Welcome, Pathfinders!
You have made your way to the Sandswept Hall, Osirion’s Pathfinder Society Lodge in the capital city of Sothis, at the invitation of local venture-captain Norden Balentiir. Welcomed into the walled compound, you're ushered to cell-like rooms in the main two-story building built out of white limestone blocks with copper-reinforced, wooden doors. Statues of two sphinxes flank the entryway.
The trip to the desert country was uneventful, giving you time to to think about what it means for you to be Pathfinder agents:
* Adventurers who travel throughout the world, you explore new places and chronicle both history and modern lore.
* The motto of the Pathfinder Society is Explore, Report, Cooperate.
* The Pathfinder Society publishes the records of its most exciting and significant missions in a series of journals called the Pathfinder Chronicles. Most of these Chronicles are available to the public.
* The Pathfinder Society’s bases of operation are called lodges. The largest and most prominent of these lodges is the Grand Lodge in Absalom.
* The symbol of the Pathfinder Society is the Glyph of the Open Road.
* Most Pathfinders carry a type of magical compass called a wayfinder. Because wayfinders are rarely seen outside of the Pathfinder Society, they often serve as symbols of membership in the organization.
* The Pathfinder Society leaders agents are most likely to interact with are called venture-captains. Venture-captains organize missions for other agents, and they typically manage their own lodges. At the top of the Pathfinder Society’s hierarchy are the Decemvirate, also known as “The Ten.”
If the trip here weren't enough, you have a little time before you're scheduled to meet with the local venture captain to get to know each other.
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A darker-complexioned Osirion man smiles at the sight of the strange instrument. "That is quite a lot of brass," he says, his gaze appraising the instrument's value. He claps his hands together, then says, "My deepest apologies. Where are my manners. I am Jaware Sahat Alttajir. But please, we are all Pathfinders now, so just Jaware is fine. And you are in my city, as Sothis has long been my home. If you need anything, I know where the best deals can be had. It would be my pleasure to show you around. Consider me your local and spiritual guide here."
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"Show me around?" grunts a mountain dwarf in response to Jaware, his heavy garb and braided beard, both rather thick, are clearly ill-suited for the desert environ. A sizeable miner's pick is slung over his back. "This city? Too low, too bright. Not much that I find to be of interest here, I'd reckon."
"Even the 'dirt' around here is unpleasant. Dull. Shifty." he says as he scoops up a bit of sand before letting it sift through his fingers. "Now, if you could show old Grommfell, here, a fine cave. Some shade. Some water. That'd be worth something."
Catching the shine off Suza's tuba, Grommfell raises a hand to shelter his eyes. "Nice metal." he says.
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"Ah, I suppose we have at least something in common then, sir Grommfell: this is far from what we are accustomed to." An elf turns from his examination of one of the sphinxes to greet you. His white hair and pale skin indicate his northern heritage, and he is unarmored. "The desert is a far cry from the tundras of my home, though in my travels it is the only place I've seen that rivals my home for wide open space. Pardon, I forget my manners. My name is Tuulen, windkey and Twilight Speaker for my people, the Ilverani of Icegate."
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A scarred woman in well-worn leathers and mud-caked boots lets out a cackling laugh. "You folks shrinking from the sun already?" With a wide grin -- marred by two missing teeth and a scar cutting across her lip and chin -- she adds, "It ain't home, but it'll do."
She eyes her fellow pathfinders for a while then announces, "I'm Samar. Samar Ashaad. From Katapesh way." She crosses her arms. "What do you think they've got us here for? Something routine, I hope. I keep getting all the weird missions."
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"In Osirion? You can expect it to be a dig site. With all the shifting sands, it seems every season there is a new place unearthed, ha ha!" Jaware smiles. "Though I would indeed love to hear about the weird missions you mentioned. You see, this is my first foray for the Pathfinders."
He waves a hand, as if to brush away their incredulity. "It's true! Though I am a man of my middle years, I have recently committed myself to this new chapter in my life. Not six months ago I had a shop selling curios. I did well too, I might add! But two things found me after my forty-first birthday: boredom, and Pharasma," Jaware says this last bit while holding up the holy symbol that hands from his necklace. "I promise, no sermons from me. My faith is not new to me, but to hear a response? That is something you do not ignore. And so, here I am."
He ends his story there, seeming to think that explains everything that needs explaining about him. "I am sure that we will be speaking with the Venture-Captain soon."
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As would I, pipes up an dwarf who has been busy inspecting the small cracks in the foundation during much of the banter, coming away with a mouse resting in his palm while nibbling at a small chunk of cheese. My last trip was to Razmiran. He wrinkles his nose. Unpleasant place, that.
He brightens almost at once and continues. Alonzo Tamarisk. Well met, and all of that.
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"Razmiran?" Samar crinkles her nose in distaste. "Yeah, I'll take the sun and sand over zealots any day."
"Weird? You sure? I'd rather forget that last one, myself. First there was that hunt for the Mosquito Witch with <[REDACTED]>. Then we went to a forest that caught flame faster than you can blink and was filled with <[REDACTED]>! Blooming catastrophe, that was! I'm not going back there anytime soon! Nope! I've seen things I can't unsee. See?" She shudders at the memory. "Keep this talk up and I'll need a flagon to drown myself in."
Samar beckons at the woman with the overgrown trumpet. "You play that thing, Suza, or is it just for show? I could use a tune."
As the music continues, a human man with a fine moustache enters, nodding his head until the tune finishes. When it does, he gestures for your attention.
"Welcome, Pathfinders, if you would care to follow me?" the man invites.
The shaded gardens outside the Sandswept Hall provide a welcome respite from the sweltering midday sun. Introducing himself as Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir, he reaches up to one of the date palms overhead, pulling down a bunch of ripe fruit to share with the table.
“They’re good for much more than shade, my friends. But I did not call you here to enjoy my garden. A few months ago, I finally received confirmation that we would be able to execute one of the last excavation permits issued by the Osiriani government. The site is a desert location where the dunes have shifted, revealing the beginnings of a staircase leading down beneath the sands.
“The Osiriani government is protective of its cultural history, and with recent changes in their stance on allowing foreign archaeologists to work inside their borders, I wasn’t sure this permit would even stand. The bureaucracy was rather slow this time around, but it turns out we were approved before they stopped issuing permits. I’ve already secured your provisions, including camels, tents, food, water, tools to perform the excavation, and a map to the site. As you know, it may take many weeks to clear the site of debris. The desert can be unforgiving, so don’t hesitate to return here to rest as needed.
“The government has already sent guards to oversee the site and protect against any potential thieves. Remember -- keeping up a good reputation in Osirion is vital to the Pathfinder Society’s continued presence here. Don’t antagonize the guards.”
He concludes, looking around to see if you have any questions for him.
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“They’re good for much more than shade, my friends.
"Hmmm? Firewood?" Grommfell ponders aloud.
When the Venture-Captain concludes, the dwarf mutters, "More days of sun. More days of gritty dirt. At least, there's a hole to look forward to at the end."
He considers Balentiir's warning, then asks,"And if the guards antagonize us?"
"I'm afraid not," the Venture-Captain replies to Suza, "that's what we're hoping to find out. This site could be centuries old, and could have almost anything -- or even nothing, though hopefully not that."
He thinks for a moment at Alonzo's question.
"If anything catches your eye as particularly of note, you may bring it back for immediate study," he says. "The site itself will be worth studying beyond that, but no need to wait on certain items."
His responds to Grommfell next.
"Hopefully that won't happen, but I trust you to put the Society in the best light. A few bad names won't hurt you and you can overlook some minor provocations. If you're attacked, certainly defend yourself, but I don't think it should come to that!"
“Drink plenty of water," Norden responds. [b]"Travel near dawn and dusk to take shelter from the midday sun, and bundle up at night. Also, the desert heat can play tricks on your eyes. Stick to the map, use your common sense, and you’ll be fine.”
He looks around to see if you have any further questions, then urges you to take what extra provisions you may need from the lodge and make your final preparations .
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"Digging in the dirt? Sounds normal enough," Samar remarks. "Finally! I'm in!" She slaps a hand on the table and lets out a cackling laugh. As the group is dismissed she reaches out and plucks a few more dates from the trees, shoving them in her bag. "You don't mind if I help myself, do ya'? Thanks."
She heads out to refill her waterskins then regroups with the others. "Ready when you are."
Fully supplied, you leave Sothis to make your way to the excavation site. The sun beats down mercilessly, the heat oppressive, no matter how dry it is. If you had any thought of moving during the day, you're soon abused of the notion, following the venture captain's advice to stick to dawn and dusk for travel.
Fortunately, the provided supplies are more than enough to make it to your destination, and nothing bothers you other than some irritating sand, and the occasional small scorpion you have to shoo away as you get dressed.
Following the map, you have no trouble making it to the ruin, where you find the entrance has already been excavated. A canvas fence secured around a staircase leading down into the earth keeps most of the sand away from the opening. Nearby, a guard sits under a tarp, humming to herself, while two additional guards nap in the shade, resting with four camels.
"Ho!" the woman calls out, causing the two sleepers to crack open their eyes, though they don't otherwise stir. "More Pathfinders come to join the fun? Not very nice to wait to join the expedition until after we already did all the hard work to clear the way in."
"Yeah, they've been working here about a month now, cleaning out and securing the entrance," she says. "Then the head Pathfinder got here, oh, a few days ago, maybe a week? All the other agents went home once the sand was cleared, but he's been in there cataloging everything. All the history and whatever it is you're doing."
"His name? I'm sure he told me, but I can't recall it. He had his permit, though. Absolutely!" she replies.
"Left it posted over there," she gestures to a note tacked onto the canvas near the stairs.
"Speaking of which, I'll need to see your letters too, if you want to go in."
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Yes, of course, Alonzo says, showing the guard their letters of introduction and the map from Venture-Captain Balentiir.
When the guard is satisfied, he makes a beeline over to the canvas by the stairs for the other Pathfinder permit. You'd think, if there was another team of Pathfinders coming here, the Venture-Captain would have told us.
As you pass by the canvas, the paper catches Alonzo's eye, though Samar, Suza and Windkey are only moments behind him. They all notice that the requester of the permit was Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir, and the date of approval is almost a year ago. Otherwise, it's almost identical to the ones in your own possession.
A 10-foot-wide staircase leads from the surface into the ruins. A light dusting of sand covers the floors of the once-grand entryway you find yourself in, sparkling slightly where you disturb it in the sunlight filtering in from above. Statues around the entranceway's edges depict scarab beetles.
Jaware, you know that scarab beetle iconography is commonplace in tombs and other places associated with death.
A 5-foot-wide hallway branches to the north, and another to the south, though it ends quickly in a door. A wider, 10-foot passage extends west, ending in a pair of double doors, though it looks like the hallway also goes north and south from there . The entire area is dimly lit, though falls into darkness in the hallway ahead of you.
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"This is a place of death. But do not let that frighten you, as death is a natural thing. But when you see scarab beetles adorning the walls of a place like this, expect that what you step into is a tomb," Jaware shares what he knows, but continues to hang back as the team moves forward to do their work.
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"Dark. Dirty." comments Grommfell as he reaches the base of the steps. "I like it."
The dwarf looks at the iconography. "Someone likes insects." he notes as if dispensing some piece of helpful information. "Now, where did the other 'Pathfinder' go?"
The dwarf moves to the front of the party and scans the area for tracks and signs of others recently moving through the area.
There are a number of tracks here -- clearly a number of workers moved around this chamber -- but it looks like only one moved beyond here, from what Alonzo can see. Grommfell misses it in the confusion, but Alonzo points out one set of booted tracks proceeding forward through the wide hallway.