As Abdur finishes his speech and a line starts to form Augustus turns to Abbe and uncharacteristically whispers to him, "We should get in line, it’ll make it a lot easier to get into the tombs with a local like this guy funding us. Plus it’ll cut out costs on our end.” As he finishes speaking he stands up and walks to the end of the line noting that most of the others didn’t compare to him in size or stature.
This is perfect, even if Abbe doesn’t get chosen it’s a shoe in that I will. Money is money after all…. Plus look at me, there isn’t any way they won’t choose me over the others in here.
Eventually Augustus was standing in front of Abdur. He stepped forward with a grin on his face and began to speak loudly to the man, “Hail friend! I am Augustus Voralius, third of my name! You may have heard of me or my exploits before. Obviously I’d be of great use to this… Hibzib Alm…Amol… Royal Adventuring Party you’re putting together. Aside from being a talented combatant I am used to the deserts of your land. Maximus, my war steed, and I can provide protection like no other. Also I have no qualms about giving up anything we find in the necropolis to you, for fair price of course. If want to know more about me and why I’d be a good fit I can tell you about the time I took out a den of trolls a few years back….”
”Very well… well if you have time later and wish to hear a hero’s tale I’ll be happy to finish the story!”
August takes a seat at his table and waits for others to sit near so that he can boast more of his tales while waiting for the final announcement about who would join the Royal Adventuring Party.
Upon hearing the words lottery he smiles and speaks up. "May the sun be between you and all the dark places you walk. My name is Akil-Khalid. And I would like to join one of those teams selected to explore our ancestors tombs."Abdur notes your name and smiles up at you from his seat. ”Our ancestors ay? I like it when the locals get involved - increases the chances that the loot will stay local, you know? So, what can you offer to help our poor reputation survive. What do you have to offer the team?”
After Abdur makes his speech, Grod gets up and walks over to the line. When he reaches Abdur, he says "Well, there's the obvious. I'm a warrior. 'Tween may axe and my lady friend over there" he jerks his thumb at the table, where Miryam sits lapping up milk from the bowl in front of her "I can make a mess of most thugs, wild beasts, and the like. Might have a bit more trouble with magical foes, but if they bleed I can kill 'em. Eventually." he says, before switching to the new Osiriani...Abdur grows wistful when he speaks of the old ways, and murmers a bit of poetry in the ancient tongue.
”sa'adhhab 'iilaa alma' maeak,
waykhruj lak yahmil samkatan humra',
alladhi hu mjrd haqq fi 'asabiei.”** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
"Sorry. It's all the poetry I know, but it sounds so beautiful in the ancient tongue!" He puts a note next to your name and calls for the next in line.
** spoiler omitted **...
Reaching into his sleeve the young man procures a string of simple looking prayer beads. Looking into Abdur's eyes his eyes take a steely gaze. But then he smiles. " What can I offer? I have faith in my god and he has faith in me. My elders took care that I heard the songs of days past, of poems and stories, and deeds and wonders. My voice and words are trained to be clear. My faith can sooth your wounds and in battle you will feel the skys blessing and I call for the birds to aid my comrades. But those are what I can do. What I am is determined and if I give my word it is a rock you can lean on." With a slight bow he makes the sign of Hor and asks for a small chalice of spiced wine.
"Abdur, you may not recognize me, but my name is Nidhi Aashirya. My grandmother and I operate a small tailoring shop in Midwife that has existed for generations. I believe we may have spoken a few times in Sunburst Market, although I know you’re a busy man so I don’t blame you if you don’t recognize me.”
“I’ve been living in Wati my entire life, living day to day with little to no recognition or adventure. I’m tired of just being Nidhi Aashirya, the tailor. I want to be something more. I want to bring my family name honor and honor to all those residing in Wati. Please consider me for your list. If I am chosen, I will complete great feats of heroism in Pharasma’s name and do my best to keep relics inside Wati walls and away from the black market.”
”Nidhi.” he rolls the name around his mouth as if sampling it, ”I do indeed remember you, but I think this is the first time we’ve been introduced.” he tries to get up but he’s hemmed in by bodies and shrugs instead, holding out his hand.
”…away from the black market is good! These are our antiquities after all. Let’s keep them local if we can, eh?” he grins up at her as he notes her information.
Most Esteemed Abdur, these others choose to speak in our native language where you have chosen to start the conversation in Taldane. I do not know if they intend to hide details of their pleas from some foreigners, or if they seek only to flatter you.
I believe most present understand the Osirian tongue, so I deem the effort to be wasted regardless of the intent…
I beseech you, sir, to include me in the team you assemble.
He straightens in his chair, and peers at the formal gentleman standing before him. Somewhat uneasy in his countenance, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he replies, ”Of course you shall be seriously considered. Any from the holy church are to be considered, naturally. Pharasma controls this expedition as you know, and we’ll follow all the protocols. That I promise you!”
"Abdur my good friend," He starts moving his hand to clasp him on the shoulder but stops short and pauses, "You can't act friendly this is for a job, for you destiny, pull yourself together." He moves his hand up to his mouth and clears his throat "I mean hello, greetings Abdur and how are you this fine day. Do you notice anything different about me?" He spreads his arms wide to show of his new equipment. As he does he stumbles slightly from the change in stance and it doesn't help that the floor is rocking like Bargetown. He regains his footing and goes on. "I finally did it I saved up enough money to...
”Ahhh, Zoda. So you’re no longer a guide ‘eh? Going to try your hand at this? I daresay you’ll be quite good at it, if you can avoid the wine.” he trails off a little looking at the man before him. Drunk, yes. But there’s a determination there he had not seen before. Abdur seems to make a decision, ”Very well my friend. I shall put you down, and consider you seriously. Even in your cups, you always were a stand up man.” he makes some quick notes, though fewer than with some others - just reminders of what he already knows.
"Of course, Adbur, I would only investigate the tombs assigned to me. and cause no trouble. It is the best chance I've had to explore them since I became a man. "
Abdur smiles broadly, ”Excellent, then we completely understand each other.”
When her turn comes to speak with Abdur, she takes a deep breath and tries to steady her nerves. "Greetings Abdur," she begins, offering a bow of respect. "My name is Florence Corvina and I've traveled here to Wati from the nation of Taldor. I...I'd like you to consider me for the team that you're forming."
She glances around at the multitude of hopeful applicants and then back at their host. "I'm no warrior or scholar but I have some magical talents and skill with treating wounds, poison, and other ailments. Although all of these applicants are skilled and capable, accidents still happen and I think I would be able to help set things right again when they do. As for what I seek in return, I...I...وقد دعوت هنا، من قبل شخص ما، وأريد أن أعرف لماذا. وأعتقد أن إجاباتي تكمن في اليانصيب ... بطريقة أو بأخرى..." she finishes, with some difficulty - her grasp of Osiriani is clearly that of a beginner.
Abdur responds in common, ”No need to use the Osirion tongue. You’ll improve with use, but it’s really not too bad. Your accent is, of course, atrocious!” he laughs. He turns a little serious, ”As you say, accidents happen. Often on purpose, and having someone there who can deal with them is most vital indeed. I wish you luck.”
“Well, uhm…I suppose I…As I was saying before you sir disappeared in front of me, I’m Benedictus West Dickens, former professor of Osirian History and Archeology at Egorian University. Since I know from your previous conversation that your main concern is the loot obtained from the exploration, as it’s natural for a man of your trade, I’m not going to bore you with a tale about how much I would like to see Osirion’s antiquities and relics with my very eyes. Instead, I’ll talk about money. Treasure. Loot. Isn’t that what the Pharaoh’s edict was about? Well, to keep it simple, one cannot recognize a treasure if he does not know its value. And even though I may not be good at slaying monsters and disable traps, or to carry out of the tomb all of the loot contained therein at that, I can identify almost any kind of magical and archeologically valuable item. Moreover, my knowledge of the history of Ancient Osirion could come in handy to every group of adventurers. I know the weakness of many monsters frequently encountered in tombs and crypts alike, and I can cast a few useful spell to ensure my group does not end up killed by some guardian left behind by the tomb’s builders. And if that still does not suffice, I’m also able to foresee what is going to happen. I’m not a seer by any means, of course, but I’ve been gifted with a mind quick enough to realize when danger is approaching and react to it before it’s too late. For example, that scrivener of yours…is going to drop his inkpen”
To impress the man, Ben makes an effort to grab the inkpen before it falls to the ground and gives it back to the scrivener. “No mystic power involved though. Only the wonderful rational power of an attentive mind. Your scrivener couldn’t keep up with my words because I voluntarily started to speak faster in order to push him to his limits and cause him to drop his pen. I’ve seen him doing five times before now, so I knew he could have done it again”.
Abdur smiles, and chuckles, patting his scrivener on the arm. ”Ahh, it’s so simple when you explain it. You should be a merchant, not a delver!” he exclaims, smiling broadly. He writes his own note in the margin of your name before turning to the next applicant.
Tepid water and a plate of figs, if you please.
”Uh. We don’t have that kind of water sir, my apologies. I do have some fresh though, and can add a little fruit if you like?”
Eventually Augustus was standing in front of Abdur. He stepped forward with a grin on his face and began to speak loudly to the man, “Hail friend! I am Augustus Voralius, third of my name! You may have heard of me or my exploits before. Obviously I’d be of great use to this… Hibzib Alm…Amol… Royal Adventuring Party you’re putting together. Aside from being a talented combatant I am used to the deserts of your land. Maximus, my war steed, and I can provide protection like no other. Also I have no qualms about giving up anything we find in the necropolis to you, for fair price of course. If want to know more about me and why I’d be a good fit I can tell you about the time I took out a den of trolls a few years back….”
”Very well… well if you have time later and wish to hear a hero’s tale I’ll be happy to finish the story!”
On the contrary, Abdur is quite enthralled by your story, and seems willing to sit and listen until it’s conclusion, but his scrivener prods him, and he does, eventually, cut in. ”Oh most certainly. Perhaps you could return this evening and regale the whole pub with your story. Most fascinating. If this doesn’t work out for you, I may have other uses. Yes… quite.” he trails off in his own thoughts for a moment, before turning to the next applicant.
Dilana Hemlock, the demanding intellect.
Raman Aldwislagsun, a bronze skinned dwarf with more up his nose than hair.
Augustus Voralius III, the brave and noble Abadarian.*
Zoda Kogala, the drunk.
Prof Benedictus Dickens, the Osirionologist.
Tali The Nomad, a Garundi with smokey eyes.
Abbe Barakat, the wealthy marketeer.*
Shemei Ha-Norat-Ne, the illegitimate serpent.
Hyir Akil, the running bookworm.
Khalid Safar, the curious son.
Nidhi Aashirya, the tailor.
Hudjefa, the ward of Pharasma.
Tetradia Muzaka, the Oppara builder.
Grod The Cunning, man in two worlds.
Florence Corvina, the reborn.
Cahal ud’Din, the mother.
Akil Khalid, of the complex family.
- - -
Reaching into his sleeve the young man procures a sring of simple looking prayer beads. Looking into Abdur's eyes his eyes take a steely gaze. But then he smiles. "What can I offer? I have faith in my god and he has faith in me. My elders took care that I heard the songs of days past, of poems and stories, and deeds and wonders. My voice and words are trained to be clear. My faith can sooth your wounds and in battle you will feel the skys blessing and I call for the birds to aid my comrades. But those are what I can do. What I am is determined and if I give my word it is a rock you can lean on."...
"Good man, faith can indeed get you far - a rock indeed! I shall note your application. But, pray tell, what is your faith sir? Who do you revere?"
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Finally, she blurts: "As a Pharasmin, what is your opinion regarding the Old Gods?" then immediately curses herself for choosing such a delicate topic for their first real conversation.
The Lady of Graves has been shepherding souls since the Age of Creation, so you can say that I have a special affinity for the Old Gods.
As for any particular individual's choice of worship, I hold no love or enmity for practitioners of other faiths. All who live must face her judgement.
This last phrase is delivered as an intonation, though (due to Hudjefa's nature) you are unsure if it was intended as a blessing or a warning.
Regardless of your faith, it will be the Lady who steers your soul to its final reward. Thus, it will behoove you to ensure that she views the events of your life in a positive light.
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Tepid water and a plate of figs, if you please.”Uh. We don’t have that kind of water sir, my apologies. I do have some fresh though, and can add a little fruit if you like?”
Hudjefa holds the bartender's eyes for several moments, allowing him to become distinctly uncomfortable.
Tepid means "not chilled". I find that food and drink which are either too hot or too cold cause most people abdominal discomfort. Especially in this heat, yes?
Fresh water would certainly be appreciated, as long as it is clean.
After a slight pause.
Just the figs, if you please
Hudjefa pulls a clean cup from his pack and pours from his own waterskin.
"Good man, faith can indeed get you far - a rock indeed! I shall note your application. But, pray tell, what is your faith sir? Who do you revere?"
Touching the beautiful engraved symbol of a falcon hanging on a braided cord around his neck Akil replies with the utter conviction of a true believer:"My prayers are answered by the god of the sky, the falcon-headed one, the god with one eye, the patron of law and Kings. I invoke his seven blessed name to ask his blessings on pacts and oaths, to strike fear in the hearts of the faithless and speak his name to focus my faith to heal my friends or harm the deathless. His most well known name is Horus!" And with that he follows an almost unnoticeable hieroglyph for hor on his symbol.
”…away from the black market is good! These are our antiquities after all. Let’s keep them local if we can, eh?” he grins up at her as he notes her information.
Nidhi smiles charmingly, nodding slightly at Adbur.
"You are a tailor? I have some fine dyed linen and my tribe may look to trade later, perhaps we should do business in the future-if this chaos does not spin out of control!"
Nidhi walks over to Tali, hips swaying gently. She places a hand on nearest table, her palm facing towards the center of the table and fingers curling around the table’s edge. Nidhi responds back to Tali in Osirion:
“Yes, I’m a tailor! I work with my grandmother, Jharna Aashirya, in her shop here in Midwife. She may be interested in a trade.” Nidhi angles her head to the side in interest. “You’re in a tribe? Please tell me about yourself and your people. Do remember any songs unique to your tribe? ”
Nidhi leans forward with her last question, as if particularly interested in hearing about music.
Okay, that's a relief. I was worried I was making some beginner mistake that was incredibly obvious and would potentially mess something up.
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"I am just a dabbler in things religious and know so little... But what about Osiris and Isis? Did she not bring him back from the dead? What of that?"
Eyes narrowing, Hudjefa turns his body and attention more fully toward Cahal.
Did she?
This question of rebirth... I suspect an ulterior motive.
When mortals begin thinking of rebirth, it is usually in response to a loss. These thoughts lead to...
Now sneering Necromancy.
He sniffs the air. You do not have the stink of the grave upon you. Nor do you have the appearance of a death mage. My lady, if you have lost someone, grieve and be done with it. If you need to speak with this person, find a white necromancer sanctioned by Pharasma.
Nidhi walks over to Tali, hips swaying gently. She places a hand on nearest table, her palm facing towards the center of the table and fingers curling around the table’s edge. Nidhi responds back to Tali in Osirion:
“Yes, I’m a tailor! I work with my grandmother, Jharna Aashirya, in her shop here in Midwife. She may be interested in a trade.” Nidhi angles her head to the side in interest. “You’re in a tribe? Please tell me about yourself and your people. Do remember any songs unique to your tribe? ”
Nidhi leans forward with her last question, as if particularly interested in hearing about music.
Tali replies, "نعم، عائلتي هي البدو الرحل. نقوم به بعض التجارية هنا في الواطي، وتبحث عن الأدوات والمواد الغذائية لتحمل لنا من خلال هذا الموسم.
أنا لا أعرف الكثير في طريق الغناء. أنا لست موسيقيا. ابن عمي إيتام يلعب الطبول وأحيانا من الخشب والناي"
I don't know much in the way of singing. I am not a musician. My cousin Etam plays drums and sometimes the wood-flute."
To Hyir she says, "I did not know that it was possible for magicians to remove curses - I thought they could only bestow them. It sounds very risky!"
Nidhi’s eyes widen slightly, the flute the drums. He must be talented.” Nidhi gives a friendly smile.
Feeling inspired, Nidhi rolls her shoulders backwards and snaps her fingers in unison, humming quietly and swaying side to side.
After a few sways back and forth, Nidhi sings in Common (Taldane) while making slow and steady hand gestures.
“That’s all I need,
For I am Pharasma’s seed
And they are my river and sun
Helping me grow into who I am destined to be.”
Nidhi’s visual performance is the dance that follows the song. Her hands make gestures suggesting water and the sun. The last hand flourish demonstrates the growth of a plant.
Nidhi finishes her song and gives a small bow, smiling. "I love music."
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The room is noisy and crowded, and Tetradia fears she has lost the thread of the conversation, especially once Abdur makes his announcement. But she refuses to let any of that faze her.
"You are right, Shemei, to one way of things it might seem easier to wait until the looting is complete, and then go and fix everything afterwards. My hope, however, is that my skills will allow for a group to do less damage in the first place. Which potentially means lower costs up front, and better salvage on the back end. That's just smart business."
Having finished her food, and her coffee, Tetradia starts on her wine. She makes a face against its bitterness, but finishes it anyway.
"And you're also right, Professor Dickens...Benedictus. I'm used to getting jobs based on my reputation. I haven't had to promote myself in a long time. I mean, Muzaka Imperial Construction would throw parties and wine and dine potential clients...but that's what father enjoyed. I'd rather smooth rough stonework in the pits than smoothtalk a man with money. But I guess that's what it's come down to."
Tetradia runs her hands through her hair, straightening her braids. She quickly wipes her face clean with the tail of her shirt, and breathes against her hand. The pungent smell of roasted garlic from her meal rebounds into her nose. She swears, and removes the mint leaves from her plate, and chews them vigorously. Then she excuses herself and gets in line to talk to Abdur.
After an uncomfortable wait, she makes her way to the front of the line.
"Master Abdur," she says, taking his hand. "My name is Tetradia Muzaka, of the Oppara Muzakas." She waits for a glimmer of recognition that never comes, then continues. "I am a stonemason. A builder. If we were in Oppara, I would take you on a tour of my works. Since we are not, I ask you to trust me. I come from a family of masons, and have been working with stone since I could first hold a chisel."
Tetradia pauses and looks at the proprieter, trying to guage his interest. "Among these assembled people there are many who will tell you they can break things. Break open the tombs and extract the treasure, scraping it off the walls if necessary. But I am the only one here who can disassemble the tomb, leaving everything virtually intact. You want whole, unblemished treasures, not fragments, ruins, and pieces. The value is in the artistry, and their is no artistry in destruction."
Tetradia is sweating now, unused to such speeches. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand."And what do I get from this? I get to put it back together. I am a follower of Soralyon, the Mystic Angel. The Guardian of Monuments. He has called me here, to Wati, and I may spend the rest of my life restoring the Necropolis to its former glory. It is better, I think, to start on that now. Stone only sets so fast."
"I have other skills, of course. Gifts from Soralyon. Some healing, some protection. And I can do a lot of damage with a hammer or a pick. I pull my wait. Should you hire me for your team, you will not be disappointed."
Tetradia blinks twice, as she realizes she has run out of things to say."So, uhh, thank you for your consideration." She stands there for another moment, listening to what Abdur has to say, and then she returns to her chair and shrugs at her tablemates.
Then she actually sees Grod and his companion, as if for the first time. "That," she says emphatically, "is one big lion. I thought we had lions in Taldor, but that...that, is most definitely a lion."
Raman's nostrils flared at Abdur's announcement, but he finished his meal methodically before getting up, donning his pack, and getting in line to add his name.
When he reaches the front, he signs his name to the list and remarks gruffly to Abdur in Osirion, "I'm the best trapsmith yer likely to find 'round here. I'll get yer team in unscathed, and..." he thumbs his nose knowlingly, "I've got a nose for valuables. You can be sure I won't miss any gold or silver hidden behind some false burial chamber."
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Ben smiles at Florence. A specialist...well, now that's a fitting definition, I believe "I wish you good luck too, milady. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to explore the forgotten sites scattered throughout Osirion for us all, although it's clear we won't be all making the cut for this team. Perhaps, if we don't get selected, we could try and put on our own group of adventurers? We would need funds and a sponsor, but I think we could manage to do it, given enough time. And come to think of it, I think we should broaden our project and share it with all the bystanders."
For a moment, Ben fantasizes about himself climbing up a podium and speaking with magniloquence to all the bystanders. His mind though quickly dismisses that fantasy as both unlikely and inappropriate. Hunching his shoulder and agreeing with the logical conclusions of his mind, Ben sets for something much easier. He simply takes a look around himself. His categorizing mind quickly organizes the bystanders in three different groups, making things a lot easier for the scholar. "Fine. Then I'm going", he says to the others with voice filled with agitation.
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Ben slowly walks towards another table where four people are sitting. He bows respectfully once they notice him, and with an awkward smile her tries to explain them his proposal. "Ehm...Uhm, good morning. I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Benedictus West Dickens, Osirionologist. I'm interested in exploring Wati's tombs and burial sites, and given your presence here I deduct you have my same goal. Uhm...Well, I wish you good luck for the selection here with Abdur, but should any among you fail to make the cut, I thought that it may be useful to share our names with each other so that we can try and build our own group of explorers." Ben gestures to one of the empty chairs at the table with a trembling hand. "May I-I?"
Ben sits down and pulls a blank journal out of his backpack. Then he takes out also his meticulously organized scrivener's set, opens it and puts the inkwell in front of him, ready to write down the names of the aspiring adventurers on the blank pages of his leather-bound journal.
"O-of course, my project should hold even if I get selected. In that case, I'll leave the information I gathered to one of you, if you wish so."
Cahal looks puzzled as she tries to make sense of the Pharasmin's words: "Look, I've been told I stank all kinds of ways- Wait! Do you know the Old Gods?!"
She was about to snarl, but the music stopped her. She turned, and smiled. Music was a rare pleasure. To be cherished.
Hearing someone speak the words"oĺd gods" Akil is about to speak up. Not old, true gods. Our gods, the goods of our ancestors and our children. . But remembering his own father he shrugs and orders spiced wine, and a small bowl of figs. Still he leans forward slighly, to better hear the scarred and tough womans words. The prayer beds slowly flow though his fingers and his lips silently speak praises to his god.
Ben giggles, finding an inexplicable humor in what Shemei has just said. “Oh, my tutor at the university was used to say that one day on the field equals one hundred days spent reading books. In this regard, you’re at least twice a scholar than me, apparently. But the way I see it, knowledge is something of a mix between theory and practice. No, no, no, this is commonplace. What I mean is that theory is a necessary condition in order to comprehend your experience regarding a particular subject, as experience is a much needed complement to theory, if you want to really know what you’re talking about. Now, that’s more like it, even though I’m not completely satisfied with my explanation…Anyway, the conclusion does not change. You shouldn’t be embarrassed by a lack of bookish culture. My father was completely lacking it, and still was the best man I’ve ever met, and he knew a number of things about Osirion that I still do not comprehend, despite years and years of study on this subject.”
With a smile on her face, Shemei shakes her head just slightly. "I believe you misunderstood me, brofessor... I'm far from embarrassed by my lack of time sbent in front of some dusty old books, quite on the contrary, actually. Much of what I know, I've learnt from zose who had never seen a single book in front of zeir eyes. Knowledge is everywhere, and I'd even dare to say zat, differently from a book zat will eventually become outdate, ze knowledge of ze land, of ze people, it changes in a daily basis."
"I agree zat, in many tobics, zere is no ozer way to learn if not from a tome, but doing so is only a bartial view o zings."
“Not to be repetitive, but…Have you considered books as an alternative source of information? I know, books are expansive and quite difficult to acquire, but reading a book is like dialoguing with people from ages past, and the best among them at that. Books can teach many things, when read carefully, although as I said before experiencing something is a different and perhaps more direct approach to it. As far as I know, books on Ancient Osiriani deities are not so common, but I know a famed Osirionologist who has been inquiring the matter for the last two decades. Perhaps I can send a letter to him and ask him to deliver me one of his books on the subject. Would you accept it?”
Now, a bit angry, Shemei crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Now you are offending me by underestimating my intelligence, brofessor, or do you zink I would risk my life entering some forgotten tomb, bossibly ridden with trabs and monsters, before trying to read a book?" She raises her eyebrows, in a clear gesture of incredulity. "Alas, you are from Egorian, right? So you are brobably referring of Brofessor Beltias Leroung? If it is ze case, you don't need to bozer with it, for his knowledge of Wadjet is not zat impressive."
Turning her face away from the professor, Shemei tries to focus on something else, watching Florence's interview. When the young woman returns to their table, Shemei smiles warmly. "See? Much better. Also, I can help with your Osiriani if you wish... you are not zat bad."
---
Now, watching the professor's turn, Shemei slightly rolls her eyes, even if a bit impressed. Well, if I end up working with him, I think I'll have nothing to fear regarding some advancements from him towards me... he is clearly in love with himself. As he returns, Shemei stands up and walks towards Abdur, noticing that she is probably the only one who had not yet added her name to his list. She speaks to him in fluent Osiriani.
"Master Abdur, my name is Shemei Ha-Noret-Ne, from the druids of Mahd in The Asp. I've left my village to seek the truths hidden beneath those tombs, even if I'm uninterested in the riches hidden there... as far as I'm concerned, you can keep most of them. I've also helped the poor from Bargetown for a couble years... notice that I'm not saying this to earn your sympathy or trust, but instead to give you some credentials about my capabilities..."
"Different than a couple others before me, I owe no allegiance to foreign gods and powers, for I answer just to the our land and Wadjet, the Sphinx River Goddess, Who makes all the life in Wati and its sister cities possible." Having said what she thought to be necessary, Shemei returns to their table, now noticing the professor had moved to another table. Sighing, she turns her attention to Grod and the lioness.
"And yep, definitely a lion," she agrees after a moment's pause. "I might've missed it in all the chatter and noise but how did you two, uh, meet?"
Grod shakes his head. "You didn't miss it. I haven't mentioned it. It's simple, really. I am a follower of Sekhmet, the Lady of Slaughter. Lions are holy to her faith, and some temples breed them. I've always seen them as the most majestic of all beasts. After a particularly lucrative contract guarding a convoy in Katapesh, I was able to spend some time with a sect of Katapeshi Druids and study lions under them. When I returned to Osirion, I acquired Miryam here from a temple as a cub. Her coat is such a light color because she's a special breed rarely found in the wild. The priests say that lionesses prefer males with darker coats, so those with lighter fur like her rarely get to breed naturally, but the temple breeds them intentionally. You could say she's of a holy race, so to speak." he says, clearly quite proud of her (not to mention happy to let her have the spotlight). Miryam herself merely sits quietly, allowing those who wish to pet her and happily accepting any offered meat. She's used to drawing attention.
Shemei’s direct words cause Ben to petrify. He was not expecting such a harsh reaction. I was just trying to help her… He had felt this way many times in his life. He started to speak with someone, than he got carried away and said something offending for his interlocutor, without any intention to do so. Blushing in embarrassment and trembling, Ben stands up and moves away from the table. “I-I…I’m sorry…” he whispers before leaving. Embarrassment and sorrow are clear on his face.
Why did she take it as an offense? I was just trying to help. I was even underrating my knowledge in order to make her feel more comfortable with her lack of theoretical knowledge about Ancient Osirion…Why, why do I always choose the wrong words?! Why I can’t make the others understand my intentions? Why they always misunderstand me? Oh, I need a bit of water now…
Staggering toward the bar, Ben clumsily takes a sit on a stool and with a shaking hand he orders a glass of water. It takes some time for him to regain his composure and find the strength to stand up and reach another table.
---
Ben feels a little embarassed by Cahal’s answer and it takes some time for him to find a way to reply appropriately. He definitely does not want to be misunderstood once again. “Well, I-I…P-Perhaps I said that all wrong. ‘Osirionologist’ is just a quick label that scholars use in order to group together those who devote their lives to the study of Osirion’s history. It’s a pretty wide category though…” Scratching the back of his head, Benedictus sighs. “B-but that’s pretty much it. In any case, it does not imply that I know anything more about Wati than you do. Of course I know a few things about it, but I’m here because I need to learn much, much more…That’s why I’m trying to join an adventuring party.”
"Master Abdur,” she says, taking his hand. “My name is Tetradia Muzaka, of the Oppara Muzakas.” She waits for a glimmer of recognition that never comes, then continues. “I am a stonemason. A builder. If we were in Oppara, I would take you on a tour of my works. Since we are not, I ask you to trust me. I come from a family of masons, and have been working with stone since I could first hold a chisel.”
Tetradia pauses and looks at the proprieter, trying to guage his interest. “Among these assembled people there are many who will tell you they can break things. Break open the tombs and extract the treasure, scraping it off the walls if necessary. But I am the only one here who can disassemble the tomb, leaving everything virtually intact. You want whole, unblemished treasures, not fragments, ruins, and pieces. The value is in the artistry, and their is no artistry in destruction.”
Tetradia is sweating now, unused to such speeches. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand. “And what do I get from this? I get to put it back together. I am a follower of Soralyon, the Mystic Angel. The Guardian of Monuments. He has called me here, to Wati, and I may spend the rest of my life restoring the Necropolis to its former glory. It is better, I think, to start on that now. Stone only sets so fast.”
“I have other skills, of course. Gifts from Soralyon. Some healing, some protection. And I can do a lot of damage with a hammer or a pick. I pull my wait. Should you hire me for your team, you will not be disappointed.”
Tetradia blinks twice, as she realizes she has run out of things to say.”So, uhh, thank you for your consideration.” She stands there for another moment, listening to what Abdur has to say, and then she returns to her chair and shrugs at her tablemates.
Abdur takes your hand and shakes it somewhat vigorously. Considering all the hands he’s clasped in the last half hour, you wonder what his grip must have been like at the start… ”Very wise Tetradiea, very wise.” Louder he says to the collected throng,
He turns back to you, ”I don’t know what building has to do with taking apart, but I’m sure you’ve insights I cannot fathom. I’ll take your candidacy very seriously indeed.” He smiles as you walk back to the group.
When he reaches the front, he signs his name to the list and remarks gruffly to Abdur in Osirion, "I'm the best trapsmith yer likely to find 'round here. I'll get yer team in unscathed, and..." he thumbs his nose knowlingly, "I've got a nose for valuables. You can be sure I won't miss any gold or silver hidden behind some false burial chamber."
”Most excellent good sir! A man of few words, but they are straight and to the point. A skill I myself never managed to master!” he chortles at his own joke. ”You seem a stout fellow, I’m keen to see what you can do.” he makes a few quick notes on his parchment.
"Master Abdur, my name is Shemei Ha-Noret-Ne, from the druids of Mahd in The Asp. I've left my village to seek the truths hidden beneath those tombs, even if I'm uninterested in the riches hidden there... as far as I'm concerned, you can keep most of them. I've also helped the poor from Bargetown for a couble years... notice that I'm not saying this to earn your sympathy or trust, but instead to give you some credentials about my capabilities…”
“Different than a couple others before me, I owe no allegiance to foreign gods and powers, for I answer just to the our land and Wadjet, the Sphinx River Goddess, Who makes all the life in Wati and its sister cities possible.” Having said what she thought to be necessary, Shemei returns to their table, now noticing the professor had moved to another table. Sighing, she turns her attention to Grod and the lioness.
”No allegiance?” Abdur asks incredulously. ”Surely you understand and respect their cultures, at least a little. After all, though we may be superior in many ways, there is always something to be learned from others. But I take your meaning - you’re not beholden to anyone it seems.” he smiles.
”So what do you do? How do you seek these hidden truths?”
Dilana Hemlock, the demanding intellect.
Raman Aldwislagsun, a bronze skinned dwarf with more up his nose than hair.
Augustus Voralius III, the brave and noble Abadarian.*
Zoda Kogala, the drunk.
Prof Benedictus Dickens, the Osirionologist.
Tali The Nomad, a Garundi with smokey eyes.
Abbe Barakat, the wealthy marketeer.*
Shemei Ha-Norat-Ne, the illegitimate serpent.
Hyir Akil, the running bookworm.
Khalid Safar, the curious son.
Nidhi Aashirya, the tailor.
Hudjefa, the ward of Pharasma.
Tetradia Muzaka, the Oppara builder.
Grod The Cunning, man in two worlds.
Florence Corvina, the reborn.
Cahal ud’Din, the mother.
Akil Khalid, of the complex family.
- - -
"Innkeeper bring me a mug of coffee. And tell me, have you heard anything new about the opening of this great crypt? All I have heard is that it will be happening soon.”
A doorman gestures to the now very short line in front of a swarthy local man and a servant sitting at a table in the middle of the room, ”Best see Abdur there. He’s very nearly done collecting names.”
You, presumably, approach the table. When you get to the front, the man referred to as Abdur looks up at you extending his hand, ”My good man, you’re just in time! I’m assembling a team to enter the necropolis and discover what treasures may be found there. All with the blessings of Pharasma’s own church of course!”
”So who might you be, and what do you have to offer for the team?” he asks, his servants pen poised to take notes.
Dilana Hemlock, the demanding intellect.
Raman Aldwislagsun, a bronze skinned dwarf with more up his nose than hair.
Augustus Voralius III, the brave and noble Abadarian.*
Zoda Kogala, the drunk.
Prof Benedictus Dickens, the Osirionologist.
Tali The Nomad, a Garundi with smokey eyes.
Abbe Barakat, the wealthy marketeer.*
Shemei Ha-Norat-Ne, the illegitimate serpent.
Hyir Akil, the running bookworm.
Khalid Safar, the curious son.
Nidhi Aashirya, the tailor.
Hudjefa, the ward of Pharasma.
Tetradia Muzaka, the Oppara builder.
Grod The Cunning, man in two worlds.
Florence Corvina, the reborn.
Cahal ud’Din, the mother.
Akil Khalid, of the complex family.
Irzati, the horseman.
- - -
Abdur’s hand is cramping when he finally puts the pen down with shaky fingers. ”OK, OK, enough! I thank you all for submitting your names. Please give me a little time to consider each of you and assemble the best group. Please, be patient, and I’ll be back soon!” he gathers up all the scraps of parchment.
<•>
Dilana Hemlock, the demanding intellect.
Raman Aldwislagsun, a bronze skinned dwarf with more up his nose than hair.
Augustus Voralius III, the brave and noble Abadarian.*
Zoda Kogala, the drunk.
Prof Benedictus Dickens, the Osirionologist.
Tali The Nomad, a Garundi with smokey eyes.
Abbe Barakat, the wealthy marketeer.*
Shemei Ha-Norat-Ne, the illegitimate serpent.
Hyir Akil, the running bookworm.
Khalid Safar, the curious son.
Nidhi Aashirya, the tailor.
Hudjefa, the ward of Pharasma.
Tetradia Muzaka, the Oppara builder.
Grod The Cunning, man in two worlds.
Florence Corvina, the reborn.
Cahal ud’Din, the mother.
Akil Khalid, of the complex family.
Irzati, the horseman.
- - -
Nidhi’s eyes widen slightly, the flute the drums. He must be talented.” Nidhi gives a friendly smile.
Feeling inspired, Nidhi rolls her shoulders backwards and snaps her fingers in unison, humming quietly and swaying side to side.
[dice=Perform]1d20 + 11
After a few sways back and forth, Nidhi sings in Common (Taldane) while making slow and steady hand gestures.
“That’s all I need,
For I am Pharasma’s seed
And they are my river and sun
Helping me grow into who I am destined to be.”
Nidhi finishes her song and gives a small bow, smiling. "I love music."
Akil smiles to the performer, produces a lunar and speaks politely.
"Do you know the old song The sun shines on, and a ray shines on my flower? If so, could you sing it?"
To Hyir she says, "I did not know that it was possible for magicians to remove curses - I thought they could only bestow them. It sounds very risky!"
"Oh, n-no dear. There are magicians who c-can, indeed, remove curses. I c-cannot number myself among them, though, as I have no p-particular skill with the arcane. I-instead, I prevent curses. I simply ensure that any traps- magical or otherwise, n-never t-trigger. U-unfortunately, I'm no good at spotting them," he taps the side of his gold-rimmed glasses, "M-my elf heritage didn't give me sharper vi-vision, like most of my kind. B-besides, I'm usually too busy trying not t-to trip over my own feet to n-notice the f-faint runic patterns that de-designate where an arcanist of the past laid a sigil of warding, or a g-glyph of wasting. B-but if someone else notices it, well," he says with a shy little grin, even as his eyes dart in every direction, "Th-then we all go h-home happy."
Ben slowly walks towards another table where four people are sitting. He bows respectfully once they notice him, and with an awkward smile her tries to explain them his proposal. "Ehm...Uhm, good morning. I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Benedictus West Dickens, Osirionologist. I'm interested in exploring Wati's tombs and burial sites, and given your presence here I deduct you have my same goal. Uhm...Well, I wish you good luck for the selection here with Abdur, but should any among you fail to make the cut, I thought that it may be useful to share our names with each other so that we can try and build our own group of explorers." Ben gestures to one of the empty chairs at the table with a trembling hand. "May I-I?"
Ben sits down and pulls a blank journal out of his backpack. Then he takes out also his meticulously organized scrivener's set, opens it and puts the inkwell in front of him, ready to write down the names of the aspiring adventurers on the blank pages of his leather-bound journal.
"O-of course, my project should hold even if I get selected. In that case, I'll leave the information I gathered to one of you, if you wish so."
Nidhi doesn’t notice Prof. Benedictus Dickens until he starts addressing the group. She smiles and nods as he introduces himself. “My name is Nidhi Aashirya. Work with my grandmother, Jharna Aashirya, tailoring here in Midwife. The best of luck to you as well Professor. May Pharasma’s fate be generous to you.” Nidhi pauses for a moment. “Shall I call you Professor? Or is there another name you’d prefer to go by?” Nidhi smiles invitingly, trying to look encouraging.
Cahal watches the professor with curiosity. As he takes his tools out, she wonders how much time it will take before he tries to poke her with a stick: "An Osirionologist!? Does that mean you know more about Wati than us..?"
Nidhi frowns at Cahal’s comment. I know many tales and songs of Wati. Nidhi considers Cahal’s statement further. I wonder how much the Professor knows.
Ben feels a little embarassed by Cahal’s answer and it takes some time for him to find a way to reply appropriately. He definitely does not want to be misunderstood once again. “Well, I-I…P-Perhaps I said that all wrong. ‘Osirionologist’ is just a quick label that scholars use in order to group together those who devote their lives to the study of Osirion’s history. It’s a pretty wide category though…” Scratching the back of his head, Benedictus sighs. “B-but that’s pretty much it. In any case, it does not imply that I know anything more about Wati than you do. Of course I know a few things about it, but I’m here because I need to learn much, much more…That’s why I’m trying to join an adventuring party.”
"In any case, I'd say that this team has got its fair share of experts..." I mean, people who can't look out for themselves. "I am a little weary of accepting new members. Unless they can prove they can hold their own a bit in the ruins. Do you have a sword? A shield? I mean no disrespect, but you look like you'll just be more trouble than I can manage..." Her tone is firm as she looks to her new companion for approval and support, but her mouth is clearly suppressing a teasing smile. Cahal likes to bait the greatest of bears...
Nidhi looks back and forth from Cahal to Benedictus, observing their conversation. “I’d be happy to explore the ruins with you Professor. But I'm curious as well, what skills will you add to the party if we run into the undead or get caught in a trap?” Nidhi bases her knowledge of the ruins on rumors, stories and songs she’s learned from her grandmother and other Wati townsfolk.
As Abdur hurries off to pore over the list of applicants, Florence suddenly remembers that they've got an empty spot or two at their table after the professor's departure. She glances around for a moment and spots the dwarven trapsmith and the blue-eyed newcomer and waves at them both. "There's some room over here if you're looking to take a load off while we wait," she offers.
Raman is left standing awkwardly as Abdur hurries off. He nods appreciatively at the woman's invitation and shuffles over to her table. His pack drops to the floor with an audible <thunk> as he pulls up a chair and sits down.
"Thank yeh kindly," he looks around the table at all the humans. "I don't suppose you lot have much experience inna 'bout these tombs? I'm a trapsmith, meself."
"You didn't miss it. I haven't mentioned it. It's simple, really. I am a follower of Sekhmet, the Lady of Slaughter. Lions are holy to her faith, and some temples breed them. I've always seen them as the most majestic of all beasts. After a particularly lucrative contract guarding a convoy in Katapesh, I was able to spend some time with a sect of Katapeshi Druids and study lions under them. When I returned to Osirion, I acquired Miryam here from a temple as a cub. Her coat is such a light color because she's a special breed rarely found in the wild. The priests say that lionesses prefer males with darker coats, so those with lighter fur like her rarely get to breed naturally, but the temple breeds them intentionally. You could say she's of a holy race, so to speak."Florence listens, fascinated. She'd barely had enough time to learn the basics...
Grod shrugs, noncommittal. "Well, I'm not too familiar with the new gods, but from what I hear I think you're right. Sekhmet and Gorum must have some mighty battles if they ever meet. Might make a fine couple, but Ptah would probably take issue with that." he reaches down to scratch Miryam behind the ears, then continues. The druids, they weren't followers of Sekhmet. Regular Green Faith druids as far as I know, though there's not much green in Katapesh." he shrugs again. "But then again, Druidic religious rites have always been opaque to me, I probably couldn't tell a Gozren druid from an Erastilian one. At any rate, I studied lions with them. But I got the lady here from an local temple to Sekhmet. Lots of her temples breed lions. They don't just give them away, but worshippers who prove their reverence for such holy beasts and their ability to care for them can acquire one." Grod falls silent as the new arrivals come over, nodding to each in turn.
|
|
Ben feels a little embarassed by Cahal’s answer and it takes some time for him to find a way to reply appropriately. He definitely does not want to be misunderstood once again. “Well, I-I…P-Perhaps I said that all wrong. ‘Osirionologist’ is just a quick label that scholars use in order to group together those who devote their lives to the study of Osirion’s history. It’s a pretty wide category though…” Scratching the back of his head, Benedictus sighs. “B-but that’s pretty much it. In any case, it does not imply that I know anything more about Wati than you do. Of course I know a few things about it, but I’m here because I need to learn much, much more…That’s why I’m trying to join an adventuring party.”
Hudjefa stands up and walks over to the Professor.
Greetings, Professor. I, for one, appreciate the qualities that a man who has studied the ancient cultures can bring to an endeavor of this magnitude.
We, who live here, know Wati, but the tombs beneath are not Wati. They are not even Osiria. They are a different place all together.
Having someone who knows something of how the culture who built these places thinks will be invaluable toward solving the many puzzles we will surely encounter. I say welcome to you sir.
Hudjefa turns to sit down, only to turn back around.
Oh, but you wanted to know our names. My name is Hudjefa.
You, of all people should recognize the significance of that name, or lack thereof.
I wonder, do you really know what you are getting into? Have you done much exploration of ancient sites? Perhaps you may have even read about mummies in other places and their curses?
I am proof, sir, that the curses you have read about are benign things. Disease, despair, perhaps even a lingering death. The curses to be encountered in our tombs are ones that will attach themselves to the unlucky explorers family and propogate themselves for generations.
Your children, and your children's children will suffer the effects of the curse through no fault of their own, until in despair they seek to eliminate their own children in an effort to break the curse.
That is what we will find when we go into the tombs of the ancients.
Just so you are prepared. If you still want to proceed into the tombs, it will be good to have your company.
With that, Hudjefa returns to his figs.
"She is a beauty, Grod. You know, lions are the national symbol of Taldor, which means that I have repaired more lion statues, lion carvings, lion friezes, and lion mosaics than I could ever count. But none of them had her...I guess grace is the right word." Tetradia looks to see if there were any meat scraps on her plate, but she had been far too hungry and thorough earlier.
"Of course, they were almost all male lions, with enormous manes. Because that's what Emperors like to have representing them."
"In any case, I'd say that this team has got its fair share of experts...I am a little weary of accepting new members. Unless they can prove they can hold their own a bit in the ruins. Do you have a sword? A shield? I mean no disrespect, but you look like you'll just be more trouble than I can manage..."
Ben shakes his head and stops writing for a moment. “I’m sorry milady, I must have explained myself wrong, I’m afraid. I’m not looking to be accepted as a new member in an existing group. I was just trying to write down a list of people interested in exploring Wati’s tomb, so that those who don’t get selected by Abdur could consider the idea of putting together an independent group.”
“My name is Nidhi Aashirya. Work with my grandmother, Jharna Aashirya, tailoring here in Midwife. The best of luck to you as well Professor. May Pharasma’s fate be generous to you.”
Ben nods to Nidhi, more than happy to be able to write down the first name on his journal. Blank paper somehow always made him nervous. “[b]Well met, milady. I hope the Lady of Graves’ fate will be generous to you as well.”
“Shall I call you Professor? Or is there another name you’d prefer to go by?”
Ben blushes and starts scratching the back of his head. “Ehr…I actually I’m not a professor anymore. I was fired after I got involved in an…uncomfortable situation.” Ben blushes even more and wipes his forehead. “My name is Benedictus, anyway, but the few friends I have call me Ben…they say my name is way too long”. The scholar shrugs. “Indeed perhaps it is. So yes, you can call me Ben!”
“I’d be happy to explore the ruins with you Professor. But I'm curious as well, what skills will you add to the party if we run into the undead or get caught in a trap?”
Ben smiles enthusiastically at Nidhi, her acceptance suddenly deleting the shock from the conversation with Shemei. “[b]T-thank you!” No longer on the fence, Benedict visibly relaxes and sits more comfortably. “Well, I’ve recently learned how to cast a few spells, and I must admit they can prove quite useful even in the worst situations. Apart from that, and sticking with your examples, what I would add would be knowledge. Undead all have their weaknesses and strong points, and I’m likely to know them and inform my allies about them. And as for the traps, I’m not able to disable them, nor my senses are particularly keen, but I can tell where traps may be based on my knowledge of where the dungeon builders would have placed them or were used to placed them. Usually, to protect something important!”
Greetings, Professor. I, for one, appreciate the qualities that a man who has studied the ancient cultures can bring to an endeavor of this magnitude.
We, who live here, know Wati, but the tombs beneath are not Wati. They are not even Osiria. They are a different place all together.
Having someone who knows something of how the culture who built these places thinks will be invaluable toward solving the many puzzles we will surely encounter. I say welcome to you sir.
Feeling even more confident thanks to Hudjefa praises, Ben nods wholeheartedly. “Your words are very wise, Mr…”
Oh, but you wanted to know our names. My name is Hudjefa.
You, of all people should recognize the significance of that name, or lack thereof.
I wonder, do you really know what you are getting into? Have you done much exploration of ancient sites? Perhaps you may have even read about mummies in other places and their curses?
I am proof, sir, that the curses you have read about are benign things. Disease, despair, perhaps even a lingering death. The curses to be encountered in our tombs are ones that will attach themselves to the unlucky explorers family and propogate themselves for generations.
Your children, and your children's children will suffer the...
Ben writes down Hudjefa’s name on his journal and looks clearly interested by it. “Isn’t ‘Hudjefa’ the name Osirionologists use as a pseudonym to indicate an illegible name of a pharaoh? Anyway, I thank you of your wise advises, sir, but yes, I’m aware of the dangers implied in this…endeavor. And as for the curses attaching to my family and propagate itself for generations…Well, I doubt any woman in Golarion, regardless of her race or origins, would ever take a genuine interest in me. I know very little about women, but one thing I know for sure—no woman would ever accept a man that loves Osirionology more than her…As such, I think that whoever bestowed the curse on me would be displeased in knowing that his generations-lasting curse has died with me!”
After speaking with Benedictus, Nidhi turns towards a man who looks to be about the same height as Nidhi. Nidhi immediately notices the man’s piercing blue eyes.
Akil smiles to the performer, produces a lunar and speaks politely.
"Do you know the old song The sun shines on, and a ray shines on my flower? If so, could you sing it?"
“You mean The sun shines on, and a ray shines on my flower which praises Ra?” Nidhi is thoughtful for a moment.
"Oh yes, I think I remember that one." Nidhi takes a few deep breaths as she prepares herself to sing:
"The sun shines on
And a ray shines on my flower"
Nidhi sings the entire song while making fluid hand gestures, suggesting the sun, kingship and creation. When she finishes, Nidhi gives a small bow towards the man .
"Are you a follower of Ra? My name is Nidhi Aashirya by the way. I don't believe we've been introduced." Nidhi tilts her head slightly with a slow, polite smile on her face.
After speaking with Benedictus, Nidhi turns towards a man who looks to be about the same height as Nidhi. Nidhi immediately notices the man’s piercing blue eyes.
Akil smiles to the performer, produces a lunar and speaks politely.
"Do you know the old song The sun shines on, and a ray shines on my flower? If so, could you sing it?"“You mean The sun shines on, and a ray shines on my flower which praises Ra?” Nidhi is thoughtful for a moment.
[dice=Knowledge Religion]1d20 + 4"Oh yes, I think I remember that one." Nidhi takes a few deep breaths as she prepares herself to sing:
[dice=Perform]1d20 + 11
"The sun shines on
And a ray shines on my flower"Nidhi sings the entire song while making fluid hand gestures, suggesting the sun, kingship and creation. When she finishes, Nidhi gives a small bow towards the man .
"Are you a follower of Ra? My name is Nidhi Aashirya by the way. I don't believe we've been introduced." Nidhi tilts her head slightly with a slow, polite smile on her face.
Bowing deeply in his seat Akil Khalid smiles at the performer giving praise where praise is due. "You are a blessed perfomer. Yes, you are! I haven´t heard it so well performed, since, well actually I have never heard another voice so pure to send the nightingale ashamed to hide from the voice. The last I heard it was sung with praise to one of the younger gods, but I think over the times every solar faith has taken the mantle to be praised. The poem behind the song is just timeless and stays effortlessly in the minds, and hearts, of the faithful!" Addressing the barmaid he orders a goblet of the finest wine as token of his admiration.
He addresses the bard again."You also seek to enter those tombs? I think it is a fine idea, if the sun shines on you, you might find art not seen for millenia. And even if not, it may be an inspiration for a future masterpiece! But I do follow the falcon headed god Horus"
Abdur comes back into the room a couple hours later with a much smaller sheet of local papyrus in hand. ”After I announce your names, if you’ll please come with me into my office and we can discuss terms.”
”Augustus Voralius III”
”Prof Benedictus Dickens”
”Florence Corvina”
”Nidhi Aashirya”
”As for the rest of you, thank you very much for your interest, and please, have a round on the house!” he nods to the bar manager who immediately sends the staff into the crowd to take orders…