Instead, Seben will contribute by watering the crops and refill Rashid's water tanks.
She will also check the bodies of the fallen pugwampis to see if they have anything on them of note.
She will recover her arrows and make a mental note to repair them later back at the Tooth and Hookah.
The trip back is uneventful, and Seben’s guidance and generous supply of water ensures that you suffer no ill effects of the rising heat.
Soon, you are making your way through the outskirts of Wati and once again enter the bustling streets of the Midwife district.
Indus does his best to help mending the place.
On the way back, Indus walks alongside Sobek, trying to learn more about Bes and the ancient ways.
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"How I wish you could have seen it! In times long turned to dust, Bes was widely known as the Guardian of hearth and home, casting a protective eye over houses, and blessing marriages. He was always more of the people's god; the noble classes had their own gods, and plenty of rituals, whilst the Pharaohs had a literal divine mandate.
Celebrations could go for more than a day, and were invariably boisterous affairs.
Of course, the Guardian Fool was also much-beloved by gamblers, whether they were those that favoured games of chance, or wagered their lives fighting monsters and exploring ruins for relics.
Bes' symbol is that of a laughing bearded dwarf, whilst his sacred animal is a lion - that is why killing lions was always considered unlucky, similar to the way today sailors consider killing albatrosses deeply taboo."
"You speak as if you lived back in that long forgotten age, Sobekhotep, but how is that possible?"
"Anyways, he sounds like a worthy god to worship, looking out for the little man. I'll make a note of not killing a lion unless it is trying to kill me," Indus says with a smile.
It is well past noon when you finally reach the Tooth and Hookah, dusty and tired from pulling the heavily laden cart all the way from the farm and through the bustling streets.
Parking the cart outside, you enter to find Farhaan, Imran and Rashid all sitting in the common room of the inn, engaged in conversation.
Rashid has obviously been able to get some rest, as he looks much less ragged than he did this morning. His eyes light up with hope when he spies you all enter.
"Ah, you are back! Tell me at once, did you manage to clear my home and fields of the evil that haunted them?" he asks with urgency.
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Sobekhotep smiled sadly, in response to Indus' question.
"The answer to that is somewhere between yes and no. This body certainly was not around back then, but I was, technically.
Surely you must have noticed my skin and hair colour.? It is not a fashion statement. It is a marker of the fact that I am not exactly human. I have lived through many cycles of life, death, and rebirth through the ages. I know that I have a... connection... to the Old Gods, and I have fervently venerated each at various times. Sadly, over time, their interest in this world has faded, as they have been forgotten, and their power here has likewise faded. I do not want to see their touch completely lost to this world... perhaps, if they were more widely venerated, it would once again encourage them to take a more direct interest in this land."
Sobekhotep nodded gravely.
"My allies indeed did such. They killed a number, disabled their crude traps, and drove off the remaining few. I doubt that they would cause any immediate problems in the future, but just to be on the safe side, may I suggest that you and your neighbours stick some simple effigies of the Old God Bes around your properties? His portfolio includes Luck, the antithesis of those little devils, and should help to ward off future infestations.
If you are unfamiliar with his likeness and holy symbol, I can provide some simple references."
Indus eagerly takes notes in an old, leatherbound journal of all Sobek tells him, making small illustrations of symbols described.
"The deed is indeed done. You should heed Sobekhotep's advice. He's learned in these matters. We also took the liberty of bringing your cart with us, and it is waiting for you outside."
Upon hearing the news, Rashid claps hid hands together and raises upturned palms towards the sky.
”Praise be all the gods, both old and new! You have saved me. I will heed your wise council and advise all my neighbors to do the same.”
He reaches into his belt pouch and withdraws a small vial.
”Please accept this small token of my gratitude. It is a curative potion I always carry in case of scorpion stings or snake bites.”
Together with Imran, he hurries off to inspect his cart and bring the delivery for the Tooth and Hookah into the kitchen.
”I will prepare a hero’s feast to celebrate your brave deed!” Imran promises as he follows Rashid out the door.
Farhaan remains, looking pleased.
”Looks like my instincts were right. You will do well in the necropolis! Have you settled on a name?”
Sobekhotep smiled sadly, in response to Indus' question.
"... perhaps, if [the old Gods] were more widely venerated, it would once again encourage them to take a more direct interest in this land."
The Sacred Ibis takes this moment to briefly land on the cart next to Sobek. A coincidence, of course, but the great bird almost seems to nod as though endorsing this particular nugget of wisdom, before again taking flight.
Also, totally by coincidence, Seben suddenly has something stuck in her throat and has to stop pushing the cart briefly while she coughs and collects herself.
I'm sure she'll be fine. Just too much of that enchanted water.
Together with Imran, [Rashid] hurries off to inspect his cart and bring the delivery for the Tooth and Hookah into the kitchen.
”I will prepare a hero’s feast to celebrate your brave deed!” Imran promises as he follows Rashid out the door.
Seben winces uncomfortably at the thought of attending another large social gathering.
She will either need to learn to adjust to life at the Tooth and Hookah or get better at making excuses. For the moment though, she finds herself suddenly looking forward to the necropolis.
Farhaan remains, looking pleased.
”Looks like my instincts were right. You will do well in the necropolis! Have you settled on a name?”
Seben stammers. "Oh, um, yeah, well, ah...maybe, you tell him, guys!"
"We've still been debating. Maybe with some victory food and drink inspiration will strike. I am partial to Farhaan's Fangs. Simple and evocative."
”I’m flattered, but I’d like the name to have some connection to the Tooth & Hookah, not me personally. I like the fang part, though.” Farhaan replies after hearing Diorio’s suggestion.
"I think we have settled on 'The Smokin' Bask Brigade, dear friend," Indus says with a smile.
"Now that is a fine name! Let us toast to the many successful adventures of The Smokin' Bask Brigade while we wait for Imran to prepare our feast." Farhaan says as he rises and brings a bottle of date wine and enough glasses for everyone from behind the bar.
Meanwhile, Imran and Rashid have finished unloading the cart. Rashid cheerfully heads to the market to sell the rest of his harvest while Imran gets busy with the food. His kitchen now fully stocked with fresh ingredients, the seasoned cook is in his element, orchestrating a culinary masterpiece.
The air is infused with the aromatic blend of cinnamon, cumin, and coriander that fills the room as he lovingly prepares the feast. Imran meticulously marinates succulent lamb in a fragrant blend of herbs and saffron, ensuring that it will be tender and flavorful.
Meanwhile, his skilled hands shape and fry golden falafel, forming each crispy chickpea patty with care. A pot of fragrant basmati rice simmers gently on the stove, its grains infused with toasted vermicelli, and a sprinkling of slivered almonds and pine nuts promises to add a delightful crunch.
With the feast prepared to perfection, Imran balances a tray laden with an array of dishes—platters of hummus, baba ganoush, and stuffed grape leaves, the steaming tagine and grilled chicken skewers, the vibrant tabbouleh salad, and the roasted vegetables. His eyes sparkle with pride as he carries the tray into the common room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces with a flourish, "I present to you a Hero's Feast in celebration of your valor and triumph!" The rich aromas are enough to make your mouths water as Imran sets each dish before you.
"Imran, you have outdone yourself! Now, let us eat while we discuss your final preparations." Farhaan smiles, reaching for a skewer of grilled chicken.
"To enter the necropolis, you must first register your team at the Grand Maousoleum and select a name, an official spokesperson and a team symbol. Today is Fireday and the lottery to assign the exploration sites is on Moonday , so you still have a few days left to register. Once that is done, you can spend the remaining time as you please."
"I've never been under the earth before. This will be a first for me."
Lueck quietly nibbles on fruit, waiting for more of the honey crickets to come out.
"We should all go to the registration together, just in case there is anything to be learned while there."
"Now that is a fine name! Let us toast to the many successful adventures of The Smokin' Bask Brigade while we wait for Imran to prepare our feast." Farhaan says as he rises and brings a bottle of date wine and enough glasses for everyone from behind the bar.
Seben joins in the toast, apprehensive at first, but ultimately raising her glass high.
Under her breath she cryptically toasts: "May each one of us find what we are looking for..."
"I think we have settled on 'The Smokin' Bask Brigade, dear friend," Indus says with a smile.
From the rafters above, the Sacred Ibis suddenly lets loose with a large:
"SQUAAAAAAARK"...
...before refolding its wings and settling down once more to continue its nap.
Perfectly timed, much of the crowd takes the outburst to be a favorable omen, or at least an avian seal of approval.
Only those who have come to know the creature well will realize its true intention was to say...
"Lost opportunity, mortals. You should have gone with Devotees of the Sacred Ibis."
"We should all go to the registration together, just in case there is anything to be learned while there."
Seben nods in agreement.
"Such as just who else is entering the lottery," she thinks to herself. "An opportunity such as this is certain to attract dangerous men. The more we know before we set out the better."
Indus enjoys the feast prepared for them and partakes in the conversation.
"Maybe we should try to do some research on the tombs, now that we have a couple of days to kill?
"Maybe we should try to do some research on the tombs, now that we have a couple of days to kill?
Seben considers this piece of wisdom from Indus. He's right, they shouldn’t waste the dwindling time they have left.
"A long shot, but on my way to Wati, I met a gnomish cartographer. Briar Twindlewhisk was his name. I’m not positive, but I think he might possibly have spent some time mapping the necropolis or have access to the maps from someone else who did. If we could somehow find him, he might have something for us.”
“And of course, there is Jabari Al-Masri, right here in the Tooth and Hookah. But unless we have something to trade, I’m not sure he will be willing to help us just yet. But there’s no downside to trying.”
Not sure if this will work, but Seben wants to plumb the depths of her knowledge about the past millennium to see if she has any information she could share with Jabari in trade, or failing that just provide any knowledge she may have about the Necropolis to the Bask Brigade straight up.
"We should all go to the registration together, just in case there is anything to be learned while there."
"Indeed Lueck! The stakes seem pretty high in this game, so sticking together as much as possible is a good idea."
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Knowledge (religion}
Later, when Indus works the crowd at the Tooth and Hookah, Seben acts as his wing man, pointing out certain people he might touch base with... She even laughs at his jokes, which are no doubt clever. If the opportunity permits, perhaps she'll even re-tell the story of when he shot a gremlin in-between the eyes with his mechanical bow-thingy.
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Seeing the bounty that has been put before the party, Sobekhotep can only bow his head in gratitude.
"Truly, a magnificent display. Both the chef and the primary producer have outdone themselves."
Before digging in, he offers a small prayer:
"I thank Lady Wadjet for the waters of life, that nourish the crops, and slake the animals' thirst.
I thank Lord Khepri for the radiance of the sun, which allows the crops to grow, and the animals to flourish.
I thank Lady Neith for the skills of the hunters, who help provide a bounty of meat for such a feast.
I thank Lord Bes for the community that comes together, to break bread, enjoy a glass or two, and share our stories with one another."
Before looking after himself, he then makes sure that his companion has her own portion set aside (fairly heavy on the chicken, although with some nuts and greens added in as well).
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Whilst he is enjoying his degustation, Sobkehotep abesently strokes Neith, and chats with the others, whilst he lets his mind wander, puzzling-out what he can remember from the fragments of his many lives.
During the course of the delicious meal, the Smokin' Bask Brigade share what knowledge they have learned during their time in Wati.
Indus and Sobekhotep take turns giving a concise history lesson about Wati.
In -1608 AR, Pharaoh Djederet II ordered the construction of a grand city to mark the birthplace of the Osirion’s greatest natural resource: the River Sphinx, springing from the confluence of the Asp and the Crook. With its early foundations magically laid by the church of Nethys, the city sprang to life within just a year. Named Wati, the riverside town soon dominated trade across southern Osirion. Hardwoods and spices from Katapesh and the Mwangi Expanse bound for Sothis, and manufactured goods and luxuries from the nations surrounding the Inner Sea bound for Osirion’s southern territories, all paused long enough in Wati’s warehouses and markets to make its citizens famously wealthy. For centuries, Wati endured through political upheaval and the births and deaths of entire dynasties as it dominated its younger sister cities of An and Tephu.
But Wati’s destiny was forever warped in 2499 AR, when the cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness among the city’s thriving populace. Many of those whom the fever did not immediately kill were driven to murderous insanity, and within months, more than half the city had fallen in painful, anguished death. Most of the survivors fled Wati to make new homes elsewhere, but a stubborn minority remained behind, determined to reclaim their city. But even once the plague had run its course, their livelihoods collapsed as An and Tephu took over Wati’s once exclusive trade route s, and their floundering community struggled against recurring outbreaks of the undead from the city’s many abandoned buildings-turned-tombs.
It took almost half a millennium for Wati’s fortunes to reverse thanks to the church of Pharasma. With the tacit permission of Osirion’s Keleshite sultan, a Pharasmin priest named Nefru Shepses marched on Wati in 2953 AR with a small army of alchemists, masons, and morticians under his banner, intent on consecrating the entire city to the Lady of Graves, beginning with a new, monumental temple to Pharasma called the Grand Mausoleum.
Over the next 30 years, Nefru Shepses and his followers recovered the bodies of those slaughtered in the Plague of Madness from their hasty, makeshift graves and the Pharasmins walled off that portion of the city that had been abandoned, transforming it into a metropolis of makeshift tombs. Thousands of corpses were given formal burial rites and reinterred in this dead copy of the living city, which continues to serve as Wati’s necropolis today.
The consecration of the city and its necropolis revitalized Wati, and though it never reclaimed its dominance among the cities of the south, over the next 1,700 years Wati grew until it’s necropolis-once more than half of the city took up less than a quarter of the city’s total area.
Indus also adds what he has learned about the more current affairs of Wati and the local religious scene.
Today, long after the necropolis’s completion, Wati continues to produce a great variety of grave goods for Osirion’s honored dead. A steady stream of burial figures, canopic jars, embalming fluids, prayer books, and sarcophagi sail downstream on the Sphinx, outpacing Wati’s crop and textile exports.
Even Wati’s criminal underworld revolves around death, as competing gangs regularly raid the necropolis for valuables and even human carrion. Several of the gangs trade in mumia, a drug made from the flesh of the mummified dead.
Wati is divided into six districts, with its necropolis serving as an unofficial seventh district.
Asp: This long, winding district of low buildings and twisting alleyways runs along Wati’s southern edge. Asp was built without the planning or engineering insight of Wati’s core, making navigation difficult for newcomers.
Bargetown: Wati’s unwashed masses, heretics, and down-on-their-luck foreigners gather in this semi-permanent floating district literally built atop the River Sphinx. Lashed vessels replace buildings, and narrow planks and rope railings make up Bargetown’s rickety streets. Each family maintains its own tiny barge or keelboat, and joins the community for years or for only a few days, meaning Bargetown’s layout is constantly in flux. Bargetown is a dangerous place, and not merely for its criminal element. Disease and fire are also constant risks.
Midwife: The district of Midwife is the heart of Wati, cradling most of the city’s temples, markets, and professional artisans. Along with the necropolis, Midwife is the oldest of Wati’s districts, with a history stretching back to the city’s founding, and its residents take pride in maintaining their ancient community. Midwife’s buildings, carved from stone and towering two to six stories tall, reflect the grandeur of Osirion’s First Age, and house a wide variety of apartments, shops, and workshops.
Morning Sun: The majority of Wati’s noble estates sit on a small rise west of Midwife called Morning Sun, so named because the district enjoys the first touch of the sun’s rays it dawn. Morning Sun is Wati’s least populous district, containing a mere two dozen wealthy estate s that consist of palatial homes, storage buildings, servants’ quarters, orchards, vineyards, and a handful of lavish apartments-all of which are colorful, well maintained, and surrounded with lush gardens and statuary.
Outer Farms: West of Wati, beyond the stable sandstone shelf on which the city rests, miles of silty, verdant farmland stretch along the banks of the Crook River. Barley, beans, cabbage, cucumbers, flax, garlic, melons, and millet fill Wati’s fields, but onions reign supreme on nearly every farm. This is where Rashid's farm is located.
The Veins: Nestled between Midwife and Bargetown, Wati’s harbor district stacks block upon block with woodcarvers, tar kilns, warehouses, and whatever shanties can be crammed between them. Its myriad shallow canals breed unabating clouds of insects.
The Necropolis - the City of the Dead: 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, but a variety of creatures, both living and undead, still call the necropolis home, surreptitiously avoiding the notice of Pharasma’s clergy.
Entrance to this section of the city is highly regulated by the Church of Pharasma, and the priesthood reconsecrates the necropolis each year as part of a weeklong festival surrounding the Day of Bones.
The Church of Pharasma is the most notable organized religion in Wati. The Grand Mausoleum and the necropolis of Wati are both sacred to the faith of Pharasma, and draw a large number of pilgrims to the city.
In addition to the more conventional Pharasmin clergy, Wati is a stronghold for The Voices of the Spire, the militant wing of the church of Pharasma dedicated to eradicating any undead. The Voices of the Spire conduct regular patrols within the necropolis.
The Church of Abadar also has a significant presence in Wati, with the Sanctum of Silver and Gold situated in the Midwife district between the market and the river.
Although the Church of Nethys was heavily involved in the founding and construction of Wati, it no longer has a functional temple in the city. An abandoned temple dedicated to Nethys is rumored to be located inside the necropolis.
Worship of the Old Gods is rare, although there is a small shrine to Wadjet on the waterfront in the Midwife district. Additional sites dedicated to the Old Gods can probably be found in the necropolis.
What little rumors the combined efforts of Indus and the "help" from Seben and Sobekhotep uncover mostly revolve around the upcoming reopening of the necropolis. Sentiments are mixed among the locals, with many looking forward to the expected influx of trade and treasure, while others feel the dead should be left to rest in peace.
Indus and Sobekhotep take turns giving a concise history lesson about Wati.
That explains why I don't remember this place, Seben thinks to herself. I'm so old, Wati wasn't created until after my death...
...the Pharasmins walled off that portion of the city that had been abandoned, transforming it into a metropolis of makeshift tombs.
Metropolis of makeshift tombs... sounds exactly like where we need to be going to finally find some answers.
...This Lamashtu god. Glad to see she's keeping up the tradition of the gods messing over the people. Some things never change.
Recognizing how pious some of her companions appear to be, she keeps her dark thoughts to herself.
There's a risk this Lamashtu's presence might still linger in the tombs...
"I find that a little walk after a banquet aids in the digestion. Shall we go and register?"
Seben nods in agreement. She is sure to thank their hosts, but then it's on to business.
Diorio found the story of Wati's history and present fascinating during their wonderful feast.
"Thank you Seben and Sobekhotep for these lessons. I had grown up hearing tales of ancient Osirion, but I had always thought of them as mostly fancies of make believe, and never had the historical context surrounding any of them. Mayhaps my forebears were not so full of it after all. I am now excited to create my own tales...and proud to be part of the Smokin' Bask Brigade. Let's get to it!"
"I much prefer the cool shade and Farhaan's hospitality to the scorching heat outside, I guess we must," says Indus, getting up after having eaten too much of the delicious food.
For the third time today, the Smokin' Bask Brigade make their way to the bustling Midwife district at the center of Wati. But this time, you do not pass the Grand Mausoleum, but head into the busy temple.
Since the Lady of Graves eclipsed Nethys and Abadar as Wati’s patron deity, her followers have assumed control over much of the city’s infrastructure, and have combined the Grand Mausoleum into a cross between a house of worship and city hall. All final decisions are still made by the city council and overseen by the haty-a – the pharaoh’s personal representative-but council meetings and the day-to-day affairs of state are held within the sprawling complex.
Upon arrival, you present yourselves and are directed to a smaller office where a scribe registers your team name, each individual team member and Indus as the team representative.
The whole affair is over in less than 20 minutes, leaving you with plenty of time to explore more of the city before nightfall.
Seben tells herself she is using her last two days as a chance to hunt for Briar Twindlewhisk. She wants to double-check the gnomish cartographer doesn't have any information that could be of use to the Bask Brigade. She asks around as she explores Wati.
The truth is though, she really uses her last two days to try to soak up as much sun and fresh air as she can before returning back underground.
She will make a point of visiting the water and spend some times along the shore. For a time, the Sacred Ibis hunts for crayfish, pretending to be a normal bird, and she a normal girl.
The night before, upon returning to her room at the Tooth and Hookah, she obsessively checks and re-checks the flights on all her arrows, making sure each one is perfect.
Diorio will spend some time wandering the souks, browsing and keeping an eye out for quality blade shops that might be of interest when he gains more funds in the future. He will return to Tooth and Hookah before dark.
Lueck will spend most of his free time by the river, swimming and resting, savoring the sensations. Every now and then, he pushes his hand or foot under the sand, trying to imagine what it is like to be underground. He 'forages' for fresh insects along the river as well, not knowing how long he'll have to subsist on prepared food.
That evening, a secret target practice takes place in the courtyard of the Tooth and Hookah under the light of the moon...
From the furthest point in the courtyard, Seben pulls back her bow, looking to hit the makeshift target of concentric circles she has set up on the opposite side.
She misses the target entirely. The arrow skipping off the flagstones of the courtyard. Perhaps she is playing hopscotch.
Seben shakes her head, frustration rising. It's got to be better. It has to be! There's no more time to get this right!
Seben strikes the target at its outer edge. Still far from the center.
What will tomorrow bring?
With the registration out of the way, the members of the Smokin’ Bask Brigade each spend some time exploring Wati.
With Neith by his side, Sobekhotep wanders Wati searching for fellow devotees of the Old Gods of Osirion and the places where they gather – or could gather – to worship.
He begins his search at the most well-known location, the Shrine of Wadjet, on the bank of the river Sphinx at the end of the Midwife district.
Talking to the locals, he learns that when Pharaoh Djederet II ordered Wati’s construction, he laid a golden brick where the Asp and Crook rivers mingle to form the Sphinx. The priesthood of Wadjet, the ancient Osirian goddess sometimes revered as the embodiment of the River Sphinx, established a small shrine on the site and constructed a stone staircase on either side leading down into the water.
Although Wadjet’s faith is no longer as popular as it was during the city’s founding, the shrine remains, and most religious and civic festivals in Wati begin or end on these stairs and the plaza before them. Popular superstition claims that water drawn from the base of the stairs under the sun of the solstice has healing properties, and pilgrims come from across Osirion to make offerings and bathe in the first currents of the holy river. Even the priests of the Grand Mausoleum draw the water for their fonts from the stairs’ edge.
He also hears a rumor that Mistress Bahjut Everhand, the shrewd guild master of Wati’s influential embalmer’s guild is a worshiper of Anubis, and the Hall of Blessed Rebirth contains a shrine devoted to the jackal-headed deity. Under the humorless halfling’s 30 yearlong leadership, the guildhall has transformed into an academy specializing in anatomy, chemistry, and medicine, and even tutoring exceptional students in alchemy and wizardry. While most of Wati’s residents give the school a wide berth, ambitious families across Osirion send their children to the Hall of Blessed Rebirth to master the Half-City’s techniques in medicine and embalming.
Indus spends several days making a concerted effort to befriend some of the many street urchins that roam Wati’s central market and narrow alleys. On his first day of navigating through the maze of market stalls, he quickly notices a group of ragged children that would make just the kind of allies he seeks. Standing at a discreet distance, Indus watches as the children interact with the vendors and shoppers, blending into the lively ebb and flow of market life.
They approach merchants with a subtle charm, earning scraps of food, bits of information, or perhaps a playful scolding for pilfering fruits. In exchange, they run errands, help attract customers and bring water from the nearest well. Occasionally, a shopper takes pity and tosses a coin or two at the resilient urchins.
They are especially careful not to invoke the wrath of the so-called “Marketwives,” enforcers hired by the temple of Abadar to patrol the market in daylight hours, watching for pickpockets and delivering swift justice to thieves. Anyone foolish enough to violate Abadar’s law under their gaze soon finds one of their hands added to the dozens already dangling from the plaza’s grisly Pillar of Second Thoughts.
The children themselves exchange glances, secret gestures, and the occasional whispered word, obviously used to working as a close-knit unit, a patchwork family formed by the harsh realities of life on the streets.
A nimble and wiry boy with strips of colored cloth wrapped around his unruly, dirty-blond hair stands alert, his sharp eyes assessing the crowd. He is the oldest and obviously the leader of the small band.
He is never far from a petite girl with large, expressive brown eyes and a mop of curly black hair is quietly studying a storyteller's colorful display, her eyes filled with curiosity. She moves with grace and wears a threadbare dress adorned with colorful ribbons.
Constantly distracted by delicious scents or the sight of fresh fruit, a sturdy, round-faced boy with a perpetual grin and multiple stains on his clothes is clearly the food enthusiast of the group. He mingles with the merchants with a friendly and cheerful familiarity.
Much more cautious is a tiny, silent girl with large, wary brown eyes that seem to miss nothing. She always has the hood of her cloak up and blends into the shadows effortlessly, often remaining inconspicuously out of sight.
The fifth and final member of the gang is a scrappy boy with a shock of unruly dark hair and a cheeky grin. His clothes are a patchwork of scraps he's found and sewn together. He seems to be a bit of a prankster, playing many harmless pranks on vendors and shoppers, his laughter ringing through the market.
On the second day, Indus approaches the group, armed with a warm smile, a small bag of fresh bread, dried dates and a handful of shiny coins. The blond leader tenses and raises an eyebrow, assessing the newcomer's intentions. He seems to be deciding between flight or fight, his hand hovering over a pocket that doubtlessly contains a hidden blade, when the girl with the black curls calms him with a soft touch on his arm.
”It’s all right, Tariq. I saw him watching us yesterday and he’s not one of the bad ones. He has kind eyes.” the youth says, her deep brown eyes meeting Indus’ without fear or reserve. She listens carefully as Indus introduces himself and explains that he wishes to befriend the group, offering them food, coins, and his genuine friendship in return for their assistance.
”I’m Nasira. You’re one of the foreign adventurers, here to try your luck in the necropolis, aren’t you? Well, if you’re looking for a clever crew who know every corner of the city, you can’t do better than us. The merchants here call us The Plovers. You know, after the little birds that pick the teeth of the crocodiles? We may be small, but if you don’t harm us, we can be very helpful.”
She flashes a bright smile and introduces the rest of the group. The food-fanatic is Jamal, the prankster is Karim and the quiet one is Farida. Jamal’s eyes light up at the sight of the bread, and Karim, intrigued by the newcomer, stops mid-prank and approaches. Amina watches from her hiding place, her wariness slowly dissipating.
After spending some time getting to know the group, Indus describes Velriana Hypaxes and instructs his new friends to come find him at the Tooth and Hookah if they spot her.
As Seben’s fruitless efforts progress, the Sacred Ibis grows increasingly restless. It frequently takes to the skies, circling high above the necropolis, sharp eyes scanning the dusty streets of the Dead City. Seben can only speculate at what it seeks, but her destiny is clearly linked to the tombs within.
As she wanders the city and attempts to engage with other people, it becomes painfully apparent just how out of practice she is at acting like a normal, living girl. Especially a common adventurer and student of history. She constantly finds herself launching into strange tangents and committing one faux pas after the other.
Slowly, she realizes that she will have to do a lot more learning and observation before she can pass naturally as a part of contemporary society.
As Diorio wanders the souks of Wati, his keen eye and honed instincts lead him through a world of sights, sounds, and scents. The bustling market is a sensory overload, filled with vibrant fabrics, aromatic spices, gleaming trinkets, and the cacophony of vendors haggling with eager shoppers. Ignoring the many distractions, he focuses his attention on scouting for quality blade shops that might pique his interest when he has more funds at his disposal.
Amidst the market's chaos, he comes across several stalls adorned with an impressive array of weaponry. Each blade on display tells a story of craftsmanship, from ornate scimitars to finely balanced daggers. Diorio carefully notes their locations, making mental maps of the most promising shops and memorizing the details of the blades that catch his discerning eye.
As the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the market, he decides it's time to return to the Tooth and Hookah. Back at the inn, he finds a group of patrons engaged in a lively game of Senet. With a friendly smile, he joins the game, determined to master the game and secure himself a secondary source of income.
As Lueck spends his precious free time by the river, it's a sensory journey unlike any other. The river's edge is a dynamic convergence of life and danger, reminding him of his bond with his goddess. The cool, flowing waters beckon him, and with a cautious eye on the river's treacherous inhabitants, he eases into the refreshing embrace of the current. The sensation of the water against his skin is a comforting reminder of his connection to nature, and Lueck savors each moment.
In the river's depths, crocodiles glide silently, a constant reminder of the balance between serenity and peril. Lueck remains vigilant, his eyes scanning the surface and his senses alert to any sudden movements. The crayfish, small but cunning, dart around him, their presence adding an element of excitement to his aquatic excursions.
Boat traffic passes by, their occupants going about their daily routines. Lueck watches with curiosity, imagining the lives and stories of those who traverse the river's currents. People on the shore go about their business, their voices and laughter blending with the soothing sounds of the water.
From time to time, Lueck pushes his hand or foot beneath the sandy riverbed, marveling at the sensation of being beneath the earth's surface. It's a connection to the earth that transcends his amphibious nature and sparks his wonder at the world's hidden mysteries.
Lueck's foraging for fresh insects along the river's edge is a skill he's honed out of necessity. He plucks the vibrant and wriggling morsels from their hiding spots, appreciating the small yet vital contribution they make to his subsistence. As he savors his time by the river, he remains ever mindful of the balance between the serene beauty of nature and the lurking dangers that surround him, finding solace in the connection to his primal instincts and the ever-present flow of life.
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In the evenings, as everyone returns from their individual errands, the group spends time together both in the small rooftop courtyard and the lively common room, swapping stories about the day’s events and strengthening the bond that inevitably forms among those who must entrust their lives to each other.
As the day of the lottery finally arrives, you gather your gear and head to the Grand Mausoleum, ready for adventure.
Seben sucks in a breath. She should have gotten more sleep last night. "Everyone packed?