You all make it down the shaft safely. The double doors at the other end of the chamber at the bottom of the shaft open without trouble, revealing a corridor about 40 feet long and 10 feet wide. The walls of this ten-foot-wide corridor feature bas-relief carvings of great battles. Armies with spears and shields clash at the direction of generals, while other leaders direct troops from chariots that are ruthlessly overrunning their enemies.
Engraved stone double doors stand at the other end of the hallway.
Devon slowly prowls forward, sweeping the hall and doors at the end for traps.
If everything looks safe, she opens the doors.
Devon spots a pressure plate directly in front of the doors.
Devon holds up a hand to forestall the others' progress. "Trap," she says. Reaching into a pouch, she retrieves her thieves' tools and sets to work trying to jam the trap's mechanism.
Devon's skills are evidently rusty, but the plate itself is not - the catfolk sets the trap off in trying to disarm it and a hail of darts volleys from one side of the corridor to the other!
Everyone is caught in this hail of darts, but Ashira is particularly badly hurt: a dart catches her in the neck and she falls, blood pumping from her punctured carotid artery. Only Say'ri is unscathed as the darts bounce harmlessly off her armour.
Devon howls in pain as the dart sinks deep into her belly. She staggers back down the hall and slumps against the wall, clutching her wound and trying to staunch the flow of blood. "Sorry," she gasps weakly.
There's an audible *click* as the trigger plate resets.
"No wonder that sorry man just decided to drop dead at the entrance if this is what awaits you further in! Aw, no!", and the wizard shoots to Say'ri's side to help patch up Ashira, who is now leaking vital fluids from all kinds of punctured places no human ought to be leaking fluids from.
Frantic madness and panic are all he has to add to that, really.
Say'ri's ministrations are enough to prevent the priestess from bleeding out; but she doesn't regain consciousness.
Devon is relieved when Ashira stops bleeding, but their situation is still precarious. "Somebody needs to fetch a healing potion from the market to bring her back around. I have ten gold I can contribute towards the purchase."
Carefully hoisting the still-unconscious priestess up the shaft is a laborious and time-consuming process, but you eventually manage it. Your journey back to the gates is hampered by the need for care but you pass unmolested - whatever denizens there may be have clearly decided that with so many adventurers around, discretion is the better part of predation.
At least for the time being.
At the gates, you are met by a young priestess of Pharasma, around the same age as Ashira, although her weapons and armour make her look older than she actually is. She does her best to look businesslike and professional until it becomes clear that the injured member of your party is a Pharasmin priestess. "Bring her here - quickly!" Pulling out a scroll, she mutters the necessary incantations.
You wake up on your back, with the hot sun blazing down on you, and the first face you see is that of Bal Themm, one of the acolytes who trained with you. ('Bal' is an honorific: she's of noble blood, but entered the priesthood since, as the youngest daughter, she's never going to inherit). The two of you got on well enough despite the differences in birth status and the slightly fraught misunderstandings this occasionally caused; but you haven't seen much of one another since you were both ordained as full priests - you chose the path of midwifery and healing, while Themm went on a more militant route, following the 'all undead must die' aspect of the Goddess you both serve.
The priestess gives Ashira a glowing smile as her eyes open. "Wakey-wakey, dear one! Back to the land of the living." She eyes the site of the wound carefully. "Eh, and there's barely even a scar. I've had lovebites worse than that." She pats Ashira's cheek. "Next time, try ducking, Dear Heart. Even midwives get taught that one, don't they?"
Her tone is gently teasing.
Devon hands over 10 gold to the priestess. "Heals, please."
"Bal... Themm. What happened? Wasn't I in a crypt?" She looks around her to see her party standing. "Oh... I... something bad happened to me, right? I didn't die, did I? I don't remember seeing the Spire."
"You got hit by a dart trap. My bad," the catgirl says by way of apology. "I got hit too, if it makes you feel any better."
"It doesn't make me feel better, but thank you for bringing me here." Replies Ashira as she sits up. "That's a deep wound, Devon. I can patch you up a bit." Ashira uses her holy symbol to channel healing energy, knitting up some of Devon's wounds. "There. I can do another if you would like, or I can save it for the tomb."
Before Bal Themm leaves, Ashira politely thanks her for her help and adds. "I owe you one."
Devon probes her fingers around the wound. It still hurts, but not too badly. "If your friend here heals me, I'll be good to go. Save the rest of your energy for future dangers."
|
"Next time Devon you're going ahead and the rest of us are going to stay well back before you try to disable any traps!" Say'ri says firmly. "Our thanks." She nods to the priestess. "Shall we continue on?"
Say'ri leads the way back to the tomb and halts before the corridor. "Now Devon, go forward and try to fix the trap. Maybe lie down flat so the darts can't hit you? The rest of us will wait back here for you."
Devon nods and moves to try again. She lies flat on her belly, tail raised in the air, as she disables the dart trap.
When Devon goes to disarm the trap, Eli starts talking. "Maybe we ought to invest in a gosh darned big bag o' sand. You know, so we can chuck it into a hallway and see if it triggers any o' them traps. Hrm, invest, well, the bag would cost a couple of coppers, there's that. I really should've brought one of them Bog Bobby's from back home along wi'me. The worst they do is groan when you put an arrow in 'em. Oh, wait, Pharasma don't like Bog Bobs, right, that's what the lady in the temple told me."
It's clear that the wizard is feeling more than a little nervous.
Themm winks at Ashira as she leaves: "Don't worry, dear one, I always remember who owes me a favour."
==========
Devon successfully disarms the trap this time: there's a *crunch* as she breaks some vital cog in the mechanism and the trigger plate freezes in place, never to move again.
The double doors at the end of the corridor open on to a larger chamber, some 25 feet by 25 feet. A faded tapestry hangs on a wooden frame on one wall. Faded and delicate, the tapestry depicts a middle-aged man, accompanied by a woman and two children, with a small estate in the background. To either side of the tapestry are two small pedestals, upon which sit two dead and preserved animals (on closer inspection these turn out to be mummified cats).
Stone double doors exit the chamber to the left and right of where you currently stand.
Devon suppresses a shudder when she sees the mummified cats. Her ears lay flat against her head and her tail twitches. Please don't let that be my fate. I'll take life as a female feline over death.
"It's likely Akhentepi's family is interred in a different tomb. This one's just for the general."
The rogue searches the room, but not finding anything, shrugs and points to the doors on the right. "That way first?"
Eli studies the hieroglyphs and about presses his face against the wall to inspect them. His bird, perched atop his shoulder, does the same. "Them funny pictures tell a story of how his family said their goodbyes well before Awkee did. Plague? Murder? Hard to say."
"And awww, Devon, they be ancestors of yours? Oh right, right first, sure, alright. I suppose that the first tomb we stumble upon 'is gonna be his family's. You know, since they went to sleep first. That, or they built the rest of the complex way after, but that doesn't make much sense."
Ashira takes a look for anything of religious or historical significance, but nothing really stand out for her. "Eliyajah, be nice." She teases.
Ashira will stay well away from the door before it is opened.
Devon sticks her tongue out at Eli. "Keep it up, and I just might send you to meet your ancestors," she threatens.
The double doors to the right lead into another room, around 20 feet by 20 feet. A brightly painted chariot sits in the center of this chamber. Beyond the chariot, a large canvas stretches between two stone columns. The skins of several animals — antelopes, great cats,and crocodiles — now faded and deteriorated with age, are tacked to this canvas. A wooden chest, lacquered white and trimmed with gold inlay, sits in the southeast corner.
In each corner of the room a small stone shield is molded into the masonry at shoulder height.
An open hallway leads out of this room to the right.
Devon can't help but shudder again when she sees the cat skins. She really doesn't like this tomb.
She motions for the others to stay far back as she searches the chest--
--and, not finding any traps, opens it!
Eli studies the chest from a safe distance, but his bird hops off his shoulder and flies over to it, hopping down onto Devo's shoulders. There, it starts to croak a warning message. "Ey now, don't go opening tha..."
But the bird was too late.
Ashira just stays back so Devon can do her thing. She admires the chariot, but starts wondering why there are stone shields moulded into the corners...
With the bird's warning, Devon spots what she didn't before: the chest is trapped with a blade mechanism. Trying to open the chest will activate the trap, unless she can disarm it.
Smashing open the chest and ignoring the lock will bypass the trap, but will render a rather valuable bit of furniture into so much useless tinder.
Decisions, decisions.
Devon eyes the talking bird suspiciously. "Thanks. Let's see if I can disarm this one properly." She tests her luck against the trap.
Eli wipes a drop of sweat off his brow and sighs. Meanwhile, his bird squawks at Devon, proud of the fact he might've saved her life. "Perhaps we should wait with opening this chest till we're done here and do it in a controlled environment."
Ashira casts Guidance upon Devon when the trap is found and Devon starts disarming it. "May the Lady of Graves bring you the fate you desire."
Devon fails to disarm the trap, but at least she hasn't set it off. This time.
EDIT: Ashira finds that the shields in the wall are cleverly-moulded brackets for holding torches.
Devon growls in the back of her throat. "Alright, Eli. We don't need whatever is inside right this instant. We will take the chest with us on the way out."
The rogue moves to the hall to the right.
Four funerary masks hang on one wall of this short hallway, staring down as if in judgment at anyone standing in the corridor. The light glitters on their masks, which shine with gold.
The two nearest masks are clearly representations of Abadar and Pharasma, looking classically stern. The two furthest masks are more obscure.
Devon sweeps the hall for traps, then examines the masks with an appraising eye.
Foggert hops from Eli's shoulder and flies on over to Devon's. "Don't mind if I do, don't mind if I do," squawks the bird as its keen eyes start scanning the hall for dangers in unison with the catwoman.
Eli himself stays well back. Just in case.
Ashira never really studied other religions, including the ancient Gods. These masks are just too obscure to her. Ashira quakes under the gaze of Abadar and Pharasma, and prays that she and her companions make it out safely.
Eli nods approvingly at the beautiful masks, but who they represent escapes the wizard.
Devon doesn't find any traps, but she discovers that the masks are removable from the wall - and covered in gold leaf.
Each mask is worth about 75 gold to a discerning buyer.
Devon removes the masks and carefully places them in her pack. "These should fetch a fine price at the markets. Shall we move on?"
She continues to the end of the hall.
"Awh my, they sure be pretty! Seventy, maybe eight gold each surely. Don't ask, my aunt would take me to all the local pawn shops whenever she was on babysitting duty, so I know more than just a lil' about antiques and valuables, you see. Oh right, yes, let's push on."
Eli fails to mention that said babysitting duty didn't stop until he was seventeen years of age.