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"I suggest we search the founders tomb first Mirri. If we are going to back-track we might as well only do it once." Say'ri responds. Suiting actions to words she heads to the east door and, unless stopped, attempts to open it.
As they search through the equipment Idorii left behind and that of Velriana Say'ri begins to parcel out items, mostly by weight but with some thought as to function as Ibrahim and Petra identify the items. For herself she claims the Ioun Torch and Idorii's chakrams.
Mirri concurs with Say'ri's suggestion with a shrug, ensuring only that the halfling has checked the east door before the human woman goes through. Mirri then takes her usual place behind Say'ri as the group moves forward, keeping a vigilant eye out for traps.
The party passes through the gate and onto the next room. Finding no traps, the heroes push through the double doors.
Hieroglyphs cover the walls of this chamber. In the middle of the room, a large and majestic stone sarcophagus rests atop a raised stone platform, and several clay jars sit on the floor nearby. Two lacquered benches stand near the doors to the south.
The original founder and first high priest of the Sanctum of the Erudite Eye was laid to rest in this tomb. The hieroglyphs on the walls name him Djedihepet, and reveal that he died in –1599 ar. He is described as “a wise counselor, trusted keeper of secrets, and good friend of the Pharaoh.”
in –1599 ar as Djederet II—the same pharaoh who was mentioned in the tablet found by the guardian scroll. Djederet II was the founder of Wati.
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Once the room has been thoroughly searched Say'ri nods to Mirri. "Time for that secret room you were so excited about." She doesn't say it, but its not hard to see that Say'ri is somewhat disappointed with this final tomb.
"What are we going to do with the body?" She asks, struck by the thought when they are passing the corpse. "We cannot simply leave her here. I suggest we return her to the Grand Mausoleum, they can deal appropriately with her after that."
Petra is certainly not going to leave the body of their foe there, even if her own stubbornness had caused her fate. As the others search the next chamber, she crosses the arms of the dead Taldane woman over her chest, closes her now sightless eyes, and mutters an old Osiriani prayer to the Guardian. She will personally carry the woman's body when they leave, unless her comrades wish to help.
"In death, the surcease of struggle. In death, the rest that comes to all. In death, the ending of ignorance. May Mat judge your deeds and not I, and may Anubis guard your soul on the passage there."
Standing after her words, Petra moves after the others, peering with interest and a reverent duck of her head around the tomb of the counselor. She sketches Anubis's symbol in the air with one hand.
"We enter with respect, even if you no longer have need of whatever you were buried with, honored Djedihepet, as you have long ago sailed in the boat of reeds across the dark river and what is left behind here is only the material shells of what you have taken with you on your voyage," Petra mutters.
Petra finds a hidden button near the head of the sarcophagus.
The dwarven woman blinks as she registers the tiny button behind the sarcophagus. "Ah, a ... button? Mirri, do you want to examine this?"
Petra shrugs stiffly and wordlessly taps the button with one callused finger.
Mirri casually glanced up at Petra while searching the rest of the room. Wha? Nah, it's fine. Do what ya want. She then proceeded to complete her search of the room.
Unfortunately, none of the heroes spots the well-hidden Glyph of Warding that discharges after Petra presses the button. After the discharge of electricity...
the platform under the sarcophagus slides to the south on a set of concealed tracks, revealing a secret opening beneath it.
Hidden within is a Runestone of Power (1st level) and a Ring of the Grasping Grave
After the painful search of the Founder's Tomb, the party doubles back to find an empty room beyond the opened secret door.
Petra yelps as electricity rocks her world, though she manages to avoid the worst of it.
"....we should check more carefully next time..." she grunts, as she removes the items from within the secret cache. The runestone makes her brows arch slightly in interest. "And yes, we must remember not to leave the guardian without honoring his request to speak."
Mirri's low stature, aided by stooping to check the floor, prevented the wave of electricity from damaging the halfling. Still, she jumped as if shocked herself, then offered the party a weak, sheepish grim. Uhh...err...well, prolly shoulda checked that closer. Sorry.... Attempting to change the subject, Mirri offered cheerfully, You should keep that there rune-thing, Petra, it, uh, goes with your outfit!
Hopefully to have her failure forgotten, the halfling nodded vigorously in response to Say'ri's suggestion. Good idea! Let's check the secret room then go talk to the skeleton again.
After the protective ward discharges, the companions take the gear that the founder can no longer use and begin to make their egress. Mirri's excitement dies down after a quick search of the secret room reveals nothing of value at all. Perhaps this was the location of whatever it was that Senenmerek was referring to?
As you make your way back to the room with the flaming fountain, Senenmerek, kneeling reverently with his spear at hand, rises, speaking again in Ancient Osiriani.
It is done, then. I have thought on these matters, and my path is difficult. By my oaths I am tethered to this sacred site, but I cannot rest until the thief has been punished for his crime against this Sanctum. I refuse to make my journey to the Boneyard with my oath thus unfilled. But, perhaps, if another could take up my burden, I can travel to the realm beyond that has been denied to me for these millenia. You, Guardian, the skeleton says to Petra, staring into her eyes.
I heard the fair words you spoke over your fallen foe. Will you take up my oath against the necromancer, that I too may seek the judgment that I deserve?
Petra listens intently to the guardian's words, resisting the urge to stare overmuch at the skeleton flensed of its bones. One thing about having fought undead as a default means that she's rarely had extended interaction with one before.... it's sort of creepy. And also how do the bones move without ligaments... Petra shakes off that morbid curiosity at the heavy words of duty and oaths, refocusing her attention on the speech and not the fleshless jawbone saying it.
She meets what would be the guardian's eyes, but are merely sockets now, knowing they still see her. Petra takes a deep breath.
Lord Anubis, she hopes, would task her with vengeance upon the necromancer... and surely her god cannot object to her granting a guardian of so many years peace as well, even if that peace comes from a bargain and not a destruction. Petra dips her head in a respectful bow.
"The Guardian of the Tomb would charge me with finding this necromancer even if you did not also ask it. I will swear by his sacred flail to hunt this defiler, this thief, and to see that his desecration is punished. That which has been stolen, I swear to do all in my power to keep it from being used for great evil or crimes against the sanctity of death. I swear this willingly so that you may stand before Mat, o guardian."
Your oath is well-spoken. May Nethys grant you his favor to carry it out, and may he smite you with his terrible wrath if you forsake your vow. Take this, as a reminder of our accord. He holds his spear out to you.
When the two hands, one skeletal, hold the spear, the haft begins to shrink, and the spearpoint disappears. The wood curves into a familiar stout shape, and Senenmerek nods, still holding the weapon.
The God-King smiles upon you. I know now that you will mete out the justice I could not. Farewell, Guardian. The flames of the fountain flare up for a moment, and the skeleton decays at a rapid pace, turning to dust, his armor clanging to the floor.
Petra examines her weapon, and knows it will help to carry out her task.
This magically strengthened +1 composite longbow (+2 strength bonus, unless you don't take your Level 4 bonus as Strength, in which case it will remain a +1 strength bonus) enables its wielder to better face a variety of foes. Originally created by priests of Nethys for use by their temple guards, this weapon grants its wielder arcane aid to strike true. Once per day as a standard action, the wielder of a bow of the watchful guardian can alter the physical properties of the weapon, allowing its ammunition to bypass the damage reduction of one of the following types: bludgeoning, cold iron, silver, or slashing. This change lasts for 5 minutes.
In addition, if the wielder of a bow of the watchful guardian fails an attack roll, as an immediate action once per day, she can retroactively add a +1 competence bonus on that roll. If this bonus is enough to make the failure a success, the attack roll succeeds.
Finally, a bow of the watchful guardian sharpens the senses of its wielder, granting her a +2 insight bonus on Perception checks.
Petra takes the spear-- it is only polite, a token of their covenant, even if she knows little beyond the basics of how to use such a weapon-- only to be surprised when it shifts to a weapon she knows far better. Eyes widening, Petra offers a bow to the guardian, and has only time to murmur the beginning of a thanks in Ancient Osiriani before Senenmerek has gone on to his eternal rest.
Petra falls silent a moment, then carefully slings the bow over her shoulder. The others understood the speech, she knows, but to Mirri she explains: "I have sworn to hunt down the necromancer who stole from him-- to take his charge as my own. I do not consider my oaths binding on the rest of you, of course, but I think that the church will agree this thief should be found."
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Say'ri bows her head as Petra and Senenmerek conduct their oath. Were it any other member of their group Say'ri would worry that they did not fully appreciate what they were letting themselves in for, wouldn't understand just how serious an oath before the gods is, but Petra understood so Say'ri keeps her peace and the solemnity of the moment.
"I consider myself bound by this oath as much as you are Petra." Say'ri responds. "It would ill become me, as a Guardian myself, to let another's trust be undone through my lack of watchfulness or failure. Besides a necromancer is someone that should not be left running around."
After retrieving Senenmerek's chain shirt, and marvelling at its weight Say'ri hefts Velriana's body, handing the rest of the heavy things to Ibrahim to carry.
"I suggest we report to the temple, and then return to my house for dinner and dividing the spoils. Ben-Ali won't mind, I'm sure." She says with a smile, leading the way from the Sanctum back towards the sun.
Mirri hung out in the back of the group, nearly vanishing in the shadows, silently waiting for the conversation in a language she did not understand to be complete. Afterward she peppered the others with questions about what was said. Necromancers have stuff to take, right? And cuz they're evil its OK to take, ya? So, let's do it!
On the way out, Mirri nods in response to Say'ri's suggestion. Yep, temple then back to the house. Tomorrow let's go to that auction they have. I wanna buy stuff! The halfling seems especially excited to have substantial funds for the first time in her life.
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Leading the group out of the temple Say'ri is as good as her word and reports first to the Grand Mausoleum. Turning Velriana's body over to the priests she explains. "This woman led another group in the lottery. She was a devout follower of Nethys and lead her group to our destination, which she knew to be a former temple of her god. The rest of her group heeded our warning to leave in peace, but she refused and fell in the struggle. We did not wish to leave her there and have brought her body for the appropriate funeral rites."
After passing on the mandatory reports Say'ri leads everyone back home and promptly sets people to work on dinner, reminding Mirri that "If Ben comes home and finds all the onions already prepared, he's far more likely to make his onion soup again..."
As the group works Say'ri begins to talk through the list of items they have collected, her organised mind having kept a fairly accurate record - supplemented by the rest of the group.
"So, Senemerek's chain shirt is probably our greatest treasure after the bow. Mirri would you be interested? Petra and Ibrahim already have similar or better armour and I'm sure Menya the Whip could be convinced to resize it for a small fee. Much of our other finds are just pocket change. I'd consider adding that Golden Apple to Arisetti's items though. It would fit the theme well and might add a little more lure to the lot as a whole."
"Equally we now have a huge number of potions and wands. I suggest everyone claims what they think is useful to themselves or the group and we sell the rest."
Mirri passed on joining the rest at the temple, begging off to go straight back to Say'ri's where she was already a known quantity. When the rest of the group arrive, Mirri could be found kicked back in a much-too-large chair that she used as more of a lounge. But the halfling's eye's brighten at the mention of Onion soup. Ohh! Good idea! She then bolted to the kitchen, and using a chair as a step-stool, proceeded to rapidly chop through a series of yellowish onions.
Miirri nodded in the affirmative, through onion-induced tears, when Say'ri mentioned the armor. She continued to listen in to the conversation, offering her opinion on the various items when the time was right.
Petra accompanies Say'ri and the body to the temple, lending her assent to Say'ri's words of Velriana and her fate. "Better laid to rest by the temple then risen as one of the abominations," she says, absently fingering the string of her new bow as she thinks of the guardian, finally at rest.
Later that night, at dinner with the others, Petra mulls over the stolen artifact. "We have few leads to pursue there. Perhaps we should visit the temple of Nethys. Their own archives might be able to tell us more of the nature of the stolen artifact, if we can convince a priest of our good intentions. But I suppose that first we should visit this auction, yes. There may be some clue there."
The temple is alive with activity, with all manner of people arriving to seek aid or sell items.
When Say'ri turns over Velriana's body and offers an explanation, one acolyte says a quick prayer and begins moving the body. The other raises his eyebrows and looks at you questioningly with tired eyes, until a priest approaches.
The priest is short and thin, and despite his stark white hair and goatee, he looks quite young for a man of his station.
It's alright, Benjamin, they're telling the truth. That one, he says gesturing towards Velriana as the other acoltye carries her away.
She is a bit reticent to go to the Boneyard. She thinks her time here shouldn't yet be done. You may go, he says politely but firmly to Benjamin, who nods and scurries away. Then, turning to you all, he bows deeply.
Thank you for abiding by our laws and customs--I know the necropolis can be a lawless place. I am Ptemenib, and on behalf of Sebti I thank you for your service. I see you've had some success on your expedition, he says with a smile, eyeing your equipment.
I'm afraid you'll find a lack of interested buyers, at least if you explore usual channels. You should come to my auction! Three days hence, at the Canny Jackal. If nothing else, we'll have some fine food for your enjoyment. It is best to enjoy what this realm has to offer, while we are here. In your line of work, I'm sure you know this all too well. But I daresay you will find some willing buyers for any goods you wish to sell, and there should be a fair few things of interest if you have money that needs spending. I hope to see you there, friends! and with that he hurries off to other duties.
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Say'ri bows to Ptemenib, who she knows vaguely as a high ranking priest within the temple. "We will be glad to attend, thank you for the invitation." Turning to leave the temple, she murmurs to her companions, "That talk of Velriana not being ready to go to the Boneyard worries me. Let us hope Horus and Anubis will guard us from any vengeance. But now to happier things, we can discuss the auction over dinner."
"I too will take up this cause. I can't say that I have as much religious fervor as the rest of you. I never was much for worship. But I do believe in fate. I don't think it was mere happenstance that brought us together. We are destined to stop this foe. But not before we've had a little rest and relaxation, am I right?"
"Merriment and an opportunity to barter for magnificent treasures? How could we refuse?"
Petra's brows draw into a sharp furrow at the priest's words of Velriana not being ready to pass on. "I see. Let us know if we may be of more service. She was a... stubborn woman in life; it is unfortunate her shade is so as well."
Petra listens to the news of the auction, and nods. Gold is little enough to her, other than a means to an end: if it helps her strike down those who sully the rest of the dead, so be it. How different her attitude is from the gold-hungry thief's, she muses to herself...
When they've returned to Say'ri's home and she sees Mirri chopping the onions, Petra studies her a long moment.
"You have never had enough before, have you?" she asks the halfling bluntly. She could be talking about the food-- the rich onion stew-- or more than that.
At the temple, Mirri hung back a bit but showed a greater level of comfort than when conversing with the skeleton. If only slightly. Speaking in a low tone to Ibrahim she said ruefully. Say'ri an' Ben-Ali used ta make me go here when I was in trouble. The halfling otherwise waited while Petra and Say'ri spoke to Ptemenib, half submerged in the shadows.
She audibly exhaled and visibly relaxed as the group departed, her excitement returning. Can't wait for food and shopping! As if to emphasize the point, she danced along side the others all the way back to Say'ri's home.
At the temple, Mirri hung back a bit but showed a greater level of comfort than when conversing with the skeleton. If only slightly. Speaking in a low tone to Ibrahim she said ruefully. Say'ri an' Ben-Ali used ta make me go here when I was in trouble. The halfling otherwise waited while Petra and Say'ri spoke to Ptemenib, half submerged in the shadows.
She audibly exhaled and visibly relaxed as the group departed, her excitement returning. Can't wait for food and shopping! As if to emphasize the point, she danced along side the others all the way back to Say'ri's home.
Ibrahim leans down and puts his arm around Mirri's shouders, smiling brightly. "There's no need to be ashamed. You have saved all of our necks more than once, and no one can take that away from you. You have earned your spot on this team, and then some."
Ben comes home to see the onions already chopped. He moves slowly to the kitchen, his clothes damp with the sweat of a long day's work. His eyes are heavy, the dark circles under them indicating his fatigue, but still he smiles at the prepped meal and what it implies.
He chuckles to himself and starts a fire, moving about with a practiced grace despite his weary limbs, gathering spices for the soup.
He says nothing of your exploration, or of his own day at the temple, but seems content to enjoy your company.
The auction begins an hour after sunset, with a complimentary reception beforehand for the attendees to mingle with one another and enjoy refreshments. This evening, the Jackal is offering cheese-stuffed figs, hard-boiled peacock eggs, onion bread, onion-stuffed squid, fresh and dried fruit, spiced wine, and a sampling of 2,000-year-old honey recovered from one of the tombs.
By the time you arrive, several noteworthy members of Wati society have already gathered, and more filter in as the night wears on. Ptemnib waves and nods cordially to you when you enter, then turns to address some other guests while he slowly samples, and apparently savors, the food.
Two dozen attendees eventually arrive besides you. Notable guests include the following:
Rail-thin and with an iron handshake, this ambitious young armorsmith is attending the auction to network,though he’s also looking for a curious centerpiece for his new armor shop.
In the three days before the auction, Petra fills her time with, first of all, writing a letter home to the dwarves of Erekrus.
May Father Torag-Ptah bless and protect you with the creations of his hands, and Bes-ka keep our home happy and safe.
I am sorry I have not written. Things have been eventful.
Foremost of importance: I have slain the defiler of our dead, the jackal called Thurzen, and avenged both myself and Lord Anubis upon him. He will trouble neither the living nor the dead again. The relics that he and the other jackals stole were not in his possession: I assume they were sold off. But in the sacrifice of blood the heart of the debt is paid, and I will answer to Anubis if he desires more from me in this regard.
All the same I cannot return yet to Erekrus. There is another matter in which I feel Lord Anubis wishes my presence. A necromancer has stolen something of great power from a tomb, and I have sworn to the guardian of that tomb that I will take this task as my own. I will return to Erekrus when I can, but duty calls me here.
Please tell Gehman to keep feeding my cat.
I remain your loyal daughter,
Petra
Petra then goes to the market and spends several hours in finding a trader bound for Erekrus to deliver her letter. It's not that the task would take so long, but her shyness makes her lose the will to address several different caravans before she finally tells herself she is being foolish. She spoke to Senenmerek, she can speak to one of these traders. So what if they stare at her scars!
With this task taken care of, Petra decides to ride this minor rush of confidence as long as possible-- she starts asking the merchants of the bazaar if they have seen a Osiriani man with the rune of a serpent swallowing its own tail on his forehead...
Alas, her forays into actually talking to people are still burgeoning things. Perhaps in time. Finding no luck questioning common folk the dwarf turns her attention to the temples of Nethys, wondering if they might have some historical insight into the stolen object.
Petra tugs on the sleeve of the nearest of her colleagues, pointing at a half-elven man, well-dressed, in another corner of the room. "I know this man!" she exclaims, mildly pleased by this. "Basif Iosep-- he is a documents collector and once corresponded with the scribes of Erekrus in the deciphering of some old scripts for us.
"--ahhh, and those two, I have seen at the temple of Nethys, the Sanctive of Silver and Gold, just in the last few days. Djat Masakhet and Intef Karam; they are servants of the two-faced god of magic."
Petra frowns at this, rubbing her chin. "I hope they do not think ill of us over the matter of the Taldane woman. But that tablet that we recovered.... they seek lost temple records of Nethys, surely that would be of great interest to them..."
Her spirits boosted by Ibrahim's accolades, Mirri took her good mood all the way back to Say'ri and Ben-Ali's home. That night she joked and smiled, doing her part to try to boost Ben's spirits while telling her slightly slanted view of the group's most recent adventures. After extensive eating and talking, the Halfling slept, but the following morning was no where to be found.
Over the course of the next few days, Mirri attempted to reconnect with her family. Say'ri's later attempts to pry out of the diminutive Halfling how these efforts went produced little other than the general sense that Mirri was roundly unsuccessful. Her mood appeared more down as well; she said little and appeared mostly withdrawn.
Arriving with the group at the Auction, Mirri hung back and approached the gathering with trepidation. I...I don't think I belong here, Say'ri. I don't know nobody here, well, 'xcept Mad Dog. He don't really belong here either. Seeming to almost become one with the shadows cast by the lights at the sides of the room, Mirri's eyes were then pulled to the spread. Oh wow..., she said to no one in particular, before darting over to pile two meals worth of food on a plate. Getting a few looks, she smiled weakly before hustling over to Mad Dog and Marrna. Hey ya Mad Dog! Uh, what's ya doin' here? Hoping to help ingratiate herself, she tossed Marrna some squid as well.
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Say'ri spends much of the intervening days with her husband, going with him on his rounds, helping him in his work and generally falling back into her previous routine before the fire and the lottery disrupted life so greatly.
She does her best to everything that Ben-Ali normally does, well aware that her husband is becoming more and more drained every day he pushes himself - cooking, cleaning, every household chore and more are efficiently completed by Say'ri and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity when she is looking for 'helpers'.
The only relenting in this schedule comes on the third day when Mirri re-appears. Well used to the halfling's comings and goings, and knowing that as long as she returns of her own free will nothing will have gone (badly) wrong, Say'ri doesn't say much apart from offering tea and a quiet ear once Mirri's despondency becomes clear.
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Once they arrive at the Canny Jackal Say'ri moves quickly to secure a good table for their wares, directing Ibrahim to set up the wares and forcing him to re-arrange repeatedly to fit her critical eye. After the stall is complete and she has time to actually look around she catches sight of a few people she knows. She and Menya exchange a firm handshake as she asks about his recent sales. She bemoans not having anything truly impressive to offer him but does agree to come by his shop to help him test some new weapons later in the week.
After Menya her eye roams more freely, although she refuses to abandon their stall.
She exchanges personable nods with Baketra, secretly glad that their stall has nothing approaching edible on it, else the notorious gourmand/glutton (depending on who you asked) might well have taken up residence. Her eye however is caught by a woman she vaguely recognises, Maru Meshhotten, who seems to be shopping with her granddaughter. Say'ri greets them both pleasantly and then enquires as to what they are shopping for, hoping that the story of Arrisetti, which she lays out for them in a suitably tragic and romantic fashion, might spur interest or even a purchase.
A kindly man with a deeply-lined, sunburnt face accepts Petra's letter. I'm headed that way anyway, m'lady, . He nods, and spurs on the mule pulling his cart.
The dwarf's efforts to find information of the mysterious necromancer are met with less success, so she resigns herself to finding answers on her own.
At the Sanctum of Silver and Gold, Petra is met by a middle-aged priestess who identifies herself as Intef Karam. Her gazes lingers a second to long on Petra's scars, but she has the grace to not say anything.
After Petra introduces herself, she says: Yes, Khelru told me of your encounter in the necropolis. What fate befell Velriana?
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Cool! I'm interested to see how it plays out.
Marrna leaps into the air to catch the squid, chomping it in two bites and shaking her head vigorously, spraying Mirri in a shower of saliva. She wags her tail with great fervor.
Who, me? Mad Dog says, smiling. I'm just here to drink, stuff my gob, and make all the fancy folk nervous. I loooooove makin' fancy folk nervous. You?
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Menya returns Say'ri's offer to peruse his goods with a firm handshake and genuinely happy smile.
Lady Meshhotten glances at her granddaughter and then back at Say'ri with an exaggerated "serious" look. Oh, I don't think we'd want a silly old dress and ring, do you, Nam?
The girl blinks, at first not catching her grandmother's sarcasm, then laughs. Please can we get it? Please, please!
Well, we'll see. Thank you, madame Bashere, we will watch this lot with great interest...
Mirri giggled in response to Marrna, wiping away dog saliva with a smile. Eh, me? Nah, I don't think I can make anybody nervous. I'm jus' here with my friends, she point back at the group, we're gonna sell stuff we got and mebbe buy somethin'. An' eat of course! She said the last with a big smile just as she stuffed another load of food in her mouth.
Ibrahim takes to sales like a fish to water, beaming brightly. He nods at Khammayid. "Well, if it isn't Master Okhenti! Fancy meeting you here. Come, examine our wares. We may have some arms and armor that even your family will be impressed with!"
When the young noble attempts to address him however, Ibrahim dismisses the notion that they may be old friends or acquaintances. "Please, please, it's just Ibrahim now."
Before the matter can be discussed further, Ibrahim flits like a hummingbird over to the ladies Meshotten. He uses his sleeves of many garments to change his attire into a rainbow-colored silken extravagance. "I know I think or two about fashion, but young lady, I daresay you have me at a disadvantage. This dress would look absolutely divine on you!" He holds the dress up to the little girl, smiling at her grandmother.
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Ah, hahaha! What were those fool Pharasmins thinking, offering free food to the likes of us? Mad Dog throws a handful of olives toward the general direction of his mouth. Half of them land in their target, the other half bounce around the floor, with Marrna making a scene chasing them. A serving girl just ducks out of the way before she is bowled over.
Manaat looks gravely at Khammayid with an expression that could curdle milk. She raises her eyebrows and angles her neck toward the scene.
Khammayid nods seriously, trying unsuccessfully to keep a smirk from his face. Ptemenib laughs heartily, and Nam Meshotten runs after Marrna, giggling.
Ibrahim takes to sales like a fish to water, beaming brightly. He nods at Khammayid. "Well, if it isn't Master Okhenti! Fancy meeting you here. Come, examine our wares. We may have some arms and armor that even your family will be impressed with!"When the young noble attempts to address him however, Ibrahim dismisses the notion that they may be old friends or acquaintances. "Please, please, it's just Ibrahim now."
Manaat slinks away at Ibrahim's approach, her face still scowling at the whole scene.
Your timing is impeccable, as always, Ibrahim, Khammayid says, placing his hand on the swordsman's shoulder familiarly, but only for a moment. I mean, or so I'd imagine. You saved me from a most gruesome fate. Yes, you'd best show me your...wares. He slides his arm in Ibrahim's, starting a bit when the magus' massive bicep brushes his own. It seems Wati's climate has been great for your...health. The nobleman smiles. He pushes Ibrahim playfully toward the Meshottens and moves to examine your items for sale. He tests the sight of the crossbow and nods approvingly, then tests a few strokes with the well-made khopesh.
Ibrahim flits like a hummingbird over to the ladies Meshotten. He uses his sleeves of many garments to change his attire into a rainbow-colored silken extravagance. "I know a thing or two about fashion, but young lady, I daresay you have me at a disadvantage. This dress would look absolutely divine on you!" He holds the dress up to the little girl, smiling at her grandmother.
Wheeeeee! is Nam's only response to Ibrahim, she holds the dress up to her chest and spins around, dragging it on the floor as it is much too large for her. Her grandmother watches her with fondness, brushing away a single tear. So much like her mother... she whispers to Ibrahim. Ahem, come now, don't dirty it up too much, especially if we want to buy it. Her reproach is stern, but loving.
Ibrahim lingers a bit as his arm unlocks with the nobleman. "My lord, if only it weren't untoward for a man of your station to... fraternize... with a commoner such as myself." He sighs deeply, smiling as he glides over to the girl. As he does, he sees Khammayid examining the khopesh, and calls back over his shoulder: "Tis no surprise how well you handle that blade. I'd wager it's a match that rivals the pairing of you and your lovely betrothed."
Petra looked very sober, a few days ago, as she read the ancient Osiriani script aloud. "The Forgotten Pharaoh... I must study more of this. But how might a long-dead king yet still have his ka-- unless it pertains to the dividing of his soul that the reliquary is named for..." the dwarf descends into muttering to herself, but snaps out of it long enough to say: "My friends. I think this is very bad, that this thing has been taken. Bad for the thief."
Petra bows to the priestess respectfully. "It is my regret that wisdom could not prevail upon her. She refused to yield and we took her life. Her body, we brought to the temple of Pharasma since the dead must be given respect even if they showed little of it in life." Petra's tone is respectful but not overly apologetic. She offers the living quarter-- but if they do not take it, she does not lose sleep over it. Pharaz-Mat must judge them, not her.
"If you would know more, the Pharasmin clergy might say. They said her soul was... unquiet."
Clearing her throat, Petra continues. "There is a matter beyond this that may concern your faith. A relic of great power was held in the crypt in question. It was stolen: neither by my team nor Velriana's. A necromancer, I think. I have sworn an oath to the original guardian of the tomb, created by your own church, that I will track down this theft. But I fear the thief may have unleashed a dark wrath. Do your temple records say anything of the Forgotten Pharaoh? Or the Reliquary of the Thrice-Divided Soul? I know I am not of your faith," Petra rattles off in intent tones, gazing up unblinking at the priestess.
***
Petra reads the contemptuous look clearly enough but only grunts to herself. The man with his dog is loud and rude; the others are rude too, but dress it more finely. She feels no sympathy to either side-- there is a necromancer running about somewhere who needs dealing with, while they stand here haggling over coin!
On the other hand, coin is useful when it allows you to purchase new arrows for your new bow...
Nodding to her friends, Petra approaches the Nethyn priestess again, and her colleague. Petra is scrupulously clean, but her clothes are fairly simple: a grey tunic of mid-grade linen, belted at the waist with a sash of black cotton, and her sandals, waxed for the night so they show no sign of the wear and tear of the road. It is the customary garb of the average Erekrusite, not that she expects the Wati citizens to know this. She makes no attempt to cover her scars, despite the looks from some at the party.
The dwarf bows to the priestess. "Priestess Karam. Again we meet. Based on our words the other day I understand the temple always seeks old records. It occurs to me there is a tablet you may wish to acquire."
A fair assumption, the nobleman responds to Ibrahim, smiling wistfully. His attention is then captured by the scarab shield on Say'ri's back.
My lady, is that for sale? Surely I'd be the envy of Wati with such an exquisite blend of art and craftsmanship.
Intef Karam nods at Petra's description of Velriana's fate. I feared as much, but Khelru said whatever happened after he left would be her own fault, and his account matches yours.
She raises her eyebrows at the mention of Velriana's unquiet soul, but says nothing. Then, in response to Petra's inquiry. I have heard nothing of a Forgotten Pharoah or a soul Reliquary, and certainly nothing of a great artifact safeguarded in the sanctum. Tell me, where did you come by this knowledge?
Fascinating! You found this in the Sanctum? Djederet II was the founder of Wati, it's clear he is referring to it. But an item of this importance locked away here for six millenia? I can only speculate, but...unless... The priestess casts a spell and after a moment a symbol appears on the upper right corner of the tablet, an eye bisected by a vertical line. See that? That means one of my people placed that mark on this, all those years ago. It verifies its authenticity. I am intrigued, but also concerned if the warning is true. Allow me to research this further.
Petra, I'm sorry to say that my resources were too lacking to uncover more information about this Forgotten Pharoah. Suffice it to say, though, that he predates Djederet II. I would dearly love to purchase the tablet, to keep it safe in our records. And of course if I discern anything of value, I will let you know...
Petra thanks Intef Karam for her being willing to research, and excuses herself from the Sanctum to allow her to get on with just that task. At the auction, she is eager to hear if the priestess found anything, but her face falls slightly to hear nothing of particular.
"I see. Of course, it is better in your hands as it has significance to your priesthood. The gold that we receive for it will go towards solving this mystery." Well, at least in part it will, Petra supposes.
Taking her leave of the priestess, Petra makes her way to Basif, her mind more focused on the issue of the Forgotten Pharaoh than this haggling, but she is willing to make an attempt at least.
"Master Basif," she says with a bow on approach. "You do not know me but I know, by reputation at least. An expert on ancient documents, yes?" Petra is vaguely familiar with the concept of flattery but her attempt to pay a compliment possibly comes across like an interrogation.... she's still learning this 'diplomatic' stuff.
"Does your interest in such things extend to spellbooks?" Petra doesn't really think it does, for what might the man learn of his human ancestors by some wizard's spellbook, but it's the best she can think to offer.
Petra is almost tempted to ask Iosep if he knows of lost historical records from before Djederet's time, but decides to go with a different tack. "--and on another matter, what of markings not on papyrus but on living flesh? There is a man with a rune tattooed upon his head and hieroglyphs all over his body that I seek. You are knowledgeable and have lived beyond the lifespan of many humans, I think. Do you know of any rumors of such a man?"
After her encounter with Basif Petra will look around the room-- not for bidders, but for fellow adventurers and explorers. Surely someone needs a good bow.
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A fair assumption, the nobleman responds to Ibrahim, smiling wistfully. His attention is then captured by the scarab shield on Say'ri's back.
My lady, is that for sale? Surely I'd be the envy of Wati with such an exquisite blend of art and craftsmanship.
"I am afraid not sir." Say'ri replies politely. "It is an heirloom of my family and I would be loath to part with it."
Mirri jokes along with Mad Dog while both eating and tossing food to Marrna for time, before taking a look around again at the auction. Ya know, I bet I can get some of these fancy pants types to cough up a bit more gold for our stuff. Let's see.... Setting down the last nibbles of food on the floor for Marrna to devour, Mirri put on a wide ingratiating smile and began regaling whomever would listen about the various items the group had for sale. She kept very loosely to the truth, while adding a host of embellishments in hopes of attracting a buyer.
...and THIS one, ohhh boy, you'll never guess the fight we had to get THIS one. It was guarded by a talking skeleton who proclaimed himself the Grand Guardian of All Afterlife. We fought him hard an' he said 'ok, you win, you all's too tough, but 'fore ya kill me ya gotta help me with a quest!' Since we're helpful and nice and truthful types we said 'sure!' and after takin' care of this theiven' group of no-good types the skeleton rewarded us with very portrait here! Now you can own this here piece o' history! Now, whose gonna step up!
Petra takes her leave of the Nethysians (is that a word), approaching the linguist. He chuckles good-naturedly at her attempts.
My dear, your honesty is refreshing. I don't have much need for a "spellbook". However, the last remnant of arcane knowledge lost to the ages, but recently discovered by you! That is something different entirely! Tell me about the owner of the book--tell me a tale of courage, or deception, or love lost. Sacrifice, heartache, anything! What all of these people want most, the sage says, gesturing around, is a magnificent story they haven't heard before.
Basif then reaches into his pocket and produces a handful of treats, popping one into his mouth with a crunch. He smiles, black grains of coffee now stuck in his teeth.
Want one? Chocolate covered coffee bean. I didn't catch your name.... He offers a few morsels to Petra.
Ah yes, solid, like stone. As to your question, all manner of civilizations use tattoos to denote various things. There's usually some strong emotion tied to it, when you're marking your body permanently of course, but I'm afraid no one individual stands out in recent memory.
Petra observes the nobleman speaking with Say'ri. He seemed to have an eye out for weapons. While he was more interested in expensive gear, there is also a group of four Andorans who are browsing various shops for mundane, practical gear and weapons.
"I am afraid not sir." Say'ri replies politely. "It is an heirloom of my family and I would be loath to part with it."
Say no more! If any of the jackals in my family got their hands on such a prize, we'd hear about it for decades. Either you have a fine artisan or warrior in your lineage and, in either case, I am impressed. Tell me, how do you get your bird to obey you so well? I've done some falconing and, things went poorly. Khammayid moves in close when he talks, touching your arm, shoulder, etc. His tone is genuine, and he seems to be asking you such questions in honest curiosity, not out of a sense of politeness.
Meanwhile Mirri starts gathering a crowd, showcasing some items.
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Say no more! If any of the jackals in my family got their hands on such a prize, we'd hear about it for decades. Either you have a fine artisan or warrior in your lineage and, in either case, I am impressed. Tell me, how do you get your bird to obey you so well? I've done some falconing and, things went poorly. Khammayid moves in close when he talks,...
"I am afraid not sir." Say'ri replies politely. "It is an heirloom of my family and I would be loath to part with it."
"He is my familiar. I originally came across him during my time with the Watch. He was in the necropolis, injured, and being attacked by some minor undead. Lord Horus looks kindly on falcons, so it was my duty to intervene and I was able to put the undead to rest and save him." Say'ri strokes Akhentepi's feathers, finding the mixture of amusement and resignation from her ancestor quite amusing. "We bonded while he healed and, with Horus' grace, we have fought together ever since."
My dear, your honesty is refreshing. I don't have much need for a "spellbook". However, the last remnant of arcane knowledge lost to the ages, but recently discovered by you! That is something different entirely! Tell me about the owner of the book--tell me a tale of courage, or deception, or love lost. Sacrifice, heartache, anything! What all of these people want most, the sage says, gesturing around, is a magnificent story they haven't heard before.
Basif then reaches into his pocket and produces a handful of treats, popping one into his mouth with a crunch. He smiles, black grains of coffee now stuck in his teeth.
Want one? Chocolate covered coffee bean. I didn't catch your name.... He offers a few morsels to Petra.
Petra does give Basif her name, and then somewhat uncertainly takes one of the little brown rocks, only to be pleasantly surprised that they are not rocks. "This is sweet outside but bitter inside," Petra says with a blink. "The coating is... 'chocolate'?"
She is silent a little bit in thought, because she is definitely not one of nature's storytellers, to deal in words of drama such as he suggests. She has copied many scrolls of Erekrus that tell of the deeds of the noblest pharaohs, but that is very far from being one to weave her own stories. But for Petra at least there has always been a solemn grandeur in those old historical accounts.
Seriously, Petra intones: "In the thirty-first year of the Ruby Prince Khemet the Third, the Forthbringer, a foreign woman came to Osirion from the barbarous lands of the north." (To Petra, anything north of the Inner Sea is barbarous; she has only the faintest conceptual grasping that nations such as Taldor and Irrisen are not exactly alike.) "This woman worshiped Nethys, but in her worship and hunger for secrets of her god she disdained the righteous law of Osirion as given by the Ruby Prince, who walks among us as one of the gods, and as represented in the mortal world by the priests of Pharasma as they gave out rights of exploration to the mausoleum of Wati."
The dwarf pauses, studying the 'chocolate' rocks again and carefully placing another in her mouth before continuing. "This Nethys-worshipper convinced others to join her in disdaining the site that Pharasma's priests had assigned to them, and instead seeking a lost temple of Nethys itself, to which the Pharasmins had granted access to us. When we met there was battle."
Sigh, the old historical scrolls describe the many wonders and miracles the pharaohs had performed... Petra thinks the fight held no miracles, just a foolish woman and her wiser companions. She frowns. "Two of her companions were mated, I think; they fought fiercely to save each other. But the rightful explorers of the tomb offered them their lives if they yielded the field of battle, and one after the other they perceived this wisdom, except for the foreign woman. She spat curses unto the last. Pharaz-Mat must judge her transgressions, though at the temple they say her soul lies unquiet and perhaps she will walk again. Her faith must have been strong to inspire such a foolish act. But the act remains no less foolish. She sought knowledge and now, the knowledge that was hers shall be hawked to any with coin, like the clothes of a hanged thief given to beggars upon the street."
Look, if you wanted a cheerful story, you should have gone to Ibrahim.
Feeling uncomfortable with this notion of trying to tell tales, Petra will take her leave of Basif after she sees her response to her 'story,'... but will ask him where he got the chocolate rocks.
Spying the adventurers she beelines for them. Perhaps they will not as the story of her old bow.
"You. You are exploring the tombs as well? I have a bow that I need no longer. The strings are sound and well oiled; the wood is supple. Do you care to purchase it or barter? I am also aware of some weapons that will be sold in the auction. A well-made khopesh. A dagger. A crossbow. The things to keep one alive."