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, and the Pathfinder Society is no exception.
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.
You've all made the journey here to Wati in Osirion to participate in the lottery, which is for the chance to explore various sites within the necropolises under the city. Various groups of archeologists, adventurers, and what must charitably described as tomb robbers cluster about waiting for their chance to be assigned a site.
As you wait, you look at your fellow pathfinders who will be joining you on this endeavor and take the chance to introduce yourself.
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Penthesilea saunters up to the lottery to a fanfare that just happens not to actually be playing.
She's dressed in a light mail corselet, with a brand new bow slung in a quiver on her back. Various holy symbols and lucky charms clatter against each other while they hang from her belt, her ears, the grip of her bow etc. They're clearly an eclectic mix, symbols of Sarenrae clack against Urgathoa's fly and Pharasma's spiral. A few newer looking ones have been added to her collection, mostly ankhs and the like that look as though they're fresh from some trinketmonger's stall.
"Hi - are you the other Pathfinders? I'm Penthesilea Tisiphone, the Aelyosan, you'll probably want to remember that for later.
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Dmitri wonders at the sights of the desert community. It is a far cry from the land of his birth, in far Restov. The climate is different surely, but so are the people, the customs, the language. When he joined the Pathfinder Society, they told him he would see the world, but he didn't expect to be so far away on his first mission. He had heard a group of skilled Pathfinders needed some muscle in case of a fight. He didn't know much about Osirion or treasure-finding or whatever was happening here, but he did know a thing or two about sword-play and how to deal with that kind of trouble.
Part of the reason for his entrance to the Society in the first place was the constant street fighting with the other Aldori bravos. That fighting led to an untimely death or two, and rather than stand for trial, Dmitri fled to Absalom and the Grand Lodge.
Dmitri has long dark hair pulled back in a queue. A trimmed dark beard, and mirthful eyes that reflect the joy he lives with. He wears studded leather and carries a bow, but his elaborate dueling sword is the most compelling item he carries. In a finely detailed scabbard of silver scrollwork the blade looks elegant and fierce at the same time. He is not tall or short, but wiry and well-proportioned, the body of trained athlete.
Now here, with the sun beating down, he looked for his teammates. The first he saw was a highly-decorated female in light mail. As she addresses him, Dmitri bows formally, a smirk on his face. "Yes, lady. I am a Pathfinder. Dmitri Vasilov, at your service. My blade does most of my talking, but perhaps later, we can meet in a more...private way, eh?"
His charm with the ladies knows no bounds...
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"Ha! Drop anchor there Dmitri," Penthesilea rattles her symbols, "Does it look like I'm asking for Arshea to send me a distraction? Besides, nothing's worse luck than a romp between agents right before heading into the vasty deep. Let's find out how lucky you are before you even dream of getting any luckier."
Anubis
Desna
Pharasma
Zyphus
Sarenrae
Urgathoa
Chaldira
Nethys
Bastet
and a big Flag of Besmara tattooed across her shoulder blades.
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A black-haired Keleshite whose tanned skin suggests that he is native to the area or at least the latitude approaches the Pathfinders. "Good day," he says, folding his hands, upon one finger resides a signet ring of Amal al-Sahba, high priestess of Sarenrae and Peerless of Quadira, "I am Pirro Issa. I have been dispatched from Sothis Lodge to assist my fellow Pathfinders in exploring the necropolis. How does the sun find you?"
Pirro looks to each of you in turn. His smile is genuinely friendly, but there is a strong hint of appraisal in his copper eyes.
Kenji is a massive Solar Ifrit. His hair and beard are blazing and burning so that they almost warm his surroundings.
He has a greatsword and a bardiche on his back, a longsword at his side and a heavy shield in his hand.
He wears a fullplate that looks like it has been recently oiled.
Resting on top of his chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Irori is visible.
Kenji is standing as if in a medidative stance and clearly is in control.
Kenji's eyes turn red when he sees you and he walks forward.
"Team, it is an honor to walk the road to perfection with you. I was sent to aid you and it seems that I arrived in time." Kenji says in a rumbling and crackling voice.
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Dmitri nods a greeting as Pirro introduces himself. Looking from the Keleshite man to the blazing southern sun he mentioned, the northerner quips, "Hot! The sun finds me hot, indeed. My first time in these climes and I begin to see how different it is from homeland, where we would be shivering in huts this time of year. Either, way, sir, well met. I am Dmitri. My sword is at your service." He bows low in the formal way of his fencing training.
Later, when the ifrit joins them, Dmitri can only stare in wonder at his flaming hair and beard. He greets Kenji, but is clearly taken aback by his presence and says little to the flaming paladin.
Kenji nods at Dimitri.
"I trust all of you! You are Pathfinders! Scarab Sages! I lack skills ... I lack partnership ... I lack breadth! My path to perfection will be with you ... with you! Guide me and I will guide you to self perfection! Irori will be with us ..." Kenji says to the group as if he wants to remind them and himself why they were joined together.
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"It can always get hotter," Pirro replies with a chuckle to Dmitri's answer. Despite sporting a fine, black beard, wearing a turban, and bearing a leather cuirass over his linen clothes, the Keleshite does not appear to be sweating. Taking note of his armaments, they are finely made and either very well cared for or never used.
"Tombs are only cool until you light the torches," he says. "Then you find that crouching through tunnels with a flame a hand's span from your face is a wholly different kind of heat."
He pauses for a moment. "Speaking of torches. How are we equipped for this expedition? Do we have rope? Crowbars? Light? Beyond that shed by our noble ifrit's beard."
Kenji looks at Pirro and seems puzzled.
”Ehh ... rope? No!“ He looks into his backpack and seems truly embarrassed.
”My ... my step brother helped me pack and he ... he is quite weak so he probably didn’t think of a crowbar ... you are a blessing Dimitri and Penthesilea!! And I can be your crowbar with bare hands... ha ha ha!!“ Kenji says and suddenly starts laughing.
Knowledge Checks
Wati, known as the Half-Dead City is home to a great many tombs inside a sprawling necropolis from long ago in Osirion's history. The city's economy is largely based around funeral services- internment, embalming, Priests of Pharasma, and selling funeral charms.
The Necropolis takes up an entire quarter of Wati, and along with the Grand Mausoleum the Priesthood of Pharasma has great influence in the city. Grave robbing has been until recently strictly forbidden.
The current ruler of Osirion, Khemet III, created the situation leading to the current sanctioned tomb exploration. He didn't offer the Church of Pharasma much of a choice- essentially get on board with his plan and has oversight, or be completely powerless as the Pharoah used Wati's Dead City as a source of income by auctioning off the rights.
Wati was founded in AR -1608 by Pharaoh Djederet II to mark the origin of the River Sphinx. It's early history was marked by river trade and
In 2499 AR the Cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness
in the city. This decimated the population, and many others fled. In the years that followed repeated outbreaks of plagues and undead er, well, plagued the city.
In 2953 Pharasman Priest Nefru Shepses walled off the city, led a quest to inter and give proper rights to the many dead of the city, consecrating the necropolis and setting the city up to return to its current relative prosperity.
There are several rules that the Sebti explains as she speaks:
Madness was unleashed upon the city of Wati while
religious authorities were engaged in infighting. This rule
is a reminder that the necropolis remains a holy place, and
those who engage in needless conflict and banditry are not
only criminals, but accursed.
the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and
died in the city. Explorers must not desecrate or vandalize
standing structures and tombs, but preserve them as the
memorials they were intended to be. Some structures
may be trapped or decrepit, but willful and unnecessary
destruction will not be tolerated.
the necropolis is a testament to the people who lived and
died in the city. Explorers must not desecrate or vandalize
standing structures and tombs, but preserve them as the
memorials they were intended to be. Some structures
may be trapped or decrepit, but willful and unnecessary
destruction will not be tolerated.
Sebti Continues, "“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.”
The leser priests have an array of wooden tiles. These are marked with symbols representing the different adventuring groups, and another set are marked with symbols representing the sites identified by the priests of Pharasma to be assigned to the various groups.
Several other groups are drawn and called forward before the Pathfinder Socity's tile is pulled. When you send a representative onto the stage, the priests pull a tile representing the Tomb of Akhentepi- a tomb that actually predates the creation of the Necropolis.
this is #23 on the map on slide 3:
Slide Deck
The gates to the Necropolis open the next day, so if there are any supplies you need to purchase or other preparations you have time to make them.
Kenji listens intently.
”Heee ... interesting! I didn’t understand everything you said but I am proud of you for having so much knowledge!“ Kenji says and claps Pirro on the back with a smile.
dignity and respect. If the interred need to be disturbed
to recover an antiquity or relic, they should be returned
to their resting places carefully. It is understood that the
ancient dead are often brittle, but there is no need for
the contents of a sarcophagus to be summarily dumped
on the ground. This rule does not apply to the undead or
other abominations.
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"Well - let's get a crowbar for Kenji, a drink for luck, and a clear dawn. Oh - everyone got a way to deal with thousands of beetles? I've heard some pretty gnarly stories about these tombs, and I will haunt anyone who makes me die to bugs."
Penthesilea will also go out in search of some Ghost Salt, in case those Pharasmins were napping on the job back when.
Kenji nods after hearing the speech.
”Of course we will be respectful and we will try to gain knowledge and understand the past ... but if there are any undead I assure you that I will let my blade speak! Let us go shopping!“ Kenji says with a stern look.
”Sleep well my companions and let the task ahead not burden you! Let us take this challenge as an opportunity to take the Nextep’s on the path to perfection!“
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"I but live for your approval," Pirro says with a bow of his head to the paladin.
"Ah, good thought!" he replies to Penthesilea's suggestion. "They can be troublesome. As to make you aware, thid bottle here," he points to a secured vial on his belt, "Is a potion of healing. Use it to revive me should I fall and none be able to use my wand." He also points to a bone white wand sheathed at his belt next to a decorated blade.
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It is just after the first round is purchased at the tavern in Bargetown that a stiff breeze ruffles the clothing of the party members. Looking toward the door, you all see a tall and rail-thin person of grey colour pad softly towards the group. Their long hair blows in their face, obscuring the bulk of their features from the bridge of their nose down. The canary-yellows armoured coat appears colourful enough to make up the difference, however, and the gleaming greatsword strapped to their back speaks in metallic tones, not grey.
"May the Lady be kind....and your shade last long?" the stranger says as they approach, ending the statement in a unsure tone.
The tall figure swings their scabbard from their shoulders so as to sit and sinks lightly to the only spare chair with a concerned glance around the tavern. "I checked in with Sebti's under-priests to determine how to find you all. They directed me to seek the group with the flame warrior of Irori. And here you are," they say, nodding at Kenji. "I am Drea. Zelgath." They add the surname as an after-thought. "I come bearing the Glyph of the Open Road." At this, Drea pulls an engraved wayfinder from beneath their brightly-hued coat, showing the etching on its lid with pride.
"I had some purchases to see to before joining you all. What did I miss? What are your names? We're leaving tomorrow, right?" That last question seems to be one seeking confirmation.
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Penthesilea glowers a moment at the idea that she wasn't even on a list of notables that the under-priests had provided, but in a flash she's introducing herself with gusto, "Penthesilea, and if you've heard anything about a Penthelisa or a Penthe-something back at the Lodge that was probably me too. Glad to have you on the crew Drea."
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A young man with shoulder-length brown hair and a slightly faded yellow scarf wrapped around his neck scans the tavern room. He catches sight of the wayfinder that Drea is flashing around and swifly makes his way over to the group. As he approaches, he overhears a few introductions taking place.
After performing a graceful bow he speaks with a slight Varisian accent, "Pathfinders, I presume? My name is Nadric. I was present for the instructions given earlier today but didn't manage to find you all in the crowd. This is quite exciting though, isn't it? A chance to explore in one of the tombs of this great city. Ahh, it makes me glad that I ever decided to join the Pathfinder Society. Who knows what we might find? This is what it's all for, opportunities like the one we get tomorrow."
Without waiting for a specific invitation, he takes a seat next to Penthesilea. "Penthe-something? I'm certain we've never met but I might have heard someone mention a name like that at the Lodge. Pleased to meet you, in any case. And the rest of you as well." He flashes a warm smile.
Kenji greets Drea and Nadric warmly.
”So tell us of your strengths and weaknesses my friends so we can assist each other on our road to improve! I have to admit that I have a poor memory. But I am strong and blessed by Irori with strength and discipline! I am glad to have trusted members of the Scarab Sages in my team ... I ... I am not the best judge of character so ... well ... I was disappointed quite often ... by those who take advantage of my good will ...“ he says with sadness.
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Penthesilea shrugged elaborately, "This sorta work's dangerous, and if the gods were really that jealous they'd be in charge of more things each. So instead I try to stay in good with the ones to do with my current affairs."
She started tapping each symbol as she explained their purpose. "Besmara's always in charge of my brigandry, so she's in ink. The rest are all fickle, so I just deal with wood. Lessee, today we've got Desna and Chaldira for all purpose luck; Anubis, Osiris, and Pharasma to cover respectful tomb robbing; Urgathoa to give her minions something better to do, and Sarenrae in case they get ornery anyways; Nethys and Bastet cover knowledge and secrets; and hopefully Zyphus won't think it's funny if one of us dies in a trap!"
”Ehh ... and where is he holy symbol of Irori? Knowledge? Irori?“ he says in his rumbling voice with a raised eyebrow.
He looks into his backpack and takes out his spare holy symbol and hands it to Penthelisea.
”May this symbol guide you my dear friend!“ he says with a big smile.
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Pirro chuckles gently at the earnest ifrit's gesture. "I am an usher of lost souls. My skills center around protecting the living from malign spirits and freeing trapped souls to return to the River. Tomorrow, you will meet my companion in this task, Zarisha al-Sakawi, although she has met each of you through me." He taps the side of his head as he says the last.
"She can take some getting used to, but she means well," he continues. "She is much less violent after she accepted my mind as a vessel compared to when I met her. Although, I cannot say if it is my influence or the visions of her goddess that chsnged her. I apologize, I digress."
You find the tomb with ease, following the directions to it through the City of the Dead. The only other living souls you see as you move are some other adventurers and archeologists, off to mine the depths of their own assigned locales.
When you arrive, 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 doors are 10 feet tall and made of solid stone, but without visible hinges or handles.
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"Seems like now I'm carrying a ridiculous number of holy symbols, but that's fine..."
"I was going to point that out to you, but that seemed rude," Drea offers bluntly. "I hold Chucaro in my own personal esteem, though not many are familiar with the empyreal lord of dreams and hallucinations." At this, Drea shows the surface of their left palm to Penthesilea, revealing a colourful tattoo of an eye with a rainbow iris. The colours seem extra vibrant against the sylph's grey skin.
"I also have an interest in Aroden, though this is more of a scholarly interest bestowed upon me by my father. He's dead, by the way," they add, again as an after-thought.
Drea turns to Kenji. "My area of study would be my strength to this party. I have an affinity for historical items and places. It would seem that my father's talents as a crypt-breaker rubbed off on me. That leads me to my weaknesses - my family. You see, I am from Wati originally. I have a story with this city, and most of it is not a happy one. My father is dead, so that chapter has ended, but my mother's family still remains, and their vengeance for what my father did to my mother might still land on me despite the fact that they already took their pay in the form of my father's life. And they're not the worst of it." Drea stops their monotonic recitation in order to look around before beginning in a lower volume.
"I have, or had, an adoptive family here in the Half-City. I didn't turn up for supper one night a few years back. They might still be looking for me - or the things I liberated from their useless grip. So....that's me."
Drea looks around at the agape faces with a blank expression.
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The next morning, Drea sets out with their new companions after concentrating on their implements earlier in the morning in order to boost their natural talents. The scabbard of the great sword hanging from the sylph's back seems extra shiny this morning.
"General Akhentepi was a field commander who lived and died well before the plague, so we are unlikely to be subject to any Lamashtan disease trapped within his tomb," Drea casually chatters as they walk alongside their new companions.
"Those doors have concealed hinges," Drea offers at the sight of the massive stone portal. "We would do well to clear that sand before trying to force them open. Did anyone bring a shovel?"
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"Zarisha with get along with you well," Pirro says in response to Drea's maudlin revelations.
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Pirro arrives at the tomb ready to work. There are a few additional flasks attached to his belt. "If you would give me a moment to summon Zarisha..."
The Keleshite stands erect and begins to weave a complex series of hand signs. It takes a fair amount of time, and it ends with him tracing a rectangle--or doorway--in front of himself. Upon completion, a ghostly woman in the robes of a priestess emerges from his body.
"Greetings, you who are about to die," the apparition says morosely and with a hint of an other-worldly echo. "I am Zarisha al-Sakawi."
She glances toward the tomb's entrance and then asks in a tone that suggests that she is not interested in the answers, "Did you notice that others have tried to gain entrance before?"
Kenji again looks quite embarrassed.
”A ... a shovel?! No! I forgot that too ... so direct but ... “ he says shaking his head as he starts to push the sand away with his feet and hands.
After revealing the doors properly he uses his new crowbar to open the doors.
"Of course. Not that it matters. You will either find death or you will not," she murmurs as she moves forward to comply, passing through the stone door as though it were no more than an illusion.
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”That is unnerving,” Drea offers matter-of-factedly to Pirro as the phantom manifests. The sylph ignores the phantom’s initial words. ”And you are completely sure that this undead spirit is wholly within your control? I don’t want to bring angry spirits with me into a place that might already house them.”
Kenji is a little astounded and takes his bardiche into his hands.
”What is this? An undead?!?“ with a little fear and determination in his voice.
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"Do not fear," Pirro says. "Her allegiance is wholly mine, having saved her soul from an eternity of emptiness. Nor is she undead as a ghost or wraith but rather a soul that had become lost in the ethereal plane. It is a rather involved story with much philosophical debate involved, but she was an adherent of the goddess who ceased to be, Rhodira, and so had no place in the afterlife."
He adds with a chuckle, "Feel free to test her with holy water when she returns, but I would hate for you to waste it."
It takes some time, but you can easily clear the sand. With the help of the crowbar, Kenji is able to muscle the doors open.
This rectangular room is empty save for some engravings and fixtures upon the walls, a pair of heavy stone doors to the north, and an immense stone wheel against the south wall. The air is stale, and a layer of dust and sand covers the floor, lying in a thicker layer to the south. 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 to the south is engraved with a large spiral and is set in stone tracks in the floor and ceiling.
defended, and those who defile it tempt the wrath of the
gods.”
And “The only thing the Lady of Graves despises more than the grave robber is the unsuccessful grave robber-- turn back while you can.”
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"Here we have the requisite warning of divine retribution should we defile the tomb," Pirro says, indicating the hieroglyphs. "The rest describes Akhentopi's many military exploits."
He moves over to the wheel. "The spiral is Pharasma's spiral. Her likeness is at two of the corners. I feel as though I should recognize the other face, but it escapes me."
He looks to Zarisha for assistance.