1st day of Pharast
The lottery....you missed it! The Sun Falcons had just finished rescuing a local nobleman's daughter from some brigands, for which they were paid a handsome reward of 4000 gp. However, the time involved in tracking down the brigands and saving the girl took more than was expected. To make matters worse, on the journey back to Wati, the adventuring company ran into a persistent sandstorm that delayed their arrival by 3 hours. By that time, the high priestess of Pharasma, Sebti the Crocodile, had handed out all of the lots and wooden tokens to the adventuring companies gathered in the Sunburst Market in front of the imposing edifice of the Grand Mausoleum. The Sun Falcons missed out on their chance to be selected to explore the tombs and places of historical significance in the Necropolis! So the party watched as the Cryptfinders, the Dog Soldiers, the Sand Scorpions, and a host of other adventuring companies with macabre and interesting names began their explorations. To comfort themselves each party member spent the next couple of days spending their 1000 gp share in the city of Wati.
3rd day of Pharast
Curiously, you find yourselves today in the foyer of the home of Professor Moham Al-Shabiz, a renowned and wealthy professor of history, who summoned your party this morning for a meeting. It is around noon and a platter of dates and other delicious treats have been laid out for you all, along with some wine. Two private guards stand at a door, watching you enjoy the treats. They instructed you that the Professor, who is inside the room they are guarding, will be with you shortly and to make yourselves at home. Why you accepted the summons is up in the air. Perhaps you were bored or you were looking for work or just simple curiosity. Whatever the reason, at least you got a free meal out of it.
Thyste had been certain that, if they made good time, they could make it back in time for the lottery-- even with the girl's short strides and less-than-hardy demeanor!
Until the sandstorm hit, anyway.
Fuming while they hunkered down under a hastily-erected tent, Thyste tapped her fingers on the edge of her aspis. No use getting flayed by the sand...
...but even without being able to pinpoint the sun to tell the time, it became obvious as the sandstorm continued that they were going to miss it.
Rather than air her frustrations in front of their charge, however, she settled for giving a series of more and more menacing smiles until her jaw is working so hard her teeth threaten to shatter.
This is meant to be my destiny!
Thyste spends the next day in the tavern, grumbling as adventurers brag about their lots, planning their excursions between cups of beer as the gladiatrix idly flakes bits of a painted eagle flying out of the sun off of her aspis.
Thyste taps impatiently at her shield once more; it still bears most of an eagle flying out of the sun, but its right talon looks like it's had a bite taken out of it.
"I have not gone so long without a fight since I was a child," mumbles Thyste around a date that she refuses to admit is quite good and fresh, "and only then because I had fallen ill."
Mahzuzi was miserable. After all their preparations, all the excitement and the sheer joy of finding companions with whom he was so sympathetic and like-minded, the shock of being stranded in the desert sandstorm was almost too hard to bear. He tried to keep his petulant thoughts to himself, and to endure the tales of other adventuring companies with charm and grace.
Still, a ray of hope shone through the doldrums: the Professor had summoned them, and this bode well for their band. Perhaps our bad luck is about to change, Mahzuzi thought. Our unfulfilled destiny is not necessarily blocked.
To Thyste, he nods and commiserates. "Fighting sickness, that is another kind of fight, yes? Such a fighter, you are. I bet even the tale of young Thyste versus the bed demons is also a story worth telling."
Thyste chuckles at that. "Perhaps with a bit of embellishment!" she grins.
"I had seven sisters, each more frail and with greater bed demons than the last-- and I, the youngest of them..."
Ach! The adventure had been so fun, so useful, and so pure! But with that came missing the lottery ...the entire reason we'd all met! I hope this is not it!
!Kultwisi had spent the next day or so "patrolling." He found no undead, and only a few arguments he put to rest. The adventure had paid off in the form of better armor and a really great battleaxe. And he was still in touch with his fellow "Sun Falcons." So much so they were invited together to what was, at least, a free meal.
"Vish food ish delishush!"
Zhalet picks at the food without appetite. Her stomach feels like a heavy lump and she hasn't slept too well, which makes her feel slightly queazy.
She's now entering her third day of turning the same question over and over in her mind.
How am I going to tell mother about this? I've failed at the principle thing I was sent here to do before I even started."
It's not that there wasn't good reason to help recover the girl from the brigands. Zhalet had taken on the task out of altruism rather than for the reward. Her mother wouldn't fault her motive. But she is convinced that a more experienced priest, a wiser one, would have seen the situation more clearly and made better choices about priorities.
Was it really the case that only I could have helped the girl? Certainly not. On the other hand only I could accomplish the task given to me by the Church. I'm a fool.
There are other things she has been tasked with in Osirion. Maybe Zhalet would not go home completely empty-handed, But she would go home ashamed.
You hear a muffled "Send them in!" from behind the doors and the guards part, "You may enter." The two guards open the door allowing you access to the room that appears to be a study. A few steps in four chairs have been arranged before a large ornate oak desk clearly of foreign make. The desk is cluttered with papers, scrolls, inkwells, and writing instruments. An elderly human, perhaps in his 70's with a white beard wearing a fancy turban and pricey clothes sits at the desk, writing feverishly on some papyrus. For reasons unknown to you, he wears a monocle on his right eye. Image of Professor The room smells as if sprayed with a citrus perfume. The temperature is also cool, much cooler than the foyer. On the wall behind him are rows of books and map scrolls.
Without looking up, as he continues to write, the Professor speaks in soft tones, "Please sit all of you and sorry for the wait." He points to the four chairs in front. He continues writing and waits for you all to sit before continuing. "Thank you for agreeing to meeting with me. I am sorry to hear you missed the lottery...I understand some business to do with a kidnapped teenager. I am glad you were able to save the girl. I, on the other hand, did not miss the lottery. The opportunity to study some antiques and relics from the Necropolis was too much for me to pass up." Your host stops writing on his current papyrus scroll and pulls on another sheet and continues to write. "I chose to serve as a patron to the Outsiders, a promising adventuring company, not native to Wati. They were very eager and respectful. Unfortunately, as you may have heard, their expedition met with total failure in one of the tombs. Seems in their youthful exuberance, they forgot to buy provisions to deal with swarms and a swarm of scarab beetles did them in. Such a rookie mistake..." The Professor finally looks up, "I grieve for their loss, in my own way. And I write letters of death notification to their loved ones, as you can see. However, the pursuit of knowledge must continue. As their patron, I was awarded the wooden token in the lottery. I was advised last night that I have 24 hours to find a new company or my token will lapse. Seems like destiny has put us on the road of second chances...if you'll have me as your patron?" The Professor leans back in his chair, his fingers inter-crossed under his chin, as he awaits your response.
Mahzuzi laughs. "Ah! It is sad, I think, that the Outsiders are no more. But alas that they should have been so unprepared! The same could not be said for us!" He looks furtively at the others, as if checking that they do, in fact, have some equipment useful for dealing with swarms. Nodding to himself, he continues. "Poised we seem to be able to help each other. May I ask, what happens to the tomb that the ill-fated Outsiders were exploring? Is it up for grabs; can we finish it off for them?" His eyes sparkle with benevolent avarice and overconfidence.
Thyste nearly leads the way inside; she keeps Mahzuzi just in front of her and slightly toward the left. That way, she can drop her shield in front of him-- the apparent leader (or at least organizer), he seems most likely to be targeted in an ambush.
She takes a seat fairly casually, though. Just because she likes to prepare for an ambush doesn't mean she's likely to be ambushed.
Not inside the city, anyway.
"That sounds like a poor death," she states, leaning back in her chair, arms across the back. "I wonder how many insects I could crush beneath my aspis, if it came to that?"
Mahzuzi laughs. "Ah! It is sad, I think, that the Outsiders are no more. But alas that they should have been so unprepared! The same could not be said for us!" He looks furtively at the others, as if checking that they do, in fact, have some equipment useful for dealing with swarms. Nodding to himself, he continues. "Poised we seem to be able to help each other. May I ask, what happens to the tomb that the ill-fated Outsiders were exploring? Is it up for grabs; can we finish it off for them?" His eyes sparkle with benevolent avarice and overconfidence.
Professor Moham sighs, "After their demise, it was assigned to another company, the Dog Soldiers, who completed the tomb. I am offering the Sun Falcons the next 2 lots that I have been assigned, starting with nobleman's estate, the House of Penteru."
Sounds familiar ...
Mahzuzi frowns, but covers his disappointment by looking to the others to make sure they are open to the idea of working with a patron. He winks up at Thyste before turning back. "Ah well, a nobleman's estate should have plenty of treasure, yes? Yes?" He eyes Moham carefully. "I've never worked with a patron before. How would you propose we divide the spoils, were we to begin upon this endeavor together?" He puffs himself up a bit. "The Sun Falcons may not be dogs or soldiers, but we can do anything they can do, and plenty better!"
Oh yes! Yes! Thank you, thank you! Thank the Everlight!
Zhalet is beyond thrilled hearing there is a chance to still enter the Necropolis as part of the Wati lottery. She keeps it to herself though, maintaining a placid facade. After all, this is a negotiation and she doesn't want to seem an easy mark.
She seconds Mahzuzi's expression of interest, contingent on more details.
"Yes, it is an interesting offer Professor Moham. Tell us, what specific terms for this working relationship do you have in mind?"
Thyste is quiet, but the mention of "Dog Soldiers" does make her frown a bit.
"How often do you see a fox take down a pack of hungry dogs?"
Thyste's lips curled over her teeth, and she let out a slight growl.
Gladiating was an interesting profession at the best of times, but the more of a gimmick you were, the more they were going to play it up.
In this case, it meant either being torn apart by way too many dogs or slaughtering a lot of them.
Barbaric.
Challenging.
Thyste rose to it, as ever she did; protect the neck, stay on her feet, stay quick, stay rooted.
Fighting a pack of dogs was a lot for anyone.
Unarmored opponents meant she didn't have to put her muscle into it, so long as she hit the right spots. They were likely to bundle into each other-- and could be forced to, if Thyste found herself with time to set it up-- to keep the threatening canines down.
She'd have to keep her focus broad; keeping her eyes on any one of them would mean losing an arm to the rest. And then everything else.
Doable, but she'd have to avoid getting too ambitious too quickly.
Boy, did she wish this persona kept that aspis, though.
The Professor leans back, "Well, my offer to you is the following. First, I will have first right of purchase to all historical antiquities that you unearth or discover in your pursuits. You may find some real treasures that I would like to add to my collection. Second, I will be entitled to 12% of all treasures, object or monetary that you find. And what more, there will be an auction held in a week where I have contacts that will yield greater than street value prices for your goods. What say ye?"
Thyste taps her chin at this and leans in. "You say 'first right of purchase.' Does that force us to sell to you if there is something you want, or do we have control over that?"
Ooh! Good question!
Zhalet was ready to say 'yes' from the moment the Professor had finished talking. She'd only asked her question for the sake of appearance, and because she knew it was a question her mother would ask. She decides to hold her tongue just a little longer.
Mahzuzi grins at the stated terms, listening to the other questions. After a pause, he interjects, "Twelve percent of the value of the findings is fair, yes. Is there anything in particular you would be wanting us to be looking for?"
"Any treasures are fine, but books, sculptures, paintings, and artifacts are all of particular interest to me. For example, the House of Pentheru where you are headed, there must be lore there from before the Plague of Madness in 2499 AR, conjured and spread by the cult of Lamashtu. Anything you find there will be of interest to me, I am sure."
The Professor pauses, drawing in a breath, "When do you think you will get started? The House is ready for exploration at any time."
The Professor pauses, drawing in a breath, "When do you think you will get started? The House is ready for exploration at any time."
”As am I!” says Thyste, standing and leaning over the desk, hand extended.
She has somewhat forgotten who their appointed leader is, and taken “sealing the deal” upon herself.
Mahzuzi almost blurts out his readiness in his enthusiasm, but makes himself wait to ensure his companions feel the same. He smiles happily to himself when Thyste proclaims his own thoughts, and nods in agreement.
"Your proposal sounds agreeable Professor."
Zhalet suggests to her companions "if we intend to go today we should hurry. From what I've heard we don't want to still be there after dark."
Mahzuzi bows to the Professor and confers with everyone. "Zhalet, do you need to rest to prepare your spells? I'm trying to think what I remember hearing about this place, maybe I know something that would give us a hint what we might find there."
The Professor pauses, drawing in a breath, "When do you think you will get started? The House is ready for exploration at any time."”As am I!” says Thyste, standing and leaning over the desk, hand extended.
She has somewhat forgotten who their appointed leader is, and taken “sealing the deal” upon herself.
The elderly gentleman is surprised by Thyste's enthusiasm but quickly composes himself and shakes her hand, "Wonderful wonderful. Please, please be careful. I don't want you all to die and deprive me of a chance to study those historical treasures." The Professor waits a second before smiling, the jest in his eyes quite clear, "And of course, your deaths would be so inconvenient, so be safe and I am here if you need anything. Remember to be respectful to any tombs or coffins you may come across. You are seekers of history, not tomb robbers. By the way, I offer you these to keep you healthy." He passes you a satchel with four potions of Cure Serious Wounds.
Thyste's hand is callused and rough, and her grip strong, but hopefully the Professor expected that. "We will not disappoint," she promises. "If we do die, I will chastise myself most thoroughly."
"Sir, we will strive to greatness always. I will protect my party from Undeath or anything else. The Sun Falcons shall blaze to glory!"
House of Pentheru... Pentheru... Mahzuzi's mind bounces through his memories seeking connections.
Before you leave, the Professor hands you his wooden token, "So you can show the guards for passage to the Necropolis. Good luck!"
It's late morning as you make your way through town and finally arrive at the Necropolis. You show the token to the guards, who allow you in, with some helpful advice of staying safe. The sturdy stone buildings of Wati’s necropolis were once part of the living city, and even now could still be mistaken for apartments, estates, shops, or tenements if not for the faded paint and desert sand piling up in the streets. Separated from the rest of the city by high stone walls inscribed with prayers and blessings, the necropolis has an outward appearance of peace and repose. The dusty streets are mostly empty of life. although here and there, you see activity of other adventuring groups proceeding to their respective sites.
You pass by Pharasma's Needle and head NE to the House of Pentheru, some 10 minutes away at the top of Vizier's Hill. When you arrive, the following scene greets you:
Sandstone walls ten feet high enclose this estate, affording those who once lived inside some privacy. A two-story stone house is visible beyond the walls, adjoining the rear wall of the property. In the center of the estate's southern wall stands a pair of tarnished bronze gates hanging partially open. A pair of statues flanks the gate. Dusty hieroglyphs are carved into the wall at eye level to the left of the gate.
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"Old Osiron was bougie as hell. This was a home?"
Thyste walks with her aspis covering much of her body, as usual, and as they approach their destination, she pulls her doru out.
”I have seen larger houses... but they were for cyclops,” she states. ”Although they are often fairly bougie as well.”
"Poochie?" repeats Mahzuzi, confused. "Like guardian creatures? Maybe?" He shakes his little head nervously. "The inhabitants died in difficult circumstances, much yes. It is possible their souls linger on here. We must ware evil things!"
Mahzuzi creeps carefully towards the gate, and examines the hieroglyphs with mild curiosity.
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”Bougie,” corrects Thyste. ”Like rich people are bougie. Fops, especially, are bougie. Kind of a... showing-off-one’s-wealth thing.”
As she looks up at the house, Zhalet smiles to herself upon hearing !Kutlwisi’s comment.
He’s funny, whether he meant to be or not. I like that about him. It’s all too rare…
Bringing herself back to the current moment, she tells the others ”Well, best get on with this. The daylight won’t last forever.”
Zhalet approaches closer with Mahzuzi and concentrates, reaching out to find any magic auras that might linger around the place.
The hieroglyphs read "House of Pentheru" in Ancient Osiriani. The statues depict two men with a regal bearing and dressed in loose, short robes and traditional Osirian head cloths. You also see small hieroglyphs on the statues' bases that identify the figures as Pentheru the Elder and Pentheru the Younger.
Past the gates, you see dust and sand cover the ground of this small courtyard. To the east and west stand pairs of columns, once brightly painted and now bleached from the sun, which support stone archways leading to other section of the property. Tarnished bronze gates hang open under both arches. To the north, a small flight of steps leads up to a pair of ornate doors in the south wall of the house between another set of columns. Zhalet detects no magic.
As you step in through the gates, the Mwangi and Mahz hear the sound of an angry mob, but as you look around, you do not see anything.
!Kutlwisi draws his battle axe and shield. "Trouble coming."
Thyste is busy squinting and leaning in to one of the hieroglyphs.
"The detail work on these is amazing..."
Mahzuzi looks around, puzzled. "Is sound of mob, but is no mob. Illusion? Maybe ghost?"
A woman's voice cries out in Ancient Osiriani, "Hold the gates! Don't let them inside the compound!" Powerful blows shake and rattle the gates!
Mahz and Thsyte immediately run, fleeing at top speed in fear for rounds. Kut and Zhalet are shaken for 1 round but no other ill effects.
Zhalet looks a little paler than she did a few moments ago, but she holds steady in the face of the supernatural manifestation. When it ends, she tells !Kutlwisi, who has remained along with her, "it is a haunt. Unquiet spirits reenacting an event of great suffering. It, haunts are not exactly a 'they' in the way a ghost is, relive a version of what happened."
The priestess removes a vial of holy water from her pouch. "I believe I can quiet the haunt with this, but it will not be permanent. Haunts can be removed, but each has its own key to doing so. There is no single, universal solution to all haunts. The voice mentioned 'holding the gate'. Maybe if the gate is repaired so it can hold again the haunt will be dispelled."
As Zhalet begins to sprinkle the holy water about, she asks the Mwangi man "can you look at the gate to see if it might be repaired?"
Thyste turns tail and flees. Seeing that Mahz has little legs, she scoops him up in her shield as she goes!
After 4 rounds, our of breath, you can make your way back to the party, a little embarrassed but not worse for wear.
Panting, Mahzuzi returns, gratefully clinging to Thyste's shield. "Ghosts!" he cries. "See, we must beware."
Thyste comes back breathing hard through her nose like an ox. ”Inside, then?” she asks, choosing not to comment on her moment of fear.
You move to the doors and open them, revealing the following scene:
Brightly colored columns stand in the four corners of this foyer. Hieroglyphs cover the walls and tiled floors, obscured in places by piles of dust and sand. Open archways lead to the north, east, and west.
However, what immediately catches your attention are the three skeletons standing at attention in the middle of the foyer, wearing the once proud garb of guards. They each wield broken jagged pieces of a khopesh and suddenly turn their necks toward the party, the red glint of unlife in their empty eye sockets.
The skeletons raise their weapons, but do not approach, as they wait for the party.
Thyste laughs at the sight of the skeletons. "I have slain twice as many single-handedly!" she boasts, hiking up her shield as she strides forward and swings the edge at the closest one.
!Kutlwisi likewise moves and attacks!
Mahzuzi follows Thyste closely, drawing something that looks like a small crowbar (a kunai). He studies the creatures as he swings the weapon at the nearest skeleton, and a slightly golden aura appears around his head.