"GAH! CAT!" Kwin yelps, immediately engaging in a backpedal race against Ahmed. They're neck-and-neck (heel-and-heel?) until they both thud into the wall, breathing heavily.
"Wall..." he manages to get out to Ahmed breathlessly, eyes never leaving the sarcophagus.
Koshukhep's ears flattened, and he took a step back from the sarcophagus. "Honored dead, forgive us!" After a moment, his natural curiosity won over his superstition, and his raised hackles fell again as he edged forward to peer into the sarcophagus.
"Surely you who honor cats would not curse one such as I?" he said unsteadily, and glanced back at the others. "I swear that my friends mean no harm!" Then he eyed Torin, who had been looking at the gold on the sarcophagus with appraising eyes. "Well, most of us," he hedged.
"Wait-" Izra tried to stop Ahmed, but it was too late. As the lid of the sarcophagus opened, she flinched back, away from whatever was inside. But when nothing came rising forth to slay them, she just glared. The glare softened, however, as a shiver of cold dread went down her spine.
"You should have let me say the words," She said, quietly.
Even from the doorway where he was sketching the room in his notebook, Djehuti could feel the dread emanating from the sarcophagus. He shuddered and would have stepped back if he wasn't already nearly outside the room. After a few moments he steps forward to look into at the mummified remains.
"Well that's a bit spooky, but hardly anything to run from."
Kwin's breathing slows at Torin's comment. He stands up tall (well, tall for him) and straightens his clothes.
"You're right. The cat just startled me, that's all." Unknowingly rubbing his recent feline-induced wound, he looks at Ahmed. "You alright?"
"Yeah." Ahmed replies shaking his head and looking embarrassed. "I don't know what I expected."
Once everyone has calmed, the Band peeks inside the sarcophagus. They see the mummified cat, a golden funerary mask, and a gold-and-turquoise scarab pendent. In addition of course, there are the semi-precious stones surrounding the sarcophagus - should they be pried off.
This is a mummified guardian. It protects and preserves the corpse it is interred with and acts as a guardian against grave robbers and looters, potentially driving such trespassers toward more dangerous defenders or traps. When placed inside a sarcophagus or coffin alongside a dead body and activated, a mummified guardian also infuses the corpse with positive energy, preventing the body from being turned into an undead creature, as sanctify corpse.
Kwin cautiously sidles up to the sarcophagus and gingerly pokes the desiccated cat with his sword.
"Torin, keep your greedy mitts off the gems. Desecration aside, they might be keeping this dead cat... dead. Some other stuff in here that could use your practiced eye, though."
Once he is over his momentary disquiet Djehuti moves closer to the sarcophagus to get a better look inside. He murmurs a simple spell under his breath to help him judge the items buried along with the mummy.
Djehuti does not detect any other magical signatures other than from the cat. The mask and amulets are mundane, but valuable.
Koshukhep frowned at Kwin. "Do not poke the cat! It is disrespectful." He eyed the contents of the sarcophagus, and added, "Looting the dead is also disrespectful, but maybe if Izra says the words over the honored dead, they will understand that we mean no harm." He looked at Izra imploringly.
Izra looked over the sarcophagus and frowned.
"Koshu is right," she said, "don't touch the cat. It is there to keep the body from becoming undead. And with what we have seen lately, I think that it is a good idea to leave it there. I do not think," she said, with a sigh, "that there are any sufficient words to say here. While the treasures may be valuable, I suspect that removing them may result in... unquiet dead. There is a reason the cat was placed here, after all. I suggest that we leave this one alone, and hope that the Church will reward us for doing so."
Koshukhep frowned at Kwin. "Do not poke the cat! It is disrespectful."
Kwin snorts derisively. "That pack of cats 'poking' me wasn't respectful either. I'm just making sure the thing is really dead. I'm all for the dead resting in peace, no disrespect meant."
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Djehuti continues to peer down into the sarcophagus at the interred items. He nods at Izra. "That is wise counsel."
"Koshu, Torin, please return the lid to the sarcophagus. Let us leave this one to slumber in peace."
Koshukhep immediately moved to do so, relief plain on his face. "There will be other treasures. Farewell, honored dead."
The Band gathers their wits about them and returns to the mansion, determined to seek the mysteries of the second floor. They ascend the stairs and find a balcony.
This balcony wraps around a twenty-foot-square opening in the floor, overlooking the inner courtyard below and connecting the rooms of the second floor. Above, a square skylight in the ceiling provides natural light to the ground floor and ventilation for the entire building. To the southwest, two small staircases ascend from a landing on the grand staircase between floors. Six different sets of doors lead off of this balcony.
Koshukhep had been more than relieved to leave the tomb behind. He spent a moment praying to the Old Gods after the last of them had stepped outside again, apologizing for any affront they might have caused and spilling a little water as a gift to the spirits.
Once they had climbed the stairs, he looked around, considering. "Let us go left to right, so that we start with those double doors to the north," he suggested. "If we all scoot in quickly, there should be room for all of us to deal with any trouble there might be." He gave the itchy Kwin a worried glance.
Kwin scans the area, taking in the atrium-like expanse. Leaning on the railing and looking down he says, "This is kinda nice, hey? Wide-open spaces indoors. I could get used to living someplace like this."
"Well, minus all the undead and monstrosities and haunts and such," he adds.
"Anyway. Left, right. I mean, 'gotcha.' Double doors. Let's go."
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Djehuti nods absently at Koshu as he sketches the upper balcony in his notebook. "As sound a plan as any. Lead on."
Torin listens at the door beside him, checks it for locks or traps and then opens it.
Torin doesn't find any traps. And so with a shrug he pushes it open.
This spacious room has entrances in the southern and eastern walls. The aged remains of dressers, a large bed, and a divan lie in ruins. The husk of large hornet’s nest, gray, papery, and devoid of life, occupies one corner of the ceiling. The spaces in the northeast and northwest corners appear to be closets. Their wooden doors have all but fallen off their hinges, and heaps of disintegrated fabric mingle on the floor. Between the closets stands a single lacquered dresser covered in dust.
And in the middle of the room there is a beautiful blue-skinned woman in wispy, ethereal robes that only barely conceal her. She stares at you sadly. She opens her mouth as if trying to say something, but no sound comes forthwith. And so she begins to sob silently.
This is a marid. A powerful djinni from the plane of water, with the gift of wishes.
Suri looks at the creature as they enters the room and steps in front of the group, letting out a burning hiss, almost shoving them back as she does so. "What is it?" Ahmed questions, trying to peer over her shoulder and around Koshu. "Marid." She replies, almost growling the word. Remembering how long it has been since Ahmed has been home, she turns her head enough to face the group, without taking her eyes off the creature. Her eyes are filled with a hatred unaccustomed to her face. "Things between our people have been... strained in your absence." She says, unwilling to elaborate. Turning to the others, she narrows her eyes. "Do not trust it."
"So, she is not a ghost? I have heard few tales of marids. I do not recall them well. Why is she here?" Koshu asked warily, as though Suri had the answers to all. He flexed his claws in and out nervously.
"Wait, what? 'Marids?' I thought 'Marid' was her... it's... name. So 'Marid' is like saying 'ghost?' What is the thing, anyway?'
Kwin looks at Suri nervously. It was rare to see her react so intensely, and that worries him.
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Djehuti looks from Suri to the marid, then back to Suri. "If your people do not get along, perhaps you should step out for a few moments, Suri. We do not know why she is here; given the age of this place it is likely she has been imprisoned here for centuries. She is likely to be upset as it is."
Suri's eyes flick over to Djehuti. "I am not leaving you alone with it." She insists. Turning back to Kwin and Koshu, she frowns. "In the way that Ahmed and I are beings of fire, this creature is a being of water. Make no mistake, our people can be cruel, but we are not without honour."
"The Marid are capricious and treacherous and manipulative. It could easily be a trap. If it isn't, and the creature really is imprisoned, I have only one thing to say: Good."
Ahmed's face falls at Suri's venomous response, leaving him looking all at once tragic and ancient. Looking down at the shackles on his wrists, he shakes his head. "No." He says simply. "Whatever the past of our peoples, I have been too long a prisoner to condemn another to such a fate."
"Oh... kay... fire and water don't mix. I get that. But..." Kwin pauses, a pained look on his face as he obviously searches for diplomatic words.
"Suri, I know you and I trust you. With my life, even. Still... is this maybe a perspective thing? I mean... would she say the same thing about your people?"
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The maid vehemently shakes her head as Suri lists the faults of her people.
She carefully mouths the words, "Please, help me."
Suri's narrowed eyes go back towards the helpless creature and widen. She looks towards Ahmed and Kwin, and as she takes a deep breath, all the fight dissipates from her at once. "You're both right, of course." She turns towards Ahmed, "Forgive me, my love. I was insensitive." She is met with a comforting, rare smile from Ahmed. "Cold doesn't suit you." He replies. "I know that I've been gone a long time. I certainly can't fault you for trying to protect me, protect us."
Kwin's brow furrows in concern. "Mind, now: I'm not saying we should rush in and give her a big hug."
A wry grin appears on his face. "Besides, if we go near that thing and it tries to cut us to ribbons, I'll never hear the end of it from the lot of you. And I already have Torin to point out all my faults. Repeatedly and with gusto."
He looks back at the creature. "I guess I'm just saying... 'open mind.' Caution, but open mind."
"Speaking of caution," he adds, gesturing at the old nest, "undead hornets don't sound like much fun."
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The marid looks back at the hornets nest and shivers, seeming to agree with that assessment. She then points to the door to the East and pantomimes as if you should open it.
"I'm not really sure we should get in the habit of listening to spooks. What if it's trying to trick us?"
Izra, who had been caught up in thought about the mummy they had found and the cat that had been buried with it, and standing, as she was, behind the rest of the group, almost seemed not to have noticed the Marid.
After a moment, she looked into the room, then frowned.
"A marid," she mused, "I would have expected her to be taller."
Izra stepped forward, next to Suri. "Why is she trying to talk," she asked Suri, "don't most of your kin have the ability to speak mind-to-mind?"
Izra looked at the blue woman, and her own blue-glowing eyes narrowed.
"What brought you to this state, and if we help you, how do we know you will not harm us as soon as you are free to do so? Also, why can you not speak?"
If the irony of expecting the marid to answer that last question was at all apparent to Izra, she wasn't letting it show.
At the "taller" comment, the marid silently huffs in frustration. She points to herself, then widens her hands to simulate growing, points to the roof and then pantomimes bumping her head painfully.
Torin, you notice that something is wrong. You give your head a good shaking and look again. You realize that the Marid is an illusion.
As for the rest that Izra says, the Marid just sort of shrugs.
Djehuti sighs and examines the magical auras in the area to see if he can figure out part of the problem, making sure to jot down his findings in his notebook alongside his sketch of the situation.
Upon analyzing the Marid, you begin to see little discrepancies. You focus harder and conclude that the Marid is an illusion - a figment, to be precise. Perhaps the result of a Minor Image spell.
"Ha! It's not even a ghostie, it's just some sort of magical trickery. Wonder who set up this farce, but regardless, I'm guessing we don't want to go through that door. "
The Marid flickers away.
Koshukhep hears someone whisper, "Your friends defile this place with their presence. They should leave."