Myth with Craggark's help pushes open the ancient doors and breaks a centuries long vacuum of air as, wind rushes past him in to the chamber ahead. He pauses for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the newly lit area. He notices a crack in the stone floor about 10' in front of the doors just inside of the hallway. The crack is too strait to be normal. Following the crack he can clearly see an outline that trails back to the beginning of the doors. Myth suspects there's some sort of concealed pit trap, just outside the doors. Myth cautions everyone to hold up, while he inspects and tries to disable it.
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"Perhaps they simply lived on the river and hid their dead in the desert to keep the tombs from being raided so easily?
Seems more likely than a desert suddenly appearing unless these ruins date back to Earthfall. Do you think they are that old? Absolutely amazing preservation, if they do."
Tilting her head in thought, Lia responds to her friend.
"I suppose you have the most likely answer. I do wonder though."
After the briefest of pauses, the little snowcaster launches into her reasoning.
"Certainly a desert takes a tremendous amount of time to form if left to nature alone, but with the great magics, such as was used by the legendary Geb and Nex when they fought and created the Mana Wastes, it can take much less time. I often wonder if someone that has such powerful constructed guardians as we faced, might have done terrible things with their magic during their life, or worse unlife. In the north some of the land was driven to permanent winter by magic in a very short time, and we all remember that terrible place."
She says the last with a shudder, and continues to look into the room, suspicious of everything now.
"You should allow Jawhar to offer you guidance before you try and disarm it Myth."
Nervous energy courses through her body as Myth moves forward to disable the detected trap.
Myth is able to jam the trap shut to his satisfaction. He motions for the others to step forward.
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After banging on the column a few times, Jawhar satisfies himself that it is not going to come alive and start throwing stone coconuts at the party.
Nervously, he eyes the sarcophagus. "The hallway continues, meaning this likely isn't the pharoah's resting place. That would mean this sarcophagus is likely going to contain some type of horrible guardian again, one with absolutely no treasure.
Maybe we should just leave it alone and keep on going."
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After banging on the column a few times, Jawhar satisfies himself that it is not going to come alive and start throwing stone coconuts at the party.
Nervously, he eyes the sarcophagus. "The hallway continues, meaning this likely isn't the pharoah's resting place. That would mean this sarcophagus is likely going to contain some type of horrible guardian again, one with absolutely no treasure.
Maybe we should just leave it alone and keep on going."
Jamir raises his eyebrows at the Qadiran. "Would you rather have to face whatever is in that sarcophagus on our way out, my friend? At the moment, we are freshly healed, and both you and our pale mistress of the arcane have a full compliment of spells. Even Torvald has most of the bombs he started the day with. I for one would prefer not to leave unopened vessels looming behind us as we delve deeper into this gigantic tomb."
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"I feel particularly useless here," Craggark admits to Lia as he moves slowly into the large chamber alongside her.
Looking in awe at the crystalline columns, his eyes raised to the ceiling. He brings his head down towards the sarcophagus.
"You know what they say, Jawhar. 'Explore, Report, Kill all the Mummies!'" Craggark gives a chuckle.
Idiot.
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"You know what they say, Jawhar. 'Explore, Report, Kill all the Mummies!'" Craggark gives a chuckle.
"I don't see anyone exploring the bottom of that pit. A trap is a trap, and this looks like a honey pot to me.
Jamir, since it hasn't woken up yet, even with our proximity, it most likely won't unless we wake it up."
Jawhar knows that nobody is going to listen, but feels that he needs to be the voice of restraint.
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Torvald, who had be hovering nearby in case Myth required any help with the pit, edges into the room and moves around to flank the sarcophagus. "I suspect you are correct, Jawhar, and this is just a lure for a trap or guardian, or both. But without knowing how it activates, I'm hesitant to leave it at our backs. A destroyed guardian or disabled trap is far more reassuring to me."
The dwarf begins a careful examination around the chamber. "We should carefully look around for whatever threats might be present. Darts firing from the walls, poisonous gasses, floor spikes, destructive glyphs...all the usual dangers! Then we can open the sarcophagus!"
Torvald notices two concealed doors, one on either side of the chamber. Both about the middle of their respective walls.
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As Lia looks over the strange markings, she mumbles absentmindedly to the group, "These markings seem to proclaim many different titles for Pharaoh Sekh-pa-Mefer III. They are called hieroglyphs, which is basically just a word for sacred writings."
Then her eyes go wide as she continues reading the markings and she excitedly points out the reliefs, "Oh my goodness! These show so many military victories over his enemies! Either these are exaggerated or he was a very warlike ruler!"
Jawhar scans the room for magic but finds none.
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Jawhar shakes his head, and looks longingly at the concealed doors. "Well, I guess if you guys are set on opening the sarcophagus, we'll have to wait to open these obviously important concealed doors until we are done here.
Shall we, Craggark?"
Jawhar will move around to the other side of the sarcophagus and prepare to help lift the top off.
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Jamir moves over to the column at the center of the north wall and grabs his bow. He nocks an arrow and gives Jawhar and Craggark a wink.
"No need to be so grim, Jawhar! This is why we're here! It may not be a trap, or contain a nigh-invulnerable unstoppable killing machine, you know! If we are lucky, this overdecorated coffin will only hold a ravening undead horror!"
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Jawhar rolls his eyes and provides a counterpoint.
"Maybe just an incurable disease that has laid dormant inside of this hermetic incubation chamber for thousands of years. The kind that leaves pockmarks all over your face, shrivels your manhood, and causes you to be unable to talk except in grunts and raspy sighs."
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Jawhar rolls his eyes and provides a counterpoint.
"Maybe just an incurable disease that has laid dormant inside of this hermetic incubation chamber for thousands of years. The kind that leaves pockmarks all over your face, shrivels your manhood, and causes you to be unable to talk except in grunts and raspy sighs."
Jamir raises his eyebrows at the Sarenite. ”You are pulling my leg, are you not? That sounds like a disease one might catch in a low-end, dockside bawdy house - although I certainly have no experience with such - not from opening the coffin of a king or royal retainer which has been closed for millennia! If one could catch this dread plague from merely invading a sealed tomb and opening a fancy box, the Pathfinder Society should have been wiped out or reduced to drooling invalids centuries ago!”
Jamir’s chuckle seems a little forced, as though he realizes that he has no idea whether Jawhar’s anxiety is based on some esoteric knowledge the priest learned in his studies or is simply exaggerated caution.
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"If one could catch this dread plague from merely invading a sealed tomb and opening a fancy box, the Pathfinder Society should have been wiped out or reduced to drooling invalids centuries ago!”
"We did meet that Drandle Dreng fellow," Craggark chuckles as he helps Jawhar to dismount the sarcophagus lid from its base.
The warnings of Myth become a reality as Jawhar and Craggark reach for the lid of the sarcophagus. The seemingly inanimate object, erupts to life with appendages that appear out of nowhere and a gaping maw the yearns for Craggarks flesh. The creature suddenly strikes out and catches the flat footed Craggark, unaware. It's blow is not only thunderous, but also holds fast to the hapless 1/2 orc!
R 1
Analia
monster
Jamir
Myth
Jawhar
Craggark
Torvald
Analia's ray hits the creature but, it seems unfazed by the minor damage. The creature attempts to devour Craggark,
The hideous ambush creature opens its weird mouth full of teeth while trying to stuff Craggark down it's gullet. It's grip is vice like but Craggark gets both of his strong arms in to position to stop the jaws from closing over his torso.
R 1
Analia
monster
Jamir
Myth
Jawhar
Craggark
Torvald
A truly impressive display of firepower, reigns down on the creature wounding it badly.
R 1
Analia
monster
Jawhar
Jamir
Myth
Craggark
Torvald
Craggark breaks free and Analia slams the creature with magic fire it topples over in a kinda loose amorphous blob with no true skeleton or exoskeleton. It's maw is still apparent and features of the sarcophagi it mimicked is still apparent. But, little else of this creature is recognizable.
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"Well, that wasn't too bad after all. Craggark, do you feel.... anything withering?"
The grievously-wounded half-orc responds. "Why am I taking the lead in checking out traps?" the half-orc growls, turning on Torvald. "Why is our priest and main healer in the front of the party? Bloody idiotic, this is."
"And how is it STILL hot inside this sealed tomb? It's like a steam bath in here! And I thought this place was buried under the ever-present sand - how am I still being bothered by these stupid stinging mites?? And let's talk about this sand - it gets EVERYWHERE."
"Yes," he grumbles to Lia, "everywhere."
Eventually the half-orc ceases grumbling, but avoids taking the front line as the party checks out the right-hand concealed door.
You manage to crack open the concealed door on the right without too much trouble. Again a minor rush air flows past you as the relatively 'new' air of your current room, rushes in to intermingle with the stale ancient air of the passage beyond the door. A quick glance down the hall with those that have dark-vision reveals; a 10' wide passage that stretches on for at least 60'. Mythryndyr and his sharp elven low light vision can tell after a light source is thrust in to the passage; that the passage, turns due west in about 70' but, is otherwise, unremarkable.
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Jawhar smiles at Craggark's argument that he should hide in the corner.
"I am not helpless, Craggark. Nor do I seek to put myself in needless danger.
I was filling my hands with sarcophagus so that the party members more capable of dealing with a threat would have their weapons free.
As for you being the trap detector... an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."
Jawhar clasps Craggark's arm good naturedly, and shakes his head. With a shudder, he adds, "Mimics.... Why did it have to be mimics?"
As Myth Creeps through the hallway ( It's apparent that, although he's quiet as a mouse, anyone with two eyes can spot the light approaching their position. However, undaunted and used to the duties of scout. Myth moves forward with the rest of the group trailing behind about 10'. When he comes upon the bend, he ducks around the corner to take a peek, ready to spring back to the safety of the hall, at the first sign of danger. What he sees impresses him.
Two ornate wooden chariots sit upon platforms in this chamber, positioned as if ready to charge across the desert sands outside, though no mounts are harnessed to their yokes. The chamber’s walls are carved in relief with scenes of charioteering, racing, and war. There are two skeletons of some ancient honor guard, standing in the far chariot, as if still on duty, for their ancient King . Myth's low light vision, can't quite make out the details, of the far west of the room.
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"Did you know it was a mimic?" Craggark whispers to Lia as he walks alongside her, well back from the front of the party. "I would've liked to have searched through its remains to see if there was anything that it was guarding. Still ---" Craggark stops his quiet grumbling as Myth comes back and explains what he's spotted.
"Aw, Rovagug's lunch menu, those skeletons are undead. We might as well just attack them before they act - there's no point in assuming that they're not some sort of a death-trap awaiting us." Craggark's voice seems a little strained.
I'm sick of this place. Stuff you, you desert rat Sick Pommifer.