You rush into the courthouse to see a perverted facsimile of a court. A blood-covered skeleton is interrogating a terrified civilian while four additional skeletons keep watch. The bloody skeleton cackles, "I sentence you to ... denucleation!"
You believe this is a reborn Magistrate Sotenre. One of Wati's most infamous judges, "Old Eye-Taker" held court during Osirion's Second Age and was known for his predilection for removing eyes as punishment - often proclaiming that those who sinned against the pharaoh should forfeit the souls their eyes housed. When he was close to death, Sotenre ordered that his remains should be sealed beneath his courtroom along with those of his most trusted bailiffs.
” Magistrate Sotenre!” Aerith blurted out, her hands held over her face. Horror giving way to excitement. ”Magistrate! If I could have but a moment of your time. I have read many of the dockets assigned to this court. But it is the application of procedural history that I wish to discuss with you. Specifically, in Absalon v. Pharaoh, which I recall you presided over, you held that…oh I’m sorry I’m getting ahead of myself. It is just so exciting to speak with you. Well, everyone knows that when you were on the bench that a claim could be implicitly raised by the record. And you held that it was not incumbent on a plaintiff to express the exact harm that has befallen him, especially when…” This went on until ”…so! Was this ruling of yours an application of prior caselaw, or were you following the non-presidential holdings of the revered Lord Magistrate who had penned…” If he deigned to answer any of her questions it was clear that she was ready to listen with rapt attention.
Hearing the sobbing Tribim rushes into the building right behind Mahmoud. Taking the scene in at a glance he remembers what they'd learned about fighting skeletons. Preparing to draw his kunai as Aerith attempts to distract the undead and free the prisoner. Chiming in, trying to sound as competent about the law as he can"Certainly procedural history is so important."
"You dare interrupt!" screeches the magistrate. "If I wasn't feeling generous, I'd find you in contempt of court!" He pauses, though, as Aerith continued speaking. "Oh, I see. You must be his legal team. You're very late - not a good start, I'm afraid. Still, justice is always fair, and everyone's entitled to representation. You may present your case." He motions for you to approach the bench.
You recall that in the rare cases where an accused had representation and was found guilty, the entire legal team suffered the same punishment.
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"You are most gracious, your honor."
"My team shall bring the defendant here, so that we may commence."
"In the interest of justice, counsel requests that the court reads the charges to the accused as well as the evidence against him. As codified in statute (xyz), the accused is entitled to have this presented."
Mahmoud flicks his eyes to Aerith and Tribim, as if asking What are you doing?. He tries to determine if she is trying to buy time, or if she actually thinks she's going to argue her way out of this. Either way, he stays close and prepares to throw his dagger or punch a creature in the face if it becomes necessary.
Aerith gave Mahmoud a happy nod. She was having the time of her life. Not only was she getting to use her accumulated knowledge, but it was with a famous historical figure! She didn't know if she could actually argue her way out of this, but she was more than happy to try.
"You may have five minutes to confer with the defendant, but not a second longer!" the magistrate intones. According to the civilian, he's been charged with 'public indecency.' As far as you can tell, the street clothes he's wearing are perfectly normal.
Once the “defendant” had been brought over, Aerith used her five minutes to hastily scribe notes as she got her thoughts in order, getting from the terrified man little more than his name and profession. Except for that she shooed away any attempt to distract her. When it was absolutely necessary she began to talk, arguing based upon the writings of Sutekh-Maat. While not exactly a contemporary of the judge, he had been influential in the times of the judge’s father as an authority on morality and decency. With passion she argued how the man’s clothing was modest by the standards of even the most scrupulous and respected authorities.
She emphasized how his clothing showed simplicity and modesty, while adhering to the climate and practical needs. She rather argued that, as defined by the ancient philosopher Ptahhotep, modesty was defined by social class and occupation. And in this his clothing matched these standards exactly. She pointed out the simplicity of his tunic and the linen it came from, and how this matched his social standing. And finally, she used his obvious terror as evidence of deterrence to the court, respect for the system, and piety in the Gods. In doing this, she gladly cited every scrap of ancient legal knowledge she could bring to bear, referring to her notes as much as was needed.
Surprised the 'judge' was giving them five minutes, Tribim glances towards the door. It would be an easy thing to rush out of the building and get the defendant to safety. As he was about to recommend the idea, he realized that Aerith was actually planning on 'defending her client.' Mentally shrugging, he decides if things 'go south' they could always bolt for the door in an organized retreat, then wait for the skeletons to follow and attack them as they come out one at a time. Smiling he nods to the elf, "You've go this."
Your arguments are convincing and grounded in the ancient law, but your overly-scholarly approach doesn't seem to be convincing the magistrate. If you'd had more time to think, you probably wouldn't have included the words of Ptahhotep, as the pharaoh he advised insulted Ra by refusing to build a temple for him - casting the effectiveness of Ptahhotep's teachings into doubt.
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Having spent his life avoiding court room situations, when possible, Tribim stood up gesturing towards, the defendant. Pointing out, "This whole situation is a misunderstanding. Our client has a permit from the temple of Bastet to wear whatever they deem fitting as per their occupation there at the temple. They just forgot to carry it with them. I'm sure if you let them go home and fetch it they can bring it back and show it to you."
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"Your honor. My co-counsel said 'permit', but I must interject to say that this was a mistranslation. The point that he was making, which I believe is valid, is that this outfit is a kalasiris. Now, this is not specifically a religious outfit in the strictest sense, but it does constitute appropriate attire for a layperson working at a temple. We would not insult the court by claiming that he wears a garment such as a shendyt, of course. But my co-counsel is correct, in that his attire is quite appropriate for his station and his work. We beseech the court to thus find that our client has dressed appropriately for a layperson working at the temple of Bastet. Or, in the alternative, if the court finds that the allowed attire of a layperson of the temple falls short of the standards of decency of the city, that our client be allowed to return to the temple to inform his superiors of the court's ruling. For our client, even should the court disagree with our contentions that his attire is appropriate, is innocent in that he has merely dressed according to the standards of his class and profession, as he was instructed by his superiors."
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Mahmoud studies the judge as his companions make their arguments to see how they are landing. He shakes his head no and nods yes when their tactics seem to him to be hitting the mark.
Aerith and Tribim's clothing-based argument seems to do the trick, as you see the magistrate nodding thoughtfully as they speak. When they finish, the magistrate bangs his gavel authoritatively. "Case dismissed!" As soon as the words leave his mouth, all the undead in the courthouse crumble into dust.
Potential Loot
circlet of persuasion
Raising an eyebrow as the undead crumble to dust, Tribim turns to the 'defendant,' smiling, "Looks like you're free to go."
Picking up the circlet of persuasion he waves it about carelessly, "Shall we take a look about the courthouse before we leave?"
As he asks, he begins to snoop about.
Completely ignoring the defendant, Aerith ran over to Tribim, ripped the circlet out of his hands and put it on his head. Grinning she exclaimed "That was so much fun! But yes, let's take a look around here and then we can move on."
You find nothing else of interest in the ruined courthouse. Shortly after you leave, though, the nosoi psychopomp you encountered previously makes a reappearance. It's much calmer, but still appears quite agitated.
Smiling with Aerith, Tribim laughs, "Well it's good to see something you find entertaining." Spending a little time looking around the courthouse, Tribim wasn't surprised to find nothing of value, it had been just a courthouse.
As they move through the streets looking for the undead, Tribim freezes as the odd psychopomp reappears, whispering to the others, "Do you think it will be easier to understand this time?"
"One way to find out." Aerith said happily. It was turning into a good day. She had gotten to be an attorney, and had argued before a famous judge of antiquity. And now she was able to put her linguistic skills to use talking to a celestial creature. If it wasn't for the entire 'plague of undeath' destroying the city, then she would have hoped to have more days like it.
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Mahmoud shrugs. "As a messenger of Pharasma, it is not very good at its job," he jokes, deadpan. He watches it carefully to see if it indicates they should follow it, or if it seems like it might follow them to the temple.
The nosoi's speech is less jumbled then before, but its inability to stick to a single language makes comprehension difficult. Fortunately, Aerith's able to identify them as Osiriani, Celestial, and Abyssal. While she only knows two-thirds of what's said, there are enough similarities between Abyssal and Infernal that she's able to piece together a coherent narrative now that the creature's able to present it chronologically.
The nosoi's name is Qasin, and is the companion of a Pharasman priest named Ptemenib. Mahmoud's met the man in passing before: he's a strange fellow who talks to himself when he thinks nobody's watching. Ptemenib is one of the priests tasked with overseeing that the necropolis clearing is done respectfully and that the rules are followed. During the auction, he received a report that the Silver Chains were conducting an operation, so he went to investigate - without informing his superiors. Predictably, he was spotted ... and captured. Unsure of what to do, Qasin's been searching for someone capable of rescuing him in return for a "handsome reward."
Mahmoud frowns. "If we are going to help him, we should first let the Pharasmins know what we are doing, in case we are also captured. Clearly, this task is The Lady's work."
”Yes. The poor thing clearly isn’t in a state that it can hold a real conversation. And the Church may be able to provide us with more information.” She left out the part on being captured or, worse, dying. While it was good to think of the city and its people, she didn’t want to dwell on such dark possibilities.
Nodding in agreement with Mahmoud and Aerith, Tribim chimes in, "Letting the temple know what's going on and getting any information that could help is smart." Turning the general direction of the temple he asks, "Aerith Does the bird know where they may have taken Qasin?"
As he asks the question, he considers his own knowledge of city and the 'Silver Chains' specifically.
Aerith nodded. Taking things slowly, she tried her best to communicate with the celestial, to tease out the needed information. Still glowing from their prior encounter, she was in the exact right state of mind to handle this task.
Tribim has no idea where the Silver Chain's base of operation would be, but Aerith's quickly able to determine that the nosoi was able to invisibly follow the gang to its lair. It's in an abandoned brickworks in the Veins district.
Mahmoud tosses his dagger casually in his hand. "Very well then: to the temple and then to the Veins?"
Nodding, Tribim follows Mahmoud back to the temple so they can report in and ask a few questions.
The priests are familiar with the Silver Chains and their grave-robbing ways. Presumably, that's what they're up to, using the large number of adventuring groups in and around the necropolis to provide cover so they can make off with valuable artifacts.
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Qasin leads you to Bright River Brickworks: a once-flourishing business that's stood abandoned ever since a cracked kiln caused a fire that burned down the building (and many surrounding homes) around two years ago. While the homes have since been rebuilt, the brickworks has remained silent, empty, and ruined ever since.
Two fire-scarred mud-brick walls and a half-dozen crumbling clay kilns are all that remains of the building that once stood in this weed-choked lot. A boarded-up, scorched door stands in the southeast corner where the walls join. A pair of watchmen are patrolling the grounds when you arrive. "Hey, this is a restricted area. It's not safe to be here, so please continue on your way."
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As they move the city, Tribim, places the circlet on his head. Once at the temple, he tries not to seem inpatient, although the idea of showing his new head band to Delilah does have him wanting to hurry.
Relieved to be moving again, Tribim approaches the Brickworks with his fellow 'Shadows'. Not surprised to find the 'Silver Chains' have watchmen, he smiles at the two, lifting his wrist showing them the silver chain, while discreetly resting his other hand on the handle of his blade. "It's ok, their with me."
Mahmoud groans inwardly at their luck, and prepares to throw a dagger to silence the closest if either of the watchmen raise the alarm.
One of the guards nods and relaxes, but the other holds up a hand. "Yeah, I don't think so. Last chance to get outta here." He loads a bolt into his hand crossbow to emphasize his point.
He loads a bolt into his hand crossbow to emphasize his point.
Looking at his fellow 'Shadows' tribim shrugs, as if to say 'I tried' he then begins to draw the blade he'd rested his hand on.
Seeing you draw your weapons, the Silver Chain guards open fire!
”Rude!” Aerith said, willing her blade forward. She flinched, though, as the bolts flew out. While she was not the target, her mental lapse robbed her blade of its regular accuracy.
Dodging the guards attack, Tribim draws his weapons, "You should have let us pass." Feinting with the blade in his right hand, he slashes first with the left, then again with both hands.
Mahmoud glares at the Silver Chain guard with the crossbow, then throws his dagger at the one Tribim is attacking.
While Aerith's blade narrowly misses, Tribim successfully feints one of the guards and then carves a gash across the man's chest. Mahmoud finishes him off and then wounds the other - who promptly drops his weapon and attempts to flee the area.
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Behind the door the men were guarding, you find a ramshackle, soot-stained office. The floorboards have been pried up and used to construct a crude stairway leading underground. The air is quite musty.
Potential Loot
Keg of Saffron x3
As the second man begins to flee, Tribim kneels beside the body of the man they'd slain. As he takes the silver chain off of the fellow and checks for other items, he shakes his head, "You should have just let us pass."
Holding the chain out for one of the other 'Shadows' he adds, "No reason not to try and continue the ruse, at least for a little bit."
Making a mental note of the saffron, Tribim begins to carefully head down the crude staircase, keeping a keen eye out.
Mahmoud finishes the man off-- no sense in allowing either of them to escape and potentially alert others in their company. He collects the saffron and follows Tribim.
The stairs are sturdy and free of traps but creak loudly as you descend. The stink of mildew and stale incense fills the air in this long chamber. Sputtering lanterns provide just enough light to reveal peeling paint on the walls and a floor covered in sand. A rickety staircase leads up to the north, while sturdy wooden doors exit the hall to the east and west.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Tribim sets his 'Ioun Torch' in place, nodding towards the first door down the hallway. Moving to the first door on the right He inspects the door for traps then checks to see if it's unlocked.
Aerith flinched as the fleeing man fell to the ground. It was one thing to rip apart undead monstrosities, it was another to drop a fleeing man. But she understood that he could have brought back reinforcements, and thus it was the right call. That, and he only had a few mere decades left before him anyways. So she rationalized that it could have been worse.
Mahmoud stands guard while Tribim deals with the door, looking around them for threats.
As Tribim approaches the door, the floor shifts under his feet, revealing that it's actually a carefully-balanced platform with a concealed counterweight.