None other than the Master of Spells himself, Aram Zey, has summoned you deep beneath the Pathfinder Society's headquarters in Absalom's Grand Lodge, an otherwise austere stone chamber that now teems with activity, as Pathfinder scholar's scamper across several levels of wooden scaffolding surrounding a large tapestry laid out in the center of the floor. Some examine the five-by-seven foot tapestry with magnifying glasses or magical lenses, while others work diligently at small work desks, consulting ancient tomes and performing complex arcane mathematics.
The Master of Spells has yet to arrive, however.
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Enters a Varisian man in his early fifties, wrinkles starting to cover his bald head. He has a large rune tattoed on his forehead, one that Thassilonian experts may recognize as the Wrath rune. Many other tattoos, either written in Varisian or Thassilonian, cover his body, including the Sihedron rune on his chest. The man is with his chest bare, a red varisian scarf around his waist and breeches covering his legs.
As he faces his old master, Shandor nods to Aram Zey. His glowering eyes reveal a hint of respect for the Master of Spells, a reminder of a tough three-year training.
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A tall, stunning Taldan woman enters the room. Her beauty is only marred be the obvious disdane she has for those around her. She wears a suit of the finest plate armor, and carries a finely crafted nodachi. Around her neck hangs a symbol of the dead god Aroden.
So, the Master of Spells has summoned us. Are we to enter the tapestry once more? I hope this time I won't be tasked with protecting barbarians again. She wrinkles her noise, as she adjusts her clothes. i still haven't got the smell out since the last time I was in there. Barbarians, and dwarves. I swear, neither has learned what soap is!
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A young woman quietly enters the room, her clothes ingrained with dust and sand. Sweat is her perfume of choice, not hidden by the refined oils many women use to mask such smells, though it is not overpowering there is a place for cleanliness in her world. A scimitar hangs from her old weathered belt and across her shoulder is hung a clean and well marked longbow. A quiver filled with varied looking arrows, grouped together by differently coloured fletching, green and white stripes, black featherd to name but two.
Her features are hidden under the hood of her grey brown cloak, which casts a dark shadow over her face, though you see wisps of red hair framing the darkness., Her dark and lined hand, moves swifty to push back her hood, revealing what looks like an older woman, scars, the sun, winds and sands having aged what would have been a pretty young face before its time.
She says nothing but nods acknowledgement first to those studying the tapestry, then the others gathered in the room. She looks at the tapestry, but shows no real interest in it, casting her eyes aound the edges of the room. Spying a table with some bread and a pitcher of water, she almost silently walks over before pouring a drink. She breaks a chunk of crusty bread before eating it and after smelling the water delicately drinks the refreshing liquid.
She continues to study the other guests in the room, puzzling their srengths and weaknesses. No room for a smile in this, a serious occassion to learn her next mission for the Society.
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Another woman joins the room. This figure is clad head-to-toe in black robes in the style of the desert nations, including a veil over most of her face. What little can be seen of her face speaks to the same sort of heritage of sun and heat as Zaquielle's, though she is less weathered. Her eyes are dark, kohl-lined, and alert, flicking from one figure in the room to another.
There is a hawk on her shoulder that mirrors his master's look, the head darting this way and that, the yellow-eyed gaze mad in that distant way all birds have.
The woman has numerous belts and sashes on her person, a dozen or so small pouches and scroll-cases and flasks affixed securely. A sharp scent of herbs accompanies her, sage and cedar and other, less-readily-identifiable scents.
She bows slightly to those gathered, and doesn't seem bothered by the grumbling of the armored woman.
"Well met. I am Sharna al-Subaiyyat, of Thuvia. This is my companion, Ra. Peace and pursuit of knowledge upon you all."
Her eyes wander the room, noting the tattoos on the Varisian fellow, the hanging symbol of a dead god from the one woman, and the travel-worn appearance of the third person.
She settles into a chair. The hawk fidgets on her shoulder, half-spreading its wings and stepping in little turns.
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A young man of varisian origins came in the room, a large smile on his face walking like a cat but built like a bull.
Wearing parfume and priced clothes and a red cape. At his side, the typical sword of the famous Aldori Swordlord and around his neck the symbol of Abadar.
He bowed, toying with his red cape, to each of you and said
Ladies, permit me to present myself. I'm Rodrigo Ortega, to serve.
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Zaquielle looks the man up and down, his fine clothes at odds with her drab and dirt ingrained ones, "Peace to you Master Ortega, and to you too." as she nods a little to Sharna. She continues, "I hope that where we travel, your finery won't won't delay our passage good sir. I will do my best to keep you alive as we travel, especially if it be through the deserts of sand and rock, though your colourful attire might attract predators of the wild."
Zaquielle, dark eyes stare at the man, before her face turns away. Her eyes look at Sharna, "A fine beast you have there, the eyes of the sky." She nods more fully to the hawk, almost acknowledging its natural majesty. "Your companion, Ra. You use him for hunting, a fine pursuit to have such a friend. If only I had such a friend too, but mine was murdered along with my father by the undead that drink the life blood of the living." she spits to the floor, as she mentions the undead, "But revenge will be mine on all those creatures of unlife, and by the gods of the sun and desert, your sword will be empowered to strike with dealy accuracy." Her emotions getting the better of her at the mention of her father. "So my lady of the skies, what do you hunt?"
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Lady Natalia looks around the room, sipping a cup of tea. She does not look impressed by the roguish Varisian, nor his bluster.
"Since it appears that the Venture-Captain intends for us to be working together, perhaps we should agree that we shall do our best to cooperate. Great Aroden has granted he with a touch of His Grace, and for the advancement of Taldor and House Landros do I extend his blessing to you all.
"It is good that we are all of his domain, even though we may be from all over Avistan and Garund, we shall overcome this threat that the Society needs us to deal with. I shall lend you my expertise, my Nodachi, and my spells.
Master Ortega, perhaps in battle you would prefer a size more commensurate with your ego? The Last Azlanti has granted me the ability to make that happen. Mistress Zaquille, I share your hatred of the undead, though perhaps without the personal pain. My brother, Magnus Landros, did act to repeal n invasion of undead from the very heart of the Empire! In fair Oppara herself. I wonder if the hadn't turned the Cathedral of the Patron of a Humanity into a theater such as that would it not have happened.
We five will persevere and overcome, for we must!
She looks around at the group facing her. 'There. Inspiration has been given. Surprising as it may seem, the witch may be the only civilized one among them, though why does she hide behind that veil?'
She adjusts her full plate armor before being seated again... Careffully, so as not to creak the chair with the weight of steel she wears.
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"I always do my best to cooperate," Sharna says with a small inclination of her head to Natalia's speech. The hawk seems restless, and Sharna murmurs to him beneath her breath until the bird seems to quiet down somewhat.
"Well spoken," she says when Natalia has finished. In truth, she is highly curious as to what force powers Landros's claims when Aroden is so thoroughly... deceased, or at least, gone beyond the ability of any to ascertain. Sharna well knows that there are more sources of power in the universe than merely the gods, and is already constructing private theories as to what entity Landros might draw strength from.... but Sharna also knows far better than to argue with the pious about their god. Faith does not take kindly to questions, and she imagines that Landros has no doubt heard many variations on 'But Aroden is dead!', and that they have likely failed to convince the woman, so why should she set herself to such a pointless exercise?
Much better to leave it at simple pleasantries. At least until she has a better measure of the woman.
She turns to Zaquielle. "Ra is more than only my hunter. He is my eyes, the wings-of-my-spirit, my guide in this life and the next."
The hawk hops to the back of the chair and spreads its wings with a short, shrill cry, causing several of the junior Pathfinders studying the tapestry to look up briefly. Sharna sighs, and digs into a pouch at her belt.
"...and he is hungry. Incessantly so."
She feeds the hawk a morsel of dried meat, the hawk's sharp beak quickly tearing it to pieces. Sharna murmurs words too low to be made out to Ra, and the hawk tilts his head, then eyes Zaquielle.
"...perhaps he will greet you, later. He is wary of strangers. I, for one, am sorry for your loss," Sharna says diplomatically. She personally has very little quarrel with the undead, finding most of them to be mere mindless vehicles of hunger, but there is no reason to go saying that.
"As for what I hunt: knowledge. I am not much of a combatant. I do know something of the arts of healing, which is occasionally useful."
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The smile on Rodrigo's face browden with Zaquielle and Natalia comments.
Thank you good lady. But I could assure you that my colourful attire will be a good way to handle thing. With my sword I take down many ennemies, big or small. If we find the creature responsible for your parent's death I will said. "I am Rodrgo Ortega. You Kill her father, prepare to die". I will begin to fight with my right hand, then I will finish it with my left. My sword is at your service Madame
With another florished bow he put a knee to the ground and added with a serious tone, presenting his sword to Zaquielle
Bless this sword with a Kiss and she will find the heart of this blood sucker killer when we will confront it
After that he smiled at Natalia and said
Lady Natalia Landros you flattered me, but I'm already well sized.
Nevertheless, in case of dire need I could use to be bigger but I often fight in a style which require some dexterity.
Then after a short silence he continued
Nevertheless, I'm a man of many talents and of Great talent. You can count on me to help you in many ways and to play in a cooperative mode.
Oh! and I almost forgot. If you Ladies want some silk scarf I have a caravan with a lot of choices I even could make you a price. I could even find for you some bag and shoes from the best designer in Egorian. Wonderful isn't it ?
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Remaining silent throughout the whole exchange between the newcomers, the Varisian shows but disdain for idle chitchat, preferring a closer study of the famed tapestry of Hao Jin. His glowering eyes gaze at the artifact with great intensity, as if attempting to unravel its secrets. Slowly, something starts crawling under the sorcerer's skin on his back: one of his tattoos depicting a small-sized beast akin to a dinosaur comes to life, and soon the shape of the animal protrudes from the Varisian's nape of the neck, also peering at the tapestry. Without taking his eyes off the artifact, the elderly man utters strange words in a long-forgotten language.
The tiny dinosaur growls in apparent agreement, before turning its yellow reptilian eyes to the three women and the swordmaster present. He's then followed by the tattoo-covered sorcerer's gaze.
"You must be my companions for this mission within the Tapestry. My name is Shandor Arvandru, but many call me "the Beast". You may soon come to understand why they do so. I belong to the Spells, under the orders of Master Aram Zey. He shouldn't be long now."
Pausing to study his newfound companions carefully, the Varisian man seems to gauge everyone's potential with hungry eyes. Uneasiness towards this monster of a man is only met with a wide sarcastic grin.
"I hope our collaboration will be a fruitful one." he quickly finishes.
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Rodrigo looked at Shandor and said, bowing with a exuberant movement of his red cape.
Sorry my friend to not have seen you sooner. But my sight was blinded by the presence of these three beauties. he turned to the three ladies, broadly smiling to each of them, then continued
It's a pleasure to meet you, Shandor Arvandru.
He offered his hand, in a sign of friendship, to the varisian sorcerer.
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Shandor grins and accepts the duelist's handshake. A strange energy seeps from this instant, due not so much to the sorcerer's frail build and strength, but to his unusually strong character. While this elderly man has clearly seen better days, his grip leaves a weird impression, an ephemeral shiver.
"Honored, Rodrigo." he simply says.
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Instead of discomfort, Sharna watches with interest as the dinosaur unfolds from Shandor's skin. A useful method of keeping one's spirit guide close.
The man's muttered words to his companion make her brows arch, and her mouth curve into a smile behind her veil.
She answers his private musings in the same long-dead tongue.
Rodrigo's flagrant flattery makes her chuckle again. Sharna draws forth another morsel of meat for her restless hawk, who is watching the little reptile like... well... a hawk.
"Master Rodrigo, you have a silvered tongue. But what if I should be a hideous, scarred wretch behind my veils? Perhaps I wear them to hide a deformity. Would you be so quick to praise my beauty then?"
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Beauty is in everything and all woman must be praised. Mystery is its own beauty and while you keep your veil my imagination made you my queen of beauty...
When you will unveil I will be disappointed anyhow as my fantasy will never be match. Nevertheless I will not stop praising your beauty, inner or external, my Lady
Responded Rodrigo with another flowrished bow.
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Lady Natalia simply sits back, and watches the room, affecting a regal pose. Though she does not realize it, she fiddles with the signet ring she just recently received as part of her rewards for valor and service rendered to the Empire. A tempered glare can be seen in her eyes, challenging those around her dispute the source of her power. Many have tried, but always has power came with the evocation of the name of the Protector of Humanity
The Hao Jin Tapestry catches her eye, specifically one section of it. She's been in there before, and saw the death of the barbarian, Amiri, at the hands of the Aspis Consortium. The woman was savage, but her death was in battle, she supposed, glorious. The Grand Prince honored his Ulfen Guard when they fell in battle, so she could honor Amiri's death. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to honor any more deaths this mission.
Am I our only healer? As Aroden is the Protector of Humanity, I shall do my best to protect us on this mission. He has granted me healing powers, though that is not my strength. I am a Paladin of the Last of the Azlanti, and I my blade is as string as my magic.
Sharna and Shandor, you both appear to be arcanists. I assume you'll want to be protected in order to be able to cast your spells. Rodrigo and Zaquille, I assume you'll be our front line in combat. Myself, I can be our reserve, and can use spells such as Enlarge Person to give myself the ability fight from the second rank, if needed. My Taldan steel cuts hard and deep, and we shall see our foes vanquished.
The light flares in the eyes of this driven woman once more. She then finds her composure, and stares at the Tapestry once more.
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"As I have said," Sharna says sedately, "I know something of the healing arts. You correctly surmise that I cast spells. I am happy to let others more suited to it stand in the front lines of battle, should such become necessary."
Sharna continually likes to think that someday the Society will send her on a mission where all she must do is catalog plants, without screaming lunatics or oni warriors attacking. This, alas, has yet to happen, but she lives in hope.
Ra tears a shred of meat from that which Sharna is offering him, and flaps up to settle on one of the ceiling's support beams, side-stepping along it and looking down at the group with his fixed yellow gaze. Sharna wipes her fingers clean of meat.
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Grinning at Sharna's words, the Varisian man answers in a bold tone.
Choosing to continue the conversation in a more appropriate language, Shandor replies to Lady Landros's questions. "Arcane magic can also mend wounds, albeit at a slower rate than the divine. I am the possessor of a wand allowing minor regeneration. As for my place, I tend to stay at the back with warding spells on, and my magic is a highly destructive one, as befits my arcane heritage.
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Lady Natalia visibly shudders at the description of the Infernal Healing spell. After taking a deep breath, to calm herself, she says "Shandor, while I do believe you are correct, that the arcane power you wield has the potential to heal, there are some costs that I am not willing to bear. I carry a wand of Cure Light Wounds to supplement Aroden's magic, and also have a potion of the same spell that you may apply to me, should I fall in battle. Please do not taint my soul with the blood of the infernal. I know some believe that there is no cost in treating with Hell, but I am not one of them."
She points out exactly where her potion of cure light wounds is located, and the wand of cure lights that she keeps in a Spring Loaded Wrist Sheath.
"While I would prefer such a spell not be used around me, the Pathfinder Society's rules state that I must cooperate with those that do not hold themselves to my standards. So, Shandor, I shall not attempt to block you from using your wand on others. I would thank you to not use it on me, however."
'Why must these people insist on constantly anointing themselves with the blood of devils?' she wonders. 'If Cheliax has taught us anything, it is that to treat with Hell is to doom oneself to servitude.'
"Sharna, are your powers of healing also derived from the Infernal, or has your patron granted you more... divine abilities?"
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Al suresh is of mix Tien and Quadiran ancestry
He currently wears a suite of finely supple Elven chain, a scimitar is hanging on his sword belt.
He looks around with relief
Ha i see the the meeting hasn't started yet. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance to all. I am Al Suresh Khalida he says touching lightly his forehead and bowing to everyone
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"Whilst I can fight with a sword, my bow is my weapon of choice. To kill the ememy before it get close. But I can use healing wands, though my magic is limited." Zaquielle returns to the Lady Llandros is a serious tone.
Zaquielle watches the conversation between Shandor and the others, "If you are able to heal, it must be without recourse to the power of undead, for their powers only suck the life from the living. Use it on me if you must, though I hope it won't be required." She watches the creature from the tattoo, her hands twitch, closer to her quiver.
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Sharna listens with academic interest to the discussion over the benefits of infernal and divine healing, eyes darting from one speaker to the next.
At Landros's question, she smiles to herself, and looks up to the restless hawk, speaking in a language none of those present have heard before, although by the rise of her tone, she might be asking a question.
The hawk lets out a shrill cry in answer, wings spreading wide a moment.
"I confess that I rarely think of my abilities along this dichotomy that you present," Sharna answers, deadpan. "But I have asked my 'patron', as you call him. His response, and I quote, is 'By what wind do I fly? By the wind of the past and the souls of your forebearers back a thousand generations.' To the best of my knowledge, my line has not been known for bargains with devils. Whether this violates Mistress Zaquielle's injunction against accepting the powers of undeath, I truly could not say."
Sharna's tone is not quite dismissive, but it does flirt with it. This is all academic, as far as she is concerned. The dying take aid where-ever they can find it, but it does not seem diplomatic to say so.
"On a pragmatic note, I also carry a wand of healing--" she lifts one hand, pulling the sleeve of her robe back to reveal it strapped to her wrist, "and various potions, labeled in the Taldane tongue."
She nods in greeting to the new arrival. "Well met, Al Suresh Khalida. It appears we need only our respected Master of Spells."
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"Zaquielle, then I shall leave it to you to stay as rearguard, when we do not need your tracking skills. I shall take up the vanguard, relying on the strength of my arms, and of my armor. Though perhaps our newcomer, Master Khalida, will want to join me at the front."
Lady Natalia studies Al Suresh Khalida. 'He does not appear to be Kellish, though his name certainly sounds such. But, even so, use can be made for the Glory of the Empire.'
She turns to Sharna, [b]"Mistress al-Subaiyyat, I will take your word for this, that your healing is from the Light, and not the Dark. It is good that we had this discussion now, rather than in the heat of battle.
"I am glad to hear that so many of us can use the healing arts, or at least make use of what I have heard other Pathfinders refer to as 'happy sticks'. We are now a full team, and it would appear a reasonably well balanced one. I just hope our only method of detecting, and disarming, traps will be those same cure wands."
"Let us wait, patiently, for the Master of Spells to arrive. I am sure he will be harried, and insulting, as is his wont, but we are taught to respect our superiors... both in the Empire and the Society."
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I case of need, I can myself use "happy stick" but not with 100% sucess. I could help you with any social skill and I'm not too bad with the bow but certainly not as good as Zaquielle as my weapon of choice is the Aldori's sword.
I will stay at Lady Sharna's side.
finished Rodrigo with a wide smile to Sharna
Oh ! I forgot to mention that I have a bunch of books on many topics, If you need to know more about something
After what seems like weeks, out of the crowd of scholars steps the Master of Spells, Aram Zey, glowering at a puddle of spittle that he gives wide berth to. He motions to a relatively clear and quiet corner of the room. Arriving in the corner, he speaks in a hushed voice.
“I am very busy, Pathfinders, so I’ll keep this short. Before you lies the mythical Hao Jin Tapestry, the result of all our efforts to win the Ruby Phoenix Tournament in Goka this year. I know it looks like a ragged piece of abstractly woven cloth, but Pathfinders of your experience should know that looks can be deceiving. Within that rag lies an entire world, a demiplane created by the sorceress Hao Jin to hold the most massive and dangerous exhibits in her world-renowned collection of wonders. In addition to housing the extraplanar museum, the tapestry also acts as the sole portal into that wondrous world. And now it is ours to explore and research as much as we want with no risk of interference.
“My scholars have been hard at work analyzing the tapestry itself, and the Society’s diviners have located a number of treasures within the demiplane that we want investigated firsthand. Among them is the long-lost Dog Pharaoh’s Tomb, for which we’ve been searching for decades. It turns out the deserts of Osirion were the wrong place to look. Hao Jin moved it into the tapestry a thousand years ago!
“Your mission is to explore the tomb and recover any treasures you might find particularly valuable from the Dog Pharaoh’s doubtlessly substantial horde. Along the way, keep an eye out for any information on the Dog Pharaoh’s life, as details on him beyond his name are scarce. If you are successful, this could be among the most significant finds in recent Pathfinder history, so don’t disappoint me.
“Any questions before you go into the tapestry?”
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"My respects, Master Zey. I have but two questions: why this name of "Dog Pharaoh"? Hardly a worthy name for a living god in his country. Does he claim some eccentric lineage leading back to gnolls?"
After a pause, the elderly Varisian asks his second question. "What kind of danger should we anticipate?"
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Sharna clasps her hands in front of her and offers a bow to Aram Zey. Her hawk swoops down from the rafters and takes a place on her shoulder again.
"If the tomb was originally Osiriani before its... transplantation, then it is likely the usual safeguards of undead guardians, construct guardians, and traps apply," she muses aloud. "But are there any particular stories of unique safeguards that the pharaoh implied?"
To Shandor, she offers a slightly admonishing look. "Not all cultures disdain the canine. The Osiriani have many of their own gods, worshiped only in that land-- including 'dog-headed' Anubis, a lord of death."
Sharna thinks a moment if she can recall anything in her own studies pertaining to the Dog Pharaoh. Osirion borders her own homeland of Thuvia, and she was intensely fascinated by the stories of that mighty kingdom's tombs, as a child... and as an adult, too.
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"So, we are to enter the Tapestry to discover the secrets of the Dog Pharoah's tomb. I assume that if this was truly transported to the demiplane, there will be dome potential issues with heat? Do we need to protect ourselves from temperature extremes?"
Talia ponders what she knows about Osirion, its history, and it's gods.
"Master Zey, are there any items in particular that we are to look for? What is this Dog Pharoah most known for? Why has the Pathfinder Society been looking for his tomb for so long?"
Aram sighs as the questions come pouring in, rubbing his temple with some agitation, “Little is known of the Dog Pharaoh, aside from his epithet and rumors of a tomb complex in the Sahure Waste. We now know that tomb wasn’t lost to the sands, but taken whole cloth by Hao Jin to add to her collection. The Dog Pharaoh was involved in a power struggle with a rival pharaoh, who eventually prevailed, and erased all records of his foe from the annals of history, replacing his chosen name with that of the “Dog Pharaoh.” Hopefully his tomb will present you more information about him than his victor’s slander.
"As with any crypt built in the time of the so-called Dog Pharaoh, you should expect traps protecting the treasures inside. As for specifics, we do not have any stories of unique safeguards employed by this particular man, no.
"The demiplane was created by the Ruby Phoenix Hao Jin hundreds of years ago to store her most treasured artifacts and those too large to keep in her vaults here on the Material Plane. It should feel just like Golarion in all ways, save that you won’t actually be on Golarion at all. But it was intended to keep her wonders in their natural habitats, so that should say something about the environments within.”
Aram turns to Natalia, annoyance clear on his face, "Good grief, woman! What do you take me for? Some doddering simpleton who can't find his reading glasses in the evening? Of course I haven't left anything out or forgotten it! You're not the first to go through, but the first to this particular tomb. You're the Pathfinder field agents, I shouldn't need to be telling you what supplies to bring with you!
"Now! Are there any further questions, do you need to fill your stocks, or shall we get started? I believe most of you are familiar with the process of entering the demiplane."
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Sharna's mouth twists with mild annoyance at having her defense of-canine-dignity shot down by Aram Zey's words, but it's behind the veil, so not really easily seen.
"I speak and read the language of the pharaohs," she says off-handedly to Rodrigo's question, her mind more on the task at hand. She turns to her allies.
"If the desert's heat has been maintained in the tomb, then we may wish something to protect us from such. I suggest scrolls scribed with endurance of the elements. As a paladin--" she says to Natalia, without any hesitation over that (if the woman claims she's a paladin of a dead god, so be it), "you should be able to cast such from the scrolls, no? It is not a discipline available to myself. But they are cheap. I should rather purchase them, and not need them, then go there and find ourselves roasting in heat that some of you may be unused to."
"Traps, now... my spirit guide is keen-eyed to mechanical traps. Purely magical ones may pose more of an issue. Protection against the most common energies unleashed by such traps may be of the most use to us."
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"I can also use scrolls or wands of Endure Elements, if needed, Sharna."
To Aram Zey, I did not mean to offend, Master Zey, but as you may have herd, some Venture-Captains are not always forthcoming with information needed for we Pathfinders to succeed. I know that you are a busy man, and was hoping that nothing had slipped your mind. My sincere apologies."
To the rest of her team, she says, "In case there is need, I do have an extra pair of spring loaded wrist sheaths. I have found them to be helpful in holding my wands, and perhaps a dagger. If any of you would like to borrow them, they are yours to use."
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"ذا هناك اثنان من الذين لديهم القدرة على التحدث باللغة القديمة. هل تتبع "الأمير روبي" جداً؟" says Zaquielle looking at Sharna. "And of course my native tongue." she continues. "No doubt we'll need to protect ourselves against diseases of the undead as well. Do you have something we can use." she asks a ripple of concern on her face.
So there are two who have the ability to speak the ancient tongue. Do you follow the Ruby Prince too?