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The Pathfinders are easily able to slip past the Legionnaires, distracted as they are. The soldiers have surrounded V's magical construct, but quickly realize that it is. One of the two commanders, who holds a familiar signet ring, mutters, "This is just great. Looking for some smugglers that don't exist, all on some tip from the 'Shadow Lodge,' whatever that is..." The party is swift to mount the waiting camels, and by the time the Legion notices the disappearance, they are too far gone to chase after.
It is a short journey, little more than a few miles, to Wadi al-Hesr. Agosa easily locates his contact, who will lead him to the hidden Swordmeet Lodge in Manaket. Both thank the team profusely for their services and arrange passage for them on the next boat back to Absalom.
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It has been slightly longer than a week since the turbulent events of the team's last great adventure, in which Pathfinders successfully smuggling a holy hand of Sarenrae into the godless nation of Rahadoum to combat yet another new plague that sprung up, jeopardizing valuable Society operations. Aside from being puzzled by a cryptic piece of information regarding the 'Shadow Lodge,' no significant problems arose. Since then, the agents have found housing in the city of Manaket, gearing up and waiting for their next mission.
“They’ve been missing for almost a week now,” the dour venture-captain says, holding a bucketful of feed over the stable door as the gorgeous stallion eats its fill. Venture-Captain Obo, the ranking Pathfinder in the Manaket region, strokes its nose fondly, then removes the bucket. His beard is lustrous but dominated with gray, and his voice is cultured and deep, a pleasing baritone.
“There were four of them, including your friend Agosa Agion. They had been researching some ancient artifacts of the Jistka Imperium that they had uncovered somewhere near Wadi al-Hesr. Very rare specimens indeed. Loot from some long-forgotten tomb, surely. The whole thing was very hush-hush since it could provide a lead to one of the lost cities of Jistka buried somewhere under the sands of the Rahadoumi desert. That’s something the Aspis Consortium and any one of a dozen or more other organizations would want to get their hands on, so it’s got to be Pathfinders that get there first.
“Musin Ptomais, the leader of the team, informed me by missive that they had found an artifact of particular interest — some sort of ancient puzzle that could form a map to this lost city, but that they had to return to the source to try and make sense of it. He promised that as soon as they were certain of its location, they would send me word. He wouldn’t tell me any more than that, though. At the time all the precautions seemed a bit silly, but now with this business with the Shadow Lodge traitors in our midst, Ptomais is looking like a genius.”
Obo sighs wearily, opens another door, and leads out a magnificent chestnut stallion. Grunting as he bends over, the Pathfinder carefully inspects its hooves. “I never heard from them again. I sent my servants to their base of operations in Wadi al-Hesr, but the place was broken into and ransacked. The only thing of interest my servants could find was this.”
At that, he holds out a scrap of papyrus, which reads:
“Follow the footsteps of those Pathfinders and find them. Bring them out of whatever trouble they’ve gotten into, and then send me word.” He heaves a saddle onto the mount and tightens the girth. “Or bring them here directly. Either way, we’ve got to make sure that the information they carry is safe in Pathfinder hands. I only fear that the Shadow Lodge may be behind this whole thing, and that we may already be too late.” Venture-Captain Obo swings gracefully into the saddle. “My servant Sayeki will take you to Wadi al-Hesr if need be. Complete the task quickly; we are in a race against those who would destroy the Pathfinder Society.” Without another word, Obo spins his mount around and rides out of the stable.
With no one to ask questions of besides the rather ignorant servant Sayeki, the attention of the Pathfinders is turned to the papyrus. None of them are able to make heads nor tails of it, at which Sayeki snorts. "It's an old dating convention, often used here in northern Garund," he says. "It means 'in the seventh month of the year 4211 on its fifteenth day until the eleventh month of the year 4281 on its twentieth day.'"
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The crowd at the Manaket slave market is substantially larger and rowdier than usual. It seems that a certain Andoran celebrity has chosen to swoop in and cause a scene....
"Friends, countrymen of spirit! Here in this land you have taken a noble and audacious stand: That no soul ought be made to bend their knee to self-proclaimed higher beings, and despite the warnings of sycophants and hierophants, you have wrought here a mighty and beautiful nation built on that vision! And yet, here in this market, you betray that very vision in the most crass and selfish of ways! Let me tell you a tale: I was not always the free man you see before you. I know the evils of being subjugated by my fellow mortal firsthand, one who claimed to be my better, and from there led us upon a creeping primrose path...." He continues.
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Cirri has spent her week trying new spells, flying around the city at night, testing various humanoid forms, and trying to crack the next level of transformations. She has also spent her time pitying the slaves, "accidentally" dropping waterskins into slave cages and annoying slave masters.
"Ooo! A puzzle!" Cirri wracks her brain against it. "Hey, is it a d-" Sayeki informs everyone it's a date. "Yeah. I was gonna say that. Why is this important, though?"
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Thinking on the matter, Cirri notes the most likely location for a tombstone with these dates is a cemetery known as the Karzha Necropolis, about five miles from Wadi al-Hesr. It is perhaps an hour away by camel or horse, or three away on foot. Sayeki has been several times and tells you where a death in the year 4281 would approximately lie in the graveyard, but refuses to accompany you. "I fear something is afoot, beyond my capabilities," he says in explanation. "I can take you to the Pathfinder safe house in Wadi al-Hesr, or anywhere else there or in Manaket, to make purchases. However, it would be wise to make haste, whatever you are to do."
"I don't know why it's important, if at all. That question would likely be better answered on site," he responds to Cirri.
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Marra thanks the black market merchant who assisted with the locally questionable acquisition she made.
Marra puzzles over the numbers on the parchment until the Sayeki explains the dates, "That date range is nearly a 70 year span, It could very well refer to someone's birth and death dates. They would have lived a little over 400 years ago. We should go check the grave yard out. Hopefully whoever they are were is still resting peacefully."
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After making a few token purchases, the party is ready to move. Sayeki provides enough camels for everyone. "I understand if you don't want to use them," he states bluntly. "You Avistani do seem to think they smell. Still, time is of the essence." Whether using the offered camels or some other mode of transport, the team arrives quickly enough. Access to the Necropolis is not restricted during the day, making the search much easier and more legal.
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"Thanks for the camels! They don't stink, at least not compared to other animals in this habitat. And it's a nice tradeoff for the natural ability to deal with sandstorms!" Cirri hops onto her camel without a second thought.
Cirri shudders as she looks through the graveyard. She checks her new springloaded wand sheath to make sure the wand of shield is inside, and clutches onto her quarterstaff.
"Please no undead, please no undead..."
But paranoia clouds her senses.
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Cirri feels a lump in her throat. "Ugh, graveyards." She ponders for a moment.
"Hey, can someone use Hide from Undead?" She turns to Karos. "If I buy a scroll, can you hang on to it?"
"Yes, Ma'am," says Karos. carefully rolling the parchment and placing it in his haversack.
He helps to look for the grave, his keen gunslinger's eyes glinting blue as his gaze roves over the broken tombstones.
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After perhaps an hour of searching, the party comes upon a small mausoleum, one of many that dots the graveyard. This one is dedicated to Adel al-Manhir, who appears to be some relatively wealthy landowner, and whose birth and death dates match the papyrus. His mausoleum is not impressive, a single room made of sandstone, the door forced open. Shelves line the inside, all occupied by desiccated corpses - servants of the deceased, perhaps? Shandra and Karos note many unshod footprints, as well as the fact that the dusty top of the sarcophagus has been removed and replaced. Opening it once again will take some effort.
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Marra wouldn't miss a chance to ride a camel to the grave yard. The halfling finds many interesting grave markers before the group finds the small mausoleum.
Examining the sarcophagus for a moment, the halfling tries to aid anyone in moving the lid, but is of no help "Sorry I'm more of a dancer than a weight lifter."
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The party tries its best to move the lid, but to no avail. Shandra hangs back to divine significance from the prints, which she discerns as those of elongated humanoid feet with long, jagged toenails. She then moves up to the stone and, after several minutes, manages to push it from its resting place. The slab falls away to reveal a black aperture. A horrific miasmic stench rushes from the hole, a nauseous mixture of neglect, decay, and sweet spices. No corpse lies within the tomb, only the top of a flight of irregular stone steps leading steeply downward into the earth, somewhere between 100 and 150 feet.
After a quick climb down the stairs, the first room is revealed. Ancient Osiriani hieroglyphs cover this chamber’s dusty walls and floor. A body lies face down at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a tan robe, a blotch of red staining its back. The repugnant smell of decaying flesh hangs in the air. There also appear to be many more of the prints found in the mausoleum, as well as two sets of shod feet. Before anything can be properly examined, however, an arrow shoots out of nowhere at Shandra, straight across the room!
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Now that everyone has been warned, it is little trouble to stay out of the way of the trap. The body appears to be that of one of the Pathfinders, Desi Talan. Salvageable from his body are his weapon and armor, two curative elixirs, two flasks of holy water, and a scroll. His ornate lute lies broken beneath him, and he appears to have died from the trap, although any arrows seem to have been removed.
It is also noted several carnivorous scarab beetles have taken up residence in Desi's corpse, so they can be avoided before switching hosts. Had they remained undetected, they may have tried to infest whoever tried to touch their current home.
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The Amazing Vanzetti's eyes tear up slightly with blood as he paces about the hall deciphering the hieroglyphics.
"'Eternal glory be to he, Verdizaam Charad...the Immolated Mirza...most virtuous, kind, and generous...slayer of a thousand legions...most noble...this fine, honorable man whose sandals you are not worthy to kiss...faced the galloping hordes...one hundred wicked men with swords...first place in the spelling bee'...blahblahblahblah-BLAH...ah, 'against the Jistka Imperium!' And what else is this...? Oh, more rubbish...except its all bad things now...ohhh, it's not talking about HIM anymore, it's...'the Night Plague...accursed...woe to all...potions, powders, and prayers, yet none prevailed...parents buried their children...wrath of the gods,' OF COURSE...'wailing and gnashing of knees...despoiler of youth, beauty, and love...this most accursed Night Plague.' That's it??? All that, and the damn thing hardly even names the symptoms!"
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"Whatever the Night Plague is, it can't be good." Cirri resets her wand and puts her scroll of comprehend languages away as the shield dissipates.
"This scroll of bless weapon...any paladins in the house? Otherwise I can hold onto it. I've learned a bit on how to use scrolls magi wouldn't normally know."
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While Vanzetti deciphers the ancient hieroglyphs Shandra and Marra check the many footprints in the room, and discern from them two shod humanoids, likely remaining Pathfinders, fought many unshod ones with long feet and toenails before fleeing further east. They also notice what seems to be a trigger for a massive sealing stone at the foot of the stairs, but none of the party are able to successfully disable it, try as they might. Slightly discouraged, they move on, careful to avoid the trap.
Through a corridor and past a room of little significance containing three more empty sarcophagi, the next room features a disturbing sight. Two bodies lie slumped and bloody on the flagstones of this room. One of the corpses leans against the wall, stripped to the waist, its chest cavity torn open and hollowed out. The other body lies face down in the middle of the floor, clothed in desert garb with a green turban.
The room itself is spacious, though part of the roof seems to have fallen in, leaving a clutter of stone debris on the floor. Alcoves line the walls, each one holding an ornate sarcophagus. At the far end stands a 30-foot-tall stone idol of a winged humanoid beast with a horned, lion-like visage.
Based on descriptions given by Sayeki, the disemboweled corpse appears to be Verit of Aspenthar, another Pathfinder. The clothes of the other are quickly recognized as those of Agosa Agion, the healer the Society recently had smuggled into Rahadoum to help combat the Night Plague. Upon hearing footsteps, he moans and twitches slightly. "Please, no more..."
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Cirri realizes she needs to study more planar activity when she gets back to wizardry school. It's just... so fun learning the intricacies of quarterstaves.
She frowns when she sees the disemboweled human, but she recognizes Agosa almost immediately. She reaches for her wand of Cure Light Wounds and hustles towards him. "Agosa, it's okay! We're here to help!"
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Cirri and Shandra hurry forward, closely pursued by the rest of the team, ready to assist their ally. But as they get within several feet, "Agosa" rolls over and a chilling wave of soul-sapping energy flows forth from him! As if by a signal, scraping and rustling can be heard from the four alcoves containing sarcophagi, and hideous ghouls emerge from behind them - it was a trap! Whether Agosa is being impersonated or has been turned into an undead horror by some fell power remains to be seem; he will have to be dealt with first.