The bound man looks up at Lyrian with a sneer that fades into perplexity as Lyrian speaks.
"...what, you're serious?" he says after a long second. "You would let me go? Ha! Well, I surely have no reason to be loyal to a dead man." He shrugs as best he can with the ropes, a shrug that indicates he probably wouldn't have overly prized loyalty when Julistar was living, either.
"I'll assume you mean a camel and not a horse, unless you've one of those in your pocket, but no matter. Julistar wanted what you want: to plunder the tomb, to take the wealth back to his sponsors. Absalom or Cheliax: same difference. For Julistar, he also had a bug up his ass about his 'family legacy'," the man says with a slight eyeroll, "proving that his grandfather's theories decades ago had been right, so forth and so forth, to shut up those who'd said his grandfather had died on a fool's errand. To be honest I mostly tuned him out when he went off on that part of things. It was a recurring theme."
Scepter shifts, trying to get comfortable with the way the ropes are digging into his wrists. "If you're asking a specific prize? I don't know of one. Oh, he wanted to get at the library of one of them, I believe-- big man on books and scrolls, our Julistar-- and he wanted to find proof of another one's truck with devils, for the greater glory of Imperial Cheliax, etc etc. But really, truly: he wanted the gold, my loves, same as you do, same as I did."
"Alright. What secrets of this place do know that might help us.. And you... survive in here?"
Shaggar crouches stoicly while he and Hatyah receive healing. Blood - most of it not his own - continues to drip from his furry jaw and stains his chest as he stares unblinking at their prisoner. When the gnoll speaks, his word are laced with a vague menace, "You will tell us of the woman who got away; everything you know of her, her family, and her home. Is she the sort to run away or will she be lurking close-by, hoping for an opportunity to free you or create problems? There will be consequences if I think you are not being helpful."
Once healed to a reasonable extent, Shaggar rises and slaps Hatyah on the shoulder. "Scent the woman out. If she has not fled, she will surrender or die."
Hatyah begins to limp slowly around the room, nosing the air.
Lyrian's question makes the lean man shrug, again. He seems to be doing a lot of that. "The expert on the place was that fellow," he drawls, with a wave of one foot towards Julistar's cooling body. "He said there were probably a lot of traps, so we brought the little one along. Said something about a great beast too, but by and large he was cagey. Probably didn't trust some of us not to make a move of our own, if he told us all he knew."
The prisoner laughs, raspingly, again at Shaggar's questioning. "What, you're worried about pretty little Lonni? Oh, she's a cunning mastermind, vengeful as the day is long. She'll strike at you from the shadows like a poisonous asp, and make you the rue the day you crossed us all." He grins, looking rather skull-like with the gesture, then shrugs again.
"She's a tease, and a slut, who like all sluts values her own skin," he says in a different tone. "I don't know where she's from originally, Taldor I think, nor do I know or care of her kin. She'll have fled at the first chance she got. She cozied up to Julistar hoping for a marriage and the society life back in Cheliax," he says, smiling darkly at the memory, "more fool her. Couldn't lower herself to give me a tumble by the fire, oh no.... Julistar promised her to me, after," he says with an absent licking of his lips.
"A pity I won't get that... Though, let me go as you said, and I'll see to it the little b@##* doesn't trouble you." His smile suggests he's composing elaborate, distasteful mental fantasies on exactly how he'd do that. Rosalia makes a soft noise from where she's looking at the stick, giving the man a look like he's something she scraped off her boot.
Hatyah is able to track the scent of the woman through the pyramid, back past the four pharaoh statues (currently disarmed, it seems), and back towards the exit. The scent trail still continues strongly.
You can see the square of daylight at the far end of the upward sloping tunnel, white and bright. The corridor looks clear and empty of anyone, but Hatyah still has the scent. About twenty feet before the actual exit, Hatyah comes to a stop, sniffing and growling at one particular bit of stone. Shaggar can hear what sounds like labored, wet breathing, and smell a faint note of blood, and some floral scent.
Javi watches the interview silently, a discomfort growing in the back of his mind. When Shaggar and Hatyah go to track the invisible woman, Javi tags along … chewing his lip in thought. As they follow Hatyah, he quietly growls out his concern.
He doens’t seem to have an answer to his own concern, and the conversation is cut short when Hatyah goes on point.
”Lonni, right?” the halfling steps forward, knowing he’s a far less imposing figure than Shaggar’s towering form. ”You have no where to run, and this place will devour you if you’re alone. Trust me, the threats in here are far worse than ancient, rusty traps and a few undead.” He waits a few minutes for her to respond. ”Our team is taking some time to prepare for what’s ahead, so I have some time to wait your vanishing trick out. Be smart, here. If we wanted you dead, I wouldn't waste time talking.”
There's a hiccuping gulp from mid-air. Then a woman's voice says, shakily, "D-did you block the entrance? I don't want to fight you. I've no quarrel with you, my employer is dead."
Someone needs to stay and watch Scepter. That someone is Lyrian.
He steps in close and whispers.
Lyrian isn't alone in his watchful vigil-- Rosalia is there as well, looking dark-eyed at the man and thoughtfully tapping the wand from his stick-weapon against the palm of her hand. But Lyrian steps in and whispers instead...
Scepter looks up at Lyrian's words from his bound position. "Duly noted," he says flatly.
Shaggar looks both tired and curious. "Let me be clear, woman. I can smell your blood and the flowers in your perfume. And Hatyah's nose is sharper than mine. Even invisible, she can run you to ground in little time... and then I won't stop her from making a squealing meal of you - given the offenses you've done her. If you want to live, you will become visible now, surrender, and become useful to us. Any more delays and you belong to Hatyah. I promise you, it will be the death of your nightmares. So, choose your fate."
Shaggar holds his clawed hand up, ready to give the massive hyena the silent command to attack.
Hatyah gnashes her jaws and waits like a coiled spring.
There's a shaky inhale of breath, and then the woman flickers into view, hands raised. She looks fairly young, and probably normally quite well put together, with artful cosmetics and black hair wound in an intricate braid, but at the moment there are tear tracks down her cheeks. Her upraised hands look bruised, and her painted fingernails are chipped and broken, bleeding under the cuticles.
"I can be useful," she says quickly. "I can be very useful. I was only doing as I was ordered."
Shaggar almost looks disappointed... and not for the first time he'd rather handle this woman in a gnollish manner rather than by the inconvenient ethos he'd adopted. Still, he can't quite resist getting a little satisfaction for Hatyah's sake. He closes with the woman in two long strides, wraps his clawed hand around her throat - just enough to see her eyes bulge and make breathing rather difficult - then lifts her easily off the ground, to eye height, by that same slender neck. Red eyes meet black. He debates, briefly, smacking her head against the tomb wall...
He considers his words for a long moment, "You've chosen wisely, Sayyidah." Anger somewhat checked, he puts her down gently and releases her neck.
Shaggar turns to Javi, "If the entrance is blocked - possibly by the force that stopped the old expedition, then we'll need to figure out another escape route. The exit out the pyramid's top?"
Javi stands uncomfortably through the display. He’d worked with Shaggar enough to think the gnoll wouldn’t kill the woman after she submitted, still …. he was intimidating. Seeking a reason to focus on nearly anything else, he turns and pads his way up the incline to the blindingly-brilliant opening to the outside. He slows for the last ten paces or so … not sure what to expect from this invisibly blocked exit.
He stops about ten feet shy of the opening and squints at its edges. Then, Javi fishes a beat-up copper chit from one of the pockets hidden in the mish-mash of his clothes and tosses it out the opening, curious to see what will happen.
From his current position, he answers back over his shoulder. "Maybe. Or maybe we have what we need to leave ... it's happened once before, according to that crazy old man."
Shaggar follows Javi, leaving Hatyah to watch the woman. "We have the mask, perhaps that is enough? I wonder if the... 'shield' allows entrance of all who come." He scratches his ear, puzzling over the mystery and deferring to Javi's expertise in matters trap-sicle.
He tosses a glance back at the woman, "Did your Asmodean lord tell you of the traps here? Did he detect this shield when you entered?"
Shaggar, you get close and personal-- certainly close enough to smell genuine fear-- and are rewarded by the dilation of the young woman's eyes, the rapidity of her pulse. There's something familiar, though... Shaggar leans in and takes another, deeper breath. After a few seconds' reflection, you are fairly certain she is actually the same young lady you sniffed once before, though visually she looks nothing like her previous appearance, and the perfume has changed.
Javi and Shaggar walk forward with no troubles. Javi's flung copper mark winks through the air, and out into the bright sunlight, glittering in mid-air before falling out of sight.
(Both Shaggar and Javi can see a rope's end hooked just inside the entrance, presumably how your rivals ascended.)
The woman kneels on the floor, hiccuping a little to herself and keeping a nervous distance from Hatyah as she tries to surreptitiously wipe her face clean. When Shaggar looks back and barks his question, she is quick to answer.
"He said there were cursed hieroglyphics, sir," she says. "And that there would likely be many other traps, poisons and pits and so forth. He said nothing of any shield when we entered, sir. But it is there-- like a wall! I could not pass, I swear to you..."
Javi listens to her answer without taking his eyes from his search of the edges where hall meets sky. Then he looks up at Shaggar, shrugs, and begins taking slow, foot-sliding steps forward, pressing his fingers along the cold stone in an attempt to catch any tell-tale signs of the invisible wall or traps.
Javi sidles forward, cautiously, alert as ever.... and makes it all the way to the outer lip with nothing barring his progress. He is able to touch the rope that is anchored there, lift it, wave his hands through with no issues.
If there is a wall there, it is not affecting Javi.
The woman's composure cracks a little at seeing his lack of difficulty. "--it was there, really!" she protests. She takes a few steps forward, swings her hand-- and winces as her hand hits some obvious barrier. "Ow!"
She pulls back, nursing another bruise on her fingers.
"Huh," grunts Javi curiously, pulling his hands back in. He looks to Shaggar, "See if you can reach out."
Shaggar is able to proceed to the exit without hitting the wall that the woman appears to encounter.
Shaggar puzzles at the discriminating force wall, glad it allows his people to pass. "Strange. Heldar will love this mystery, I think."
He files away the information about the girl and her multiple looks, for use later. "Ready to head back?" He inquires of Javi and the girl, trying to make her feel a bit more included.
The girl nods hurriedly, getting to her feet. "When you are, sirs. I will be no trouble. You mean to continue in this pyramid?" she says, with a little shudder.
He hitches a furry clawed thumb in his own direction, "I'm Shaggar. That's Javi. None call us 'sir'. And, we all have a bit more of the temple to explore... before it vanishes back to the Stranger. And we'll need some of that time to discover how to get you out of the temple. I don't think you'd like to be here when it heads to that other world judging by the horrors we've seen so far." He says emphasizing for the young woman how much she needs the team to survive as a matter of self-interest.
She nods fervently in agreement with Shaggar's words, although Shaggar does sort of get the sense that he could say 'the moon is a fat man taking a bath' and he might get the same response.
"I am called Lonicera," she says with a half-bow. "...Lonni is... a nickname." Not one she cares for, by her face. She follows Javi and Shaggar back to the others without argument.
The gnoll regards the woman, "Lonicera, we won't leave you in the desert without weapons and supplies... but we need to know what gear you are carrying. You can show us or we can search you - your choice."
Javi gives a flippant salute at his introduction, ”And while you’re detailing your equipment, why don’t you tell us what skillsets got you hired onto the Chelaxian’s little crew? Or, maybe more useful at this moment, what can you do for us as we figure out how to finish our exploration?”
When they finally make thier way back to the rest of the team awaits, Javi grins. ”So, interesting little wrinkle in this whole complex trip … Shaggar and I are able to stick our hands back out through the open entrance, but Lonicera—” he hikes a thumb at the woman, ”this is Lonicera—keeps running into some kind of invisible wall. I couldn’t find anything.”
Rosalia, Heldar and Lyrian can hear the voices marking the return of Shaggar, Javi, and Hatyah, as well as a reasonably comely young woman who has dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin. She's a bit disheveled at the moment, but bobs a quick, cooperative bow to the three Pathfinders, along with a nervous smile. Her eyes cut briefly to the bound Scepter, then away again.
Scepter's mouth curves upwards, and he looks ready to say something, but he glances a look up at Lyrian and then thinks better of it for now.
Lonicera hands her rucksack over to be searched while answering Javi's question. "I am a performer and entertainer," she says, eyes lowered to the floor. "I am skilled in the arts of gathering information, as well as music, theatre, a small selection of spells, and those arts which are pleasing to the body..."
As far as the searching goes: Lonicera mutely accedes to having her belongings inspected. She is wearing no armor, but clothing made of fine silks in the Katapeshi style, as well as a number of pieces of nice jewelry . She has a rucksack which, when searched, contains a tambourine, a number of brightly colored silk dancer's scarves, more jewelry, a waterskin, a flask of holy water, a mail-shirt of armor made from scarab shells which looks awfully familiar , a handful of gems that were but recently pried out of the statues that formerly housed them , and a sunrod.
Additionally, when the sack is opened, there's a sudden eruption of sound.
"I have a bad feeling about this! Try to wrestle free again, Rosalia! GetitoffgetitoffgetitOFF!"
It seems you have found Smart again.
Shaggar scratches Hatyah's ear and speaks to her in his strange barking language, but his words are actually for Javi.
He gives the hyena a final pat then turns his attention on Lonicera. "And what illusion shrouds you now, Sayyidah? I know you wear one."
Lonicera turns wide eyes on Shaggar, her cheeks pinkening a bit. "I don't-- it's not-- it is nothing of import."
Shaggar blinks. "Sayyidah, I know who you are. You've changed your look but not your smell. We met at the auction, yes? And you used that meeting to get a good enough look at me to use your magic to... implicate me in the museum theft. If I was going to tear your throat out for that offense... I would have done it already."
The young lady frowns a bit at Shaggar's revelation, but crosses her arms defensively. "Well, then, you know perfectly well the nature of the illusion on me," she sighs.
Smart, meanwhile, floats around the hall in a flurry of noise-- whistling, music, Hatyah-growls, and a bit of Javi-voice going 'genitals, genitals, genitals'. Scepter, Lonicera, and Rosalia all follow the traveling sound with their heads.
"So... you had him in your pack?" Rosalia says slowly, one brow arched. "...can you put him back?"
Smart makes a noise like a boiling tea-kettle in Rosalia's general vicinity.
"Smart!" said Lyrian. "Welcome back! I was afraid we'd not see you again. Well...you know what I mean."
"The lady's been defeated, Shaggar. If it's not important to our survival, leave her her secrets. What, after all, is a lady without secrets?"
"I want to bury the dead, but fear we don't have much more time. Make sure this guy is well tied, then let's go finish this."
"So... you had him in your pack?" Rosalia says slowly, one brow arched. "...can you put him back?"
Smart makes a noise like a boiling tea-kettle in Rosalia's general vicinity.
"Don't say that Rosalia - it is good to have Smart back" - Heldar smiles while he gags Scepter.
"Smart!" said Lyrian. "Welcome back! I was afraid we'd not see you again. Well...you know what I mean."
"That" - he nods at Lyrian.
Lonicera inclines her head gratefully to Lyrian, giving him a wan smile.
Scepter would likely say something, but Heldar just stuck a gag in his mouth. Smart seems to take some glee in imitating the muffled noises Scepter makes from behind the bit of cloth in his mouth.
Rosalia fiddles with the long stick, resting it against a wall. "Well, that countdown said we had about a day left.... we could probably rest and head down to the lowest level, I think, and still get out of here in time."
Javi smiles at Smart’s sounds, and is suitably hurt at Rosalia’s suggestion.
He shakes his head, though, at Lonicera’s refusal to drop the illusion. ”I don’t like it.” He points a small finger at her, ”You said you wanted to be helpful. This is not helpful.” He points at Scepter, ”Him we’re happy to leave bound here until we can return. You, though, can use magic, so far more drastic measures would need to be taken to make sure you’re here when we return.” He shrugs, ”Or you could … you know … work with us.”
Lyrian watchedthe woman and then snapped his fingers, pointing at her. "You're someone we know!" he said. "You don't want to drop the illusion because we'll recognize you!"
He laughed. "Sister, you just took part in nearly killing us. If that doesn't make us angry enough to cut your throat, whetever big reveal you have under there isn't going to change that. So, to satisfy my friend here, I suppose we shall have to see your face after all."
"Wait! Let me guess! You're her, aren't you?" He snapped his fingers a few more times, trying to jog the memory. "You're the Mithral Scarab, I'm guessing."
Shaggar casts a look at Javi, clearly in agreement. "If your only concern was being recognized, I'd expect you to be relieved that I bear no ill will. But that is not how you reacted. So, either my guess is wrong or something else drives you. Either way, you'd be wise to end whatever magic cloaks you."
Lonicera shrinks back against the nearest stone wall, arms crossed in front of herself. But as the growing demands for her to drop her illusion, whatsoever it may be, come clear, she sighs, aware she has little choice in the matter.
"Fine!" she says shortly. Her skin appears to melt away... revealing a face that is similar to the one she just wore, but markedly older. Instead of a very comely lass on the younger side of twenty, Lonicera now looks to be pushing fifty, with deep crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, streaks of gray at her temples, and a few aesthetic imperfections her illusionary self didn't have-- a crooked nose, bags under her eyes...
"Satisfied?" the woman says with a spread of her hands. "I told you it was of no import. And I wore a different face yet at the auction, gnoll. I don't even know who your Mithral Scarab is. Well, now that you've stripped me of a bit of harmless pride--"
There's a muffled noise from the bound-and-gagged Scepter; it appears he's shaking with laughter. Lonicera scowls down at him. "Shut up, you twisted, mangy dog." She tries to kick him in the ribs, if none prevent her from doing so. To Javi she adds, with a bit of vindictive pleasure, "And your words of him not being able to do magic are wrong. He is a wizard of sorts, he just prefers his stupid staff-thing."
Rosalia watches all this with an arched brow (and doesn't stop the kicking of Scepter). "Well. Always better to have no secrets, I think. So... shall we sleep? If so, I don't want to do it near these corpses. Perhaps we can drag them out.... or pick a different room. Unless we're going to try to keep going, now..."
Shaggar makes no move to stop the cur-kicking. He scratches his ear and looks hard at the woman (through gnollish lenses) then shrugs. "I see little difference in your appearance... but I prefer women with more muzzle and fangs."
To Rosalia he says, "Unless we are running short of time, I suggest we rest."
"Agreed, we rest" - Heldar nods - "Our resources are stretched thin, so we should recover as best as we can, and make the best of the time ahead of us tomorrow"
Wary of any further ambushes, the group of Pathfinders stake out a space behind closed doors to pass the 'night'. Rosalia is in much better spirits since the destruction of the blood altar, and amuses herself with dragging a thread of string along the marble floor for Rook to bat at. Watches are posted, but nothing disturbs the peace other than the noises and chirps of Smart, echoing around through the halls.
After sleeping, waking, and seeing to such things as yet another breakfast of cold trail rations, the little band prepares to descend into the depths...
Once more they wait for the stone lift and its patient, tireless operator; once more they step onto the stone and let it bear their weights, going down this time.... once more Rosalia winds up elbowing someone to make room...
The lift reaches a bottom terminus, and the group disembarks, looking around warily, their conjured light sources shining off another hallway similar to the many they have been in thus far, broad and spacious. The usual exploratory order is quickly established, and the team sets out, moving forward...
They pass first through a chamber that contains near a hundred corpses-- some cursory examination of the hieroglyphs on each simply-preserved body reveals that these would seem to be the servants of the pharaohs, no doubt slain after their masters as was the custom in Osirion in the days of the god-kings- so that the monarch might have slaves in the afterlife. The funerary goods in this room are practical objects, if not particularly valuable ones: many neatly-piled jars of grain, bolts of linen cloth, canopic jars containing the organs of the palace hounds, hunting cats, and even horses...
Though it is of interest to a scholar, the team presses on in search of either greater treasures, or dangers. The hall continues on the other side of the servitors' room, coming ultimately to a narrow stone bridge that arcs across a thirty-foot pit.
Fortunately, Lyrian is able to detect the summoning trap that marks the bridge-- a spell that would have conjured two huge air elementals-- and he and Javi, working together, manage to suppress the incantation long enough for the group to safely pass.
Shortly past the bridge, the passage broadens again, into a wall with a large door. Herein is set the rune of the Cerulean Pharaoh, in the middle of a dense hieroglyphic frieze depicting the pharaoh ruling over all manner of beasts, birds, and other creatures.
Lyrian and Javi give the door a long looking over before each pronouncing it is not trapped.
Rosalia draws her sword and gives it a few practice swings in the air to warm up. "Shall we?" she asks.
Shaggar draws his axe, nods briefly at Rosalia, and warns "Guard your eyes from possible runes." then he pushes the door open with a furry paw and looks around.
Having rested well, then worked all “morning” to keep the team informed and free from walking into soul-sucking traps … Javi is thoroughly warmed up. And chipper, as usual.
Javi keeps his blade stowed, bouncing anxiously and eagerly from foot to foot as he grins up at Shaggar and the team. ”Oh yah, and guard your soul from inter-planetary, inter-planar mega-bad guys bent on uber-conquest.” He shrugs lightly, also turning his eyes to the coming room as SHaggar pushes the door open. ”I hear that’s a thing in this place.”
He steps to the side, looking to use his teammates or the doorframe to obscure his presence from any waiting watchers. Then he strains with ears, eyes, and instincts for whatever traps or threats face his teammates.
Lonicera has spent the night asking about what you have seen in the pyramid so far, and comparing that to what she had managed to glean from Julistar. She does volunteer that Julistar himself seemed most interested in the Fiend Pharaoh, and that he had been planning on breaching the doors to that room when their team had heard the noise of your return on the lift, and set their ambush.
Now, as you stand before the large doors with their hieroglyphics, Lonicera runs thoughtful fingers over the markings. "From what you said last night, you have yet run into no great beast, yes? Julistar said there was such, somewhere. Perhaps it is behind this door."
"In that case..." Rosalia mutters, and casts a protective spell on herself . She also throws up light if Heldar does not do so himself.
"Wait a moment, little one," Lonicera says as Javi prepares to slip inside and scout. She murmurs the words of a spell of her own, and touches Javi , and suddenly... the Wasp is unseen! Apparently, Lonicera is taking seriously the whole 'be useful' thing.
The door is opened...
Beyond the door, there's a sense of cavernous open space, and a breath of cold, stale air that washes over you. It smells of... metal? And a few seconds later, the reason for that is clear, as light winks into being in the room beyond: on the distant ceiling, a crystal orb the size of a man's head swells with a suffused, pleasant light that mimics natural sunlight over the room below. By its light, you can see that the walls and ceiling have been painted a serene sky-blue, and painted with elaborate murals of the river Sphinx, complete with waterfowl and birds in flight.
The far wall is a hundred and twenty feet away; side to side the room is that big as well. The ceiling vaults up fifty feet. The room is filled with gold.
Not floor to ceiling, or anything. But the veinstone of the floor is broken up by wide canals carving and curving through it, however, and these 'rivers' do indeed seem to be filled with gold: countless coins of it-- scattered with urns, chests, rings, armbands, pectorals, diadems.... suits of armor... jeweled weaponry... statuettes, dishes... wealth on a mind-boggling scale. The strips of 'land' beneath the 'rivers' are dotted with green marble carvings of palm trees and clumps of papyrus reeds.
Some sixty feet away from your little group there is a reed boat on a small dais in the center of the canal-filled room. You can just make out a linen-wrapped mummy supine in the boat, arms crossed on its chest, more gold gleaming and winking on its body.
There is a bit of shocked silence from Rosalia and Lonicera, at least. After a second or three, Rosalia says in a hoarse whisper, "That's... all that gold is an illusion... right? It has to be. I mean it just... it has to be."
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Lyrian emitted a low whistle. "I didn't bring enough sacks," he said.