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The bustling desert city of Wati is near bursting with excitement. Adventurers from every corner of the Inner Sea region have assembled here beneath the hot Osirian sun to explore the tombs of the city’s necropolis, waiting only to be assigned their first sites for exploration. Surrounding the participants, the public has gathered to observe the ceremony as well. There is a festival-like quality in the air, and numerous street vendors are hawking goods and refreshments to participants and spectators alike. Some merchants have even brought what can only be considered adventuring gear to sell as last minute convenience items to explorers, while others advertise that they’ll buy recovered treasures and antiquities from those who visit their establishments.
In front of the imposing edifice of the Grand Mausoleum, an immense awning has been erected between decorated pillars in the market to provide shade for the priests of Pharasma overseeing the lottery. Beneath the awning, two urns sit atop a table elevated a few feet above the ground on a wooden stage constructed for the event. The high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, sits behind the table, while two acolytes confer with her at either side.
Numerous adventuring groups stand in small clusters near the stage, made up of multiple nationalities and races. Most keep to themselves, but some teams engage in quiet conversation with other teams, mostly speculating about what they’ll likely face in the necropolis.
The ceremony begins when the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, rises to her feet and looks over the crowd. Sebti seems surprisingly young to hold such a distinguished position, but she has a confident air of authority. After calling for silence, she begins with an invocation to the Lady of Graves, followed by a brief history of the founding of the necropolis:
"As many of you may know, and as others of you should know, over a thousand years ago the cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness upon this city. More than half the citizens perished in the aftermath of that plague and Wati languished for centuries, until a Pharasmin priest named Nefru Shepses consecrated the entire city to the Lady of Graves, beginning with this, our Grand Mausoleum."
"It took decades for Nefru Shepses and his followers to recover the bodies of those slaughtered in the Plague of Madness from their hasty, makeshift graves, but finally they walled off that portion of the city that had been abandoned, transforming it into a metropolis of makeshift tombs. Thousands of corpses were given formal burial rites and reinterred in this dead copy of the living city, which continues to serve as Wati’s necropolis today."
"And so all was well, and at peace. Seven years ago, the Ruby Prince opened up the treasures of Osirion to exploration, but even then our city of Wati was exempt from this... treasure hunting. Until today."
“And so, let the lottery begin! Although many of you have requested specific sites to explore, we must leave these matters to fate. The Lady of Graves is a far better judge of destiny than we of this mortal sphere. The gates of the necropolis will open at sunrise tomorrow. Use this evening to prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Let these rules guide you in your endeavors in this holy place: remember how this came to pass, every slave’s hut is a memorial, and honor the departed. May you go with the Lady’s blessing.”
After Sebti returns to her seat, the two acolytes accompanying her each draw a wooden token from one of the urns on the table. A single representative of each group is then summoned to the stage to give the name of their group, and receive a token identifying which site they will explore.
Your first task, then, as the process begins, is clear: choose a representative from among you - and decide upon a name, quickly!
Devon keeps the hood of her cloak pulled up to obscure her feline features. She feels even more out of place than usual here, and is trying her best to avoid scrutiny. That leads to questions, and she's not really in the mood to explain the circumstances surrounding her current situation.
She turns her gaze to Say'ri. "I have no preference for our group name, whatever makes you happy," she grumbles quietly.
Ashira wraps her headdress around her mouth and nose to protect against the sand while she thinks. "The... The Undaunted Silver Scarabs." She replies.
The wizard's raven squawks upon hearing Say'ri's suggestion and, affronted, turns about on the man's shoulder. The raven's behind wiggles at the others as it squawks its protests into Eli's ear. This, in turn, causes the wizard to raise up his hands as if to say 'enough!'.
"My darned familiar seems to disagree with yer suggestion, but the both of us know that you won't find no raven here in Wati, so he ought to feel honored for us all to be carrying an avian name. After all, the name, t'is closer to yer distant kin than it is to mine, bird! But eh, my suggestion would be breakadawn, since we'll be the first ray o' light to be entering these tombs and crypts ever since they were finished. But, yes, yer suggestion has my approval, Say'ri. It's just a name, after all."
This final comment, in turn, causes the raven to turn his behind towards the wizard's face.
Devon eyes the wizard's bird and tries to fight a growing compulsion to catch and eat it.
The priestess, a young acolyte of Pharasma, smiles at Say'ri. "Hello there, Hawks - and thank you for choosing a simple name!" She quickly scribbles it down, before rolling her eyes. "The number of people who think longer is impressive... Right, let's see." She quickly restores a professional demeanour to her face - the whole thing runs on impartiality, after all.
Pulling a token out of her cup, she passes it to you and makes another note. "Interesting... that's the tomb of Akhentepi, an actual burial site that predates the building of the necropolis."
She presents a copy of a rough map of the necropolis. "As far as we're aware, the tomb is in that location. Roughly. May the Lady of Graves Guide you."
Devon peers at the map, then nods. "Right, shall we move out?"
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"No time like the present." Say'ri agrees. "Does anyone need to collect anything before we go in?" She, being the over-prepared type, has everything with her already.
"The Necropolis is dangerous, we'd best stick to the main pathways and then branch off here. That way we should avoid as much danger as possible."
"I've got all my tools on me," Devon says softly. Except the most important one, she adds silently, scowling.
Ashira rolls her eyes. Right. I'm just the overseer. Hawks it is. Brilliant.
"As prepared as we'll ever be." Ashira replies
Orisons: Guidance, Light, Virtue
1st: Bless, Magic Stone, DOMAIN Deathwatch
"Ah-ken-tay-pee, musta been a special man or he woulda been just Ken, right? That's what my aunt always says, anyways, that only men worth a damn get a name longer than Ben." If anyone stares at him after that monologue, the man simply shrugs. "Just saying, but eh, yeah, I'm ready. Got me spells sorted and," he continues while rubbing the head of his raven, "we got our canary in case we find ourselves in a coal mine."
Oh, if only the others knew how many times Eli had let his bird give in to its curiosity only for it to meet a gruesome end. And if only the others knew that every single time the bird had died, he had magically reappeared the next day. Musta be some sort o' magic.
The gates to the necropolis are kept locked. There should be some sort of mystic ceremony to open them, or possibly some sort of warding seal that prevents them from ever being opened. When the gates do open, there should be some sort of shriek from the rusted hinges, as of a myriad myriad countless tortured souls crying out in warning, before being forever silenced.
In fact, the hinges are well-oiled and the gates are opened at regular intervals to permit patrols of Pharasmin priests inside, to keep at bay the many restless dead that wander the streets. They barely make a sound as they open for you and for the many others who have gathered for this moment.
The only sound is an excited buzz as the adventure-seekers all jostle one another in their haste to get inside; and even that dies down as the various groups all get their bearings and go their separate ways. The last of the strangers is quickly out of sight, and you are left alone, heading down a deserted side-street.
The term 'necropolis' (city of the dead) is - it turns out - precisely accurate: whatever images may have been conjured up in your head of an eternal tomb, it is in fact a city much like the one on the other side of the wall. The buildings are a lot older, and the stonework is in a state of disrepair, but the only really different thing is the silence.
Your footsteps echo off the buildings, and the wind scours the streets with drifting sand. Apart from that, there's not a sound to be heard.
Your assigned site is located in the eastern section of the necropolis. 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.
The name of the individual interred within the tomb, Akhentepi, is engraved upon the doors in Osiriani, along with the dates of his birth and death, indicating that the deceased was born in 2416 AR and died in 2488 AR, a decade or so before the Plague of Madness was unleashed on the city.
The doors are 10 feet tall and made of solid stone with no visible handles or hinges.
Your first task: getting the doors open.
Once away from the crowd of adventurers, Devon pulls her down her hood to reveal her feline features. She tries to ignore her companions' stares, who likely have not seen the cursed cat woman in all her glory before. Their opinions of her are the least of her worries.
She examines the doors with a critical eye. "Concealed hinges, open outward. Looks like somebody tried to get in before us, based on the scuff marks there."
The rogue fishes a crowbar from her pack and hands it to Say'ri. "Want to do the honors?"
All Eli can think of is that it must be great to be a cat out here in Osirion. After all, the desert is one giant litter box. "I reckon them doors are awfully heavy. Back home, we'd use some proper swamp goo to grease 'em up real good, but all I have is this lamp oil. Would that do? Wouldn't want you to pop a disc, Say'ri."
Ashira continues to pray for Pharasma to change their fate and open the door. This prayer becomes more of a chant as they try over and over again.
Something about the definition of insanity...
With a slow rumble of grinding stone, the doors open at Say'ri's exertions. It is immediately apparent that there are no handles on the inside, either - if you close the doors once you're inside, they'll shut for good, possibly trapping you inside. But it's your call.
It's clear that the air inside is old, and stale - the smell is distinctive. Your torchlight (or magical light) illuminates a smallish antechamber, some 20 feet by 15 feet; empty save for some engravings and fixtures upon the walls. In front of you, an immense stone wheel lies against the far wall. A layer of dust and sand covers the floor. All four walls bear sunk-relief engravings and hieroglyphs, while small stone faces are affixed to the walls at about shoulder height in each corner. The stone wheel on the far wall is engraved with a large spiral and is set in stone tracks in the floor and ceiling.
Devon gets to work searching the room for traps.
Devon doesn't find any traps, but does find that the four stone faces in each corner have sconces for holding a torch - presumably to create the effect of a halo when they are lit.
Brushing away the dust from the carvings in the walls reveals hieroglyphs in Ancient Osirian: among the statements are “Akhentepi’s tomb is well defended, and those who defile it tempt the wrath of the gods.” An additional warning advises, “The only thing the Lady of Graves despises more than the grave robber is the unsuccessful grave robber,” followed by a final admonishment to “turn back while you can.”
"No traps that I could see. Lighting torches in all four sconces might do something, or it might just make the faces look pretty. Other than that, I think we spin the wheel to move forward."
Reading a notice that tells Ashira that her Goddess hates what Ashira is helping to do is... very unsettling to her. "The message written here is disconcerting. Are you certain there are no traps? I think it's fair to say that the old church helped build this tomb. Mr. Eliyajah, do you sense magic within this chamber?"
Devon's ears flatten in irritation. "I can check again if you don't mind waiting."
Devon doesn't find any traps. The tomb - and the party - continues to age, imperceptibly.
"Like I said the first time, nothing."
Devon waits on the rest of the party.
Eli raises a hand and waves it about. If the idea is to disperse the rotten air, he fails. "Gosh darn it, t'smells like my aunt's cottage whenever she makes the mistake of taking her shoes off. But eh, sure, let me have a look."
The mage wiggles his fingers and, in a rather disturbing tongue, utters an incantation.
Eli doesn't sense anything.
"No magic that I can sense." Eli sounds both relieved and disappointed, if such a thing is possible. "I suppose that whatever wicked machinations we must face, we will face them once we get past that wheel. Now, how do we go about moving that thing? Pop in a crowbar and see if we can get it moving?"
Whereas Eli offers his thoughts in a reserved manner, the manner in which his bird presents its is anything but reserved. "Turn the wheel! Turn the wheel!" Eli chastises it with a stern look.
The stone wheel against the far wall is 10 feet in diameter and 6 inches wide, and weighs almost 5,700 pounds. Rolling it to the side is a serious exertion, but all of you together just about manage it, to reveal an approximately 5-foot-wide opening.
The square room beyond the opening is starkly devoid of any markings or adornment. In the center of the chamber’s floor, a square shaft (about 10 feet across) drops straight down into darkness, beyond the range of torchlight or darkvision. A faint musty odor rises from the pit. A single piton has been hammered into the stone floor by the northeast corner of the pit, and a frayed length of rope dangles from the piton into the darkness of the shaft.
Ashira casts Light upon her buckler, and stares down the hole.
"That rope. It was cut." Ashira says.
Eli blinks at Ashira. It is clear that while he understands the words coming out of her mouth, he can't align them with actual reality. "But what buffoon would go in 'ere and put that wheel back in its place before venturing forth?! And what's it with all these smells?! Ah!"
Devon wrinkles her nose as well as she peers down the shaft. "Can I borrow a light, Ashira? I can climb down and see how far it goes. If it's safe, I'll come back up and we can tie some ropes off for the lot of you."
Assuming the cleric agrees, the cat-woman uses her claws to find purchase in the stone wall of the pit and carefully makes her way down to the chamber below.
"You, you can climb this? Okay, if you're sure." Says Ashira hesitantly as she casts Light upon Devon's armour.
"Do be safe, eh?" The thought of having to fight a purring zombie amuses Eli, but not when it carries the face of one of his companions.
Devon discovers that the shaft extends 60 feet down to a chamber below that is 20 feet by 20 feet. Mirrored images of a warrior in side profile, facing inward, are carved on an ornate pair of stone doors in the west wall of the room. The figure is depicted wearing padded armor, with a scarab-shaped shield on the arm facing the viewer, and a raised khopesh held aloft in the other.
A crumpled humanoid body lies directly in front of the doors. A hint of decay hangs in the air, and a dried stain mars the stone floor at the bottom of the shaft, extending in a trail across the room to underneath the body.
Devon shakes her head as she gazed dispassionately at the corpse. "Watch that first step... she mutters. She takes several minutes to search the body and the room for anything hidden, then calls up to the others. "I found the source of the smell. Make sure your rope is in good condition, unless you want to end up like this guy."
Devon finds that the body is that of a male human, or possibly a half-elf. Dead for several decades, or possibly a century or more, most of his belongings have long rotted away - apart from 2 flasks of alchemist's fire, which miraculously survived the fall.
She doesn't find any traps. The doors in the west wall are heavy, but unlocked.
Devon pockets the alchemist's fire, then idly studies the carvings as she waits for her companions to descend.
The carvings on the wall show various scenes from the life of Akhentepi: evidently he was a celebrated military commander who presided over the
troops garrisoned in Wati prior to the Plague of Madness, and the carvings show him crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him, and gloating over the lamentations of their women... the usual great-general stuff.
"... leaking from orifices one ought not to be leaking from, eh? Alright, Devon! Well, we really ought to take our time 'ere, and tie up some ropes together with knots in 'em and all that."
Devon digs her claws into the stone shaft and climbs back up to spot the others as they climb down the knotted rope.
Once everybody's at the bottom, she gestures to the carvings. "Seems like a nice guy. Door's safe."
Ashira will help in the knotting of ropes, contributing her own for the job. When everything is ready, she'll take off her armour and begin her descent.