WR Mummy's Mask

Game Master wicked_raygun

Ahmed takes a moment to think on the name Akhentepi but nothing springs to mind. For him to have a proper tomb, he had to have been a man of some wealth and influence before the Plague of Madness hit the city. But likely he is but another grain of sand lost to the cruel deserts of time.

Perhaps his tomb will tell them more.

The Band of the Black Fire is currently staying in the Tooth and Hookah #24 on Map of Wati.

It is a modest inn and hookah bar and is best known for its mascot, Toothy — a tiny crocodile that lives in the inn’s well.

You guys can shop, gather information or what have you. Otherwise, when you're done, tell me when you go to the Tooth and Hookah.

Special Note

This is a good time for me to mention to the new players how I deal with the Economics of an RPG. In short, I don't.

I assume you guys can eat and sleep while in town. And I will not bother to account for every single monetary transaction. To be frank, I have better things to do than serve as an imaginary accountant.

Use your current wealth as a guide for what kind of lifestyle your character leads. If you're down to your last coppers, you're probably not living the highlife, ordering rounds for the tavern and paying for high class ladies or lads of the evening.

Just keep it conceivable, and I'll play along.

Koshu wandered the city a bit, asking around about Wati, the necropolis, Akhentepi and, more quietly, their rivals.

Diplomacy to gather info: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Unsatisfied by what he managed to uncover, he used another of his last few coins to buy a stick of meat that he fed to Toothy outside the Tooth and Hookah, with a prayer to the old gods that their exploration would go well. He looked on the tiny croc's hungry snapping with sympathy, his own belly growling.

Licking the juice from the empty stick and his fingers, he went in to see how drunk Kwin had managed to get in the interim.

Ahmed's inability to connect the name Akhentepi with anything causes him to frown, wondering if perhaps his time in the urn did even more harm than he'd realised. He turns to Suri to see if it means anything to her, but he can tell by the expression on her face that it doesn't. Then again, she was never as interested in the other races as he was. 'Look at us now,' thought with a smile as he follows them back to the inn, deep in thought. Sitting at a table, he inhales deeply from the hookah, enjoying the feeling of warm smoke moving through his lungs.

Izra, like Koshu, didn't head straight back to the Tooth and Hookah. Instead, she headed to a different part of the city, where she knew a few more people - people like herself, people who knew stories - could be found. And when she found them, she started looking for stories about Akhentepi. She also looked for people even more like herself - other Kayal. She knew there were a few - after all, if items of power were likely to be found in the necropolis, Kayal would be sent to "fetch" some of them - and she wanted to know if any of them were already tasked to find anything Akhentepi was rumored to have possessed.

Gather Info check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

When she'd finished asking questions and listening to answers and stories, Izra, too, made her way back to the rest of the group.

Entering the Tooth and Hookah and scanning the room, Koshukhep spots Kwin sitting at a corner table, apparently trying to chat up the serving girl. Kwin notices Koshukhep shortly thereafter and waves him over as the girl returns to the kitchen.

"Friend Kosh! Come, partake," he says, sweeping the half-emptied glass in his hand across two empties on the table. "The pulque here is fine, but the barmaid introduced me to tepache. Marvelous stuff, have you tried it? Not much of a kick but it has a spicy bite and it's cimanony. Cimaminy." He frowns and tries another approach. "It has cimmanom in it. Cinanim. Ah, just have one!"

Not drunk -- he knows better, what with an excursion starting in the morning -- but double-fermented tepache has more of a kick than he thinks, and he's nicely buzzed.

Torin hangs around to hear which other adventuring parties get selected and tries to think if any sound familiar,

Know(local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Afterwards, he disperses with the crowd and swings by the gate to the Necropolis to scope it out,

Perc: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

If nothing catches his fancy, he retires to the inn and taking his own advice, passes on the common room and goes to bed early.

Koshu sat on a cushion by Kwin (and Ahmed?), lounging back as he gave the kitsune a catfolk smile, no teeth visible. "I will join you in a drink tonight, once we have found all that our lot has to offer," he promised, his tail flicking in lazy amusement. With a glance at Ahmed, he lowered his voice. "I have asked around about our goal, and our rivals, but heard little enough - nothing that would aid us in removing your... condition, or tell us if we should be concerned with claim jumpers. What is the word here at the Tooth and Hookah?"

"I'm hopeful," Kwin says in low tones, "that we'll find something within that will help. But what's this about claim jumpers?"

Koshukhep tries to find out a little bit more about the contestants. But doesn't get much out of people other than more than a few are unhappy about not being selected in the lottery. Some are grumbling loudly that the lottery was rigged.

Of course he is nowhere near as successful as Torin who manages to hear about a few of the Groups selected.

***

Izra gets in touch with one of her -- shall we say, shadier -- contacts. And they inform her that there is no real historical information on Ahkentepi.

"This is good, sister. Someone evidently that rich, and yet nothing is known of him? It must mean that the site remains intact. Of course, one must wonder why this is. Be wary. The place doubtless has many dangers."

***

A small boy arrives at The Tooth and Hookah and makes for the table where Kwin and Koshukhep are staying.

"I bring letter for dark girl. Very important. Do not open," he says in halting Common.

He gives Kwin the letter then holds out his hand, clearly waiting for a tip.

The letter is a folded piece of parchment sealed in black wax with the Spiral of Pharasma. It is addressed to Izra.

Kwin accepts the letter from the boy and studies the seal before turning it over to look at the outer writing.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 To discern anything from the handwriting, ink, wax, etc.

"Alright, thanks, I'll see she gets it." He looks up at the boy, and then Kwin's eyes go to the outstretched hand. One vulpine ear, hidden beneath his hat, twitches as his eyes flick back and forth between the boy's face and his hand a few times. Finally, he wordlessly digs into his coin pouch and presses a copper coin into the child's hand.

Then he pulls out a silver and twiddles it idly between his fingers. "So... who gave you this to deliver? And how did they tell you to find me?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 Okay, so Kwin's brand of diplomacy works better with a sword to the throat...

He tucks the unopened missive inside his shirt as he asks.

"I'm hopeful," Kwin says in low tones, "that we'll find something within that will help. But what's this about claim jumpers?"

Koshu shrugged. "Out in the desert, there is no law but that of the strongest. Sometimes you go out to find others where you wish to dig, and sometimes raiders wait until you've found something to try to take it. I only wonder if that law will prove stronger for some than the Pharasmin church's rules that they ask us to abide. After all, the Pharasmins do not go with us into the necropolis, so how can they enforce their rules? There are many who are angry that they did not win at the lottery. There must be ways for them to enter the necropolis."

He fell silent as the little messenger came to their table, watching with interest as Kwin tried to pry a little more information out of the boy.

Kwin Longclaw wrote:

"I'm hopeful," Kwin says in low tones, "that we'll find something within that will help. But what's this about claim jumpers?"

Koshu shrugged. "Out in the desert, there is no law but that of the strongest. Sometimes you go out to find others where you wish to dig, and sometimes raiders wait until you've found something to try to take it. I only wonder if that law will prove stronger for some than the Pharasmin church's rules that they ask us to abide. After all, the Pharasmins do not go with us into the necropolis, so how can they enforce their rules? There are many who are angry that they did not win at the lottery. There must be ways for them to enter the necropolis."

Djehuti nods at Koshu. "Not an uncommon occurrence. In addition to those who were not granted entry by lottery, I wonder if there are those who were who might have a similar 'wait and see' approach. After all, we are not all expected to return alive. Who is to say what befell those who entered the necropolis?" The copper skinned elf shrugs. "But we must survive our assignment first. For now, it is just something to keep in mind- all danger is not passed once we have successfully explored Akhentepi's tomb."

Izra had been thoughtful as she returned to the Tooth, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Kwin speaking to a young boy. She watched as he held up a silver coin and asked the boy a question. She wasn't quite in earshot, and didn't want to interrupt, so she simply moved to the bar and ordered a pot of tea. Then she waited until the boy left.

When he'd gone, Izra joined the group at their table.

"There is almost no information known about Akhentepi," she informed her companions, quietly, "which means his tomb has likely not been disturbed. Which could be good or bad, depending upon why that is. Why was the boy here?"

Ahmed smiles sadly at Koshu, while Suri squeezes his hand. "I am not surprised that you have not heard of anything that might help me." He pauses for a second, before continuing. "This is ancient magic. If such a thing still existed in the world..." he looked at Suri with concern, as if realising for the first time that it could be her in the chains. "...well..." His voice trails off.

He remains quiet while the others discuss claim jumpers, thought the talk is clearly troubling him. To go from being a powerfup d'jinn, reduced to a limited human form that dulled most of his magic was humiliating, and Ahmed was faced with a barrage of questions that he could not answer, but the one that came up the most was 'What if I can't protect them?'

It is of little comfort to Ahmed, though not none, that Suri doesn't seem to notice the hard time he is having. It was not the way of D'jinn to pry into the affairs of others, and close as they had been, it was hundreds of years ago, and though he knew not what happened in her life during that time, it left a small rift between them.

As he turns his thoughts inward, she looks around the tavern with a sense of enchantment and wonder. To see so many different people having so many different reactions to the events of the day is almost mesmerising for her. As a drunken, joyous couple gets up to dance, she turns to the others and whispers excitedly, "What is that they're doing?"

Then he pulls out a silver and twiddles it idly between his fingers. "So... who gave you this to deliver? And how did they tell you to find me?"

The boy shrugs. "Temple man. Had spear. Had shield. Had money. Don't know more. "

Knowledge:Local: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Knowledge:Religion: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Koshu leaned far over to whisper in the kitsune's long ear. "Ah, it sounds like our messenger might have come from one of the Voices of the Spire. What business might one such have with our companion, hmm? Surely they have not sent messages to all the Pharasmins applying today. Or perhaps they wish her to keep us in check." He leaned back again, his voice resuming its normal basso. "Does our reputation precede us? Surely then, they must understand that the business with those tomb doors was an unfortunate necessity," he grumbled.

"I would have liked to examine the carvings more closely before they were broken," he added wistfully.

As a drunken, joyous couple gets up to dance, she turns to the others and whispers excitedly, "What is that they're doing?"

"Do you not know of dancing?" Koshu asked with surprise. "Just as the flames of a fire leap and twist together, so may those of less pure a nature. Ofttimes for less pure a reason, as well," he added with humor in his voice, nodding toward the happy drunken couple.

He eyed Ahmed and Suri. "It is not so difficult, if you wish to try," he said, eyes twinkling. "You simply move with the music, and with your heart."

Kwin harumphs at the boy's answer. "Hardly worth a silver, though if the man who sent you is paying for your silence he, at least, is getting his money's worth. But... here." He flips the coin to the boy and waves him away. He starts to ask Koshukhep something when Izra arrives at the table, and he turns his attention to her comments instead.

"Why was the boy here?"

He laughs at Suri's question and again at Koshukhep's analysis. As the question is answered, Kwin downs a final swig of tepache, then jumps to his feet. Coming 'round to Suri he bows deeply and offers her his hand.

With exaggerated formality he proclaims, "'Twould be my honor to introduce you to the fine art and pleasure of the dance, m'lady!"

Still bowing, he casts a glance towards the Suli. "With Ahmed's blessing, of course," he adds with a grin.

Kwin reaches into his jerkin and pulls out the sealed letter, handing it to the oracle. "He was bringing this. For you. I was curious how he knew who to look for but I couldn't get much from him. Kosh seems to think a 'voice of the spire' sent him. I was just going to ask about that."

Izra gave Kwin a neutral smile, but didn't answer the technically unasked question. Only after he'd offered his services as dance instructor to Suri did Izra slip into the Kitsune's seat, and examine the message.

Quite frankly, the contents surprised her. After a moment's thought, however, she closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks. Now she didn't need to worry about getting sick to her stomach about potential conflicts of interest. With a smile, she tucked the message away beneath her robes.

"The Voices of the Spire," she said, just loud enough that those sitting next to her could hear her, "are mostly focused further North - fighting undead. I can see why they'd be here though. With what's going on here, the temptation for necromancers and other defilers of the dead to cause troubles..." she shrugged.

"I used to do some work for them," she finished.

After that, she shared with the others what little she'd found out about the tomb they would be exploring on the morrow, then put business aside, and just tried to be good company for the rest of the evening.

With the possible exception of Ahmed, the party members would all know that, under her hot-weather gear, Izra wears a uniform (with no rank insignia) from some military group that isn't native of (nor that they've ever seen in) Osirion. And that she's Pharasmin - though she's never claimed to be a priestess.

Actually, believe it or not, there is a local chapter here in Osirion. They aren't really a secret here, either. They function as the militant arm of the church. As far as they're concerned Wait belongs to Pharasma. There have been a few changes to the Voices of the Spire in this AP.

None of that necessarily makes what she said inaccurate. The VoS ARE primarily focused in the North in Ustalav (where they've been having their asses handed to them, frankly). And there's a perfectly good reason for them to be here in Wati. :-) But if you'd like to send me some of those pertinent changes (that Izra would know about), I can avoid future errors. :-)

"The Voices of the Spire," she said, just loud enough that those sitting next to her could hear her, "are mostly focused further North - fighting undead. I can see why they'd be here though. With what's going on here, the temptation for necromancers and other defilers of the dead to cause troubles..." she shrugged.

"I used to do some work for them," she finished.

After that, she shared with the others what little she'd found out about the tomb they would be exploring on the morrow, then put business aside, and just tried to be good company for the rest of the evening.

Djehuti nods. "That could be helpful if we have any misunderstandings with them after we enter." Afterwards, the dark skinned elf was content to sit and drink, though he wasn't much for dancing.

Ahmed enjoys Koshu's description of fire and longs to feel that way again. 'Ah, who am I kidding?' he thinks to himself, 'I'm no more of a twisting flame than any of them.' He motions that Suri should go without him when Kwin comes over to make that happen.

A look of confusion spreads across Ahmed's face as Kwin offers his hand to Suri and asks for a blessing. She whispers an explanation in his ear and a smile spreads across his features once he understands the meaning. He gives Kwin as much of a bow as one can while being seated, and Suri takes his hand and leaps up, excited to try out this new thing. Ahmed whispers to her to be careful, but she's already gone.

"Such strange customs in the city." He muses quietly, stroking his chin and watching them with a smile. His thoughts are quickly interrupted by Izra though, and he turns to her with a start. "Necromancers?" he asks, excitedly. "We may be in luck after all. Binding spirits is not so different from binding beings such as myself."

Izra's face went blank for a moment. Her nostrils flared slightly, and her eyes narrowed - tho only signs of her brief struggle to control her reactions. After a second or two, she turned to face Ahmed more directly.

"Necromancers are not inherently evil," she said, her voice neutral, "in fact, much healing magic is a result of necromantic power, but those necromancers who choose to bind souls to dead bodies, those who prevent the departed from receiving their proper rest, or who defile the bodies of the fallen by turning them into soulless automatons, they - and their acts - are evil. Such will not likely be of help to us."

Ahmed stares deep into Izra's eyes, certain that there's more to her than he realises. "And the wizard who bound me, was he not also evil?" He glances up to make sure that Suri is not within earshot and drops his voice to near a whisper anyway. "The atrocities I was forced to commit will stay with me for the rest of my days. I know evil."

"My interest in those magicians only this: Those who know how to bind, may also know how to unbind. Certainly they cannot be trusted, and will not be allowed to continue their works. Only Ra and Anubis have any right to the dead. Rest assured, should we meet such a Necromancer," he continues, his voice even. "you may well end his life, but before you do, I will pry every last bit of his knowledge from his mind."

Izra gave Ahmed a small, sad smile.

"And is ripping their memories and knowledge from their unwilling minds, whether by magic or torture, any less evil?" Izra shoook her head and raised a hand to forestall an argument. "It isn't my place to judge, and I don't know what the answer is. But I would ask - knowing what you know, what you remember of the evils you've been forced to perform, are you sure you would want to possess what is in the heads of such people?"

With a grin, Kwin takes Suri's hand and leads her onto the ersatz dance floor not far from the other couple. Those watching see him apparently giving basic instruction and guiding the eidolon through some simple moves and combinations. Once she has the idea, the two sync to the uptempo music of the minstrels.

Kwin doesn't have Perform (Dance), but then this is just enjoyment, not his occupation. So, a raw DEX roll should be applicable.

Dexterity: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Wow... okay. And watch me roll ones and twos when it's life-or-death.

While clearly not a professional, it's obvious the young kitsune has danced before, and often. What he lacks in finesse he more than makes up for with an infectious enthusiasm bolstered by pulque and tepache. Leading his new partner into a series of fairly impressive dips, spins and syncopated movements, he manages quite a respectable showing... even with the buzz he's enjoying.

Alright, guys, make your final posts for tonight, so I can send you off toward your inevitable doom.

I meant "adventure".

And great RP guys.

Dexterity: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12

While Suri isn't nearly as skilled a dancer as Kwin is, he is a good teacher and she manages to have quite a good time with him, twirling about the room with a large smile on her face. She is so caught up in the movements that she fails to notice Ahmed's rather intense conversation with Izra.

Ahmed sighs in resignation at Izra, seeing her point. "Perhaps you are right," he replies. "I am simply frustrated. This form is a prison to me, more so even than the centuries spent in that cursed urn." He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Suri was right. The excitement for the possibilities of tomorrow is quite contagious."

Izra laid a hand on Ahmed's arm, for only the briefest of moments - just enough for him to feel it, and know he'd been touched. "At least," she said, a tilt of her head somehow including the entire group, while pointing Ahmed's attention primarily towards Suri, "in this prison, you are no longer alone."

Izra gave Ahmed another smile - this one not as sad as before, wrapped her hands around her mug of steaming tea, and sat back to watch Kwin and Suri dance.

Laughing and grinning, Kwin returns to the table with Suri. With an exaggerated flourish and formality he says, "And here she is returned, not much the worse for wear, I should think." Turning to Suri he says, "You are a quick study, m'lady, and it was a pleasure sharing the dance floor with you."

The grin remaining but the artificial formality dropping away, he speaks again in more normal tones. "I'm tempted to party on, but OUR party is more important than A party, and I've had more than a few drinks. I'm turning in so tomorrow morning won't feel quite so early. A good evening to you all!" With that, Kwin heads to his room.

Somewhat out of character for him, but he did make something of a promise to Ahmed (and Suri, indirectly) -- and he takes his promises seriously.

As the evening wore on, Izra sat with her companions, drinking her tea. When the others began to break up the gathering and head for bed, Izra, too, emptied her mug, said goodnight, and made her way to her room. The morrow would, she hoped, finally see them making progress.

Izra settled into sleep with a smile on her face.

"Zzzzzzzz...." Torin's leg twitches, as he chases rabbits in his dreams.

And now through the magic of exposition...

And so it was that the Band of the Black Fire settled in for the night at the Tooth and Hookah. They had readied themselves to explore the Necropolis of Wati, the famed Half City.

The next morning, before the break of dawn itself, the Band took to the streets. They approached the entrance of the Necropolis, and just behind the gate looms the black obelisk, Pharasma's Needle. #14 on Map of Wati

Once they arrive they see that they are not alone. The various winners of the lottery are there, as well as a significant amount of spectators. Here and there the Band notices several people arguing with the implacable members of the Voices of the Spire that they deserve entrance. Some even resort to open bribery.

But the Voices will hear no arguments. Their goddess has made her will known. And so must it be.

Once the morning sun has touched Pharasma's Needle, the guards wave the lottery winners forward. The Band turns in their marker and gains entrance.

Welcome to the Necropolis. Post your thoughts and any additional RP. Unless something happens to derail me personally, tomorrow you guys enter Akhentepi's Tomb.

Know(local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Looking at the obelisk, Torin snorts, "Superstitious nonsense."

Once within the necropolis, he begins to head towards the tomb. "Alright crew, I'll take point. If there is any nastiness to be found, I should be able to sniff it out. If you wanna touch anything I haven't given the all clear on, that's your business, but no bellyaching if you lose a finger or three."

Enjoying the cooler morning air, Koshu padded through the sandy streets in companionable silence until Torin spoke of the obelisk. "What meaning does it have?" he asked the others, being a bit superstitious himself.

As they passed into the necropolis, Koshu looked about in rising excitement. Surely, this would be the place, at last... He shot Ahmed and Suri a glance, counseling himself to patience. If Ahmed could wait untold centuries, the catfolk could wait a little longer.

He kept an eye on the other groups as they dispersed towards their own plots.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 Additional +2 if they're human

But all in all, he was drawn to look at the ancient buildings they passed in fascination. His nose tickled with the smell of dust and old wood.

Know: History: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Djehuti didn't look up from his sketchbook- he had taken it out to sketch the Needle in his book as soon as it had become clear they would be waiting for some time. "It is called Pharasma's Needle. The obelisk is carved from a meteorite that fell in the River Sphinx on the day the church of Pharasma arrived in Wati to rebuild and consecrate the city. It represents the Lady of Graves' blessing on the city; people interring their loved ones in the necropolis often stop at the Needle to seek the goddess's blessing for the spirits of the deceased." The dusky skinned elf did look over at Torin.

"Do you not believe the story or the meteor, Torin, or just don't think She shows any special blessing to those who seek it?"

Feel free to include any additional RP that you want guys.

The Band of the Black Fire travel through the Necropolis moving as quickly and as safely as they can. Here and there they see other explorers or members of the Voices of the Spire, but otherwise the area is deathly quiet.

Eventually they arrive at the spot highlighted on their map. #23 on Map of Wati

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.

Know: engineering: 1d20 ⇒ 5 +2 if it's... erm, human-made? Oh well. :P
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Satisfied that no one had jumped their claim, Koshu rooted around in his satchel for a moment, then brandished a crowbar triumphantly. "To work! That is, if you say it is safe, my friend," he deferred to Torin. There was a hint of a smile in his tone as he added, "I have no desire to lose any fingers."

Know: Engineering: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Much like he had at the gates of the Necropolis, Djehuti had taken out his sketch book to draw the ancient architecture. This time, though, he noticed something. The dusky elf pointed at the door jamb. "Concealed hinges; the doors will open outward." He took a step forward to peer at the thin crack between the doors. "We are not the first to attempt Akhentepi's tomb. Scratches here and here," the elf pointed out the telltale marks.

"You have sharp eyes, Djehuti," Koshu said respectfully as he stepped closer to see for himself. "But hopefully we will be the first to succeed in opening it? It would be a poor start to open a tomb already searched by another."

"Do you not believe the story or the meteor, Torin, or just don't think She shows any special blessing to those who seek it?"

"I'm thinking that a meteor is a meteor and that reading a flaming ball of death falling from the heavens as a blessing, is ridiculous. If it was anything, it was a warning shot by the old Gods telling the Pharasmin to get lost."

"We are not the first to attempt Akhentepi's tomb. Scratches here and here," the elf pointed out the telltale marks.

"Good eyes Elf. They best have left the good stuff. Alright folks, hitch up your britches and hang on to your hats. It's tomb raiding time."

@W_R: How do you want to handle perception searches for traps and the like? Torin would be inclined to take 20 room by room (for 28/30 stonework) or do you want rolls?

While Kwin doesn't appear to be hung over come morning, he is uncharacteristically quiet... perhaps in contemplation of the adventure before them.

When the crew reaches Pharasma's Needle, Kwin glances over at Torin's "superstition" comment. "As long as you're not talking about the gods themselves," he quietly comments to the dwarf. "Because from what I've seen, Daikitsu at least is very real."

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

The kitsune watches Djehuti sketch out the mausoleum with interest. When the wizard shares his observation about the workings of the doors, one eyebrow goes up. Kwin examines the doors himself, running his fingers over the gap as he studies it closely. After a low whistle he says, "Your eyes are every bit as keen as Torin's. I'd've never spotted that." He turns to the dwarf. "Any trappage that you can see?"

He looks at the door again. "And how about a catch or release of some sort? Going at it with a crowbar seems a bit... crass."

"No disrespect, Kosh," he adds with a grin.

"I'm thinking that a meteor is a meteor and that reading a flaming ball of death falling from the heavens as a blessing, is ridiculous. If it was anything, it was a warning shot by the old Gods telling the Pharasmin to get lost."

Djehuti smiles a little at that. "And others might say that was superstition, as well." He nods in agreement with Kwin's comment. "I'm sure we've all seen evidence of the gods. One would have to be a very dedicated skeptic to believe they don't exist. Or a Rahadoumi."

He looks at the door again. "And how about a catch or release of some sort? Going at it with a crowbar seems a bit... crass."

"No disrespect, Kosh," he adds with a grin.

Djehuti shakes his head and points at a few points along the door jamb again. "Do you see that crumbling mortar along the seams of the door? These doors were sealed, never to be opened again. I wouldn't expect there to be any way to open them, much less from the outside."

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Ahmed looks at the cracks where Djehuti is pointing, curious about the attempted entry beforehand. While the others discuss opening the tomb, he runs his fingers along the hieroglyphics, muttering the dates aloud, still trying to cope with how much time has passed.

"This is the right place." Ahmed says quietly. "Certainly there must be a way inside."

The doors cannot be opened until the sand has been cleared away. Doing so will take approximately an hour of sweaty labor without some sort of magic.

Afterwards, opening the doors is a strength check of DC 25, or DC 20 with a crowbar.

You can aid another in this endeavor.

I'll have an answer on Perception checks when I get home today.

That settles that, then. Djehuti will cast Prestidigitation to clear away the sand.

Taking a break from sketching the tomb, Djehuti makes a brushing gesture and murmurs a few minor words of power to take care of the tedious task of clearing the doors.

If you concentrate on that task, with prestidigitation you could lift up about a handful of dirt and move it away every couple of rounds. So it would still take about an hour.

I was going with 'clean a 1 foot cube' rather than 'slowly lift 1 pound of material'. A 1 foot cube of sand is a good amount to get rid of per round. But it has to get done either way, so he'll help out somebody with a shovel if somebody has one, whether he has to concentrate on it for an hour or if he can do it faster.