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Alayi turns to Marcus then ponders for a moment before speaking.
"Well, seems like we are the Circle of Six then. So who is going to register for us? I don't mind going, but we really should have a piece of paper with our name on it with our group's name on the top." Alayi begins to pat herself down as if she was searching for something then shrugs. Well, I don't have any paper, ink, or a inkpen. Does anyone have some?
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Seeing that they will not be tying themselves to the Pharaoh, Ninevekhti moderates her tone, slightly. "I have parchment, quills, ink. I can prepare something suitable."
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The skin over one of Satati's eyes, where her eyebrow should be, twitches at Alayi's counter to her argument. She gives a nod of approval - it was good reasoning. She smiles at Salomae's philosophical waxing - "There are more pressing matters."
At Marcus' proposed name, she pauses, pondering, eyes briefly flickering closed. "Yes... yes, that could work," she muses. "The Circle of Six. I like it." She turns her smile on Marcus. "And you registering us certainly seems appropriate."
"Very well. I will drop off my things in my room and submit the paperwork. Menedes and I can share a room, if you'll be joining us," he offers, turning to the man.
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Alay turns to Salome and nods in agreement before speaking.
"I agree with you Salome. While that I have weapons that deal with certain creatures, I doubt i am geared for anything. And..."
Pulls out her coinpouch and counts her coins before continuing in a slight mumble. "Erm, twenty four, twenty five, six, twenty seven.
Okay, what would you recommend about keeping an eye out for twenty seven gold?"
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You know what, I should hold onto it till after the first delve
Alayi puts her coin purse away then speaks.
"You know, I think I will hold onto it. Don't know when I might need it. So Mr. Farhaan;" She turns to the barkeep. "Do you have a large suite or something that has many bedrooms? Or maybe a deal that has a couple rooms together? I would really want to get that done with before tonight."
"One would be open to sharing. Particularly if it would save on resources." Especially hers - Ninevekhti barely has 5 gold to her name right now. Not that she intends to disclose this fact.
"I am thankful for your hospitality, my friends. I hope as many of you will return with me as enter."
Ninevekhti shakes her head, looking up at the tall, redheaded woman. "Inadvisable to go alone. You do not speak our language and obviously are an outsider - an outlander" she hastily corrects herself. "They will overcharge you. One will accompany you, to see that this does not come to pass."
Remind me, child, why we care about the fate of outsiders? Her grandmother's tone inside her head is vitriolic. She does her best not to flinch, but refuses to answer. She has no answer. Why is she doing this?
"Well, since it looks like our rooming arrangement are in order, I am going to drop off my bag in there. I doubt I need by bedroll to go to a tomb in the necropolis."
Alayi will drop off her bag in her room before coming back down and waiting for the others to come back from shopping.
*Alayi is now unencumbered.*
"Ah, much better;" Alayi stretches her back a bit. "I'll wait here til you get back."
As your ragtag group leaves The Tooth & Hookah, you pass by another group of newcomers arriving. They are led by a large woman, with thick arms covered in scars. Her pale skin and red hair mark her as an Ulfen. She is followed by another woman dressed in clerical garb. Her dark skin, sharp cheekbones, broad shoulders, and a shock of prematurely bright white hair make for an exotic look. Two more women stand a short distance behind them. Barely five feet tall and wearing veils that completely obscure their faces and flowing silk dresses, they could be twins, but it is difficult to tell. Chicken feet, animal skulls, and other stranger fetishes hang from their belts and sleeves.
A silence falls over the bar, and you hear somebody whisper "Witches..."
Despite the obvious tension, the Ulfen confidently strides to the bar and announces, perhaps a little too loudly, "We are the Daughters of the Desert and we seek lodging for the night." That's the last you hear before you slip into the afternoon sun of Wati.
***
The walk to the Grand Mausoleum is short, but difficult. Even close to dusk, the sun-baked streets smolder at around 90 degrees. Despite the heat, the size of the temple impresses. Rivaled in size and importance to the Pharasman faith only by the High Temple in Sothis, the Grand Mausoleum dominates the city's skyline and many aspects of its day-to-day life. The birth and death of every citizen is recorded here, as well as many of the important events in between. Since the Lady of Graves eclipsed Nethys and Abadar as Wati’s patron deity, her followers have assumed control over much of the city’s infrastructure, and have combined the Grand Mausoleum into a cross between a house of worship and city hall. All final decisions are still made by the city council and overseen by the hatya—the pharaoh’s personal representative—but council meetings and the most affairs of state are held within the sprawling complex.
The temple’s high priestess, Sebti the Crocodile, rose to power from the common rabble. Daughter of the previous keeper of Pharasma’s sacred crocodiles and largely self-educated, Sebti has been a constant thorn in the side of Wati’s nobles since assuming control of the church a decade ago. Preaching a doctrine of personal fulfillment rather than happiness, wealth, or achievement, Sebti invariably sides with the common citizenry on government matters, making her popular with the lower classes but loathed by the rest of the council and even some members of her own faith.
In addition to the temple’s clergy, the Grand Mausoleum hosts an arm of the militant wing of the church called the Voices of the Spire, dedicated to eradicating any undead within the city’s sprawling necropolis. They are led by the humorless Nakht Shepses, a bastard son of the influential Shepses line, one of the two remaining original noble houses of Wati.
At the entrance to the Grand Mausoleum, you find a cleric of Pharasma setup at a folding table outside the main gate. The cleric is dressed in full vestments with two fully-armored guards standing behind holding an umbrella over the clerics head. All three look to have been in the sun for far too long. Obviously the full parade dress was not the best choice for the occasion. Unfortunately for them, this was likely ordered by the High Priestess to keep up appearances to the strangers flocking to the city to join in the lottery. If that wasn't miserable enough, they have to deal with visibly upset group of adventurers.
A man and a woman stand around the table, arguing with the clearly overworked clerk. "This is preposterous," complains a lightly-tanned woman, seemingly speaking for the group. "We have a right to explore the ruins sacred to our faith." Of average height, the woman wears what seems to be a combination of sensible adventuring gear and fashionable Taldan dandy. Her long, light brown hair is tucked under a flamboyant floppy hat, complete with a long feather. A puffy fuschia shirt, khaki pantaloons, and knee-high leather buckled boots complete the ensemble. A number of things hang or are tucked into her belt: crossbow, dagger, leather book, and a wand carved to resemble a cobra. A choker bearing the dual-colored face of Nethys covers her throat.
The clerk sighs and rubs his eyes. His richly-colored vestments are all but ruined with sweat and sand and the pair of armored guards look like they could collapse at any moment. "I apologize, Miss, what was it?"
"Hypaxes." she replies tersely.
"Right, Ms. Hypaxes. The church formally denies [b]The Scorched Hands[/i] petition to exclusively explore ruins involving Nethys or this 'Erudite Eye' you speak of. If we allowed every special interest group to hand select their assigned locations, there would be pandemonium. You will have to use the lottery like everybody else."
The Taldan woman looks like she's about to say something else, but one of her companions, a tall Garundi man, places a hand on her shoulder and whispers something in her ear. He has the look of a strong and healthy man, wearing shining bronze scale mail over a bleached linen tunic and a polished, pointed helm. A sash, half black and half white, is tied around his waist and over his shoulder.
The other two members stand further back, watching the exchange. One is a shorter, albeit handsome, Keleshite man in his early twenties with a lean physique. His lustrous hair is black and just long enough to require occasional brushing away from his face. Thin lines of kohl rim his eyes, obviously to make his eyes more striking, rather than to block out any of the sun's glare. He wears a sleeveless, cerulean tunic and a loose wrap of striped yellow-and-orange silk that falls to his ankles. The only person he seems to be focusing on is the Garundi man reassuring the Hypaxes woman, but if he sees any of the Circle looking, he throws them a casual smile.
The last member of their group seems like a bit of an outlier. The only non-human, she is a Garundi half-elf. She also doesn't seem to outwardly wear any colors or symbols of Nethys. Standing a little over six feet with dusky skin, she keeps her straight, black hair in a braided pony tail that falls to the small of her back. She has an athletic physique that appears used to running, jumping, tumbling; and fighting, if the wickedly sharp khopesh on her back and battered studded leather armor she wears were any indication. Despite the anger of her companions, she seems cool and calm, standing away from the argument.
"Fine!" the Taldan woman shouts, throwing her hands into the air. "But if I catch wind that any of our sacred artifacts are being sold to the non-faithful..."
"I can assure you, miss, that all artifacts must be approved by the clergy before being sold," the priest tries to assure her.
"Oh, cut the s+%*. I've seen the ways things are done here. This place has more holes than a Bargetown whore. You know it. I know it. We're getting to those ruins, whether you allow it or not." She turns to the rest of her group. "Come on, Khelru. Azaz. Idorii. Let's get out of here."
As the group crosses your path, the Taldan woman stops and holds out her hand. "Lady Velriana Hypaxes. If you catch wind of anything involving my church, I'm offering a fair reward. You can find me at the Tooth & Hookah."
On the table before the priest lies a stack of paperwork and a jar with a what looks to be a few silver coins inside. As you approach the table, the cleric looks at you through strained eyes and simply says:
"Sorry about that. Register here for the lottery. All other business of the temple is closed for the day."
"Please state your groups name, number of members and who the spokesperson is."
With that he simply grabs a piece of fresh parchment and dips his quill and awaits your response.
Satati stares a moment at the newcomers to the Tooth & Hookah, before realizing what she's doing and hurrying after the rest of the Circle, the ground outside warm on her bare feet.
At the Mausoleum entrance, she watches the unfolding scene with curiosity. They are so quick to anger, she muses silently. Insisting and protesting will get them nowhere. When the dandy-attired woman passes them by, she draws back slightly, awed by the irritation practically radiating off of her.
Ninevekhti stares coldly at the Lady Hypaxes. "Be grateful you are permitted inside at all. If the so-called 'Ruby Prince' of my lands had not decided to throw open the treasures of my people like some - what was your expression? Ah yes - like some Bargetown whore exposing herself shamelessly for all to see, you would have no opportunity at all."
With a toss of her long black fragrant hair, she moves past the outsider.
Alayi ponders a bit then rushes after the rest of the group going to the Grand Mausoleum, not wanting to be left behind. She stops momentary to look at the Ulfen woman;
"Oh, wow. Beautiful hair, burning red, maybe with passion?~ Ah, would like to stay and chat a bit more, but gotta run!"
With that, she runs past the Ulfen to catch up with the rest of the group.
"Hey, wait up!"
-----
After arriving at the Grand Mausoleum, seeing the haughty Taldor woman walk past, Alayi speaks up to the group.
"I know Taldor has cooled a bit between them and Qadira, but people like them ruin the peace, right? Though I kinda want the
کم متولد Taldor فاحشه to get heatstroke and collapse."
Alayi makes a motion across her neck with her hand then continues in a more calm tone.
But anyway, lets register before they stop the registration."
Marcus shakes the proffered hand of Lady Hypaxes, his other hand covering half of his face as a subtle hint to a fellow worshiper of Nethys. "Marcus Bale at your service, milady. We're at The Tooth & Hookah as well. I'll be sure to get in touch if we are fortunate enough to find any Nethysian relics. It is best to keep such items within the faith, of course."
She seems an interested buyer. Far more likely to get a good price from one so interested, he muses.
Turning to the clerk, he speaks. "We are the Circle of Six, and are as such, six in number. I, Marcus Bale, will serve as spokesperson."
The group called The Scorched Hand leaves without much more of a fuss, clearly having made their point. The Garundi half-elf looks back, her face expressing an apology, although it more likely amounts to a professional acknowledgment.
The Pharasman priest takes Marcus's information down on the papyrus sheet in front of him and removes a silver token from a glass jar. The token gleams in the harsh Wati sun, revealing the pressed images of a ureaus and ibis facing one another.
"You will need to this marker when your group is called tomorrow." he explains. "If you do not have it then you can not enter the necropolis and will be expelled from the lottery. Guard it well."
He grabs a piece of parchment from the stack on the table.
"The lottery starts in the market square at high noon. Don't be late."
He then places the parchment in the hands of Marcus.
"Here are the rules as the Lady of Graves requires. If you have any questions they will be addressed tomorrow. When your team is called only you may go up on stage and get your assigned site. No one else will be allowed up."
Here is what the parchment says:
The Rules
The priests of the Grand Mausoleum expect groups exploring sites within the necropolis to follow three basic rules.
Remember How This Came to Pass: The Plague of Madness was unleashed upon the city of Wati while religious authorities were engaged in infighting. The necropolis is a holy place and a symbol of how the failure of a few to act can doom many to die. Those who engage in needless conflict and banditry are not only criminals, but accursed.
Every Slave’s Hut Is a Memorial: Every structure within the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and died in the city. Explorers must not desecrate or vandalize standing structures and tombs, but preserve them as the memorials they were intended to be. Some structures may be trapped or decrepit, but willful and unnecessary destruction will not be tolerated.
Honor the Departed: The dead should be treated with dignity and respect. If the interred need to be disturbed to recover an antiquity or relic, they should be returned to their resting places carefully. It is understood that the ancient dead are often brittle, but there is no need for the contents of a sarcophagus to be summarily dumped on the ground. This rule does not apply to the undead or other abominations.
Failure to comply with these rules can result in, but is not limited to, expulsion from the necropolis, a ban on continued exploration, seizure of recovered valuables, and arrest and prosecution by local authorities.
"Wise rules," Marcus remarks, as he stows the silver token in a secure pocket. "I am pleased that the Lady of Graves' followers have taken part in this exploration. I hope that none will overstep these boundaries."
"While it may not be said here," Menedes chimes in, "I must affirm that, despite their nature, the bodies of the undead are worthy of respect as well, and I hope that if we encounter such creatures, we will return them with minimal damage to the corpse itself."
"And when the beast is slain, how is what remains any different than a properly sanctified corpse? I merely intend to leave the vessels intact."
Alayi shrugs as the discussion went to undead and then sighs.
"You know, he is kinda right about returning undead to their graves, kinda rude to just leave them lying about. But then again, I think that all the recently departed should be cremated. No way for them to rise again. But that is just me."
She turns to begin to head on out, but turns back slightly before continuing.
"We should be rested before tomorrow, and well prepared before we begin. So lets head back to the "Tooth and Hooka", so we can get ready for tomorrow."
"A good plan," chimes Marcus. "Let us depart - a momentous opportunity awaits us on the morrow."
Ninevekhti inclines her head slightly. She has been silent during the so-called debate as to how to treat the undead. Pharasma is not her god, and she doesn't care how the barbarians decide to treat them as long as they do not inconvenience her. "Yes, let us find you something more suitable than your outlander's garb."
Ninevekhti considers the question carefully. "Firstly, never - under any circumstances - try to buy from a Keleshite, or any with their blood. They pretend to haggle, but will invariably do their best to cheat you. Let us see... ah yes. There, that stall owned by a true Osirian. Let us see what we may find."
Striding purposefully over, the young woman addresses the elderly-looking man in charge of the stall.
Prepared as best you might be, the newly formed Circle of Six makes its way to the Sunburst Market, the location of the opening ceremony and lottery. It is blistering 106 degrees, but native Osirians know that it is not as hot as it will be in the coming months.
Wati seems to be bursting at the seems with excitement. Adventurers, would-be explorers, and scholars from all across the Inner Sea gather beneath the baking sun to explore the tombs of the Necropolis. All that is left is the lottery, to be assigned your first sites for exploration. Surrounding the participants, it seems as if the entire city has made a show of it, gathering to observe the opening ceremony. Seeded through the crowd, a few keen merchants see opportunities to make some coin, hawking goods and refreshments to participants and spectators alike. A man loudly proclaims his rope to be the strongest in Wati, coiled from only the finest silk and hemp. Another admonishes any who would be caught without one of his packs, expertly crafted from thick and durable leather and able to carry the heaviest of treasures. Most telling though are the merchants who carry nothing but ragged bits of parchment. Scribbled across them in large black letters, in many different tongues, are various bold claims, all with a single message. They, and only they, would buy any recovered treasures and antiques for the highest price in town, offering fair and equitable trade to foreigners and locals alike.
Located just in front of the Grand Mausoleum, itself an imposing and towering figure that dominated much of the skyline of Wati, is a high stage. Decorated pillars and richly colored tapestries cover the awning, providing meager shelter from the high noon sun. Two urns sit atop a table elevated a few feet above stage; the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum standing just behind. Her name is Sebti, or the Crocodile as she is known by many in the city. Eyebrows carefully plucked and painted, her lips are a vibrant blue, with skin a beautiful shade of amber. Despite her common upbringing, she shares none of the weathered look of Wati's farmers and traders, those who had spent a life bent under the sun of Osirion. Behind her, acolytes buzz like wasps, darting too and fro as the ceremony was soon to start.
Gathering around the stage is a living gazetteer of the Inner Sea, comprised of members from nearly every nationality and race from Avistan to Garundi. A group comprised entirely of halflings on the backs of great hounds argue loudly over which of them would come away with the greatest haul. Six women, each with sun-bronzed skin, scowl at the halflings. Flashes of their bare forearms show matching blue tattoos of an odd rune. Another group of Keleshite adventurers, so heavily veiled in black silk that it is impossible to determine their genders stand and whisper silently amongst themselves. You even spy the angry Taldan woman from yesterday, Velriana Hypaxes, and her party of Nethys worshipers, the Scorched Hand.
Stepping forward, Sebti throws back her cowl and exposes her silken black hair. It surprises you how young she appears, but the high priestess shows no a hint of hesitation, exuding an air of confidence that commands the respect and silence of those all around. When she has the attention of all gathered, she invokes her goddess, reciting a familiar invocation to the Lady of Graves.
O Lady of the Graves,
Your power brings us to birth,
Your providence guides our lives,
and by Your command we return to dust.
My Lady, those who die still live in Your presence,
their lives change but do not end.
I pray in knowing they are judged fairly,
guided from the clutches of those that would take them,
and in Your implacable wisdom, given their just deserts.
In the halls of Your great Spire,
You see all that must be,
You watch over the sacred cycles of life and death,
Watch over us all, O Lady
So that each of us may meet our final truth.
After finishing, silence holds for a brief moment in the square, with all eyes on Sebti. She holds the quiet for a moment, and then with a wry smile, lifts her bare arms into the air. "Let the lottery begin!" she proclaims, her commanding voice cutting through the tension like the crack of a whip. A raucous cheer rises from the crowd, but the priestess raises her hands again for order.
"Many of you have requested specific sites to explore, we must leave these matters to fate. The Lady of Graves is a far better judge of destiny than we mortals." As she speaks, the small crocodile skull hanging from her neck sways back and forth.
"The gates of the necropolis will open at sunrise tomorrow. Use this evening to prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Let these rules guide you in your endeavors in this holy place: remember how this came to pass, every slave's hut is a memorial, and honor the departed. May you go with the Lady's blessing." Smiling throughout, she takes a short bow, hands extending wide as the crowd claps and cheers. A few throughout the crowd scowl; mostly locals who liked not the plundering of their ancestors resting place. Withdrawing, two acolytes stepped forward towards the two large jars.
One holds a token that matches the ones previously distributed, and signifies the chosen group. The second corresponds with a predetermined location, marking where they would be able to explore. First called is an elf, a half-orc, and a pair of humans named Eskalpian Acquisitions, Unlimited. Representing their group is a short, dark-eyed Taldan man of middle age, grey hair, and a finely-tended goatee coming to a sharp point. He is clad in artfully tooled leather armor and a number of
flasks of varying material and form hang from a belt, while grenade-like items populate a leather bandolier. A small scar is conspicuous below his right eye. Presenting her token, matching the one that had been called, the man is shown on a large map where his group is given reign to explore and loot, and presented with a smaller map in return.
Before there is much chance to react, the second, third, and fourth tokens were drawn. Nearly ten minutes pass before the Circle is summoned, yout token drawn in the middle of the ceremony. You are to send one member forward to collect the small map, and to be shown the first area they had been allocated, two more to come in the weeks to follow.
Alayi looks stunned a bit, not really paying attention to the precedings before getting behind Marcus to nudge him towards the stage.
"Mr Bale, while I am somewhat boisterous, I am not that great on s-stages. So, since you chosen the name of our group, I think that makes you our functional leader. So, um, go head and get it."
Marcus pushes his way through the crowd, and produces the token to the officiant when he reaches the stage.
Sebti barely seems to acknowledge Marcus as he takes the stage, her eyes taking in the crowd below and slowly flicking from person to person. It seems as if she's looking for something, but who or what isn't immediately apparent. The other priests of Pharasma seem more tense than Sebti, faces a mixture of restrained anger and discomfort.
It isn't the first time that you have seen such displays of emotion. Despite any protestations to the policy, The Ruby Prince has been adamant in his desire to see the tombs opened. Khemet III gave the church a very simple and public choice when they began to express concerns over the process. They could voluntarily take part and cooperate, thus having some degree of limited authority over how the tombs were explored and the entire process. or they could be silenced and have no say in the entire situation. Faced with such a choice the church opted for the former of the two.
On the way back, you notice that the next group called forward belonged to the cadre of strange women that entered the Tooth & Hookah the night previously. Their leader, the Ulfen woman with fiery red hair, gives Marcus a lop-sided grin as she crosses him on the steps to the stage. When rejoined with your companions, the Circle opens the scroll to reveal that they have been assigned the Tomb of Akhentepi, a burial crypt on the north side of the Necropolis.
Ninevekhti flicks back her long, loose hair. It is a gesture of contempt. "Eskalpian Acquisitions, Unlimited" - they aren't even pretending to be anything other than robbers and plunderers.
The young woman balls her hands into fists - it is all she can do not to reach into her component pouch and conjure magic to blast these outlanders down. Her fingernails dig into her palms, but she barely notices through her rage.
She therefore has better things to do than notice the non-human next to her shivering, or remember who the minor non-entity Akhentepi might have been.
Alayi seems more calmer now after Marcus got the assignment to the Tomb of Akhentepi.
She still is rather unnerved, but she is feeling better after Marcus got the scroll.
She speaks in a calm tone;
"So, anyone know who this, Ak-Akhentepi is? Since we have a day, maybe there is someplace we can look him up to figure out who he may be."
"I'm afraid Akhentepi is a name I'm not familiar with from my studies. Linguistically though, the name pre-dates the Plague of Madness, meaning the tomb's occupant likely was interred circa 2400 AR." He smiles. "We will be exploring a crypt sealed over 2,000 years ago."
Unfortunately, the tomb would need to be over four thousand years old to hold any clues as to the Pharaohs of Ascension... but any pre-plague tomb could indeed hold clues related to the Enigma, muses the archaeologist, pleased. I'm certain I'll be able to discern a more precise date once I'm inside... and I can calculate whether this Akhentepi lived during a significant planetary conflux with Aucturn.
"I understand the Pharasmins' displeasure. I myself worry that some of the other tombs' explorers will be careless with the historical relics within. At least it is within our power to ensure our own excavations are performed respectfully and without disgracing the honored dead. And if those dead we encounter are not at rest... we can set their souls at peace in the hereafter."
"Indeed, Mr. Bale. I have a terrible feeling that this day heralds the destruction of many pieces of my heritage, but I still hope to not bear witness to it personally."
"We can only affect our own actions," Satati agrees softly. "We should endeavour to damage as little as possible. This site will be older than anyone we've ever known."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Well, looks like we are in agreement." As Alayi nods in agreement as well. "We should rest or prepare and then rest for our big day tomorrow." As she turns to begin walking back to the Tooth and Hooka, she spins right back around. "Erm, since they want to respect the dead, does anyone have a journal or something to record what we find?"
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"I will be ensuring nothing goes unrecorded in our exploration. There are historical mysteries to be uncovered through proper documentation, after all."
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As anticipated, your trek to the plot was a long one. As the Necropolis doors opened, you began to wind your way through the silent and serene streets. Your first stop just after entering the gates is a site known as 'Pharasma's Needle'. A brass plaque is set into the black marble of the obelisk.
Soon after the Pharasmins arrived in Wati to rebuild and consecrate the city, a burning rock fell from the sky into the River Sphinx where Bargetown now floats. Nefru Shepses took this as a sign of approval from the Lady of Graves, and ordered the black stone dredged from the river’s depths and carved into a capstone for a sacred obelisk, erecting the monument just inside the gates to the necropolis. Today, mourners interring their loved ones inside the necropolis still stop at Pharasma’s Needle on their way to the gravesites to gain the goddess’s blessing for the deceased’s journey to the Boneyard.
The Circle continues through the Necropolis toward their destination. It is an odd feeling, walking through the Dead City, like stepping into one of the great museums of Absalom, or a Pathfinder display room. Where once people had come and gone, had lived their lives surrounded by family, was now silent save for the occasional echo: the sounds of other adventuring parties moving through the ruins and... other darker things. Although the Necropolis had been sealed off from the rest of Wati for centuries, the Church of Pharasma could do little to keep determined creatures from getting in. Now the dead city was home to a number of deadly inhabitants each vying for a portion of the abandoned buildings to call their own.
---
A rectangular stone mausoleum sits alone in what appears to have once been an actual cemetery. The trunks of a few dead trees poke out of the sand around the tomb, and a hot breeze whistles through their desiccated branches. A set of massive stone double doors is affixed to the northern side of the structure, beneath a facade bearing the likeness of an Osirian man. Windblown sand is heaped around the crypt, partially burying the doors that lead within.
Beneath the facade is a brief set of modern Osiriani heiroglyphs. They read:
Akhentepi
2416 - 2488 AR
You have arrived.
"This place must have been glorious once. Who among us shall bear the honor of opening the tomb?"
Ninevekhti is silent, acknowledging the majesty of the moment. None have trodden here for untold centuries, and she is an intruder as much as any of the others. It's just that she has more justification, in her own mind at least.
As Menedes speaks, she moves forward. "One will gladly assist with this endeavour."