an Iomedaen, they have the potential to be trustworthy, but I imagine they may push themselves beyond their means to prove a point." All of this delivered nonchalantly, as if discussing the merits of irrigation on agriculture.
The mausoleum is enormous and forbidding, like the task ahead; as it grows nearer and swallows the party up it begins to sink in, Lin's mind finally comprehending the full significance of her task ahead. Her grin goes even wider, an infectious energy in her step, scanning gaze and occasional questions of "What's that made of?" "What does that represent?" "Who built that?"
A tad disappointed she wasn't called on to speak for the party, she shrugs and dismisses it. When the Paladin gets cheated by some half-clever trader, the group might decide otherwise.
"What a place. Odd, too; in Tian Xia, gods are worshiped but above all we worship our ancestors. Here, they seem... incidental to worship? Is that fair?"
When the coin is passed over, Lin frowns for a moment. "If the coin is all that proves that we're we, we'd better take care of it. Give it to me to look after? I've a way to put it somewhere it'll never be stolen."
Returning to the inn, you find it not the place it was just a few hours ago, with the deadline now passed the inn is mostly empty, except for a few locals and a couple adventuring looking fellows sitting at one table. Farhaan is busy sweeping up and the staff looks exhausted. Upon entering Farhaan smiles and says..
"Did you fine folks get registered in time?" looking around he adds.
"Most of the guest are off in their rooms either planning for the big day tomorrow or already asleep. Place hasn't been this quiet for days." he picks up pieces of a broken glass from the floor.
"A much needed break in activity however."
"Wait endures, or so the local saying goes. The people of Wati, known for their even tempers and shrewd wit, prefer understatement. They have known war and peace, poverty and prosperity, and survived decimation at the hands of a mad god's cult. But Wati's people answer each challenge with innovation, tenacity, and the deep bonds of community. They do not endure their hardships so much as grasps them, white-knuckled and screaming, until the world permits them to return to their quiet lives, surrounded by their honored dead." - Priestess Ankhtah Shepses
Water is life in the desert, a fact that remains true for much of Garund. Empires have risen and fallen all through the control of the silt laden lands where rivers merge and run. Wati is one such city, where the rivers Asp and Crook merge together to form the powerful Sphinx. For thousands of years Wati has been a cultural hub of the great empire of Osirion, withstanding the tides of time as the world has sifted all around them. If a city could talk, many tales would Wati have. Perhaps though, it's greatest tale is yet to come, as five brothers and sisters in arms known as The Seekers make their way through the streets.
For centuries, Wati's famed necropolis has remained closed. Sealed off and under nearly constant guard by the people of the grand city. To them, robbing these sacred tombs is the pinnacle of savagery and barbarism. Though many of their names have long since been forgotten, these are their ancestors, men and women whose blood, sweat, and tears were sacrificed to build the foundation for what they have today. Yet the time has come. A new Pharoh rules in Osirion, and a new age is dawning for the ancient empire. By royal decree the tombs of Wati are to be opened, under the oversight of the priests of Pharasma located in the Grand Mausoleum in Wati, ancient sites distributed by lottery so explorers and adventurers from far and wide might come and exhume the riches buried there. Not one to miss such an opportunity, the Seekers now head toward the lottery ceremony, clear in intent.
Arriving just a day ahead of the opening ceremony, the Seekrs registered their names and fellowship with the local temple, a priest recording the name of their group, size ,and names of its member. Further, they were given a special token unique to their group, one that was to be used in the lottery during the opening ceremony and would determine which plot of land they were to be given access to. Prepared as best they might be, the newly formed adventuring group made their way to the Sunburst Market, the location of the opening ceremony and lottery. It was a day in Pharast, a blistering 106 degrees but not as hot as it would be in the coming months.
All about them the entire city of Wati seemed to be bursting at the seems with excitement. Adventurers, would be explorers, and scholars from all across the Inner sea gathered beneath the great fire orb in the sky to explore the tombs of Wati. All that was left was the lottery, to be assigned their first sites for exploration. Surrounding the participants, it seemed as if the entire city had made a show of it, gathered so as to observe the opening ceremony. Dancing through the crowd, a few keen merchants saw an opportunity to make some coin, hawking goods and refreshments to participants and spectators alike.
Even though it seems more festival than anything else, the truth of the ceremony sets in, as merchants pass not only selling refreshments, but all kinds of adventuring gear. A man loudly proclaims his rope to be the strongest in Wait, coiled from only the finest silk and hemps. Another admonishes any who would be caught without one of his backpacks, expertly crafted from thick and durable leather and able to carry the heaviest of treasures. Most telling though were the merchants who carried nothing but dry and dirtied bits of parchment. Scribbled across them in large black letters, in many different tongues, were varied bold claims, all with a single message. They, and only they, would buy any recovered treasures and antiques for the highest price in town, offering fair and equitable trade to foreigners and locals alike.
Located just in front of the Grand Mausoleum, itself an imposing and towering figure that dominated much of the skyline of Wati, a stage had been constructed. Decorated pillars and richly colored tapestries covered the awning, providing what cover they might from the high noon sun, priests of Pharasma gathered to oversee the lottery. Two urns sat atop a table elevated a few feet above stage, the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum behind the table. Her name was Sebti, or the Crocodile as she was known by many in the town. Eyebrows careful plucked and painted, her lips were a vibrant blue, skin a beautiful shade of amber. Her skin was unlike the farmers and traders, unlike those who had spent a life bent over the broiling sun of Osirion. Skin soft as silk, soft as sin. Behind her acolytes buzzed like wasps, darting too and fro as the ceremony was soon to start.
Gathered around the stage were a united nations of the Inner Sea, members of nearly every nationality and race the Inner Sea might muster. A group comprised entirely of halflings argued loudly over which of them would come away with the greatest hall, a golden dog stitched into the backs of their cloaks. Six women, each with skin bronzed by the Osirion skin and having a sultry air of danger about them, scowled at the halflings, flashes of their bare forearms showing matching blue tattoo's of an odd rune.
Stepping forward, Sebti threw back her cowl and exposed her long and slicked back locks of silken black hair. She was young, but showed not a hint of hesitation, exuding and air of confidence that commanded the respect and silence of those both around her and those who looked on from below. As silence takes hold in the crowd, Sebti invokes her goddess, reciting a familiar invocation to the Lady of Graves. Once finished she offered a brief, and thankfully concise, history of the crypts.
But Wati’s destiny was forever warped in 2499 ar, when the cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness among the city’s thriving populace. Many of those whom the fever did not immediately kill were driven to murderous insanity, and within months, more than half the city had fallen in painful, anguished death. Most of the survivors fled Wati to make new homes elsewhere, but a stubborn minority remained behind, determined to reclaim their city. But even once the plague had run its course, their livelihoods collapsed as An and Tephu took over Wati’s onceexclusive
trade routes, and their floundering community struggled against recurring outbreaks of the undead from the city’s many abandoned buildings-turned-tombs.
It took almost half a millennium for Wati’s fortunes to reverse thanks to the church of Pharasma. With the tacit permission of Osirion’s Keleshite sultan, a Pharasmin priest named Nefru Shepses marched on Wati in 2953 ar with a small army of alchemists, masons, and morticians under his banner, intent on consecrating the entire city to the Lady of Graves, beginning with a new, monumental temple to Pharasma called the Grand Mausoleum.
Over the next 30 years, Nefru Shepses and his followers recovered the bodies of those slaughtered in the Plague of Madness from their hasty, makeshift graves and the Pharasmins walled off that portion of the city that had been abandoned, transforming it into a metropolis of makeshift tombs. Thousands of corpses were given formal burial rites and reinterred in this dead copy of the living city, which continues to serve as Wati’s necropolis today.
The consecration of the city and its necropolis revitalized Wati, and though it never reclaimed its dominance among the cities of the south, over the next 1,700 years Wati grew until its necropolis—once more than half of the city— took up less than a quarter of the city’s total area. Today, long after the necropolis’s completion, Wati continues to produce a great variety of grave goods for Osirion’s honored dead. A steady stream of burial figures, canopic jars, embalming f luids, prayer books, and sarcophagi sail downstream on the Sphinx, outpacing Wati’s crop and textile exports. Even Wati’s criminal underworld revolves around death, as competing gangs regularly raid the necropolis for valuables and even human carrion.
After finishing, the gradual murmuring that had built up as the more restless fidgeted in place seemed to disappear in an instant, a gradual inhalation as the priestess lifted her arms and smiled wryly, savoring the attention. "Let the lottery begin!" She proclaimed, deep and rough voice like the crack of a whip, a raucous cheer rippling through the crowd. "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 mortals." As she spoke, the small crocodile skull that hung about her neck dangled back and forth, her speech now more animated and lively than the histories and invocation.
"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." Smiling throughout, she took a short bow, hands extended wide as the crowd clapped and cheered. A few throughout the crowd could be seen scowling, locals who liked not the plundering of their ancestors resting place. Withdrawing, two acolytes stepped forward towards the two large jars.
One held a token that matched the ones previously distributed, and would signify the chosen group. The second corresponded with a predetermined location, marking where they would be able to explore. First called was a group of well armored northerners, a mix of Ulfen and Taldane heritage. Representing their group a woman encased in heavy armor, taller than most by a head, pushed her way through the crowd and to the stage. Presenting her token, matching the one that had been called, the woman was shown on a large map where her group was given reign, and presented with a smaller map in return.
Before there was much chance to react, the second, third, and fourth tokens were drawn. Nearly ten minutes passed before the Seekers were summoned, their token drawn in the middle of the ceremony. They were to send one member forward to collect the small map, and to be shown the first area they had been allocated, two more to come in the weeks to follow.
Alexander holds his ground, giving Nulyth a subtle nudge to suggest he be the one to go forward. 'You're not just the face of our party, you've got the most armour on you,' he thinks.
Even while this is going on, the old man uses the general noise of the crowd and all the hubbub to cover his casting of a minor cantrip. His eyes glance over each of the other groups in turn, apparently searching for... something.
The pomp and ceremony is interesting, but Lin has a better target in mind- the market. She explodes through the market in a flurry of information-gathering, flattering, browsing, asking, spying, threatening, pretending to be naive sometimes and threatening retribution from her uncle the honorable vice-surveyor of exports other times. She looks for all the information a pretty young foreign girl can get from a market; which sellers are fair and which aren't, what the town's mood is as to the tombs being opened, what people currently think of the new Pharaoh, how people are generally disposed to foreigners as opposed to locals and what people think of Pharasma and her worshipers here in the city. If time is available, she also seeks out any rumors or postings of personal requests to the tomb-delvers- family members hoping for the retrieval of old relics, cults and churches hoping for the excavation or destruction of spiritual items, prophecies and rumors about particularly dangerous or famous or powerful items in the tombs... anything that might deliver better value or warning about the items and tombs ahead.
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Noting well the location of his group in the crowd Neferteri says to Nulyth Get us a good stake. I'm off to have a word with the ladies. He points, indicating the Daughters of the Desert if he has spotted them. Meet you back here. He heads off into the crowd.
Pushing himself through the crowd he makes his way to the other group. Introducing himself he offers Greetings from the Seekers, a fellow group in the lottery. I am Neferteri Sandyfoot. I saw you in the Tooth and Hookah last night. Unless I am mistaken you are the Daughters of the Desert. If you would hear me, I would like to propose an alliance of sorts between the Daughter and the Seekers. Our team holds those who follow Iomedae in high regard and I believe there may be something to be gained by sharring information and trading resources between our two groups as we explore. Please consider this offer and let us discuss it more tonight at the inn. With this he bows in Wati fashion and moves back to his group.
Nulyth looks around in awe, he had never seen Wati like this before. The sheer amount of bodies packed into the Market was overwhelming and made the normally excessive heat practically unbearable. The young angelkin appears patient and pensive, but beneath that stoic exterior... Nulyth is a torrent of emotions.
He watches as each token is removed until suddenly there it was... their token. The Seekers had been chosen! A slight nudge from Alexander got Nulyth moving towards the stage, his shoulders straight and head held high. Once on the stage he offers the token and grins. "I am the spokesman for The Seekers and we answer the call."
Holbrecht is moved more by the change than the ceremnoy itself. He is amazed to see how well the area can become a bazaar, showing how useful the space is for more than a singular religious purpose. Given more time, due to the ceremony, he refines some of his numbers and equations for his estimation of the manner in which the Grand Mausoleum is built.
Lin and Nefer move off to do their own thing, Nefer at least offering an explanation for his absence. Nulyth, heads to the stage to redeem their token and recieve their assignment. Holbrecht stays with Alexander, keeping an eye on him, lest he also head off somewhere and they all be separated. The older man looks to be casting a spell, but nothing more, so Holbrecht returns to his calculations. He is eager to hear where they've been assigned, so he can try to spend some of the evening researching their destination.
The night before the group goes to the Grand Mausoleum, Alexander knocks on Lin Zi's door a few hours before midnight. If she opens the door, she will find the old man standing there, his expression sober and joyless, an ornate box under his arm.
"I do beg your pardon for disturbing you this late," he says, his voice sounding so rough that he might as well have gravel in his throat. "Let me start by assuring you that my intentions are honourable. I have a small problem which I hope you could help me with. May I come in?"
Provided Lin Zi allows this, Alexander steps inside, waits until the door is closed and locked, and then shows Lin Zi the box with its ornate scrollwork, gold leaf, and the divided mask of Nethys worked into its surface -- and the very high-quality lock set upon it.
"I came by this honestly," the old man says. "But I have not been given the key. Would you please try your skills against this lock? It is important to me to know what is inside. Very important."
Frowning, Kachu reaches into his belt and pulls out an assortment of probes and picks, laying them on the floor with surprising deftness and precision. Lin in turn waves a hand and speaks a syllable, gaze sharpening as she searches for magical auras within the box. Kachu begins working delicately on the lock, pausing to press its ear against the chest's lid as he works.
Alexander's eyebrows rise halfway to his hairline when 'Kachu' appears.
"Charmed," he mutters. "Ahem. I shall look forward to working together in the future."
When Lin asks about the box's origins, Alexander's expression becomes even more grim. "Call it an inheritence," he says. "A... dead relative left it to me... unexpectedly. With a rather grandiose message attached."
She also learned which were the best merchants for trading what goods, she learned of the bank in Wati called the 'Sanctum of Silver and Gold' which one could open an account with and it seemed like all gems were traded through them for exchange to gold, for a fee of course. The Sanctum was also a Temple of Abadar which made perfect since.
She also learned that those who worship Pharasma are questioning why the goddess’s Osirian churches and temples have chosen to aid and abet what is essentially grave robbery on a national scale. The simple answer is they have not been given much choice, and they’re not happy about it. Osirian tradition dictates that the material trappings of a tomb help to correctly identify a departed soul’s station to Pharasma at the time of its judgment. This belief may not be metaphysically accurate, but it is nevertheless deeply ingrained in Osirian culture.
Yet, from an ecclesiastical perspective, once a soul has been judged, its possessions from its former life play no role in whatever afterlife Pharasma assigns to it. In the eyes of the Ruby Prince, the ancient Osirian dead have already been judged and no longer require their grave goods. In the eyes of the church, however, this “licensed tomb raiding” sets a dangerous precedent and puts Pharasma’s divine judgment on a mortal timetable.
Wisely deducing that the church of Pharasma was unlikely to directly defy him, Khemet III’s response was to give the church a choice—it could either cooperate with the royal decree in exchange for limited authority over how the tombs are explored, or be overruled and have no say in the matter. Making the best of an untenable situation, the Pharasmins accept the pharaoh’s offer to let them oversee the opening of the tombs and impose rules and guidelines upon explorers for the sake of propriety.
As a result, the Grand Mausoleum does not forbid worshipers of Pharasma from exploring the necropolis, but the priests do remind them that the goddess may hold them to a higher standard should they violate the rules, or witness such misdeeds and fail to act. Should a cleric or worshiper actually be a native of Wati, the local temple places her on adjunct status within the church to avoid any appearance of favoritism in the lottery.
Sebti barely seems to acknowledge Nulyth as he takes the stage, her eyes taking in the crowd below and slowly flicking from person to person. Following them for a second he wasn't sure what she saw there, or what she was looking for, the gathered sea of people brimming with activity and life. Snatching up the small map gifted to him, he tried to recall anything he might know about the city of Wati and its massive necropolis, but his mind came up blank instead, the pressure of the moment making his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton. Swallowing hard he bowed once more and made his way back towards his comrades, sparing a fleeting glance to the stage. The other priests of Pharasma seemed more tense than Sebti, faces a mixture of restrained anger and discomfort.
It hadn't been the first time Nulyth and his new companions had seen such displays of emotion. Despite any protestations to the policy, The Ruby Prince had been adamant in his desire to see the tombs opened. Khemet III gave the church a very simple and public choice when they began to express concerns over the process. They could voluntarily take part and cooperate, thus having some degree of limited authority over how the tombs were explored and the entire process. or they could be silenced and have no say in the entire situation. Faced with such a choice the church opted for the former of the two.
Holbreicht after taking notes watched the crowd instead of the stage. He saw handfuls of interesting individuals who seemed both competent and extravagant. Though the chaos of it all made it hard to distinguish just a few, he couldn't help but run over the three very basic rules that had been outlined for them when they had registered for the lottery, the rules Sebti had mentioned;
Remember How This Came to Pass: Nearly two thousand years ago, Wati was nearly destroyed by the plague of Madness. More than half the population died over the course of a month, all while the authorities of the cities were engulfed infighting and political maneuvering. This rule is to remind them that the necropolis is a holy place, and that those who engage in needless conflict and banditry are not only criminals, to be tried to the highest degree, but accursed by the gods and ancestors of the city and its people.
Every Slave's Hut is a Memorial: Though they have been given leave to enter into allotted spaces and take what valuables they may, this does not mean they have been given free reign to do as they please. Each and every structure in the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and died there. Explorers and adventurers must not desecrate or vandalize any standing structure or tomb.
Honor the Departed: If the interred need to be disturbed to recover an antiquity or relic, they should be returned to their resting place carefully, with the utmost dignity and respect. Many corpses are old and brittle, which is understood, but this does not mean the dead and the contents of their resting places may be summarily discarded and destroyed with little thought. This rule, however, does not apply to any undead or abominations that might yet linger.
The rules were iron tight, a fact made very clear to the five Seekers before they had finished signing on the dotted line.
Though the question seemed to be one of ability to enforce. From what they had seen, neither the priesthood nor the town guard oft ventured into the Necropolis, both woefully under-staffed and equipped. Punishing the crimes would be a trial indeed, especially considering some of the more dangerous and veteran looks some of the gathered explorers have.
Rejoining the group, Nulyth showed off the map and their first lottery result. They had been allotted the Tomb of Akhentepi, a good draw by all accounts. Nulyth had noted that the person before him, who had represented a collection of Ulfen warriors with fiery red hair, had drawn a brewery as their location and seemed rather upset over the outcome, loudly arguing that there would be little worth finding in such a place before storming off to join his kinsmen. The five knew little of the tomb, beyond that it predated the Plague of Madness, which made it over two thousand years in age.
"Thank you," Alexander says to the eidolon, his voice very soft, his face creased with some deep emotion.
Very gently, the old man picks up the box, removes the lock and opens the lid.
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Neferteri, happy at least that is proposal was not rejected outright turns away in the crown and moves out of sight. Bending low, which is very low for a normal person he tries to hide his casting of Detect Magic in a set of coughs and then circles about so that he might observe the daughters from a good distance, to see what enchantments they might be under.
"A tomb which predates the Plague of Madness sounds ideal," Alexander says, calmly. "Slightly less chance of the pestilence lingering, and the knowledge to be gained should be even more extraordinary. Let us adjourn."
The Grand Mausoleum holds an extensive library on the history of Wati and its peoples. Since you are already at the market square it would be a reasonable place to adjourn to once everyone is ready to go.
Lin Zi can see tears well up in the corners of Alexander's eyes and spill down his wrinkled face. "I... do not understand," the old man whispers as he reads the note. "What... secrets?" But then his eyebrows lower into a deadly glare as he spits out a single word: "Necromancers."
Alexander mutters a brief cantrip over the golden amulet.
Provided the aura is at least not harmful, Alexander resolutely takes it out of the box and puts it on.
"My brother," he tells Lin Zi as he tucks the amulet under his collar, his voice terrible in its anger. "I entrust this to you because you helped me, but please do not share it with anyone else. Someone here ripped out my brother's eyes and tongue and did something that withered him to a husk, then left him to die in the Necropolis. ."
Visibly trembling with rage, Alexander tucks the box under his arm, gets up and staggers out of Lin Zi's room -- unless she stops him, of course.
Not stopping him, Lin turns to Kachu and pats his head gently. "As I would do to anyone who... who. To anyone who to you or to my little brother." The little creature resting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, they stare in silence for a minute before Lin makes a gesture and banishes Kachu away for the night. If Alexander is still here, she waits for his reaction, but otherwise goes to bed. She does not sleep well.
[ooc]Overprotective drawback, yay!
Given time while waiting for Nulyth to return, Holbrecht's thoughts on the three rules bear noting for record. He uses the ink and paper he has out with his markings on it, and adds the three rules in summation.
- Remember How This Came to Pass, means no needless fighting or stealing amongst the teams on the holy ground of the Necropolis.
- Every Slave's Hut is a Memorial, means do not destroy or vandalize the buildings in the Necropolis as we explore them.
- Honor the Departed, means we disturb the dead as little as possible, and return them where we found them if we do. Unless they're undead, destroy those.
Holbrecht looks over them, "Seem simple enough... just gotta remove the unnecessary extra language... what a waste of time... and meaning... could ruin intent. I wonder how many groups will break them... well, just by not understanding... Oh, or worse, intentionally out of anger or ignorance... I'll remind the others that we should try to uphold them when we see others break them."
Once Nulyth returns with their assignment, Holbrecht nods in agreement with both Alexander and Nefer. "An old tomb, especially one from before the plague... and a tomb no less.... must mean someone of importance.... who knows what knowledge can be gained from within?, should offer all kinds of insight into the history and construction of the ancient Osirions. We should indeed see if we can research anything we don't already know before we go. Oh, and I wrote down the three rules, we should know them well before we enter, and enforce them if... when we.. when and if we can." With that he gives the others a quick rundown of how he wrote them down, once he finds the right sheet amongst his various scribbled sheets.
Chapter 1: The Half-Dead City
Part 1: The Tomb of Akhentepi
Date: Pharast 25th, 4714
Time: 3:30pm
Tempature: 106 Degrees
Goal: Undefined
Searching what Holbrecht had considered a vast memorized knowledge on Osirion and Wati history that he had studied up on prior to coming to Wati. He was finally at a loss for words, or even thoughts. He could not even determine if the name Akhentepi was male or female. He certainly didn't know of anyone that far back with the name. He didn't expect to have to recall any information that was over 2,000 years old. Still he tried, he even tried to change the spelling slightly in case the history books had got it off but still no luck.
He spent the next half an hour trying to tie the name to some bit of knowledge he could remember but finally the dwarf, now aggravated by his own lack of ability to recall anything about the name decided that the library might just be the best course of action. With that the new group of friends headed into the Grand Mausoleum toward the library annex.
Inside, the Grand Mausoleum was even more beautiful than on the outside, numerous racks of glass display cases and tidbits of Wati's past history was on every wall. It was more like walking into a museum than into a temple. Finding the way to the library annex was not to difficult and soon the Seekers entered the double doors that were clearly marked and told them of the place that they sought.
Inside the library was a vast displays of tall bookcases that lined every wall, tables were laid out for study and reading and then there were semi private side rooms available as well. The library had a very orderly and documented organization to it using some of the same systems as in the grand libraries in Absolom. However on a smaller scale. The entire library seemed to be devoted entirely to Pharasma and Osirion history, over half was dedicated to Wati alone. Other vast sections covered Pharasma, Nethys, Abadar a smaller section covered Sarenrae but other than that there was hardly any sections devoted for the other gods except maybe a book or two to each. It was as if the owners of the library purposely had designed it that way.
The library was just as busy with activity as the crowd outside. Attendants and priest were preparing a special area for the intake of the vast knowledge they were sure to come out of the necropolis. Preparing areas for translators and an area for scrolls, a area for art and anything else that all the strangers from distant lands might donate to them in the coming days and weeks.
As you wander around taking in the sights you notice another group of adventurers here. They are gathered around a large circular table with maps laid out upon it and many a book open on top of its surface. The group seemed to be led by a human woman, in a very exotic looking adventurer's outfit, at least her version of one anyway. It looks Taldan in design and is very flamboyant, probably one of the most flamboyant you have ever seen.
The woman is quite attractive my human terms and her skin has been burnished a light bronze by the Osirian sun. She tucks her long, light brown hair under a flamboyant floppy hat, complete with a long feather. The woman is openly carrying a light crossbow strapped to her back.
Her associates are easily distinguished as well. First off what easily looks to be a hired mercenary (female half-elf), easy to pick out since she is the only one watching the surroundings and not picking through books. However all the members of the party are all devout followers of Nethys, judging by all of them wearing the holy symbol around their necks of a mask with one white and one black half. Two native Osirians ,both male humans round out the group, one looks to be a cleric judging by his robes.
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Nethis? He knew something about that god, but could not quite recall. Destruction? Protection? Magic? Yea, some of all of that, but he could not quite recall.
Neferteri watches the other group for a moment, trying to pick up both what they are looking up and how they are going about it.
Well, lets see what we can find. I fear we do not have much coin to hire help. And with that he begins to research the tomb. [ooc]Not sure what rolls are needed.[ooc]
After a little while he makes his way over to the Taldan woman and asks How did you do in the lottery? And are you finding what you need here? He then goes on to introduce himself and ask about their group, where they hail from, etc. Unless he gets a very negative vibe he talks of an alliance similar to what he discussed with the Daughters, and even offers to help with their research if can be of assistance. Using luck yet another time today he tries to influence the Taldan woman and her allies.
Nethys is a god who holds magic above all things. He gained enough power to witness all things, and this both fueled his divinity and shattered his mind. He is a god of magic torn between destroying the world with one hand and saving it with the other.
As far as what you can tell from a distance the group has a map of the necropolis laid out and trying to pinpoint something. The books laid out on the table have to do with Nethys and ancient structures devoted to the god.
As you approach them the leader quickly places the books in order to cover the map.
As Neferteri goes over to introduce himself to the group of adventurers they quickly straighten the table up and cover their map with the open books on the table.
Seeming a little bothered by Neferteri's intrusion but hiding it extremely well she straightens her outfit and turns to the halfling.
She explains that they are known as the Scorched Hand and that she and her partners are just looking up history on sites in the necropolis. However the search is not going to well. She explains that her name is Velriana Hypaxes and that she is a Osirionologist and Taldan noble she speaks in a thick accent and she is quite vocal in her disapproval of the Grand Mausoleum’s refusal to assign specific sites to groups that requested them. It seems they had requested a site that was tied to their god Nethys but instead of being granted access they were assigned a brothel in today's lottery instead.
They also inquire if you know who may have drawn a site called the Erudite Eye. After finding out that you do not have the information she explains that she will pay handsomely for any information about the site or who may have drawn it or who draws it in the future.
She also is not willing to make any sort of alliance as of yet but if you happen to find anything that a Osirionologist might be interested in then she might purchase the items from you. She then informs you that they are staying at the Tooth & Hookah as well.
Upon learning that Neferteri's group is staying there as well she informs you that she has called a meeting of some of the groups a couple days from now to swap stories of their first sites at the inn and will send an invite to the Seekers as soon as she knows what time. She currently doesn't know how long it will take them to explore the brothel but she isn't pleased about it.