Aside from the tapestry, and the now-defunct undead cats, there is little of interest. Hickle notes the superior architecture he's seen in previous chambers continues here; the ancient Osirians really knew how to build things to last.
Whoa! Someone is rolling Appraise!
Payn figures the tapestry's value, despite it's somewhat ragged condition, at about 200 gp for the right buyer, and there are plenty of those in town for just this occasion.
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Payn continues to ignore the efforts to move forward and starts futzing with the tapestry. "If someone could assist me, I have determined that this objecte de` arte has significant monetary value.
Perhaps we could roll it up and place it at our point of entry? Even if we exit at another place, we will know where it is and be able to come back and retrieve it?"
While hickle is concerned with the nonexistent clues, Shmick approaches. He speaks, "Ꭵf ᎽᎾu ᏒᎬᎪᏞᏞᎽ ᏆhᎥᏁᏦ ᏆhᎥs ᎾᏞᎠ ᏟᏞᎾᏆh Ꭵs ᎳᎾᏒᏆh Ꭺ fᎬᎳ sᎥᎶᏁᎥfᎥᏟᎪᏁᏆ ᏟᎾᎥᏁs, ᏆhᎬᏁ Ꭵ mᎪᎽ Ꭺs ᎳᎬᏞᏞ ᎪssᎥsᏆ. ᎥᏆ's ᏁᎾᏆ Ꭺs Ꭵf mᎽ mᎪsᏆᎬᏒ ᏟᎾuᏞᎠ ᎬᏉᎬᏁ ᏒᎬᎪᏟh ᏆhᎬ ᏆᎾᏢ Ꮎf ᎥᏆ."
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"Gratitude, for the assistance," says Payn as the machine helps her take the old cloth down.
"But your syntax in is in error. The current economic situation does not condone the use of large-value coinage, so this is worth _several_ significant coins.
Don't worry about it. Your use of language is restricted by the labor of your master. And he would find it unwise to address insignificant problems of syntax since when you die he will just make a new one to replace you. This is not unlike each one of us, just the timeline is accelerated.
So don't worry about it."
"ᎽᎾu musᏆ hᎪᏉᎬ Ꭺ ᏞᎾᏆ Ꮎf fᏒᎥᎬᏁᎠs." Shmick dryly replies, as he rolls up the tapestry.
Try as he might, Hickle cannot discern one direction as better than another based on the design of the place. The place seems deliberately designed with a certain amount of deception, to foil graverobbers. ahem.
So far one vote left, 0 votes right.
The catfolk giggles at the somewhat morbid exchange between Payn the the mechanical Smick, watching as they take the splendid tapestry elsewhere for safe keeping.
Turning to join Hickle, she looks left and right and sniffing the air a few times before shrugging and saying, Left seems as good as right to me, so I'm fine with that. Anyone have objections?
Hickle has at one point taken out his pipe, lighting it in hopes of finding some inspiration in the smoke rings. He shrugs in the end, stepping closer toward the left passage. "Worst case scenario, we all die due to some hideous trap, or we simply only spend time which we have plenty of."
Before he get's to far however, Shmick taps the elder's shoulder to draw attention to his damage state. The gnome frowns at first,t hen nods and closes his eyes to concentrate. A pale blue mist, barely there at all, passes over creator and creation, before Shmick seems to gather up the energy in one hand. Crunching the semi-tangible force, much of the damage dealt to his form seems to mend back together.
The doors to the left (map south) open smoothly, leading to a short set of stairs descending further to another set of double doors.
Both sets of doors open without resistance and without incident, leading into a room of equal size to the previous one. This room has doors to map east and map west (which stand slightly ajar), but the central feature is a massive mirror that stretches across the southern wall of the chamber. The mirror is flanked by two statues. The statue to the east depicts a tall, gaunt woman in a flowing, hooded gown, holding an hourglass. The figure to the west is that of a jackal-headed man carrying a scepter or staff in his hand. Torch holders sculpted in the shape of bird skulls are built in each corner, and a thin layer of dust covers every surface.
(Map to follow later).
"What an odd set-up," Hickle thinks aloud, before concluding in a mumble. "A freestanding mirror, and statues? Very curious indeed." A near silent spell follows as he waves his left hand, squinting in concentration. There could be magic in here, and it would be a mistake to continue on without that consideration.
Assuming there is or isn't any obvious magic, he then resorts to more mundane methods of closely observing his surroundings.
Squinting at the fdust to see if anything had disturbed it - the cats proved being dead didn't mean being immobile - and then at the statues by the mirror. "Is that...Pharasma? With the hours glasses?"
"Is that...Pharasma? With the hours glasses?"
Hickle detects a faint transmutation and illusion aura around the mirror. As he peers into it, he sees itself (and the rest of the party) reflected back, but they are not alone!
The likeness of Akhentepi, as depicted elsewhere throughout the tomb, appears as well, watching the group with a stern and disapproving look.
"Well, everything's trying to kill everything, there's just an extremely varied amount of success involved. But no, no. Don't cause such undue damage to this place. Especially to those exquisite statues." Hickle intones, as he takes another draw from his pipe.
He watches the image of Akhentpi for a few seconds longer before determining it couldn't be a ghost. But perhaps it had some basic programming and could respond to questions asked, didn't hurt to try. He ducked his eyes, and spoke in the ancient language. ""
For an instant, Hickle could SWEAR he saw a cut appear on his forehead, as if someone were writing, and he felt the pain to match.
But as soon as he started speaking in ancient Osirian, the pain stopped, and the "scratch" went away. Seemingly that was the transmutation part of the magic.
However, the image neither speaks nor reacts, except to seem slightly less hostile.
If anyone else pays any significant attention to the mirror, they too see an unapproving but not overtly hostile Akhentpi. No one was looking when what Hickle experienced happened, but it doesn't happen to anyone else, nor to Hickle again. There does not appear to be anything else in the room of interest except the mirror and the statues.
Poking around the room a little more, Malavine glanced at the others. "So, it looks like turning right was the better option. Shall we do that now?"
"It would appear this room does not want us here, so, yes, going into another one is better than doing nothing."
You can go back the way you came, move east, or move west, double doors in each case.
Hicke absently rubs the spot on his forehead, and considers the mirror for a little longer. "Primitive AI, it appears that whatever trap this was is deactivated by something related to language. As a precaution, ah... don't touch anything. Hmm... So, we just went left, how about.... right?"
Turning right (which I took to mean west, please correct me if you'd like to go a different direction), you find another flight of stairs.
The steps gradually descends to the west down this passage. Halfway down the stairs, small holes and burrowed tunnels riddle what remains of the passage’s southern wall.
Earth and sand have spilled over the collapsed masonry, covering the stairs with dirt and rubble. Stone doors engraved with a golden scarab, its wings open beneath a golden sun, stand at either end of the stairs.
The damaged wall seemed off, given how sound the rest of the temple was, and having found a trap now Malavine moved to the wall, making sure that it wasn't about to spew fire or darts or something.
Having experience, would Hickle and Shmick easily recognize that the holes weren't man made?
Hickle's knowledge of engineering makes it very easy for him to tell they were not man made, but the possibilities for what did make them are too numerous to image.
The damaged wall seemed off, given how sound the rest of the temple was, and having found a trap now Malavine moved to the wall, making sure that it wasn't about to spew fire or darts or something.
As Malavine examines the area, she notes movement in a largish mound of sand in the center of the stairwell.
My judgement based on this is that they are engravings in the stone with gold patina on the stone, not an especially significant amount of gold. Not mention of it is made as treasure, so that's my judgement. That's not to say one couldn't try to scrape it off, but the potential return would be limited.
"Hmm... seems we have more obstacles in our way, hm? Crossbows at the ready!"
Both master and servant pull back the strings on their weapons, and aim for the mound.
Instantly upon hit with Payn's attack, the sand, or much of it, coalesces into a large, serpentine form, still made of the same sand, but obviously intelligent.
Initiative:
Payn:
Hickle:
Malavine:
Kephry:
Zelda:
Sand creature:
Zelda, Payn, and Kephry were all more prepared than the creature, and may go before it.
Paaayynn, that was so rude! Kephry shouts as she grabs her weapon and runs towards the beast, it was just minding its own business and then you zapped it!
She assaults the creature with an overhand chop, hoping to incapacitate it quickly to keep the others safe, but seriously misjudges the distance as her weapon slams harmlessly into the sand long before the creature.
Creature will save:
The creature shrugs off Payn's spell and lashes out at Kephry.
Fortunately, it's powerful bite swallows only air as Kephry nimbly avoids the attack.
Hickle, Shmick and Malavine may now act.
"It's made of sand. If we hit with enough fire, would it turn to living glass?" With a shrug, Malavine drew and tossed a magically-enfused Starknife.
The duo launch forth their crossbows at the same time, but while Hickle's shot goes wide, Shmick seems to have identified the one weak spot inside this mysterious creature's body! No, even more then that, he seems to have found the weak spot of the weak spot, dealing extreme amounts of damage. The construct appears to be very pleased with his own efforts.
Top of round. Back to Payn, Zelda and Kephry.
Holding on Payn and Kephry.
Okay, moving on. Missed actions can be caught up after the creature.
Attacking Kephry once again...
Malavine, Hickle, Kephry and Payn may now act.
Malavine whistled. "Schmick! That was impressive." She drew another one of her starknives and tried to match the construct's impressive attack.
Reeling from the last hit, Kephry recovers slightly when Payn heals her with magic. Taking a nod at the caster, she grips her weapon again and tries another swing at the creature.
The construct bristles with pride as he lines up another shot, while his master continues to suffer from poor aim and luck.
Unfortunately, Kephry's attack does not overcome the creature's protective layer, and it suffers no damage. Same for Shmick's next attack.
Top of Round. Zelda, Kephry, and Payn.
Zelda hits with one of her claws, drawing a small stream of sand from the serpent as if it were blood.
Uh oh... Kephry mumbles as her hard swung blow glances off harmlessly. Her face changes again to a mask of calm, much like how she was against the mummies, and a supernatural ferocity in her movements clashes with the serenity on her face as she swings at the creature again.