"Isn't it more likely that the Sphinx swallowed them up?" Pherenike asks. "I mean, that's what it's supposed to do, right? That's why they were looking for it?"
"I'm more concerned about us. From what I've heard, these storms can last for days and bury entire towns. There's no simply hunkering down in a flimsy canvas tent and waiting for it to be over. Pr-- sir," she says, turning toward the Professor, "you said the seal on the doors was broken. Shouldn't we be taking shelter inside the Sphinx? It's survived these kinds of storms before and come through unscathed."
Tariq answers Pherenike in a calm, measured tone. He does not display much emotion, but merely seems to consider her words from a rational and analytical point of view.
"The myth does claim that the Ravenous Sphinx can come alive and devour those who ventured near. However, such myths often cover the unexplained demise of trespassers who fall prey to the very real dangers that lurk within the ancient tombs and ruins. The tracks we found indicate that a number of people left this camp recently in several different directions, bringing along survival gear and rations."
"It would make sense that a solid structure like the Sphinx provides better shelter from the khamsin. But the storm is upon us. Moving us all, animals included, would be a risky undertaking, and we have good reason to suspect that something dangerous awaits us within. We should not do so unless it becomes clear that the tents can not withstand the force of the sand and wind."
"It might be wise for those of us who are equipped to deal with such dangers to investigate the tomb to determine if it is safe, and if need be clear out any hostile presence. That way, we will be better off if we find ourselves needing to find new shelter in a hurry. I am willing to brave the storm to enter the Sphinx, if that is what we decide to do."
Remaining silent while the more prominent members of the caravan appeared focused on their conversation, Corven's interest is piqued when the one called Tariq suggests an investigation of the tomb. Still opting for silence, he nevertheless feels that the time is close that he will have to make a move of some sort, lest he miss the opportunity to see what the Sphinx may hide within. Still, he wagers that trust is not exactly in abundance among the various people taking part in the conversation and the fact he has found himself in the caravan thanks to a bit of... subterfuge will probably not help his case.
'Choices, choices...,' he thinks to himself as he continues listening to the others.
The wind howled against the tent, buffeting it violently. Even with the flaps securely fastened, some dust entered and hung in the air, but otherwise it seemed to be holding for the time being. As it grew even darker outside, a couple of the porters lit oil lamps as the group discussed whether to attempt to breach the massive doors now, or sit out the storm.
Survival:
Speaking with the authority of one who had been charged with the protection of the wagons and all those upon them Mus'ad simply stated "The tents are shelter... and will be so while the sands expend their fury." though his words are directed mainly at those who were truly of the caravan... and not those recently having joined it.
Tariq nods at the dwarf, accepting his authority this time.
"We wait, then."
The group decided to wait out the storm, and thankfully it lasted only a few hours, the wind dying down as suddenly as it had picked up. Opening the flaps and stepping outside revealed that while the two larger tents had held up admirably, some of the camp's smaller tents had not. Items lay strew about, half buried in the newly deposited drifts of sand.
The large doors were drifted in slightly as well, but remained firmly closed.
Most of the porter's began salvaging what they could and tending to the damaged tents. A check of the wagons showed they too had survived relatively unscathed.
Perhaps, Pherenike. Aristedes had replied to her motion of moving inside the structure. But our Pahmet guide has far more experience in such matters than you or I. It is best that we do not question his judgement until we have sound reasoning on our side.
Glad that the Pharasmites had acceded to the voice of experience in this context, the Professor had waited out the storm in trepidation; for he knew that its source was not entirely natural. Now that the sands had shifted the camp, he was sure the others would want to search it. He simply leant against the outside of the tent and watched their efforts, not inclined to tire himself out with physical activity.
Leaving his backpack in the tent, Tariq exits and looks towards the double doors.
Time to enter and investigate, yes? Who goes in?
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Perhaps, Pherenike. Aristedes had replied to her motion of moving inside the structure. But our Pahmet guide has far more experience in such matters than you or I. It is best that we do not question his judgement until we have sound reasoning on our side.
Pherenike drops the subject somewhat reluctantly, muttering something about how Taldor didn't conquer Avistan by sitting around and hoping things worked out.
When the subject of entering the sphinx is broached after the storm has passed, she looks to Professor Aristedes. "They said the men at the campsite fled," she reminds him. "If the man you came to meet is among them, would we not be better served trying to follow him?"
After emerging from the bastion and surveying the site, Mus'ad directs the caravaneers to salvage what can be salvaged and make right that which is not beyond them. He then spends some time in thought before addressing those that were not of the caravan, and also one of the senior amongst the porters.
In level voice he spoke "Safan must be within... he would have died before he left this place and I have seen no bones... so Safan must be within."
Looking unto those that were not of his party he spoke further "Mus'ad will enter... and would not bar others from choosing this path... but would not ask them either."
To the porter "Make safe the camp... but be ready. If you see cause for flight... flee."
With that and a slight bow at all present, Mus'ad reaches within his backpack for a leather roll of fine tools... and approaches the door.
Perhaps I can help with your efforts Mus'ad...Pharasma's blessings have been known to help those in need.
Offering a Guidance spell and Resistance.
Tariq lines up close to Mus'ad, careful not to disturb the pahmet in his investigation.
Pherenike drops the subject somewhat reluctantly, muttering something about how Taldor didn't conquer Avistan by sitting around and hoping things worked out.
When the subject of entering the sphinx is broached after the storm has passed, she looks to Professor Aristedes. "They said the men at the campsite fled," she reminds him. "If the man you came to meet is among them, would we not be better served trying to follow him?"
The Professor was full of energy and exuded his usual confidence once more now that the sandstorm had passed.
We most surely would. After all, Taldor didn't conquer Avistan by sitting around and hoping things worked out he repeated with a wicked grin and a wink. Whether or not we find Safan I have every intention of taking a look inside.
The Professor had no aid to offer and kept his distance from the door, giving the Sand Dwarf time to work.
Mus'ad methodically studied the doors before using his tools to probe and check them for any sign of danger. After a meticulous search, he was confident the doors were not booby trapped in any way. Opening them, however, required assistance, as they are incredibly heavy.
Mus'ad motioned for anyone willing to assist him, to join him at the doors.
After a concerted effort, one of the heavy doors swung outwardly with an audible groan, bathing the interior in sunlight. A 20' tall by 10' wide hallway descends sharply downward from the entrance. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to two men, porters by the looks of them, huddled together on the ground just inside the threshold. Both men looked positively wretched, and quite possibly dead, when one of them gasped and coughed weakly. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the interior, you spotted another figure some 20' further down the hallway. Even from this distance it was obvious the third man had perished in some sort of trap. His remains still pinned to the ground by a large scythe blade of some sort.
Looking away from the body, additional details about the hallway became apparent. The ceilings and walls of this hallway chamber are ornately carved in ancient Osirian glyphs and brightly colored funerary pictographs. Most of the pictures show a human male, the right side of his body blackened and crackling with lightning and the left side pristine and glowing with a white radiance.
The figure represents Nethys, the god of magic.
Mus'ad, with his darkvision, can see that hallway plunges downward a total of 60' before encountering another massive set of doors similar to the ones you have just opened.
The Professor had made absolutely no move to try and open the doors; physical strength was not his forte
These men need medical attention. Ahkenaten said urgently. It looks like we'll need to be exceptionally careful moving forward, lest we share the third man's fate.
Although the Professor recognised the human male depicted, he showed no outward sign of it.
Tariq assisted in opening the doors, keeping his longspear close at hand in case anything should burst out of the tomb once they were opened.
The carvings on the wall stirred some memory in his religiously schooled mind, but a brief glance was enough to tell him they did not concern the teachings of Pharasma, and his attention swiftly focused on the men inside, both the living and the dead.
"Kheled, see what you can do to help them. Their injuries are beyond my skills." he said, indicating the two survivors.
He then glanced down the corridor, and drew the spiral of Pharasma over his chest with a closed fist as he muttered a brief prayer for the soul of the man slain by the trap.
"I think we will need your sharp eyes and knowledge of traps as we move in, Mus'ad. You had better take point once we move in. I will cover you from behind with my spear. But first we should wait and see if these two can tell us what happened here."
Tariq turns to face the feisty soldier.
"Kheled and I are here at the request of Colm Safan, the missing leader of this expedition. He requested our presence because of our skills in aiding the injured and clearing tombs. It is clear that our skills are needed, so we act. I am not a healer, nor am I skilled in finding or disarming traps, which is why I ask Kheled and Mus'ad to do these tasks."
"If you and your companion - or anyone else in this caravan - have skills that might aid us, then join us. But take care and do not act rashly. There may be more survivors inside, but we will be of no help to them if we end up gutted by another hidden trap."
As before, there is no challenge or reproach in the inquisitor's tone or facial expression. Instead, he speaks calmly and patiently, as a kindly tutor might do to a particular slow student.
"I do have some skills that might prove handy, as a matter of fact," one of the porters states as he approaches the group discussing the tomb and its traps. "Although I am skilled in neither healing nor disarming traps, I do have some knowledge of magic and its workings," the man goes on, his accent clearly Varisian, even if his relatively fair complexion is somewhat uncharacteristic for one of his ethnicity.
"My name is Corven," he introduces himself, complementing that introduction with a smile and a little bow of his head in greeting.
As Tariq spoke Kheled was already heading in the men's direction. These men are hurt, their lives may hang in the balance. It matters little who says what at this point.He chides the both of them as he steps between them moving forward to the two men.
Are you hurt? What happened to you?
These men need some water! He whispers a quick prayer to Pharasma before he checks them over to see what ails them. Take a 10 on heal check for a 15.
When Kheled calls for water, Tariq moves swiftly to the large tent to retrieve his waterskin from his backpack.
Mus'ad does not move at the Pharasmin's supposed order, instead stepping to one side of the entrance chamber and leaning against one of the doors. He does not impede against those that seek to aid the injured, and his eyes scan forward to the man impaled and the corridor beyond... but he does not move forward. The condescending tone taken by the Pharasmite makes him bristle further and his eyes narrow slightly, but any insult at the inquisitor's arrogant assumptions does not stain his voice.
To the Pharasmite he states flatly "You are not Safan... Mus'ad works for Safan. Go clear tomb if that is what you think Safan wishes of you... Mus'ad will go in after."
Abject and complete lack of manners and decorum. Tariq has no authority over Mus'ad, and has no right to 'instruct' him to do anything. Simple words such as please would be suggested to be worked into Tariq's vocabulary if he wishes to make a 'request' of the Pahmet.
His assumption that Mus'ad is somehow a part of a 'we' or 'us' with Tariq. They were apparently all hired by Safan, but in the Pahmet's eyes that does not join them into a group beyond the fact that they share the same place upon the sands.
The emergence of Corven is noticed, but not commented upon.
The nuances of the Dwarf's etiquette were utterly lost on the Professor, who was far too busy concentrating on a cantrip. The charismatic older man felt no need to add fuel to the fire of the potential power struggle between the legitimate caravan master Mus'ad and the Pharasmite(s).
The cantrip is Detect Magic, focused on the corridor before us. Knowledge Arcana roll- .
He noted the porter claiming knowledge of magic and worked hard to suppress a slight smirk.
I thought Taldan old money nobles were the only dilettantes to work magic outside of their station. I suppose a Mage Hand spell could make baggage handling more efficient.
The Professor acknowledged the newcomer with a slight turn of his head and a nod over his shoulder, not wanting to lose his concentration.Well met, Corven. My mind is... more full of knowledge, than of any particular magical talent or affinity; but I will confess to dabbling in enchantment back home.
A stranger to trap smithing, the Professor nevertheless possessed a logical mind and a formal education in Engineering. He put his mind to work, seeing no reason not to synergise his mundane talents with his magical. He examined the trap from afar, seeking other mechanisms and potential points of interest along the corridor with his eyes.
Tariq looks around at the gathered people, apparently considering the unfriendly mood and the revelation of the magical talents of Corven and the professor.
"It is not my intention to give offense or assume command. My only concern is to do the task we were sent here to do, and to aid anyone still trapped inside. That most likely includes Safan, as the wise Pahmet points out. And in my experience, when clearing a tomb, you either work together as a team or you die one by one."
He looks at everyone who have spoken up so far.
"It seems there are six of us here, who would be suited to go in and investigate. I will go alone if I must, but I much prefer that we band together, and each of lend whatever skills to the delve as we are best suited for. I request this of each of you, as equals."
Kheled looks concerned as the people chide each other.
Do the men have anything to say? After they speak...
Perhaps we should all focus on the task at hand and not each other, at least for the moment? Any enemy is most likely beyond this room, no point in making one of those inside it.
There are a number of us who appear suited or have been asked to help with this dig.
Aristedes, may I ask for Pherenike's help?
Assuming yes, Pherenike, Tariq, can you please help to get these men back to the tents?
I am not sure they can make it on their own and I can help them little myself. he implores the two of them.
As they help the men he approaches Mus'ad, Mus'ad, I also work for Safan now. We are concerned he is further in the dig. Will you help us to go further into the tomb to find out? You seem to have invaluable knowledge of traps and a keen eye I bet. We need your help...
Kheled looks concerned as the people chide each other.
Do the men have anything to say? After they speak...
Perhaps we should all focus on the task at hand and not each other, at least for the moment?
Thats exactly what I am doing, Champion of Life. Aristedes said with a wink, clearly sharing a private joke followed by a paternalistic smile a moment later. His concentration on the cantrip prevented him from getting too engaged in conversation.
Aristedes, may I ask for Pherenike's help?
The Professor hesitated, seeking a moment between examining the presence of magical auras to reply.
Thank you for the courtesy. But you don't need my permission. She is not... indentured. Ahkenaten searched for the right word for a moment and after a pause, found it. Lets be clear right from the start- Pherenike is her own woman and is here voluntarily. I am ever grateful for her protection and companionship. I take no offence Kheled; I simply seek to provide full clarity.
The Professor was keen to be the one person amongst the forming tomb explorers that no one could take affront with. He did actually approve of Kheled's approach to the proud Pahmet though.
As some of the others take snipes at each other, Kheled moves to evaluate the condition of the downed men. He quickly determines that the men seem to be suffering from severe dehydration and moderate starvation. Other than the fingers on each hand being shredded and bloodied, with many of their fingernails missing on both the men, they seem otherwise uninjured.
At Kheled's call for water, Tariq races to fetch his water skin.
Aristedes examined the triggered trap from the threshold, noting that it looked like some sort of mechanical scythe blade trap. He also surmised that the trap was likely supposed to retract and reset automatically, but that the device seemed jammed, most likely due to the mangled body.
Tariq returned with the water and offered it to the men who drank greedily. Kheled gave them a moment and then questioned the men. Fear returned to their eyes as they recounted how Safan had decided to enter the Sphinx prior to the caravan's return. Many of those present in the camp were uncomfortable with the idea, but there was no dissuading the Pathfinder.
After opening the doors, these two men had accompanied Safan as he descended the hallway. They had only gotten a short ways when the trap had sprung. The men nodded in the direction of the body trapped by the scythe. Safan's investigation of the Sphinx had been cut short.
As soon as the trap had sprung, ending Safan's life, the doors closed on their own accord, trapping the men. They have remained trapped in the darkened hallway since then.
A glance at the back of the other, unopened door, reveals bloody streaks where the men obviously clawed frantically trying to escape the pitch black hallway. Just recounting the tale has obviously shaken the men and they request for assistance in leaving the Sphinx.
Kheled does his best to calm the men. He brings out his healers kit and applies salves and bandages to the mens hands as they tell their tale. After they are escorted out.
I guess we know our answer about Safan and why the caravan fled. he says with a note of sadness for the man even though he did not know him.
The Sphinx has opened to reveal what is inside. What we do here next is up to us. I for one will support any who wish to go further in. Pharasma has laid the path in front of us, it is your choice to follow that path. Or that is at least what I believe.
What do you say?
Kheled says a kew words of magical power and a globe of light appears, eminating from the holy symbol tied around his wrist like a bracelet.
Tariq assists Kheled as best he can with the injured men, then returns to the double doors.
"I will go in, if nothing else then to make sure this place is not plagued by the restless dead."
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Thank you for the courtesy. But you don't need my permission. She is not... indentured. Ahkenaten searched for the right word for a moment and after a pause, found it. Lets be clear right from the start- Pherenike is her own woman and is here voluntarily. I am ever grateful for her protection and companionship. I take no offence Kheled; I simply seek to provide full clarity.
Pherenike blushes slightly at the accolade. "Not indentured, but indebted," she murmurs.
"A camp full of workmen," she frowns, "and all they had to do was to open the door to rescue their comrades ... and instead they looted the camp and fled." She exchanges a disdainful glance with the Professor, all her prejudices about foreigners clearly confirmed. "Ought the body not be removed?" she asks. "I presume Mr. Safan has family or friends somewhere."
Aristedes eventually finished his musings, thought processes and concentration upon his cantrip.
Looking at the mechanism... It seems to me that the trap is designed to automatically reset. Safan's body is actually the only thing preventing us from the risk of meeting the same fate. If the good Pahmet Mus'ad wants to take the lead, i'd suggest we only move the body afterwards, as it should be much easier to deal with it before it resets. Oh, and I think he has a couple of potions or minor magic upon him, if your feeling... pragmatic. Some kind of conjuration for one, and evocation for the other.
Aristedes acknowledged Pherenike's comments about the workmen.
Superstition and rumourmongering has led to countless good men forsaking their usual ethics and morality, i'm afraid. They clearly feared the Ravenous Sphinx's hunger; the doors perhaps a metaphor for its jaws. I hope none among our number will let these fears dissuade them from entering. This is a magnificent discovery, truly worthy of a Pathfinder. I did not know Safan, but I intend to honour his accomplishment by finishing this task for him.
The Professor added an afterthought.
Oh, and in case you were wondering- the human figure depicted, his right side blackened and crackling with lightning and the left side pristine and glowing with a white radiance; it is a depiction of Nethys, a deity who holds magic above all things. The All-Seeing Eye was revered in Ancient Osirion as a God-King, according to texts preserved in the Kitharodian Academy in Taldor.
"Not to mention what may lie within," Corven adds as the Professor finishes talking about the importance of the Sphinx's discovery. Uttering a brief incantation, the Varisian's eyes momentarily glow silvery blue, the effects of the same cantrip Aristedes cast earlier taking effect. "I can hardly wait to see what that may be," he remarks with a smile as his own eyes fall on the magical potions, but finding nothing else of note.
"Nethys, is it? Considered a God-King in Osirion's days of old?" Corven muses as he takes a better look at the pictographs. "I did not know that about the All-Seeing Eye, I have to admit. Perhaps I should brush up on my religion first chance I get..."
Tariq casts a glance at the impaled remains of Safan.
"If Mus'ad can disable the mechanism, so the body can be moved safely, Kheled and I can administer the rites that will aid his soul as it travels the River of Souls to Pharasma's Boneyard. As to the body itself, the Pathfinder Society will likely know if he has any next of kin. If not, the Society itself will likely want to honor him in some way. Transporting the body may be difficult, though. The heat will hasten the decomposition. There is magic that may delay the decay, but I don't believe it is available to us here. I may be able to perform some rudimentary embalming, but not much more, I'm afraid."
He pauses, then adds.
"There is also the possibility that Safan has made arrangements to have his soul recalled to rejoin the living. There is only a limited time to do so, and we don't know precisely how long he has been dead. But if we make haste back to Wati, there still may be time."
As an afterthought, he adds to Mus'ad. "Perhaps it would be wise to examine the doors as well, to see if anything can be done to prevent them from slamming shut behind us too. I have no desire to end my days in the belly of the Ravenous Sphinx."
Kheled says little about the body...he has already said much and doesn't want to further complicate the matter with too much talk.
He waits for Mus'ad to decide the best course of action about the corpse.
Kheled tells you, based upon the condition of the porters, that they have been trapped in here two to three days at the longest. Even if you left immediately for Wati, Safan would unlikely be able to be raised from the dead using anything less than the most powerful of such magic. Presuming he even has made such arrangements, or has those willing to pay the considerable costs.
Mus'ad checked the doors and quickly concluded that if they had closed upon Safan's triggering of the trap, they did not do so via a mechanical link. Something else must be at play. That does not preclude the possibility of jamming the doors open. Mus'ad called for some pitons and a hammer, pounding them in to try and prevent them from closing prematurely again.
Once finished with the doors, he turned to face the trap pinning Safan to the ground. He moved cautiously down the steeply sloped passageway, his eyes searching for clues and using his tools to probe for indications of other possible traps. He reached the body and began studying the device. He confirmed the Professor's ascertation that the blade was pinned, and would reset automatically if the body was removed prior to disabling it.
As he continued to examine the workings of the trap, he slowly removed his gear and armor, placing them upon the ground nearby. After he was confident he had the measure of the device, he began to work at rendering it inoperable...
...and after a few minutes he signalled it safe to remove Safan's remains, before resuming his search of the rest of the hallway.
Dragging the body clear, Tariq solemnly and respectfully removed the fallen Pathfinder's gear. As expected, among the belongings was a potion and a scroll, along with a damaged an inoperable wayfinder, a exquisite quarterstaff and a thickly bound leather tome. Aristedes is able to identify the potion as a minor healing draught and the scroll contains a flaming evocation spell.
Professor Aristedes picked up the journal and flipped through the pages, which seemed to contain all of Safan’s notes from almost 2 decades
of exploring Garund for the Pathfinder Society. Most notably was his research regarding the Sphinx.
The notes seemed to indicate that Safan believed that the Ravenous Sphinx was one of three locations of the dread riddles of the insane god of magic, Nethys. Nethys scattered the three riddles across the deserts of Osirion during his reign as God-King, and each is rumored to contain a single secret of the universe—secrets so potent that uncovering them is said to unbind the mind just as Nethys’s knowledge of everything unbound his. Legends tell that gaining the knowledge of all three secrets will unbind the universe.
The journal is quite lengthy and densely written. It is assuredly quite valuable to those interested in such things, but would require significantly more time to fully digest than you have now.
Meanwhile, Mus'ad continued his methodical and cautious search of the approach to the other double doors, eventually finding and attempting to disable two additional traps.
The first, a trap that bathed the hallway in fire, triggered during his attempt and the Pahmet was caught in the jet of flame...
...but aware of the possibility, he easily rolled away in time to only receive a slight singeing.
Some of you turned to look back, expecting to see the door behind you attempt to close, but it gave no indication it was trying.
The second trap was a camouflaged pit which the trapfinder was able to successfully jam and keep from opening.
The rest of the hallway proved safe and the group slowly approached the doors at the other end of the hallway. Mus'ad checked these doors for traps as well, and finding none, looked back at the others before proceeding...
Kheled puts away his shortspear and brings out his crossbow, loading it.
He then casts Guidance and Resistance on himself and then casts Bless on the group. He signals the rest of them he is ready for them to open the door as soon as they are.
Pherenike, could you make sure I am doing this right? Ahkenaten said with a frown as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow.
Kheled loads the bolt in backwards, I believe it goes in like this... he grins at Aristedes, letteing him know he did it incorrectly but also trying to lighten the situation a little.
Tariq takes up position in the second rank, longspear ready.
"If any of you want further protection, I can call upon Pharasma's blessing to provide a ward against attacks for a short time."
Reaching into his spell component pouch, Corven finds a piece of cured leather and tightens his fist around it, using his free hand to execute a brief yet complicated series of gestures. That only leaves the verbal component of his spell and once that too is uttered, there is a shimmering around him as a translucent suit of armor made of force momentarily comes into being before vanishing. There is a smile on the Varisian's face as he feels the magic taking effect, pleased at the familiar sensation of it.
"I believe I am ready," he states, at the same time bringing to mind the words to several offensive spells at his disposal.
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Kheled loads the bolt in backwards, I believe it goes in like this... he grins at Aristedes, letteing him know he did it incorrectly but also trying to lighten the situation a little.
Pherenike gives the healer a wary glance, not at all sure that he's not making fun of the Professor. "Never send a priest to do a soldier's job," she mutters. "You always want the point facing away from you, sir, even when you're not planning to fire. Accidents happen."
Once the older man is properly armed, she draws her falchion but remains by the Professor's side. She hasn't the slightest interest in what's behind the doors, thinks trying to uncover secrets rumored to drive men mad is a bad idea, and has no intention of putting herself in harm's way for the sake of unpleasant strangers.
Pherenike, humor lightens your soul and fulfills needs beyond the words.
Of course I would never get in your way with a weapon...even though I know how to load a crossbow I will never be very...accurate with it. I will be sure to watch you in action though to see if I can learn anything.
I wouldn't count on it though.
He flashes her his best smile...
Once everyone was ready, Mus'ad pushed the doors open revealing a 30-foot-cubed room comprised of black basalt and devoid of any markings. A set of double doors rests in each of its four walls made of the same pitch sealed wood as the entry doors. The room smells strongly of pitch and sulfur and a faded gray stain can be seen in the center of the room. A 20' tall ghostly figure of a dark-skinned Osirian man with blank white eyes and wispy white robes floats above the stain while speaking in a constant stream of ancient Osiriani, as if orating for a large audience.
As the large doors come to a stop, the figure ceases speaking and turns to face you with a curious, albeit intense gaze. He then waves his left hand, creating a haze of blue light that settles on each of you. The figure speaks again in ancient Osiriani, a language that even those of you that could not speak it a moment ago, can suddenly understand.
I am the Soulwrought Echo of wizard-priest Mektep-Han of Nethys, the God-King of Osirion. Rejoice and tremble, ye seekers of the Third Riddle. My only gift to you is this: that you comprehend the tongue of gods.
Through these doors are three tests that unlock the third dread riddle of Nethys. Each test’s reward is a portion of the Third Riddle and each portion is sealed in a Thaumaturgical Ark. You will have your wits, your skill at arms, and your skill at spells challenged and tried. You may use whatever tools you have at your disposal—but remember, everything has its price.
The choice is yours, mortals—decide on your first test. May the secrets of God-King Nethys unbind your mind as they have unbound his.
As he finishes speaking, ancient Osiriani text appears in shimmering blue writing upon the other three sets of doors. The west door is marked in as “Bloody Chains of the Necromancer,” the north door is “Shifting Crucible of the Evoker,” and the east door reads “Living Library of the Diviner.” Mektep-Han's eyes fall expectantly upon you...
"What is this? Some illusion trick or a restless spirit trapped here by foul magic?
A smile cracks upon Mektep-Han as he watches Tariq cast his spell. Surely one seeking the Riddles of Nethys would expect to encounter magic within this place? I can assure you I am no illusion... nor a restless spirit trapped here by foul magic. He pauses shaking his head. I do not believe in "foul" magic, but that is a discussion for another time. My presence is entirely voluntary. My purpose is to observe those that would seek to acquire the secrets contained within. I am one with this place and it is one with me.
A moment later Tariq feels the overwhelming presence of ancient and powerful magic slam his senses via his spell. Centered on Mektep-Han, but infusing the entire room and likely the entire structure as well, are multiple spells beyond your limited comprehension. Divination, conjuration and necromantic spell energies swirl, divide, combine and interact in ways that begin to pain your mind in an attempt to comprehend. The strain too much, you cease the spell.
Mektep-Han sweeps a hand indicating the three remaining doors. Your fate awaits you... oh seekers of knowledge!
Perhaps some type of portal to the soul then. Kheled murmurs to himself as he walks up to examine Mektep-Han's image.
We are honored to meet you Mektep-Han. Is there anything you disclose to us about what is beyond these doors? he says with a bow.