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Javi ghosts back to the group, and by the time he steps up next to Shaggar, he looks pissed.
He beckons the group to lean down and whispers, "Just overheard the guards and the Arch-docent. The short version is that this place was hit by your twin or we're being framed. I'm guessing to slow us down." He looks back in the direction of the Arch Docent's ongoing interview, "My guess is that they'll know we're here any second now. So we either run or step up. If we step up, they'll want to toss you in jail while this is sorted out… if we run, well… you look guilty."
Shaggar snorts at the idea - of running or being arrested - you aren't sure. "Running doesn't get us that mask and I'm too easily recognized. Let's turn the tables."
Shaggar, stands at full height and easily pushes people out of his way as he strides straight for the Arch-Docent and the guard Captain. He snarls, "Who accuses me of a crime? And what is it said I have done?"
Javi follows in the huge gnoll's wake, having to nearly jog to keep up. He keeps his eyes on the crowd around them.
As he walks, another thought strikes him, and he shakes his head with a half-grin. His quick little hands make a few quick motions, hiding the strange bottle in the folds of his clothes.
Rosalia's brow arches at Javi's explanation, trading worried glances with the other three Pathfinders while occasionally glancing back at the crowd. "This has to be by someone who was at the auction house last night," she mutters, "someone who saw Shaggar there and probably has a bit of a grudge against us. My money's on the Chelaxian and the halfling."
Shaggar's bravado causes Rosalia to smirk a little, and she follows up behind him with some bemusement. Smart thinking yet again. Quite a good trait for a Pathfinder indeed. More plus points for her report back to Ambrus Valsin.
The young man only shrugs apologetically to Rosalia's question of what was taken. Writing him off as having nothing further of use to add, Rosalia follows the others as Shaggar decides to go on the offensive, to preserve his good gnoll name! Or something.
The Arch Docent's eyes widen as Shaggar's tall and, yes, recognizable form pushes closer past the gawkers. The old man takes a surreptitious step behind the guard captain, tapping him hurriedly on the shoulder and gesturing. The injured guard also looks alarmed, jumping to his feet and backing up to put the wall behind him.
"That's him, sirs! Oh gods!"
The guard captain and several of his men close ranks. The captain looks unfazed by the sight of the hulking gnoll coming closer, though he does rest a hand on the blade at his belt.
"It's said you broke into the Exhibitionary and stole valued antiquities," he says shortly, eyes flicking up and down the gnoll's muscled form, darting to the others who trail after him. "As for who accuses you-- this guardsman, Thut by name, who sounds ready to swear before one of the Just that you cracked him over the skull last night.
"What is your name, gnoll, and what do you have to say for yourself?"
Javi feels confident he has a bottle super-hidden. Short of a cavity search, it is stealthy as anything.
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Short of a cavity search, it is stealthy as anything.
Heldar studies the accusing man intently, trying to gauge the certainty of the accusations.
He wishes to intervene, but does not want to step over Shaggar's defense, so shrugging, comments only - "The accusator is wrong"
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The guard captain and several of his men close ranks. The captain looks unfazed by the sight of the hulking gnoll coming closer, though he does rest a hand on the blade at his belt.
"It's said you broke into the Exhibitionary and stole valued antiquities," he says shortly, eyes flicking up and down the gnoll's muscled form, darting to the others who trail after him. "As for who accuses you-- this guardsman, Thut by name, who sounds ready to swear before one of the Just that you cracked him over the skull last night."
"What is your name, gnoll, and what do you have to say for yourself?"
Shaggar surveys the crowd and notes the sea of muzzle-less faces and short statures before returning his red eyes to the captain. "Yes, I appear to be the only gnoll here." He offers the time honored greeting of desertmen, making a series of sweeping circular gestures touching a claw to his forehead, lips (muzzle in this case), and heart - indicating he will neither think, nor speak, nor hide in his heart any evil. His tone is placid and utterly civil. "Good morrow, Effendi. I am Shaggar, once of the Bonecrack Tribe. I am a tracker and guide through the hazards and blistering sands of Katapesh and Osirion. I have neither harmed this man nor stolen. This I will prove."
Shaggar listens briefly to the mutterings of the crowd, gathering more of the details of the story. He considers the welt on the guard's head, then spins slowly once while sweeping his bisht aside to reveal his weapons - a massive axe and an equally large flail. "These are my weapons. As you can see, neither could have caused that bump on his head and it was a blow using a fraction of my strength. Had I hit this man, he would be dead now. That is no bluster - it is fact. I have stalked the deserts for many years and what I hit dies." He lets that thought hang for only a moment before lightening his tone, "And if my ears hear rightly, it sounds as if dark witchery was involved - creating a blackness. Have you known of gnolls to practice such magics? No. But magics there are - magics to cause darkness, to make one man appear as another, and yet more to ensnare minds. Perhaps those magics were used to make this guard's attacker appear as me, or perhaps another gnoll was dressed as me. And the proof of that is in the foolishness of this crime. As you have seen, I am a gnoll and I dress different than others of my race. So I would have to be the greatest fool in the world to let this guard see me and then live to tell of it... particularly since it seems that another guard died. If I had killed one, why would I not kill the other - the witness to my acts? Do I sound addle-pated to you? Further, why would I stand outside the scene of my crimes the next day when I am so easily recognized?" He taps his skull, indicating the idiocy of the idea.
"But you need not trust my words or common sense, Captain. Bring Truth-tellers from whatever temples you wish. I await them here to answer these questions. Their God-given magics will reveal the truth. In fact, those who accuse me should also answer questions... Someone has set me up and they will find out the truth of how heavily my blade falls when I swing it."
For a second time, Shaggar deliberately changes tempo, lightening his tone. "Exactly what valuable am I said to have stolen?" He pokes an accusing claw at the Arch Docent, "Yesterday, this man was irate when I managed a clever deal with the Kemeserian on a small Middle Dynasty statue. I want to be sure what he claims I stole isn't my property already."
The guard appears to be sincere in his accusation of Shaggar, for what it's worth.
The captain gives Heldar an unimpressed look, as if wordlessly saying, If things were that simple, I wouldn't have a job.
The captain's expression shifts when Shaggar begins speaking though-- brows arching, thumbs hooking into his belt as he takes in the (surprisingly) well-spoken gnoll's arguments. The Arch Docent also looks flabbergasted, as Shaggar currently bears little resemblance to the over-the-top brute he had seen at the auction.
The captain rocks back on his heels, taking another look at the guard, who also looks somewhat bemused by Shaggar's logic. (And worried at the pointing-out that he could so easily have been killed, but, details.)
When Shaggar finishes, and drags the Docent back into the conversation, the old man blinks, then looks outraged. "What are you implying about me!" he begins, but the guard-captain hushes him with a firm wave of his hand.
"Peace, Master Imhokep. I'll conduct my investigation without your help, thank you."
He studies Shaggar another moment, then nods once as if deciding something to himself.
"I wish that half of the men under my watch had a mind such as yours, Shaggar-of-the-Bonecrack-tribe. You lay out a very convincing argument, I will admit..."
It seems to Shaggar as though his words have greatly swayed the captain, but that he is constrained by the law to at least ask more questions, rather than to let you go on that alone.
"You say that there are magics to disguise men... this is true, though I deal little with them. But it begs the question: who would have motive for such a thing, to frame you? Have you enemies that would benefit from such a trick?
"As for the stolen items..." he produces a roll of papyrus from his pouch on which the official report has been made. "An antique khopesh sword, four canopic jars, amulets with faience inlay, a funeral mask, and a hawk pectoral. I suppose if I search you and your friends, I won't find such things," the captain grunts.
"But then--" he smiles grudgingly, "clever as you are, I wouldn't find such things even if you were the thieves, would I? Hnh. It's a pretty problem all around."
The captain tucks the scroll away with a frown. "I am not arresting you at this time. You are correct that too much does not add up about the story of this theft. I wish to know where you and your colleagues are staying, though," he says, his gaze raking over each of you in turn.
The Arch Docent looks grim at this, but holds his peace.
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"I wish that half of the men under my watch had a mind such as yours, Shaggar-of-the-Bonecrack-tribe."
The gnoll stoops slightly to look the Captain in the eye. "You deal fairly, Captain, even with races such as mine. If Sothis ever becomes my home, I may ask you for a job."
"You say that there are magics to disguise men... this is true, though I deal little with them. But it begs the question: who would have motive for such a thing, to frame you? Have you enemies that would benefit from such a trick?"
Shaggar runs claws across his skull, spiking his mottled hair the wrong way, and thinking. His voice reveals his perplexity, "My answers only sink the mystery more. I came to Sothis yesterday afternoon from the deep south. I have rarely been to this city so I count no enemies here. Only other gnolls would see me dead... and this trickery is beyond their ways or interests. Blood is the coin they wish to pay me in." He halts briefly and indicates his companions, "As you see, they are strangers to the desert. I have been hired as their guide and guard for an expedition into the sands. Perhaps a rival seeks to slow them down and thought a dumb gnoll, and their only guide, would be a ripe target?"
"As for the stolen items..." he produces a roll of papyrus from his pouch on which the official report has been made. "An antique khopesh sword, four canopic jars, amulets with faience inlay, a funeral mask, and a hawk pectoral. I suppose if I search you and your friends, I won't find such things," the captain grunts.
"But then--" he smiles grudgingly, "clever as you are, I wouldn't find such things even if you were the thieves, would I? Hnh. It's a pretty problem all around."
The ranger returns the grin, albeit snarl-like and full of canines. "Captain, if I were dumb enough to leave a guard alive and show up here the next morning... I'd be wearing the pectoral and trying to sell the other goods to your men." He pulls open his bisht and offers his backpack. "Search if you like, I stole nothing. I am many things - but not a liar or a thief. And I am willing to tell your Truth-teller that. I had no hand in, nor any knowledge of, the theft or the attack on the guards."
The captain tucks the scroll away with a frown. "I am not arresting you at this time. You are correct that too much does not add up about the story of this theft. I wish to know where you and your colleagues are staying, though," he says, his gaze raking over each of you in turn.
"We stay at the Dung Beetle, Captain. But our goal today was to get supplies for our journey and see how soon we could be ready to travel. Must I stay 'til your investigation is done? How long will that be?" Shaggar lets the Captain consider that while he mulls over the possibility that the missing funeral mask might be the one they need. The kernel of an idea occurs.
Shaggar turns to the Docent, "We have a common interest and enemy. You have goods you want returned and we have reason to find the thieves. Perhaps a deal could be struck between us."
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He halts briefly and indicates his companions, "As you see, they are strangers to the desert. I have been hired as their guide and guard for an expedition into the sands."
When the guard captain looks beyond Shaggar at Javi and the two pathfinders, Javi is quick to interrupt. "Not me. I'm hired on as well. I'm the muscle." It's delivered dead-pan.
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Shaggar glances at the halfling, fully a third of his size. "Apologies, Captain. I'm the Guide, he's the Muscle."
Completely loving the exchange, and Shaggar's solid and wise posture, Heldar cannot avoid smiling broadly at how much his furred companion is full of surprises.
"And we are the strangers to the desert" - Heldar offers a bow and motions for Rosalia - "I am however most interested in getting to the bottom of all this - not only tracker Shaggar has been behaving with a professional and unblemished conduct so far towards us, but also we still need his assistance in our tour"
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The captain crosses his arms and scratches at his beard. When Shaggar speaks to the Docent, his brows arch, to see how this plays out.
The Arch Docent seems to have recovered some of his composure. He looks peeved now, perhaps annoyed at himself for having bought Shaggar's dumb-act of the day before, but the offer makes his eyes narrow shrewdly as he looks the gnoll and his companions over.
He seems to be hesitating, but Heldar's words and praise of Shaggar's skills seem to push him over the edge, perhaps.
"Perhaps," the Docent says slowly. "I confess I am not in the habit of making deals with accused thieves... or gnolls... but, under the circumstances..."
"Much of what was taken is of interest only to the scholar. Some of what was taken is of precious or semi-precious materials, and I fear greatly that that may be sold, not to collectors, but for scrap-- and irreplaceable relics of our past destroyed. If you return these artifacts, I suppose it would go some way towards proving your innocence."
The captain claps his hands together. "Give my subordinate your names, visitors. I wish to believe you, for all the reasons you have argued, but the law must still be observed. I will not bar your passage from the city, but you should all be aware of what the Ruby Prince does to those who steal from the crown... Should I later learn that you have deceived me, I will petition the Ruby Prince for his full authority and his elemental servants to seek you down and flay the flesh from your bones."
Though the captain speaks gruffly, you have a sense that his words are more for the benefit of the gawking crowd and the Arch Docent, than meant as true threat to you.
The Docent fusses with the sleeves of his robe. "Perhaps we had better discuss the further details of the missing items inside," he says at last, grudgingly. "Where the crowd is less likely to hear every shred of gossip."
He gestures for your group to follow him into the museum once they have spoken to the guard. The interior is cool and dark when compared to the bright morning light outside.
Javi falls into line behind the group. His eyes dart toward every window, column, corner, or crevice ... trying to put himself in the place of the thieves ... looking for angles of approach or likely avenues they took.
"Perhaps," the Docent says slowly. "I confess I am not in the habit of making deals with accused thieves... or gnolls... but, under the circumstances..."
Shaggar snorts softly. "That is easily solved." He points a claw at the two obvious outlanders - Heldar and Rosalia. "You will deal with them - neither one is a gnoll or an accused thief. As I said before, I am just their hired Guide and he," the gnoll indicates the pint-sized halfling with a sideways nod of his head, "...is the Muscle."
"If you return these artifacts, I suppose it would go some way towards proving your innocence."
"A Truth-teller can prove my innocence... and then your shelves would still be empty of their goods. No, I think a reward will be appropriate for our effort and success at returning your goods. But you can discuss the terms with my patrons."
Javi and Shaggar, at first you see no obvious signs of breaking and entering: the window shutters seem intact, as they had when Javi had come by the night before.
The Docent leads through a large exhibit room filled with all manner of interesting relics-- a twelve-foot tall model of a pyramid, with a cutaway section to show the labyrinth of tunnels within (a placard informs you that this is not a representation of a particular pyramid, but instead a composite to give visitors a general idea of the architectural genius involved in their construction); several stone sarcophagi, some overlaid with precious metal and with three-dimensional reliefs of their one-time inhabitants carved on the lids; cases containing everything from gold-coated hooks for fishing out brain matter to tablets laden with hieroglyphics. Nothing appears disturbed in this main exhibit hall, but the Docent leads you towards one of the lesser wings.
The building is a large structure, with walls of hewn greenstone and relatively few doorways. The wood-shuttered windows are placed near the 20-foot high ceiling, and their height would dissuade most casual would-be thieves from trying to gain entrance that way-- but then, Javi is not the only skilled thief in the city. Thin cords of leather dangle from each window to manipulate the opening and shutting of the wooden slats. They are currently all shut. (If you ask, the Docent will inform you that each window was shut at closing, and that they were all still shut when the theft was discovered this morning.)
In the lesser wing, the Docent gestures around. Here, the theft is more obvious: several glass display cases have been shattered open, and the pieces of glass litter the floor liberally.
The room contains:
One stone sarcophagus, with its lid on-- clearly too heavy and large a prize for thieves to take;
A broken display case that the Docent claims held the khopesh sword and a golden funeral mask, both now missing;[/i]
An empty raised dais that the Docent claims held the missing four canopic jars;
Another broken display case that held the missing amulets and the pectoral;
Life-size models of the stages of embalming of a mummy, which appear undisturbed;
A statue of a seated Pharaoh, also undisturbed;
A life-size recreated reed boat, the simple ancestor of the watercraft that now ply their way up and down the Sphinx.
Javi, you notice (it would be rather hard to miss) a scarlet smear on the floor over by the broken amulet-and-pectoral case-- vividly crimson, much too bright to be blood.
Shaggar, you see the smear as well-- and your gnoll-y nostrils wrinkle a little as you pick up on an odd and unpleasant scent, something a little like boiled cabbage and turpentine.
Servants are currently sweeping up the broken glass, and one is on his hands and knees scrubbing hard at the crimson smear.
"....suppose a reasonable reward might be permitted from the Museum's funds," the Docent siiiiighs. "Reasonable, mind you! These are relics of Osirion, and this museum is their rightful home!
"As you can see, the barbarians simply smashed through the cases to grab what they wished. Keftu and Thut were assigned to walk the interior patrol; they circle the building once every hour. Or they did. Poor Keftu. They were not found until morning, when the day staff arrived. This room is the only one where we have noticed anything amiss. All of the doors were locked when we arrived, save one leading to the outside, which I know for a fact I personally locked last night, as it is the door directly next to my office. What questions have you for me?"
Heldar tries not to get too distracted with some of the most interesting pieces on display, and keep his mind and senses focused on the task at hand.
"Arch Docent, the first request I'd make would be to ask you to delay the cleaning proceedings until we have had a chance to take a careful look at the area" - the half elf requests politely.
He then starts moving through the area, methodically searching, each nook and cranny for clues, and trying to mentally picture how exactly this was carried out. He moves in circles, small ones at first, around the immediate area from where the pieces were stolen, and then larger ones all around the area.
The gnoll sniffs around. "What is this red liquid? It smells strange and it isn't blood."
Rosalia has been prudently silent thus far, determining that the others had this under control without her assistance - besides, she was too busy trying to keep her irritation under control enough to think through things logically. Her mind flits through the catalogue of faces from the night before--the potential suspects, their possible motives, and just why exactly they would want to frame the Pathfinders for the theft... was it just that they were easy targets, being foreigners (or otherwise particularly stand-out, as in Shaggar's case), or had they caused enough offence already to warrant revenge?
Nevertheless, the opportunity to explore a museum piqued her interests, and momentarily the Brevic woman lets her curiosity overwhelm her temporarily. Neither history nor culture were her particular forte, but the place was certainly fascinating for her wannabe-intellectual side. Eventually, though, Rosalia is forced to think a little harder on the matter of the mystery theft, brought right to the centre of the crime.
Rosalia moves to the servant wiping up the crimson smear and taps him on the shoulder, frowning darkly. Unlike Heldar, she's much more direct about the matter. "You there! Stop cleaning up the evidence!" She then scans the room on the magical spectrum for any lingering auras, focusing particularly on the splash of red.
Rook takes the opportunity to force his way out of his pocket in Rosalia's pack and slink about the exhibits, sniffing curiously at the embalming materials.
"What, you think that is of interest...? Oh, very well. Stop cleaning," the Docent says with a wave of his hand at the servants, who obey. The old man turns a cool eye on Rosalia.
"My staff listen to my orders, thank you, madam."
To Shaggar's question: "The liquid is part of an anti-theft mechanism," Imhokep says.
"It is a tincture of beetroot, orc urine, and troglodyte musk. Vials of it are placed within the lock mechanism of the display cases-- if someone tampers with the lock, the vial is meant to burst on top of them. Once exposed to the air, the mixture turns the signature, accusing shade of red, but, just as importantly, it has that scent you're detecting. It is also quite hard to clean off. Dogs may then be employed to track down the scent, and a thief with his face and hands spattered crimson is a thief easily spotted."
Rosalia, the mixture does not glow as magical. But eww. Rook sniffs at a mummy; the Docent seems about to say something but decides to keep his mouth shut for now. ...although that does beg the question, is Hatyah inside?
Heldar, you make a circuit of the room, taking painstaking attention to detail over several minutes, and note the following details:
-On the floor next to the stone sarcophagus is a thin piece of hollow reed. It might conceivably have come from the reed boat, but it's at least 20 feet away from the boat. The piece of reed is about ten inches long and perhaps a half-inch in diameter.
-In the broken pieces of glass surrounding the red smear of liquid: you can see the broken-off neck-and-lid of the vial of Stinkyick Liquid. It's cork that's been coated with wax, with a thin ring of wax around where it joins the glass of the bottle. It looks.... a bit familiar; in fact, it looks rather like that bottle Javi is carrying around...
-The door that the Arch Docent indicated as having been found unlocked in the morning has a simple bolt-thrown mechanism. It would be difficult to unlock from the outside, but anybody on the inside could open the door without needing a key. There are no signs of the external lock having been tampered with.
-Halfway between the doorway and the site of the stinky liquid are signs of a less-vividly-colored mess, but a more gruesome one upon investigation: this appears to be where the guardsman Keftu was killed. Some blood is still spattered on the walls, but the bulk of it on the floor has already been cleaned up, leaving only a few smudges.
Rosalia brushes off the cool reception from the Arch-Docent, largely unconcerned with any annoyance the old man may hold towards her. With more and more evidence racking up that someone was trying to frame them, she hadn't the time or patience to deal with someone who felt that decorum should come before practicality. Reminds me of some of the old doddering fools about the keep back then... she rolls her eyes at the old memory.
However, after Heldar reports his findings, Rosalia draws the Pathfinders close with a beckoning gesture, her expression dark. She speaks in a hushed whisper, glaring at any unrelated individual who dares to come close. "This set-up is more involved than I first expected. The culprit knew where we were staying... and I wouldn't be surprised if they knew our plans to come inquire about the mask, too. Javi's... 'friend' is leading the top of the suspect list for me now, but that woman who looks like the statue knew we were there, too..."
"In any case, I think we should reconsider our lodgings tonight if we don't solve this mystery pronto."
"Rook," the woman calls out, causing her curious companion's ears to flicker in her direction. She then speaks a couple of phrases in a strange language that... surely doesn't contain a couple of meows intermingled with the verbiage... does it?
The cat seems highly disinclined to go and investigate, staring at Rosalia indignantly, but in the end he deftly leaps down from the mummy exhibit to follow his mistress' orders.
"Arch-Docent," Rosalia now turns her attention to the old man, "how common is this Stickyink Liquid around the city? Is it easy to get a-hold of?"
"This set-up is more involved than I first expected. The culprit knew where we were staying... and I wouldn't be surprised if they knew our plans to come inquire about the mask, too. Javi's... 'friend' is leading the top of the suspect list for me now, but that woman who looks like the statue knew we were there, too…"
Javi shrugs, "There were more from the auction at the Beetle last night. The old woman, maybe one or two more. Plus, we really only know that they've identified Shaggar… which I'm going to take to mean that we just don't' have enough information to make too many assumptions here. Maybe we were targeted specifically by this, or maybe an outsider, gnoll makes too good a target of opportunity to try to pin this on… especially if said gnoll made a bunch of enemies at an antiquities action earlier in the evening." He shrug, "I like the Beetle, but I'm fine moving if you guys want to. My guess at this point is that if someone is going out of their way to cause us trouble, we're going to have to do a lot more to avoid it than simply changing our sleeping accommodations."
When Rosalia asks the Arch-Docent about the liquid, Javi watches from the side… trying to catch any clues that the man might have played a greater role in all this as he takes a closer look at the piece of reed.
Rook pads around the room at Rosalia's request, sniffing along the floor in the cool and haughty way cats have, where they pretend they are only doing something because it might be of potential interest to them personally, and where they stop and lick at their paw to do some grooming halfway through, then casually resume wandering when they feel like it...
It's slightly surreal to watch a small black cat and a huge hyena sniffing along a scent trail together in the middle of a museum, and by 'slightly' we mean 'very'. Rook ignores the many-times-larger-than-it hyena with the usual feline disdain. Hatyah wrinkles her nose at the scent.
Both animals can follow the scent to the door that leads outside (the unlocked one), but attempting to follow it past that is a quick exercise in futility, the scent quickly swallowed by crowds and feet and wagons and oxen and other animals.
Hatyah returns to snuffle around the floor some more and finally ends up poking her muzzle at Javi's pocket, while Rook saunters back near Rosalia and lets out an irritated meow or three.
Rook informs his mistress that the scent-path is quite faint, indeed-- that Javi, with the bottle on his person, smells just as strongly of the Scent, as does the thin smell leading outward-- perhaps the thin trail leading outward was made by someone with a sealed bottle, as well. Rook yawns and says that the smell of fish would be much more enjoyable to follow than the nose-stinging scent of the red liquid. When will there be fish?
To the question of how easy it is to procure the liquid, the Arch Docent shrugs in disinterest. "Not difficult, I suppose. It's manufactured by several alchemists in the city as a thieves' deterrent, to be inserted into various trapped devices. I can give you the name and address of the alchemist where we buy our own, but I admit that I fail to see the relevance."
Javi, if the Docent had something to do with the the planting of the vial, you see no signs of it. He seems much more interested in regaining his museum's stolen artifacts than in anything else.
Javi, seeming to slip off everyone's radar in all the investigative and interviewing efforts, ambles over to the leather cords hanging from the window nearest the unlocked door. He gives them a tentative few pulls to see how much weight they'd hold, then he gives his best effort at quietly climbing up to the window itself… seeing what such an ascent—or more likely a descent—would take.
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Shaggar watches Hatyah sniff around and can't resist himself when the hyena is attracted to Javi's pocket. "Hatyah! Don't eat that halfling, you don't know where he's been!"
Rosalia leans down and pats Rook fondly on the head, promising him fish as soon as she had a chance to peruse the marketplace. The cat seems somewhat mollified at this promise, and so can return to his usual activities of stalking around like he owns the place and/or the ever-present need to clean himself in awkward ways in front of polite company.
"I'm not sure that we need to know that much, Arch-Docent--do we?" Rosalia replies, though she shoots an affirming glance at the rest of the group, "but I appreciate the information nevertheless."
At a loss for what else to do, Rosalia moves to the piece of reed Heldar discovered and picks it up. She eyes it closely and compares it to the reed boat, and then carefully inspects the vessel for any signs of damage or having been moved.
@ Javi:
The cords are strips of leather that are, at best, half-an-inch thick. You give one a firm tug and the leather stretches a little. The cord seems like it miiiight hold your weight-- you're small for a halfling, after all-- but as soon as you start climbing in earnest--
--there's a faint snap of breaking wood high above, and the cord goes slack and drops down atop you. You 'fall' the single foot back to the ground, landing like a cat, so silently that neither the Docent nor the staff realize you were just trying to climb the shutter-cord.
It appears your thirty-something pounds broke loose the wooden shutter mechanism to which the cord was attached. It seems unlikely that anyone, even another halfling, used the leather cords to ascend or descend.
@ Javi and Rosalia: (Sorry, I missed that Javi had been looking more closely at the reed.) The piece of reed is hollow-- you can clearly see light through the other end if you hold it up to your eye. The ends are smooth, as if neatly cut from a bigger piece of reed by a bladed implement.
After quite a long time hunting on the boat (there's a lot of reeds there, yo), you can find a bit that looks as though it might have been the source for the purloined bit of reed.
Rook, if asked to sniff around at the spot where the reed-bit has gone missing, picks up on a faint scent that he tracks back over to the sarcophagus, where the reed-piece was first found.
The Arch Docent has grown quite bored as you spend time poking at reeds and boats. "Perhaps we should discuss your 'reward'...."
After the long searching process, while him and all the others attempt to gather as many clues as possible, Heldar turns back towards his companions, attempting to have a private conversation - "Ok, so... We don't really have that much to go on with... Maybe the hollow reed came from the boat, but I don't understand if it means anything or not. Though..."
Heldar turns again his attention to the reed boat, but this time not towards it specifically, but towards its surroundings, namely above and below - "So... If the boat was apparently disturbed..." - he reasons out loud - "Could someone have landed on it from above, or disturbed it, coming from below?"
As the Arch Docent speaks, he retorts - "If you would allow us please just a few more moments Arch Docent, we should be finished here promptly" - then offers a polite smile.
Shaggar hrmphs at their progress and catches the Arch-Docent's ear. "If we can't track the thieves, maybe we can track the goods. Tell us about the stolen things. What do they look like? Are they part of a set? Are they from the same period? Is there someone you know who wanted one or all of them?"
There are no openings in the floor that Heldar perceives. It seems to be solid stone. The roof, twenty-odd feet above, seems to also be solid stone, inasmuch as he can tell from the ground. It does not seem likely that anyone simply landing on, or pushing past, the boat would have dislodged a neatly cut piece of reed that wound up some 15 feet away. Alas!
The Docent sighs and nods at Heldar's words, and gives Shaggar a sidelong look that turns into a nod, as if he's admitting to himself it is a reasonable question.
"Most of these articles date, as near as we can tell, from or about the reign of the Four Pharaohs," he says in the tones of a lecturer. "They are not part of any set other than their general chronological grouping and similar artistic traditions, which is a function of the former.
"The sword is that of a palace guardsman-- better made than the average soldier's blade, a fine example of the blacksmith's craft, but of historical and artistic interest only. The blade is steel, the grip is bronze; there are some semi-precious stones inlaid into the pommel, as I recall.
"The jewelry-- the amulets and the pectoral-- might be the most valuable in terms of resell to some foreign vulture-- small enough to be easily transported and to escape customs notice. Made primarily of gold and painted faience pieces. While faience itself is not terribly valuable as a material, the antiquity of the pieces and their artistic merit might fetch a high price-- the workmanship is quite exquisite.
"Of the jars... they are stamped with cartouches to indicate they hold the preserved organs of a senior court official, most likely the secretary to the Cerulean Pharaoh. I cannot imagine any but a historian having significant interest in those. I'm sure they will be hawked to some foreign collector for a pittance of their worth," he sighs.
"The mask, I suppose, is most valuable for its raw materials. It is a death-mask, although we do not know whose, which is slightly unusual as such masks were always molded to the faces of those they resembled, and inscribed with their owners' name, as well. It's especially stylized, however-- some theorize that it was designed to adorn the face of a particularly ugly ruler or official who might not have wished their own features enshrined in gold," he says drily. "Hammered gold, with red-and-black dyed feathers. Well-made, but not a masterpiece."
Shaggar, you would bet your tail that the Docent seems as if he would say something more of the mask, but changes his mind at the last minute and shuts his mouth instead.
"I had no particular buyers interested in any of those items. This was an.. interesting collection, but by no means the most valuable of those present in the museum. The thieves must have been poorly informed."
Almost as an afterthought, the Docent adds on, "None of the items were magical, of course."
On a total whim, Rosalia decides to try opening the sarcophagus, listening to the Docent's talk of his missing relics with one ear and Rook's whining that he's doing far too much work for one day with the other. It did seem odd that the reed had landed all the way over here, but she couldn't think of a single reason why that might be...
Rosalia: the sarcophagus lid is heavy! Shoving with all your oomph, you can coax the lid a few grinding inches.
The Docent looks over irritably at the sound of granite rubbing along granite. "Oh now what. There's no corpse in there, you know--"
You could tell him that, since you're staring into the gap created by your pushing. The sarcophagus's insides are indeed empty of mummies-- but there is an empty glass bottle down at the bottom, and also by the light spilling in you think you see crude writing on the smooth inside stone walls of the sarcophagus.
The bottle: is empty. It does not look like the bottle Javi is carrying, being made of sturdier glass, designed to be carried around by rugged folk who do rugged things, as opposed to being designed to break at the slightest provocation. Some potion or oil must have been contained within. Rook thinks it smells nice.
The writing: Someone has chalked up the inside of this sarcophagus. The script is definitely not hieroglyphic. Calling your allies over, you enlist Shaggar's mighty muscles and force the lid off while the Docent gawks.
Oh yeah, these are definitely not hieroglyphs... although some of the them are drawings...
On the underside of the stone lid is a large, somewhat crude (in terms of artistic skill) drawing of a stick-figure halfling engaged in somewhat crude (in terms of content) activities which include: peeing on a symbol of Abadar; being entertained by two cartoonishly buxom elves? nymphs? something?; poking an ogre in the eye; and reclining on a mountain of gold coins.
Most of the inscriptions are written in Osiriani, and feature such literary gems as: For a good time, find Shu-thet in the Twisted Street and
Why do dwarves grow beards?
To provide counterweight for their back hair.
What do elves of the Underdark wear?
Drowsers.
Finally, there's an inscription in a language Rosalia doesn't speak, but Javi does...
--Oh, and there's one more bottle in the sarcophagus other than the empty one, down at the foot of the small stone space. It is full of a yellow liquid. Neither Rook, nor Hatyah, understand why you would waste perfectly good marking material like that.
Rosalia's reaction to receiving a quite shiny gold star is not joy and happiness but rather a particularly obscene stream of curses that would cause those used to more proper environs to blush. Her time spent in less than savoury company during the formative years of her youth no doubt expanding her vocabulary in rather... interesting ways.
"When I find that sneaky little <censored censored> I am going to wring his neck and pour that bottle of piss down his <censored> throat!" She declares finally, stamping her boot down on the ground in disgust. "Bloody Halflings! Gaah!"
Perched up on the corner of the sarcophagus, Javi gives a humph… a mix of surprise and disappointment.
"Other than good planning, this doesn't show any real skill. Well, that's not entirely true… the rhymes are funny."
He pauses, then gives the lid a few testing pushes . "Though I wonder how easy it was to get out of this thing…"
As he tests the lid's weight, he considers all the evidence. "Say, Arch Docent, when was this thing last moved?"
Shaggar growls in thought, "I think the halfing had an accomplice who hid in the boat. When he shifted the lid to get the thief out, the piece of reed dropped from his clothing. And it was that man who was made to look like me. The Captain needs to know about this. Wait... the reed was cut not broken? Maybe not an accomplice then."
Shaggar waits until the servants are all away, a couple of them herded by Hatyah, before he looks at the Arch Docent... hard. A metronomic tapping starts. In a moment, it is clear that the long, curved, wickedly sharp, dew-claw on Shaggar's foot is gently scratching the floor. "Arch Docent, you were going to say something more about the funeral mask. You should do that."
An excellent question regarding how easy it might have been (or not) to get out, Javi!
You're the Mighty Mite of halflings-- it's actually easier for you to drag the lid around than it was for Rosalia-- but you think that if you were inside said sarcophagus and had to push up on the lid from within, it would be a nearly impossible job. It is just too heavy.
Perhaps the empty potion bottle contained something to assist your culprit in getting out of the stone box...?
The Arch Docent takes a few seconds to reply-- his face is a mottled red, and his first words come out sputtery and choked.
"H-he-- this-- chalk-- defiling-- drawings-- priceless antiquity-- GNAH!"
Getting himself under control with an effort, the Arch Docent grits his teeth. "I am sure I do not know when the sarcophagus was last moved-- probably when it was placed into this room, months, nay, years ago. It is not an easy thing to move several tons of stone, you know-- the displays of the sarcophagi generally stay in place once we have them there."
(Javi's Knowledge Local) You actually have heard the name 'The Neversword'! A thief (shocking, I know) of some repute-- famed as a cryptbreaker and cat burglar, though not native to Osirion. You'd never heard a solid confirmation of race or even gender before, but back in Katapesh alone there had been several bounties out for the thief. The Neversword is supposed to be an expert at locks and traps. It appears you have a face to go with the myth, now. (And frankly, you think he might be a little overhyped, given how easily you managed to get his key from him.)
As far as fencing the goods go: a few hours digging would probably suffice to find notable local black market vendors, but this assumes that the thieves actual do wind up selling the items in question. The old woman you saw at the auction and then at the Dung Beetle might be a canny source of intel, perhaps. And while the Kemeserian deals (supposedly) in only certified artifacts, he must surely do something with the items which he can't auction off...
Shaggar, there is no imprint inside the sarcophagus, alas-- since the lid is usually on tight, general atmospheric dust can't easily get inside. As for your question to the Docent...
The Docent jerks guiltily and blinks at Shaggar. He crosses his arms defensively and looks to the left and then to the right, glancing to the workers who are standing around at loose ends since their cleaning was stopped. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about... you lot! Out of the room, I am discussing matters of import with these individuals."
The workers shuffle out and the Docent steps closer, looking somewhat nervous.
"You mustn't let this be noised about," he says in a grumpy hiss. "It's quite foolish, really, but it would tarnish the museum's reputation... the funerary mask, ah, it's.... well... it's a replica. This thief stole what is, essentially, a commissioned forgery."
Shaggar nods. "Clever way to beat a thief, Arch Docent. Is the real one worth so much?"
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After regaining her composure to some degree, Rosalia decides to join Shaggar's conversation with the Docent, if only because thinking about filthy stinkin' thieving halflings that always seemed a half-step ahead of them was giving her an aneurysm.
"Do you own the real mask?" She asks, "Or did you just happen to accidentally purchase a forgery?"
The Docent makes a wry face at Shaggar's compliment, shrugging. "Worth so much...? I don't know, honestly. I only know that... well, when I saw the original, I wanted it. It's quite-- singular...
"Neither," he says to Rosalia's question. "I wished to purchase the original, decades ago-- that dreadful man wouldn't sell! He agreed, at last, to let it be duplicated by a craftsman-- and I had to pay a pretty price for even that 'privilege'! His blasted son is no better-- he keeps the original squirreled away in his private collection, where none but his own eyes can ever see it! I ask you, is that not the height of selfishness?! Out of spite, I am sure!"
The Docent launches into an impassioned tirade about the public good and how very very horrible the mask's current owner is. You are able to pick out of his rant that he is, indeed, referring to the Crook Bearer-- his rival in bidding at the auction.
Aaaaand you've come full circle, in a sense. The mask is stolen! The mask is fake! The mask is with the Crook Bearer!
Shaggar scratches at his chin, craning his neck, and musing on the disparate pieces of the puzzle. "Looks like this Neversword sealed himself in the coffin for a long wait. Perhaps the reed kept the lid ajar enough to provide a breath of air or was a breathing tube." He plucks up the empty bottle and smells it.
"You'd think the reed would be crushed by the heavy stone though," Rosalia remarks with a frown. "There are magics that would allow him to sustain himself with limited air, though - and even more mundane alchemical materials. So it's not implausible that he was in there for some time."
She continues, mostly just speaking to try and sort her thoughts out. "How he got out of there is easy - that's probably some kind of polymorph potion, and he transformed himself into a gnoll; strong enough to push the lid off, and a convenient way to pin the crime on someone else. But how on earth would he have gotten in there?"
"Arch-Docent, is this room frequently patrolled by guards during the daytime? Would it be possible for a patron of your museum to have been in this room, alone, long enough to... say... sneak inside the sarcophagus?"