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Ancient Osirion, 6000 years ago
Within the sanctum of the grand temple of Nethys, the balance of magic pulses with an uneasy rhythm. Murals of past pharaohs whisper secrets through the lips of their immortal depictions, and today, they speak of a scandal so profound that it ripples through the aeons.
The air is thick with the scent of incense and the sharp tang of fear as Pharaoh Djederet II, a man whose veins course with the very essence of divine will, stands robed in the sacred vestments of a high priest. His countenance is a storm of human emotion — fury, disgust, disbelief—against the backdrop of godly composure. For the unthinkable has occurred.
The Sacrocent Order of the Blue Feather, a sect that once walked in revered light within the church of Nethys, has fallen from grace. Word has been brought on faltering lips and bowed heads: they have desecrated the eternal rest of Pharaoh Hakotep I, a predecessor of the divine lineage, a king who once united the sands and the stars.
Djederet's eyes, one reflecting life, the other death, mirroring his godly patron, stare unblinking at the evidence presented in the reports before him. Shattered canopic jars, the holy innards of mummification defiled, and worst of all, the sacred funeral mask stolen from the sarcophagus of Hakotep the Sky Pharaoh.
With a hand that shakes with barely constrained wrath, Djederet signals to his acolytes, his voice a quiet tempest, “Gather the scribes. Let it be known that history itself shall bear no mark of this heresy. As the sands scour clean the blasphemous footprints, so shall our records be purged of this abomination.”
The acolytes bow, their bodies tight with the gravity of the edict. It is no simple matter to erase history, to strike out the memory of transgression. Yet the word of the Pharaoh is divine, the command irrefutable. Scribes and scholars work feverishly, scrolls burn and tablets shatter, ensuring the sin of the Sacrocent Order fades into myth, then into oblivion.
The truth about the Mummy's Mask is thus set not with words etched in stone, but with whispers that dance on the desert winds.
But the gods watch. The gods remember. And as the moon rises to pay homage to its celestial kin, the stars themselves bear silent witness to the Pharaoh's decree. Nethys, the god of magic, feels the disturbance in the arcane fabric, the severing of truth and knowledge—his domains.
The city of Wati, Osirion, present day (4714 AR)
Bending to the will of Pharaoh Khemet III, the Ruby Prince, the church of Pharasma has authorized the opening of the necropolis of Wati, the Half-Dead City.
The desert city is near bursting with excitement as adventures from every corner of the Inner Sea region assemble here beneath the burning desert sun. Soon, the priests from the Grand Mausoleum, the high temple of Pharasma, will assign the first sites for exploration.
For as both locals and foreigners wait eagerly to weave their tale within the shifting dunes of Osirion, they must know that some truths, though hidden, never die. They linger, they fester, and they wait for the day they can be reborn.
So begin your journey, pathfinders, under the watchful eyes of the gods and the hidden legacy of pharaohs. Seek out the shadows of the past, for within them lies the path to truth and the key to power... or obliteration.
Posting for dot
"Only in Wati, will I at last find what I seek..."
"Scraaaaaawk!"
Player introductions:
The scorching sun of Wati beats down unrelentingly on the dusty streets, casting long, harsh shadows across the buildings. Amidst this sweltering heat, Indus Ionaeus sits solemnly on an old, weathered crate outside his now former apartment. His belongings, a meager collection of clothes, scrolls, and his trusty sword and whip, are packed beside him. The wide-brimmed leather hat shields his eyes, but not his thoughts, which are clouded with worry for his father.
It was several weeks ago that his father travelled to the nearby city of Tephu to pursue some obscure research lead at the local library. He had promised Indus to return with ample time to find suitable teammates for the exploration of the necropolis, but he had not been heard from since. The messengers Indus sent to inquire about his father returned with word that he had joined an expedition headed west into the desert to explore some forgotten ruins.
A few curious onlookers pass by, their glances fleeting yet filled with a mixture of pity and curiosity. Indus fiddles absentmindedly with the simple medallion around his neck, a reminder of his father's and his own deep connection to Osirion's mysteries.
Suddenly, the clack of fine boots on stone breaks his reverie. Velriana Hypaxes, draped in a Taldan dandy’s idea of an adventurer’s outfit, approaches with a haughty air. She eyes Indus with a mix of disdain and mock sympathy.
One of the countless minor aristocrats who choke the upper echelons of Taldan society, the wizard-turned-osirionologist had wasted little time in making her disdain for her fellow countrymen known when she first encountered them in Wati.
“Ah, young Ionaeus, abandoned like an old tome in the library,” she sneers, her voice dripping with insincerity. “It's unfortunate about your father, really. Lost in his pursuits, or perhaps just lost. Such a shame.”
Indus looks up, his expression a calm mask. “Thank you for your ‘condolences’, Velriana. But my father's passion for exploration is something you of all people should understand.”
Velriana smirks, “Indeed, but unlike him, I make sure to return from my expeditions. Speaking of which, my team for the necropolis is all set. Pity you couldn’t find one in time.” With a mocking swish of her flamboyant floppy hat, she turns to leave, her laughter echoing faintly as she disappears into the bustling street.
As Indus contemplates his next move, a city guard, overhearing their conversation, approaches him. The guard is a sturdy man, his uniform coated with the ever-present desert dust.
“Excuse me, sir, I couldn’t help but overhear your situation,” the guard says, his tone respectful. “If you're still looking for a team for the necropolis, I heard that the owner of the Tooth and Hookah Inn is looking for adventurers. Might be worth checking out.”
Indus nods gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll look into it. ”
With a newfound sense of purpose, Indus gathers his belongings. He knows the path ahead is fraught with unknowns, but the prospect of adventure and the hope of finding his father rekindles a fire in his heart. As he walks towards the Tooth and Hookah Inn, the medallion around his neck glints in the sun, a silent promise of the mysteries awaiting in the shadows of the necropolis.
Perhaps luck hasn’t entirely deserted me yet. he thinks to himself.
Absalom, 2 months ago
In the dimly lit fencing school, echoes of clashing steel reverberated through the training hall. Tall and lanky, with a shock of unruly black hair, Diorio faced his mentor, Maestro Fradaelli, in a dance of blades. The air was thick with tension, each movement a testament to years of rigorous training.
As their rapiers sang a metallic chorus, Diorio flashed a satisfied smile as he executed a swift, precise strike. The blade drew a thin line of crimson across Maestro Fradaelli’s pristine white fencing shirt, a testament to Diorio's honed skill.
The Maestro halted and saluted, then removed his fencing mask with a twinkle of pride in his eyes at the display of prowess from his protégé.
”Well done, Diorio! I do believe that is the first time you have been able to slip past my defenses. That means that you are finally ready to master the Viper’s Kiss, an undefeatable thrust passed down through generations at this school. It is only taught to the most promising pupils, and I am pleased to count you among them, my boy.”.
Maestro Fradaelli turned and headed for the nearby table where a flagon of water and simple clay cups stood ready to refresh the sparring fencers.
”Of course, the training is rigorous and time consuming. So, you and Daniella will have less time for those moonlight strolls neither of you think I know about. Be careful, or Vittorio may seize the opportunity and exploit your absence. He will never match you with a blade, but when it comes to charming young ladies, you are more evenly matched.”
The Maestro's words were laced with more than wisdom; they carried a subtle blessing for Diorio to court his daughter, the silent dream that fluttered in Diorio's heart. But as the Maestro spoke, his complexion paled, his strength waning with a sudden, mysterious ailment. Both the cup and his blade slipped from limp fingers, clattering to the floor with a cacophony that reverberated throughout the hall.
Diorio cried as the fencing master fell to the floor, his fingers clutched over the cut Diorio's rapier had drawn.
The heavy doors of the hall burst open. Alerted by the disturbance, Daniella Fradaelli, strode into the hall, her raven hair a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings, her beauty undiminished by distress. By her side, Vittorio Alberici, Diorio's rival. While Daniella rushed to her father's side, her eyes pools of sorrow, the tall, blonde nobleman regarded Diorio, his arrogance barely contained.
”Murder! I would have never believed you to be such as coward, Diorio, using poison and deceit to gain what your skill could never earn you!”
The accusation flew from the nobleman's lips, sharp as any blade he had ever wielded against Diorio. The truth dawned in the young swordsman's eyes. The rival had poisoned his blade, turning a harmless cut into a death sentence. The Maestro's life ebbed away amidst his daughter's cries, the hall echoing his last gasping breaths. Then, he fell silent.
In a burst of grief and rage, Daniella seized her father's rapier, her anguish manifesting in a desperate lunge at Diorio. Torn between love and survival, Diorio faced an impossible choice. His heart heavy with unspoken love and unshed tears, he chose honor over confrontation.
With a last pained glance at the woman he loved, he turned and leapt through the open window, into the uncertainty of the night, leaving behind a legacy of betrayal, love, and a quest for truth that would lead him to lands unknown.
The riverboat gently swayed on the waters of the River Sphinx, its destination, the city of Wati in Osirion, drawing near. Seben-en-Ra sat quietly on the deck, her gaze occasionally drifting towards the horizon, as if searching for something – or perhaps someone.
"So, Seben-en-Ra, tell me more about this Jiradesha," inquired the gnome with vibrant green hair, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. He was a cartographer by trade, always eager to document the unknown.
"Why did I ever mention Jiradesha," Seben thought anxiously, her heart racing. She had not expected anyone to take such a keen interest in her fabricated home island.
"Jiradesha is... it's just a small place. Not much to say, really," Seben replied hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The gnome, undeterred, leaned in closer. "But it's fascinating! An uncharted island in the Obari Ocean, north of Katapesh! I've never seen it on any map. It could be a significant discovery!" he pressed, his bushy mustache twisting with excitement.
Seben shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her lie. "I should have never boarded this boat," she thought, regretting her decision. Her animal companion, a black and white ibis sacred to the god Thoth, had been insistent on her journey to Wati. The bird was not in sight now, likely soaring high above, but she felt its presence within her.
Desperate to change the subject, Seben quickly interjected, "Have you ever mapped the ruins around Wati? I hear they are quite extraordinary."
The gnome's eyes lit up. "Ah, the necropolis! Yes, it's a cartographer's dream. But tell me more about—"
Before he could finish, the boat docked at Wati, and Seben hurriedly bid him farewell, leaving the gnome to ponder the mystery of Jiradesha. "Perhaps trying to locate it will keep him away from The Bleaching for a century or two," she mused, referring to the condition that afflicted gnomes when deprived of new experiences.
As Seben made her way through the bustling dock, a dockworker noticed her equipment – a bow too large for her size and a quiver of handcrafted arrows. Her desert gear, though adequate, did not entirely match her archer's attire.
"Heading to the necropolis, are you? The Tooth and Hookah Inn's owner is looking for adventurers," the dockworker mentioned casually.
"Although…if you don’t mind me saying it, lass, you look a bit too young to be tomb raiding," he added with a touch of concern.
Seben nodded, her determination unwavering despite the man's skeptical look. "Don't worry about me. I'm older than I look," she said with a faint smile, her thoughts already on the adventures that awaited her in the mysterious city of Wati.
On a busy quay in the docks of the city of Wati in Osirion, Sobekhotep the Samsaran wizard sits calmly. His middle-aged visage exudes a gentle aura, with pale, slightly-translucent blue skin and thinning aquamarine hair. His attire is that of a well-prepared explorer, refined and practical, adorned with a striking array of silver holy symbols. Among these, the sigils of Pharasma and Nethys stand out prominently. An unusual sight is his arms, bound in long cloth strips inscribed with spiky, geometric runes.
Beside him, a formidable presence - Neith, his bonded familiar. Despite being a fox, she emanates an air of barely-controlled rage, her muscular form a testament to strength and resilience. Sobekhotep feeds her small strips of spiced meat, a simple gesture reflecting a deep bond.
"We are doing what's right, Neith," Sobekhotep assures her, sensing her discontent. Neith's eyes, though devoid of speech, speak volumes of her fragmented soul and enduring love for Sobekhotep. This fox, once his wife and a valiant warrior of Anubis, now remains tied to this world in a form she never desired. Her silent response, a nip at his hand, conveys her skepticism and unspoken fears.
Sobekhotep reflects on their purpose in Wati. Aligned with the Pharasmins in some beliefs, they see eye to eye on respecting the dead and the sanctity of their eternal rest. Yet, Neith's rage simmers beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the unnatural twist of fate they both endure.
Finishing their meal, they rise to depart. "I've heard the Tooth and Hookah Inn is seeking adventurers," Sobekhotep muses aloud, pondering the old adage, 'happy wife, happy life'. In this moment, happiness seems a distant dream, overshadowed by the somber reality of their existence. The path ahead is uncertain, but together, they move forward, bound by love, duty, and a shared, unspoken grief.
In the golden-hued desert of Osirion, just at the edge of the sprawling city of Wati, stands Lueck, chosen servant of Sekhmet. He is a small, agile frog-like humanoid, cloaked in a sand-colored robe adorned with the symbols of the lioness-headed goddess. His skin is a vibrant green, and his large, expressive eyes reflect a mixture of reverence and curiosity. Around him, the desert transitions into the bustling life of Wati, its markets teeming with traders and travelers from distant lands.
Lueck clutches his bronze battleaxe, a sacred gift from his goddess. He gazes at the towering city gates, their ancient stone etched with hieroglyphs, and whispers to himself, "At last, the City of the Dead. Sekhmet's guidance has led me here."
A caravan of camels passes by, kicking up dust, as traders shout in various languages. Lueck's attention is momentarily drawn to a group of children playing nearby. He smiles, remembering his own childhood in the swamps far away. This city is a world away from my home, he thinks, but in service to Sekhmet, I must walk this path.
In the distance, the setting sun casts a golden light over Wati, illuminating its spires and temples. As the light of the setting sun reflects off the polished metal of the battle axe, the young grippli cleric is momentarily blinded by a sudden, intense flash. In this blinding light, he hears the divine voice of Sekhmet, clear and commanding. "Lueck, my faithful servant," the goddess speaks, "bathe your axe in the blood of your enemies and perform rites after each battle. Show me the respect I deserve, and in return, I will infuse your weapon with powers that will make you undefeatable, as you work to further my glory."
Her voice, both stern and nurturing, continues, "Remember, you must also find companions. Use the powers I grant you to heal and comfort them. I am not just the goddess of battle, but also of healing. Your strength will be their shield, and your faith their salvation."
As the vision fades, Lueck gathers his senses, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and power. He grips his battle axe more firmly, sensing a new, divine energy coursing through it. With a deep breath, he steps forward, continuing towards the city of Wati.
As he passes through the grand city gate, a guard, noticing his unusual appearance, remarks with a mix of curiosity and respect, "A frog-warrior, far from home, aren't you? Are you here to join the exploration of the necropolis?" Seeing Lueck's nod, the guard adds, "Then you should head to the Tooth and Hookah Inn. The owner is always looking for adventurers. Might be a good place to start, and perhaps find those companions your goddess spoke of."
Lueck nods in thanks, his eyes reflecting determination and a newfound clarity of purpose. He takes a deep breath, adjusts the holy symbol of Sekhmet hanging from his neck, and steps forward towards the inn, ready to embark on his divine mission in the mystical and perilous lands of Wati.
--
The setting sun beat down mercilessly on the city of Wati, its rays bouncing off the white walls of the Tooth and Hookah Inn. Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast—cool and lively, with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.
This inn seems more a miniature market than a tavern. Old books overflow on a table next to a counter covered with cheap-looking necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Wispy scarves embellished with tiny shining coins hung on a rack in a corner.
The bar is in the opposite corner: a tall, narrow table, its legs hidden by a cotton skirt patterned with faded yellow palm fronds, its surface covered with colored glass cups, bronze decanters, and an assortment of liquor bottles. A low stone ring at the end of the bar marks an indoor well.
The Tooth & Hookah seems a popular place. Almost all the tables are occupied. No one seems to take much notice of your arrival. A haze of smoke hangs in the air. The spicy scent of shisha tobacco mixes with the fresh, mineral smell of the well wafting from the corner.
A set of stairs, half-hidden behind a screen painted with a camel, is just off to the side of the bar. The artist’s haphazard brushstrokes gave the poor beast a look of permanent indigestion.
Most of those entering with the look of an adventurer not already belonging to a group are shown to a table in a quiet corner by one of the two serving girls working the room. A few are rejected with a subtle shake of the head from a burly man behind the bar.
After seating yourselves amongst the numerous pillows Farhaan, the inn's owner, joins you and addresses the party before taking orders for the first round of drinks.
Standing before the low table, his bulky frame towering over most. His dark skin was etched with scars, a testament to his past life as an adventurer. Despite his imposing presence, his smile was warm and welcoming.
"Friends," he began, his voice booming yet friendly, "today marks a new chapter for Wati, and for all of us here. The necropolis awaits, filled with untold treasures and dangers." He paused, his eyes scanning the room. "But to join in the exploration, you must be part of an established adventuring team. And it seems that all of you are currently lacking such affiliation."
"I propose a partnership," Farhaan continued, " As a former adventurer myself, I have a fair eye for judging the mettle of wannabe tomb raiders such as yourselves. I believe that your combined talents will make a fine team, one that hopefully will reflect well on the Tooth and Hookah as your official sponsor. When you brave these ancient tombs, remember that a good meal and a soft bed can be as valuable as the finest gold. I offer free room and board in our best suite, meals included, for the duration of your explorations. “
"In return," he added, "I ask that you frequent our inn, giving our merchants first pick of your finds. And," he chuckled, "name your group something that honors this fine establishment. Perhaps something crocodilian or related to the hookah?"
"And one more thing," Farhaan's eyes twinkled, "I'd like a small memento from each of your adventures to adorn our walls. Nothing much, just something to add to the inn's charm."
He stepped back, his arms spread wide, the scars on his arms telling silent stories of battles long past. "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"
The room falls silent for a moment as you look at each other, weighing the offer. While he waits, Farhaan smiles broadly, his eyes reflecting the spirit of adventure that had once driven him and now fueled the hearts of those before him.
The past two months have been a miserable hell of dodging pursuit and living on the run. Selling all his non-essential possessions and a family heirloom that hopefully will not be too missed by his family, Diorio was able to bribe his way past guards looking specifically for him and on to a merchant ship bound for Katheer that was paid extra to ask no questions and remember nothing. There he was able to gamble and duel for enough coin earning him passage to his desired destination, Wati by way of the port city of Sothis. The life of a fugitive has left him hardened in a way that he never would have imagined. Yet, this is now the life that Fate has dealt and he must face it - not with the bitterness that drowns men’s hearts, but with the honor that his maestro would want him to cling to.
The barge folk at the landing in Wati took one look at the armed foreigner and directed him to a tavern called The Tooth and Hookah, a place that apparently caters to outlanders. Am I that obvious, wonders Diorio to himself. Well, why not. I don’t know where else to go.
The barge folk were not wrong. This place seems welcoming enough to those who look capable. In fact, he is sharing a table full of strangers who look more than competent. And the barkeep in particular looks more than effective. Diorio’s practiced eye takes in the subtle cues of a person who carries himself with the self-assurance that only comes with long years of dangerous experience. Still, this unsolicited offer seems too good to be true. Yes, free food and safe lodging to someone in Diorio’s situation is indeed worth more than the coin it would cost. And all he wants is for us to sell our treasures here first and hand over some trinket to decorate these eccentric walls. Clearly, he gets something out of this more than the warm feelings of a friendly neighborhood patron of honest merchants.
With a cordial, yet tight smile, Diorio addresses the barkeep. ”While I can’t speak for these other fine folk here, your offer sounds intriguing enough to me. The excitement building up in this city seems almost palpable. I have seen hordes of treasure seekers choking the streets from here to the docks, making plans with locals shouting out trade deals that sound better the further one walks away. Clearly, you have seen wonders and adventures yourself, and know good deals from bad. How can we be assured our dealings here will be beneficial to all concerned?
Hah! Sharp and to the point! And from the way you carry that rapier at your side, I'll wager a fistful of gold that your fencing is the same way. Farhaan says, slamming a meaty fist on the table.
"You see, as you have so clearly deducted, I've been on my fair share of adventures. And you quickly learn to tell the real professionals from the swaggering loudmouths who wouldn't recognize a mimic if it bit them in the arse! Teaming up with amateurs is the fastest way to get yourself killed, and I'm proud to say I've never been called back from the long line to the Boneyard."
Farhaan gestures to the crowd gathered at the Tooth and Hookah this night. Although the place is busy, several tables are vacant, and most guests seem to be regulars spending more time talking and playing games than drinking and smoking.
"Throughout all my years of adventuring, we always drew a crowd when we got back from a jaunt. There's always plenty of folk who would never have the guts to pick up a sword or spellbook themselves, but are more than willing to buy drinks for those who do in exchange for a tale or two. I'm betting that you lot have what it takes to return with both tales and treasure aplenty. And if you do well, you'll be the talk of the town...which is why one of the conditions of my offer is that your official name has some connection to my humble establishment."
"And if you have somewhere else that's offering you soft beds, entertainment and all you can stuff in your face, then by all means..." he gestures at the door with a confident grin.
Ever since his encounter with Velriana earlier that day, Indus had been filled with nagging thoughts. Was the annoying woman's words more than an attempt at getting to him? His father was an experienced explorer and was protected by his old guide and guard Oded Fehr, and there was no reason to worry, but still ...
Indus absentmindedly touched the simple, dwarf-faced medallion hanging from a leahter string around his neck as he listened to Farhaan's offer. A chance like this didn't come often, and the old adventurer was right - without a sponsorship there was no getting access to the necropolis.
He looked around at the motley crew assembled at the table. A strange looking blueskinned man with wrappings on his arms, a young woman who seems as out of place as the gigantic bow she carries, a small frog-like creature with an ancient looking axe and a swordsman who seems to be half expecting someone to come through the door looking for him. I guess fate has brought us together. Who am I to argue with that ..., he mused.
Taking a sip of his coffee while Diorio spoke, Indus adds I, too, am interested in your offer, good Farhaan, and I'm certain you would not cheat us or try to play tricks on us, so if these people are in, so am I.
“Thank you for including me.”
Seben suspects the others around the table might quickly judge that she has little to contribute. Addressing the group she adds:
“I, uh, believe I can translate the hieroglyphs in the necropolis faster and more accurately than most. It’ll help.”
Wait a second… is that a frog-man? Do they eat people?
…to find out if Seben knows anything about Grippli.
…
Once the theme of ‘who is in and who is out’ dies down, Seben will ask Farhaan:
“You must hear much of the comings and going of the city. Is there anything you can tell us of the competition?”
And then later still, when an opportunity presents itself:
“Um, any chance one of these rooms you are offering has a window? Always good to get some last minute air before a trip below ground.”
Or, say if you are counting on an avian visitor.
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When he sees the sign out the front of the Tooth and hookah inn, Sobekhotep's face twists into the faintest rictus of a smile.
A little heavy-handed, is it not, Lord Sobek? That is a hint even I cannot fail to notice.
It had been an age and many life-cycles since he had directly served The Raging Torrent, but every time a river journey completed without mishap, he always made sure to offer up a prayer to the God of Rivers.
On his way to the table, he he paused to toss a chunk of meat to the Inn's crocodile mascot, the way some might throw a coin into a wishing well.
Please, let this be a good sign. I need this to work out... for the sake of both of us.
At that, his eyes unconsciously drifted over to Neith, filled with love, sadness, and the faintest hint of regret.
Taking a seat at the table (Neith readily took up residence on his lap, where he fed her bite-sized pieces of food, almost by reflex), he carefully regarded each of the others gathered there in turn.
Sensing some indefinable... familiarity... with both of them, he took a closer look, attempting to be discrete.
The Grippli's holy symbol was obvious, and excited a frisson of excitement, calling his mind back to older, and wilder, times.
A follower of The Lady of Slaughter? Hmm... Looks like a battle priest. They tend to be adrenaline-junkies, and make dangerous foes... but as allies, they are remarkably dependable, like a fierce lioness protecting their cubs.
Seben-en-ra, on the other hand, proved to be more enigmatic.
There is... something about her, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
For some reason, she looked... familiar... but Sobekhotep could not quite put his finger on why.
I guess that she looks similar to someone I knew a long time ago? Must be a coincidence... right?
The bard and the swashbuckler, on the other hand, provoked no such response. However, Sobekhotep could not deny that their host's judgement was sound; both looked like seasoned fighters, just the sort of people that would be necessary in a tight spot.
I guess that line-up might be just what we need... I think we can all be useful to one another.
Inclining his head politely, he introduced himself.
"I am Sobekhotep, lately of Tephu. This is Neith," he said, gently stroking the fox sitting on his lap. She looked like she could easily take someone's fingers off, but only nipped playfully at his hand.
"My skills lie with the arcane arts; at this time, I specialise mostly in healing and aiding. I am also something of a scholar of history and religion, and can readily identify art objects and magical items, as well as being conversant with both Ancient Osiriani and Modern Osiriani. Oh! I am also fairly skilled at finding traps, although..." he smiled self-deprecatingly, "I have no skill at actually disabling them."
He then smiled awkwardly.
"Now, I know this is going to sound fairly cliched, but it must be fate that we have all been brought together like this. I have no doubt that we will work well together. That said, if you will grant me an indulgence, I have one request: I know this might seen a little odd, since we will be tasked with exploring a necropolis, but if we encounter undisturbed graves, I ask that we treat the bodies respectfully. The honored ancestors went to their eternal rest wishing to preserve the house of their soul for all eternity, and it would be rude to both them and the Old Gods if we were to desecrate them needlessly."
Sobekhotep then chuckled.
"Of course, such consideration does not extend to honored ancestors that have reanimated and are trying to kill us. I may be an idealist, but I am not a fool."
When the idea of a name for the group comes up, Sobekhotep chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, and then makes a suggestion:
"How about the Lucky Desert Bask Brigade?"
"I know a bit about the workings of traps and other dangers found in old tombs, and I've also picked up a bit of the ancient language found in such places, so I think we are good on that front. Mostly, though, I have a tendency to be lucky at the right moment. And one shouldn't discount the plans that fate has put in place for you."
Indus eyes the fox in Sobekhotep's lap with a mix of intrigue and caution, takes a sip of his coffee and continues. "The name's Domurex Ionaeus, but please call me Indus, if you want me to react. I always think people are talking about my father when they use that name. And though he's off on yet another expedition somewhere in the desert, old habits die hard."
When Sobekhotep mentions respecting the dead, Indus says "Of course. We shouldn't draw the ire of the resting dead or those that keep them. Do you know anything about curses and such, and how to remove them? Just in case ..."
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Sobekhotep nods, and smiles.
"Indus it is, then. If there is one thing that I have learned, it is that you should never discount luck. The Gods smile upon each of us in unusual ways... although the blessings of Bes can be fickle, even if they are timely.
As for curses, I have plenty of theoretical knowledge, but at this time I lack the necessary arcane power to cleanse them. Ancient Osiriani tombs often had death curses etched into them, so it is right to be wary, but not all of them were backed-up by mystical might. Still, it is not a good idea to go out of your way to provoke them. Lord Anubis might take umbrage at any particularly egregious despoilment."
Wait a second… is that a frog-man? Do they eat people?
[Dice=Knowledge Nature] 1d20+5
[Dice=Knowledge Dungeoneering] 1d20+5…to find out if Seben knows anything about Grippli.
Once the theme of ‘who is in and who is out’ dies down, Seben will ask Farhaan:
“You must hear much of the comings and going of the city. Is there anything you can tell us of the competition?”
"I know there are several teams that have already registered with the Grand Mausoleum. But I don't have any more details. You'll likely have a chance to scope out the competition at the lottery ceremony."
And then later still, when an opportunity presents itself:“Um, any chance one of these rooms you are offering has a window? Always good to get some last minute air before a trip below ground.”
Or, say if you are counting on an avian visitor.
At the mention of the rooms, Farhaan smiles broadly, obviously proud of the quality of his inn's accomodations.
"Why don't I show you all your new quarters and you can judge for yourself. I'm confident you will find they meet your every need."
He motions for you all to follow him and moves to a curtain in the corner of the room. Behind it, you find a stair that leads to the upper floor.
From the stairwell, a narrow corridor leads to the guest rooms. On the right, three doors lead to single rooms, but a single door on the left opens onto a small, but lovely open-air courtyard set with colored tiles. In the center, a circular fountain is surrounded by soft pillows and potted plants, the perfect place to relax and talk after a long adventure.
From here, four doors open to individual rooms, each containing all the comforts of a luxury suite. All rooms have windows that open.
"You are free to distribute the rooms as you please. Two of you will have to share - perhaps the two young gentlemen here..." Farhaan says, pointing to Indus and Diorio.
"Of course, pets and animal companions are more than welcome. And should any of you wish to use the fountain to cool off and rehydrate from time to time, I won't object." he says, smiling at Lueck as he makes the last comment.
"I'll leave you to get settled and discuss the name of your team. Come down when you are ready, and I'll introduce you to the rest of the staff and the regular merchants."
From the open courtyard a large bird of prey can be seen, silhouetted by the moon. It unfurls its wings in an overly bombastic fashion stalling in the air before suddenly diving downward.
It lands atop the fountain in the open courtyard. It's head is as black the night sky itself, as are the patterned edges of its wings. But the rest of its body is as white as that of a dove. Impossibly, the creature is almost as tall as a man, perhaps five feet in height, with a wingspan much greater.
The creature stares at Seben briefly, with a look of bored disdain, as though issuing a command.
Then, with an almost imperceptible bounce, it takes off once again.
Upon seeing the Sacred Ibis make his entrance:
"He's with me."
"I'll, uh, try to keep him out of your way."
...
"Maybe, I'll, ah, just take that room over there."
"I don't mind sharing, but I can't vouch for the snoring, says Indus with a smile, throwing his hat on one of the beds.
"Nice bird. Maybe we should go by 'Farhaan's Menagerie'? 'Tooth and Talon'?" Indus pauses briefly then changes subject. "Anyone know anything about this lottery? What are the chances we'll get a prime tomb to ... explore?"
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Sobekhotep carefully looks over the rooms, before selecting one of them for himself and Neith.
The owner of the inn is actually being extremely generous. A less charitable man would assume he has an unscrupulous angle, but I would like to believe that his bonhomie is genuine.
When Indus poses his question, Sobekhotep nods.
"In theory, the lottery should be exactly that - completely random."
He then frowns.
"Of course, that does not mean that some might not seek to... grease the wheels... so to speak, but I would like to think that the Pharasmins running things would be above that sort of base venality."
Lueck is standing on his chair so that he can be seen above the edge of the table. "My goddess grants me healing, and prowess in battle. I do believe this challenge may be why I was lead to this city. My name is Lueck, and I am a servant of Sekhmet." When he says the name of his goddess, he glances around to see if others seem to recognize the name.
"I can certainly share a room with someone; my needs are modest."
When he says the name of his goddess, he glances around to see if others seem to recognize the name.
"I can certainly share a room with someone; my needs are modest."
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Sobekhotep nods to Lueck.
"I am indeed familiar with the Lady of Slaughter; She is like a fierce lioness, protecting Her flock, and savaging Her foes. I am sure that a Priest of such a Goddess will be a truly redoubtable ally."
Glancing at Indus, he raises an eyebrow in surprise.
Looks like my thoughts were a little prescient.
"Young man, were you aware that the medallion you keep fiddling with is a holy symbol of the Old God Bes? He is the Patron of Family, Luck, Marriage, and Protection. How did you come by it, if I may ask? Such an item is hardly in widespread use these days, more's the pity."
At the mention of the rooms, Farhaan smiles broadly, obviously proud of the quality of his inn's accomodations."Why don't I show you all your new quarters and you can judge for yourself. I'm confident you will find they meet your every need."
"Compared to the accommodations I've had in the last two months, these rooms are fantastic! I'm more than fine with sharing, eh Indus? You can cheer me up with tales of ancient treasures and I can teach you a couple games of chance I know. Maybe that's not such a good idea, come to think of it. You look smart enough to be winning my coin in no time."
Indus' eyes widen. "A holy symbol, you say? This trinket? It is a funny story. My father and I were investigating some old ruins up north when we were attacked by brigands who thought they could take easy plunder from us. During the fight, I tripped over something lying in the sand. Had I not tripped, one of my attackers would have taken my head clean off my shoulders with a wild swing of his scimitar. But fate would it otherwise. After I dispatched him and we drove the remaining robbers away, I picked this up ... It didn't radiate any magic, so I didn't think it had any specific significance, but it ... felt nice to wear around my neck ... Bes, you say? The luck part of his aspect seems approptriate seeing as how I came by it ..."
Indus pats the medallion, then continues, "I would love to hear more about this Bes god at some point, though I think we should settle the immediate business at hand first ..."
To Diorio, he says "I'll be happy to separate you from your coin, if you have no desire for it. But you move like a swordsman. Perhaps you would be kind enough to teach me a trick or two at some point. I'm able enough to swing that sword ...", he points to the sword resting against the foot of the bed, "... but not with anything that resembles finesse or schooling."
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Sobekotep smiles brightly, and with a hint of melancholy.
"Of course! I would be delighted to tell you more when we have a chance. It sounds like a trace of Lord Bes' influence lingered yet, even if the item itself was not magical."
He then smiled wryly, and reverently lifted the heavy chain around his neck, displaying the collection of odd medallions attached to it.
"That is at least partially why I carry this - so that I will remember, so that things will not be forgotten, and so that some trace of Their influence may remain, and potentially inspire others."
Neith then nipped at his calf, provoking a warm chuckle from Sobekhotep.
"Sorry Neith; you are right, I am getting distracted. We really do need to come up with a name that will satisfy our patron. Now, I made a suggestion; does anyone else have any that they would like to table as alternatives?"
Sobekhotep:
- the Lucky Desert Bask Brigade
Indus:
- Farhaan's Menagerie
- Tooth and Talon
Seben-en-Ra/The Beetle:
- "The Smoke-Scale Five"
- "Plume of the Fang"
- "The Fang-Fog-Five"
- "Fellowship of the Foggy Fang"
The Infinite Well of Artistic Inspiration (aka ChatPGT):
- Crocodile’s Grasp Adventurers
- Hookah’s Treasure Seekers
- Desert Fang Explorers
- Oasis Hookah Heroes
- Croc’s Tooth Raiders
- Hookah’s Haven Voyagers
- Crocodile Mystics
- Desert Hookah Wanderers
- Tooth of the Crocodile Brigade
After getting settled, you return to the ground floor of the Tooth and Hookah Inn. You're greeted by the welcoming aroma of spiced dishes and the warm ambiance of the cozy establishment.
"Welcome back, my friends! I trust you all have found the rooms to your satisfaction. Let me give you a brief tour and introduce you to our staff and merchants." Farhaan says when he spots you emerging from behind the curtain to the stairs.
He leads you through the bustling inn, where patrons chat, dine, and enjoy the lively atmosphere. He stops by the kitchen, where Imran, the cook, is busy preparing savory dishes.
"This is Imran Al-Jadid, our skilled cook. His dishes are legendary in Wati, and he's always eager to whip up something special for our guests,”
Imran, a stout, middle-aged man with a shaved head and a thick, well-groomed beard that sports hints of gray, looks up from his cooking just long enough to give you a cursory glance and a friendly smile, before wiping his hands on his apron and turning his attention back to the food preparation.
Farhaan then leads you toward a pair of serving girls, Layla and Amina, who gracefully navigate the crowded room while balancing trays of food and drink.
"These lovely ladies are Layla Al-Farouk and Amina Khalid, our serving girls. They're the heart and soul of our service here, making sure you have everything you need. Don't hesitate to ask them for anything, but try not to distract them from their work," Farhaan says, giving Indus and Diorio a stern look at the last remark.
Layla is a young woman with long, flowing dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. She has a slender build and wears brightly colored garments that accentuate her natural beauty. "Hello there! If you need a refill or a dance to lift your spirits, just give us a nod." she says, smiling broadly.
The other serving girl, Amina, is a petite, young woman with fair skin much lighter than most Osirion natives. Freckles scattered across her cheeks and her henna-dyed red hair is pulled back into a practical braid. Unlike Layla, she wears a simple, practical uniform for serving. "Greetings, adventurers. If you have any questions about the city or need recommendations, feel free to ask. We're here to assist you."
Finally, Farhaan takes you to a row of tables where three merchants have set up their wares. One is a tall, wiry man with a thin, neatly trimmed beard and spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He is currently organizing a leather satchel full of scrolls and maps. The other two appear to be a married couple who run a stall together. The wife is a petite woman with a warm smile and a discerning look in her eyes, while the husband is a jovial, portly man with a bushy mustache. They both wear colorful, loose-fitting clothing and are adorned with jewelry.
"And here we have our regular merchants. Jabari Al-Masri, known as the Curio Collector, specializes in maps and ancient scrolls. Zara and Nadir Ibrahim offer an array of trinkets, jewelry, and magical items. Their goods have proven invaluable to many adventurers." Farhaan says.
Jabari looks up from his scrolls and greets you politely, ” Welcome to the Tooth and Hookah, travelers. If you seek maps or knowledge of this region's history, I'm your man."
Likewise, the merchant couple is quick to introduce themselves.
"Ah, new faces! Come, browse our collection of unique trinkets and let's make a deal. We love a good haggle." Zara says, and Nadir quickly adds "Welcome, welcome! Stories and treasures, we have both. Ask us about the magical properties of our items."
As the tour continues, Farhaan leads you to a well near the inn's center. It's a well-constructed low stone structure with a broad opening at the top. From the depths, you see a pair of eyes, and then a large, scaly head emerges.
"Now, my friends, this is Toothy. She's more than just a resident of our well; she's a clever companion. Treat her with respect, for she's smarter than she looks. Toothy, say hello to our new guests."
Toothy opens her toothy maw in what appears to be a grin, and Farhaan pats her snout gently.
"There you go, girl. Don't be shy. Toothy's been a part of the Tooth and Hookah for as long as I can remember. She keeps our well water fresh and ensures we're never short on good luck."
With the tour complete, Farhaan encourages you to enjoy the inn's hospitality, food, and camaraderie a bit before turning in.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable, and if there's anything you need or any questions you have, just ask. The Tooth and Hookah is your home away from home. You have a few days before the lottery at the Grand Mausoleum, where Sebti the Crocodile, the High Priestess of Pharasma, will lead the assigning of the tombs you are to explore."
Seben enters the room, taking in the cornucopia of sights. Her giant bird follows, finding a spot to perch amongst the rafters.
Her eyes widen at the sight of the crocodile in the well and when Farhaan makes Toothy’s introduction, Seben reaches out, her hand tenative.
She speaks in Osiriani: “Honored hetkoshu, may your luck favor us all.”
For the briefest of moments, it looks like...
Then...
Seben does her best to act like this was exactly what she expected. She chats politely with Farhaan, briefly, before ultimately taking him up on his offer of chasing down a meal--perhaps she'll order a traditional Osiriani dish for some comfort food.
When introduced to Imran, Lueck earnestly asks "Do you do anything with fresh insects? Or desiccated ones? A friend introduced me to a bread that has insects that travels well..."
When Toothy is introduced, he crouches and quietly murmurs "Predator." Clearly his fight-or-flight instinct has been triggered, but he manages to keep from doing either.
While Farhaan is showing them around Indus quickly grabs a plate of spiced meats, dates and other local treats, having almost gotten used to the hot foods served in Osirion.
When Farhaan introduces them to Layla and Amina, he flashes them a charming smile and tips his hat. "Both Sun and Moon graces this place with its light, I see."
As they are introduced to the three merchants, Indus seems particularly interested in the maps offered by Jabari Al-Masri. "Ooh, I've dabbled a bit in the art of cartography myself. Maybe you can help me improve this honored trade?"
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Sobekhotep bows his head politely to Toothy, then tosses her another chunk of meat.
"Well met again, spawn of Sobek. I hope that we have a long, and fruitful relationship."
Feeling the waves of annoyance wafting from Neith, he hurriedly diverts his attention to her, and adds:
"To be clear, just as a business relationship! You are definitely the only one for me in this lifetime, Jewel of Anubis. I have not forgotten my promise. I could never forget my promise."
Sobekhotep hurriedly moves on to meet-and-greet the merchants, casting an experienced eye over their wares.
The yet-to-be-named adventuring group kick back and relax for the rest of the evening before retiring to their new luxury crib.
Imran quickly prepares a selection of late-night snacks. For Seben, he serves Roz bil laban, a simple but very tasty Osiriani dish of cooked rice in a sweet milk pudding, flavored with vanilla and coconut and served chilled. And he brings a bowl of honey-roasted ants for Lueck. Sweet and crunchy at the same time.
Doirio notices that several of the other guests are playing games, some of which appear to involve wagers. The traditional Osiriani board game of Senet seems to be a popular choice. There may be ample opportunity for gambling, either with Indus or someone else.
Layla rolls her eyes at Indus comment, but Amina rewards him with a giggle and a playful smile. The look Farhaan shoots him is anything but playful, though.
Jabari is more than willing to discuss cartography and has several maps for sale, both of the immediate area and more distant regions. He also has an impressive selection of magical scrolls, both arcane and divine. He expresses an interest in purchasing any documents, maps or scrolls the team finds, if it is magical or of historical interest.
Like Seben, Sobekhotep has little luck in getting any kind of response from Toothy, despite his impressive display of animal handling techniques. Perhaps there are other ways to impress the reptilian mascot.
To Sobekhotep’s surprise, Neith does not follow him immediately when he moves on to the merchants. Instead, she carefully approaches the well and pops her front paws up on the stone rim. For a moment, fox and crocodile regard each other in silence, as if sharing some mystic connection that only they can sense. Or it may just be a display of common animal curiosity. Who knows?
From his assessment of the wares displayed by Zara and Nadir, Sobekhotep can tell that they too have a keen eye for value and quality. There are many curious items, quite a few which appear magical in nature, and he gets the sense that they have access to a much larger inventory. He quickly discovers that Zara is a shrewd negotiator while Nadir seems to have a fantastic tale for every item, no doubt intended to drive up the sales price.
As you retired to your rooms for the night, you found the beds every bit as comfortable as they looked. Now, dimmed rays of sunlight through the blinds and the bustle of the waking city outside rouse you from your sleep.
When you emerge from your rooms and go downstairs in search of breakfast, you find Farhaan and Imran engaged in conversation with a middle-aged man who looks visibly upset.
The stranger is dressed in a weathered keffiyeh and a well-worn desert robe, and his tanned skin bears the marks of countless days spent under the scorching sun.
"Good morning, friends. I hope you all slept well. I apologize, but breakfast is a bit delayed today, due to some unfortunate circumstances." Farhaan says when he spots you. The he thinks for a moment and adds.
"Come to think of it, perhaps you could help resolve the situation. You see, this is Rashid Al-Khaliq, one of our regular suppliers. Every morning, without fail, he brings us fresh fruit and vegetables of the highest quality from his farm. But as he has just told us, he has been prevented from making his delivery today."
Farhaan motions for the farmer to sit and offers him a glass of chilled water before encouraging him to tell his story.
"Rashid, these adventurers are staying with us for the exploration of the necropolis. Tell them what happened, and I'm sure they may be able to assist."
His hand trembling, Rashid takes a long drink of water as he collects himself. The he begins his tale.
"I fear my farm may be cursed! It began last night, when I was torn from sleep by the sound of terrible wails and loud noises of things breaking. When I got my lamp lighted, I could see many of my belongings and tools strewn across my house and yard in a terrible disarray. Hoe handles snapped, clay cups and pitchers broken, and plants ripped from the ground. I searched my entire farm but found no signs of intruders. All the while, the noise and destruction continued,” Rashid explains, almost tearing out his salt-and-pepper beard in dismay.
”When dawn broke, I tried to take the cart I had packed with crops the night before and head to town, but the wheel broke before I could take two steps. I fear I may have somehow angered the ancestors or some vengeful genie. Please, if you can do anything, I will be forever in your debt. If I can’t get my harvest to market today, I will be ruined. "
Diorio ambles around the room, quietly introduces himself to the chef and serving girls, sparing a wry grin for Indus' flair and chiding himself for his own lack. "I used to have that kind of confidence. What is wrong with me?", he wonders. "Well, being accused of murdering your love's father might have something to do with it." Sigh...
Wandering over to the merchants, Diorio sharpens his focus takes a close look at the wares. "Good sirs and lady, might you have a token or charm proven to enhance or restore luck? And most of all, I am interested in something that can see or compel the truth of things.
After his perusal of items, Diorio will surreptitiously transfer some coins (10 gp worth) from his hidden purse to his obvious coin pouch and join in the games of chance, paying close attention to the variations and intricacies of the local games. He will definitely not attempt and sleight of hand work here in his home base and is not too concerned about winning at this point. Rather, he wants to observe and learn, you know...for future application elsewhere...like when it is just him and Indus playing for friendly wagers and such.
Wandering over to the merchants, Diorio sharpens his focus takes a close look at the wares. "Good sirs and lady, might you have a token or charm proven to enhance or restore luck? And most of all, I am interested in something that can see or compel the truth of things.
None of the merchants have such a charm at the moment, but can certainly keep an eye out for one. Perhaps a charm dedicated to Bes, like the one Indus has.
After his perusal of items, Diorio will surreptitiously transfer some coins (10 gp worth) from his hidden purse to his obvious coin pouch and join in the games of chance, paying close attention to the variations and intricacies of the local games. He will definitely not attempt and sleight of hand work here in his home base and is not too concerned about winning at this point. Rather, he wants to observe and learn, you know...for future application elsewhere...like when it is just him and Indus playing for friendly wagers and such.
Diorio quickly finds one of the regulars, a heavyset dwarf with a braided black beard, willing to teach him the finer points of Senet. The object of the game is to lead all your pawns across the board, representing the journey to the afterlife.
It turns out to be an expensive lesson, though, as Diorio ends up losing half his coins.
After listening to the farmer’s tale, Indus places a reassuring hand on his arm. ”A friend of Farhaan’s is a friend of us. And besides, we have amble time before the lottery. Lead us to your farm and we will try to rid you of this curse.”
Seben does her best to meet everyone at the Tooth and Hookah, at least briefly, giving everyone one of her best cheerful princess smiles.
But the truth is, while she might have once lived for this kind of party, now it only makes her feel lonely. She can’t wait to make her excuses and head to her room early for some solitude. The happiness here only reminds her of her wrongness.
It doesn’t help that the Sacred Ibis sits there watching her, constantly reminding her of her obligations. She has a task to complete… and she needs to act like her after-life depends on it. Because it does.
Seben runs triple checks the flights on her arrow supply, making sure every piece of ammunition is perfect. Then she gives her bow one-hundred pulls with each arm, building strength for the day she will need to fire it for real.
Finally, she collapses in exhaustion, surrendering to the terrors that will await her in her dreams as her mind crosses over into the nether.
Seben nods in assent with Indus. ”Agreed. I am sure it couldn’t hurt to at least take a look.”
Though, hopefully, it’ll turn out to be a mischievous animal as opposed to a poltergeist...
"Can you take us to the farm?”
The giant bird with the black head has returned to the rafters, silently watching the morning gathering.
When Seben follows Indus' lead and volunteers to help Rashid, the bird suddenly seems to become visibly annoyed. Agitated, it takes flight, circles around the room and then silently evacuates out a window.
Lueck considers for a moment. "Perhaps this is a ploy to distract us from our destiny?" He's quiet for a moment, then adds "No matter if it is. Your plight is real, and must be addressed. Whether it takes blessings or bloodshed, we are at your service."
Hearing the commitments of support, Rashid slumps back in his seat, relief washing over him. That look is soon replaced with a pale look of fear as Indus and Seben ask him to lead them to the farm.
”I am both too exhausted and frightened to return with you. I will give you directions and answer any question, but I barely made it here as it is.” he says, hopelessness returning to his voice.
In an effort to comfort him, Farhaan says: ”I’m certain these fine and brave explorers can manage to find their way and cleanse you farm of any malignant presense. When all their questions are answered, I’ll lead you upstairs to rest in one of our single rooms while we await our heroes return.”
"I'll just need a minute to grab some things from my room. Be right with you."