dot in here
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It's dark where the dung is swept, and it smells of sewer and filth and rats, the corridor that crosses underneath the grating above which the herd is kept, and into which deposits are made daily, accumulating until collected and redirected to further channels of city waste.
A whole head and a half shorter than the average human, our dingy hero lurks, nearly touching the roof of the shaft, a messily engraved sheath holding the only lightsourse in this otherwise dank passageway, the river of sewage slowly roiling by, and the sounds of squeaking vermin bathing in it's banks the only stirring, the lamp, inscribed with runes engraved over eachother, riddling the surface with a chaotic message of some sort, and hanging balanced from a two-handed broom, brushing hither and tither, scraping excrement over harsh stone, the light shifting and tilting with each stroke.
It speaks "Yes. YES!" with sudden inspiration, and, dropping the cleaning implement right in the spot, leaving the work undone, Swix Harlequinn gathers his lantern and hurries off through some adjoining tunnel, dashing off suddenly into the underways of the city proper...
..."To Sothis with yee, and with me, oh with me - what'll it be? What will it BE!?" the rhyme reverberating through the network of echoes...
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Marva heads for the meeting, hoping not to be late for her first mission as a Pathfinder agent. She rubs the small scar on her shoulder, the only reminder of the accident she suffered as a child. She hopes to make a name for herself and someday open a hall of healing to help others as she was helped.
The shaded gardens outside the Sandswept Hall provide a welcome respite from the sweltering midday sun. Venture Captain Norden Balentiir 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."
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"The approval sounds most fortunate then!" declares a young man as he looks up from behind a stack of papers, which he hurriedly tries to stuff into his backpack. "I've had a few field assignments, but none out in the desert. Sounds quite exciting, really."
Looking at the others assembled, he holds out a hand in greeting. "My name is Abittus, Abittus Rullio. I am a long-time chronicler for the Society, but lately I have been receiving more field assignments. My last one took me out into a swamp. Dreadful place, really. At least the desert will be more dry, I suppose. If there is an excavation afoot, then we will need to bring shovels and digging tools, no?'
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Popping suddenly out a dried well, a pale gnome emerges, brandishing a cane in one hand and using it to "hook" himself up, and somehow also carrying a fully lit lantern, despite the sun's zenith in the sky casting full light into the day.
"Ah. I see. I SEE. To whence the tunnel through tunnels doth lead! It is I! It is Me! I am arrived. I am Free!"
Rhyming and climbing up and over onto the sand, the strange creature hobbles towards Abittus "Excavate a truth, you seek? What is hidden, take a Peak!"
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"So we're to excavate the site, document whatever is found as best we can and don't antagonize the guards on site. Also turning over what we find to the government so they can study it as well." Marva says as she eats a date. "Also be prepared for traps and other surprises while excavating. No problem."
Marva looks at her fellow Pathfinders hopefully.
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A cactus on two "legs" carries a haul of bit and baubles, none of which look very valuable. The spines covering most of its body have been clipped to allow it to fit into a suit of leather armor. A fancy pistol sits on one "hip", a powder horn on the other. It spies the gnome climbing out of the hole and approaches it.
"Hello sir! You need climbing supplies? It looks like this is exactly what you need," the leshy says holding what amounts to a six-inch length of twine.
Shovels, food, water, it will all be provided. Just be ready to work.
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"The Climb out of What? Indeed, indeed! Do you not un-know what it is I may not need?"
"For if at first you must Ascend, I ask, yes I ASK, what beggining became an END?"
Grasping the twine, with a single deft hand, Swix twists it into a "scrunchie" and fastens it hangingly to his beard.
"Twine. Oh TWINE! It is me. It is ME. Ask and it is You who shall Receive! Any question, just in Time, to leave to Twine to just Divine!"
Cackling madly, he strokes the newly-attached bauble, and anyone standing nearby with any sort of magic sense can suddenly and unexpectedly perceive a faint GLOW from the gift - as if somehow the strange rambling poem actually imbued it with magic...
...which, of course, everyone knows is simply impossible...
The Pathfinders arrive at the place a few days later with no incident. They pathfinders walk up to the excavation site, only to find, someone else has already excavated the place. Outside you are greeted by a young, attractive African-American woman named officer Elrekah. Hello, I'm officer Elrekah, last week the head pathfinder and his crew excavated this place. He is still in there, but the rest of the crew went home and who might you be.
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Green Needle beams. "See, job done. We can sell the supplies we no longer need. Makes less to carry back home! Hey nice lady," he says to Elrekeh showing her a ball of gummy tree resin. "You need some of this? Good for making papers stay when it is windy."
Green Needle demonstrates his product. He takes a small scrap of paper, places it on the ground and places his ball of resin on top of the paper. He then gets on the ground and blows on the underside of the paper which stays put due to the weight of the ball rather than its stickiness.
"See" he says removing the paper while trying to hide the little bit of residue left behind. "So how much you want?"
She looks at Marva Well he showed me some papers and he called himself Durvin Kline. A famous pathfinder and I was delighted to meet him
She looks at Green Needle Nah, but thanks anyway. I'm just here to keep watch until my shift ends.
Abittus knows that there aren’t any particularly famous Pathfinders with this name. However, one of the Pathfinder Society’s founders was a man named Durvin Gest, and Eando Kline is a prominent Pathfinder and the founder of the Vigilant Seal faction. You also know that the two exploits that “Durvin Kline” takes credit for are the most famous accomplishments of Gest and Kline, respectively.
I'll even show you his papers
you notice that the requester of this permit was Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir, and the date of approval is almost a year ago. With the exception of the date, this permit is almost identical to the one in the Pathfinders possession. He created this permit himself, using
exactly the same supplies and methods used to create legitimate government
documents. As such, it does not appear to be a forgery.
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Suspicious, the Chronicler examines the papers carefully.
"It doesn't appear to be a forgery. The requester of this permit was Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir. And the date of approval is almost a year ago. Yet, with the exception of the date, this permit is essentially identical to the ours."
"As for this Durvin Kline, I suspect that he is no true Pathfinder," Abittus remarks. "Nor a detailed historian, given that the suspect individual presented is almost certainly an alias--and a poor one at that, given that is a witless amalgamation of the names of two true Pathfinders, Durvin Gest and Eando Kline."
She responds to you all. Oh, yes, go ahead. Your papers appear to be in order.
You head down map
Several of the pillars in this once-grand entryway have collapsed. The statues around its edges depict scarab beetles.
You see three hallways, north, south and west, which way?
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"You may be interested in knowing that the depiction of the scarab beetles around the edges of these statues are actually quite common in Osirion tombs and other other places within the kingdom associated with death," notes Abittus as he approaches the depictions for a closer look. He takes out a piece of paper and begins to sketch the beetles, adding notes as to their dimensions and placement.
Once he completes his sketch, he retrieves another sheet of paper and begins a sketch of the entire column before retrieving another sheet to capture images of other features within the room. "I may need more paper."
Heroes follow the tracks, the most recent ones which lead north and around the corner into a room. Map is up
Do you wish to open the door that says tracks lead here?
You open the door with weapons ready and on the other side you see a white male in his 20s or 30s say, It's alright guys, I'm a Pathfinder. Say you must all be pathfinders too?
He looks at Marva with a surprised look with a wayfinder in his hand
"explore, report, corroborate." That's the famous saying as always.
He takes a breath, I'll even prove it. Tell me everyone, your greatest fear, monster wise: vampires, oozes, dinosaurs, fire elementals, what? I can help you overcome that fear.
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”Fear! FEAR! Yes, i feel your touch. Knowledge, KNOWLEDGE! This I know of such:” the pale gnome enacts a simple rhyming rhythm while he answers the question ”For my Fear to appear, to what I Know I clutch. For the only Fear here is in Knowing too much!” he cackles madly while slamming his can into the stone, a surprising strength chipping away a chunk, shining his light into the pathfinder’s face, and perhaps casting truth upon the situation...
You fear you know to much? He says jokingly Well then, I guess I won't teach you what I know. Then back to serious What do you want to know?
He looks at the Leshy Nah, it worth a little more than a silver piece. Actually that thing is priceless to me, it my wayfinder. If it broke, I'd have to get a new one the most trustworthy tool. Yeah, me didn't know what he was thinking, it cooperate. My mind isn't with it today. Anyway, you're fear sir?
The lady out front has my papers, she looked at them and verified it. You trust the guards, do you not?
He starts to shake My name is Nefaram Subeli, and I'm not a Pathfinder, but I want to become the greatest Pathfinder that has ever lived, so I decided to start an excavation group. Others people thought I was a pathfinder, the guard and others in my group, so I'm on my way to becoming a great Pathfinder.
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He starts to shake My name is Nefaram Subeli, and I'm not a Pathfinder, but I want to become the greatest Pathfinder that has ever lived, so I decided to start an excavation group. Others people thought I was a pathfinder, the guard and others in my group, so I'm on my way to becoming a great Pathfinder.
"Well, not the most auspicious start, I would say," Abittus quietly sighs, relieved that the "false Pathfinder" seems good intentioned enough--if, perhaps, ill-informed and overly eager.
"Becoming a Pathfinder--that is joining the Pathfinder Society and becoming a field agent--requires a bit more formality and training than you suggest." The chronicler tries to explain to the impersonator. "I mean, while it is true that some receive a field commission, most venture to Absalom to the Grand Lodge, where they receive months, if not years, of formal training and scholarly instruction. Assuming such a regime is completed with a suitable showing of aptitude and skill, then one may be confirmed through an initiation that is--quite rightly--called one's 'Confirmation'. Often, it is an assignment or task given to an agent individually, although--as in my case, which I suppose is not as unusual as I had once believed--the initiation is performed as party of a group or adventuring party. Though, I had been a chronicler in the employ of the Society for some time, I was not a field agent until--"
Abittus pauses for a moment as if having a realization. "But, it seems that I have drifted somewhat afoot from the matter at hand," he says, taking on a more authoritative composure. "If you are--as you suggest--'on your way to becoming a Pathfinder', then why don't you inform us of the information that you have already gathered regarding this underground structure and its history? Have you already surveyed the entirety of its interior?"