Despite her study of similar mummies, Jolánka cannot remember what the strange bumps in the wrapping signify. She doesn't wish to poke too further, though, out of respect for the rules they were given to let the dead rest.
"We really should invest in a cart or sledge to get our findings out of this place."
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[dice=Knowledge (history)]1d20+6
Despite her study of similar mummies, Jolánka cannot remember what the strange bumps in the wrapping signify. She doesn't wish to poke too further, though, out of respect for the rules they were given to let the dead rest.
"We really should invest in a cart or sledge to get our findings out of this place."
Dejedefre nods, "It would certainly make transporting items easier. And perhaps a larger selection of tools to disassemble larger objects to remove them."
He takes the pendant and compares the sun disc on it to his own holy symbol of Ra. He turns to the more knowledgeable amongst the group and asks, "Does this look similar?"
Senemheb leans over the sarcophagus to take a look at the mummy. "Ah, it's true, then. The Ancient Osiriani had charms woven into the linens of the wrappings - to either magically preserve the corpse or to ward off evil spirits or undead that would feed upon the flesh of the mummy." he points at the bumps buried within the layers.
He moves around the sarcophagus to admire the funerary mask closer up. It is beautiful - obviously for an important man. But in the end, the greed takes over the sense of beauty, and he tries to estimate what a collector would pay for such an item.
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Amal peers at the wrinkled face of the mummy - not without some disappointment. He doesn't quite know what he expected from Akhentepi's tomb; ancient curses, perhaps? Traps powerful enough to crush bones or disintegrate bodies? A lich awaiting in an ancient sarcophagus, ready to leap to its feet and attack those foolish enough to disturb its earthly remains?
Perhaps his parents had been wrong, after all. It happened so rarely that this might as well be the first time. Amal would be lying if they said it didn't make them feel satisfied in the least.
"Even with a cart, this could be quite heavy," he gives a careful knock on the side of the sarcophagus. If made out of heavy wood, it would be difficult to transport. "Perhaps we could leave it here, and let Marwanun decide how it should be dealt with."
Djehuti shakes their head as they scribble down their notes and make sketches of Akhentepi's final resting place. "While I do not believe the Third Rule, 'Honor the Departed', would prevent our recovering decorative items I do believe that uprooting the sarcophagus would be frowned upon by the Church."
"Also let us not forget that we can receive our next assignment once we report this location is fully explored and clear of danger. We may not want to spend too long on the logistics of moving heavy and perhaps unwanted items."
[dice=Kn. History]1d20 +8
Senemheb leans over the sarcophagus to take a look at the mummy. "Ah, it's true, then. The Ancient Osiriani had charms woven into the linens of the wrappings - to either magically preserve the corpse or to ward off evil spirits or undead that would feed upon the flesh of the mummy." he points at the bumps buried within the layers.
He moves around the sarcophagus to admire the funerary mask closer up. It is beautiful - obviously for an important man. But in the end, the greed takes over the sense of beauty, and he tries to estimate what a collector would pay for such an item.
"Oh right, THAT'S what those are for. I'd forgotten," Jolánka says sheepishly.
"While I do not believe the Third Rule, 'Honor the Departed', would prevent our recovering decorative items I do believe that uprooting the sarcophagus would be frowned upon by the Church."
"Not to mention plain unfeasible," the Taldan, ever practical, added in peering into the sarcophagus in question. "Hauling this thing up that entrance shaft? I for one would need more rope, another pair o' legs and a whole lot of carrots to manage that."
How had they even carted this cinder block of a coffin here, he wondered? Looked awfully hefty, doubly so with those golden decorations that didn't escape the treasure seeker's eye. It was the box's contents that had him occupied at the moment, however.
So. There he was: Akhentepi in the flesh - what remained of it, anyway. Warlord, slaver, murderer and overall family man if the hieroglyphs were to be believed. Which Luke didn't. This entire complex was a monument to the man and surely as false as any other obituary. No, the only text here he trusted was the one this cadaver had branded into his forehead: 'thief'.
Your thief is here, you miserable old miser. And he aims to collect.
Revenge really was a dish best served cold, nowhere more so than in sweltering Osirion. Boy, that really was a nice mask. The foreigner's smile reflected in the gold funerary mask staring blindly up at the so-called Vulture Court, the prize for all their trouble, recompense for their pain & suffering.
Curious then, when he didn't immediately reach in to pry the thing loose. Instead he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the rim of the sarcophagus like a spectator taking in a ball game, and merely watched, a satisfied little grin on his stubbly mouth. Despite all the young man's threats to topple all of the generals bones out onto the floor like so many dice, Luke wasn't the vindictive sort. Not if placated. And that gilded headdress? That was retribution and cold hard dosh in one. That had him plenty appeased.
"What do you think, Sen?" he asked the other man conversationally, Senemheb examining the mask. "500 sovereigns? I know some people in the extralegal market . Yeah, at least 500. We're lookin' at a healthy payday overall."
Left unsaid was how there was another reason the greedy fingers hadn't clutched at their spoils yet. Which was simply that he'd promised the others to be respectful. If someone else preferred to be the one to lift the headdress - with prayer, ceremony or whatever else - then let them. His was, again, a practical soul. As long as Luke got his due, all else was hunky-dory.
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Djedefre retrieves his journal to take notes and sketch drawings of the contents of the room.
"Although difficult it would allow researchers to study the finds in relative peace. Unfortunately it seems the entry points some of the vermin have found mean more vermin could enter at any time and many researchers wouldn't be as well-equipped as we are to deal with them."
Nodding to Djehuti, "Indeed time is a scarce resource in this contest of recovery. The faster we can secure this tomb, the sooner we can go to our next option. But I must admit this has left me quite depleted when it comes to channeling Ra's energies."
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Despite their intimate knowledge of the Rules, even Amal hesitates to leave the mask behind. Their family was certainly far from poor, but this was more money than they've ever personally owned. Was greed contagious?
Their hands subtly close into fists, and open again, as if their fingers were twitching to grab the mask. "Perhaps we should take the rest and leave the sarcophagus. We can put the lid back on, unless there's a way we can take the mask without damaging the mummy," he sounds almost hopeful of the latter.
Djehuti nods at Amal. "That sounds like the best option," the elf agrees. They look at Djedefre. "And the charms, as well? I am sure the Church would like to see what sorts of wards were being used a few hundred years ago."
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"Is there a way to remove the mask or the charms without damaging the mummy? I know it won't make everyone happy but it seems we may need to bring the entire mummy with us - but without its sarcophagus. But I don't know enough about mummification to know if the mummy would survive such a trip. I have no doubt whatsoever that whatever we do not take with us now will be here when we, or anyone we send, returns to the tomb."
Feeling uncomfortable at addressing the obvious dilemma confronting the group he adds, "Let's be honest: The funerary mask is immensely valuable and it would be foolish to leave it behind for someone else to take."
Djehuti nods as they finish up their notes and close their notebook. "The mask, at least, seems simple enough. We can look more closely at the charms sewn into the linens."
Jolánka stands by, taking notes and sketches as Djehuti works. As much as she wasn't keen on disturbing the dead more than they had to, she was one of the foreigners here, so she deferred to the locals' judgment.
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Djejuti's deft elven fingers work smoothly, slicing into the dry, ancient linens to eventually unwrap nine charms, each a different semiprecious or unusual stone carved into a figurine or hieroglyph. Some are recognized from AOP and Osiriani culture, others are obscure arcane runes. Despite Senemheb's recollection of their purpose they do not possess any detectable magical auras.
The final charm is above the folded hands of Akhentepi's corpse, exposing his dried carcass to the stale air of the tomb. Fortunately, the dead doesn't rise as Djehuti claims the ninth charm.
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While he didn't didn't disapprove, Luke too was surprised at the willingness to shear open the general's bindings. He'd been content to abscond with the golden mask, not even having noted the precious stones woven into the wrappings, but certainly wasn't going to object. Working with this group was perhaps going to be easier than feared.
Looming over the open coffin, the bright eyes followed Djehuti's long fingers with appreciation, the digits obviously as skilled with brittle corpses as sensitive mechanisms.
Yet perceptive as they were, those eyes caught onto something else entirely, landing on his less than pleased compatriot.
Oh boy. Kid's looking more sour than an ogre's socks.
The Taldan sighed. Self-professed tomb raider though he was, it wasn't as if he didn't understand Amal's misgivings. Heck, he'd been the one railing against this whole state-sanctioned grave robbing malarkey and the church's hypocrisy in facilitating it. Yeah, he himself was profiting from the venture and happily so, but that didn't make it right. He was a scoundrel! He wasn't to be trusted on matters of morality!
Maybe that was why the Pharasmins' part in all this bothered him so, Luke reflected. While riddled with a great many faults, the young man was at the very least self-aware. He knew there was no honor in grave robbing. The reason he was able to engage in it regardless was the ability to compartmentalize, to pack that moral compass of his into a deep, deep pocket while he did what needed doing. That was what made him a scoundrel. That was what made him a hypocrite. And how was it the saying went? 'The fox smells his own trail first'?
Like recognized like. And no matter his own stink, Luke thought this whole expedition reeked to high heavens.
But as said, he could compartmentalize. He could brush off the supposed angel on his shoulder in favor of cold, hard dosh. Yet he knew that wasn't the case for all. It shouldn't be so for all. The eyes narrowed, taking in the kid. He huffed. Sometimes he really wished he was the dumb brute some assumed. It'd make for a simpler existence, one not plagued by stupid ruminations on ethics like these.
"Hey, Djedefre," he said, turning to the god-spawn. "You wanna maybe, I dunno, say a few words? You know, something traditional, preferably ancient? Just as we close the coffin again. To be respectful and all that."
He didn't deserve it, Luke thought to himself. Akhentepi, that was. That slave-keeping warlord had tried to drown the lot of them and didn't deserve anything but the fire of whatever hell he surely found himself in now. But the foreigner figured maintaining a group was much like maintaining a marriage: it was about the give-and-take. Or so his mother had told him, anyway. That every party involved had to give some concessions to the other.
He wasn't sure a gesture like this would appease Amal, but he thought it worth trying. After all, the group had more tombs to raid.
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Nodding at Luke, "Of course. I didn't want to disturb Djehuti while she was undertaking her task. Hopefully the prayers will stay the wrath of any curses, unsettled spirits, or anything else that might take offense at our actions."
He rubs the brand on his forehead that matches Luke and grins.
When Djehuti is finished, Djedefre begins funeral rites, a blessing, and a request to Ra for the spirit of Akhentepi to receive his due in the afterlife.
It wasn't up to Djedefre to decide what Akhentepi was due...
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Amal stays silent and still throughout the prayer. In those circumstances, he supposes he should at least stare at the ceiling in a contemplative manner - but in an underground tomb, the absence of sky seems a bit too glaring.
Mostly, he is rather eager for the whole thing to be over. The brand on his forehead makes the whole improvised ceremony a tad hypocritical.
"Truth to be told, I was half expecting the mummy to jump from the sarcophagus." Senemheb says, now smiling at the thought. "I am glad that didn't happen."
He then lowers his head and listens Djedefre's funeral rites in silence.
Djehuti smiles at Senemheb. "They tend to do that before they let you remove things from their wrappings, not during." The elf turns to the others. "Shall we close this back up and head out?"
"Shall we close this back up and head out?"
"See," Luke sighed through a wry grin, "you say that as if our work hasn't just begun."
He looked from the treasure chests here to the grave goods in the previous chamber. A whole lot of plunder. And more still waiting in rooms traversed earlier. "Funny thing about about treasure huntin' is how if you're successful, you have to take on a less glamorous part next: pack mule."
The Taldan began tossing their varied findings into what seemed the sturdiest of the chests before heaving it up on one shoulder. Man, hoisting all this stuff up the entrance shaft was gonna be a pain.
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Djedefre concludes the ceremony by giving the others a heads up, "I'm going to call upon divine power to create water so don't worry we haven't discovered yet another trap. I'm just paying homage to the power of creation symbolized by the River Sphinx and the Crook and the Asp that bring life to Osirion."
Djedefre calls upon the blessings of Ra to create a very small amount of water to bring fresh 'life' to the spirit of Akhentepi.
Afterwards he says, "In Osirion the belief is that if a person is remembered they never truly die. That's one of the reasons behind the giant tombs. If it's true then Akhentepi will have achieved a level of immortality with our work here today."
He then helps Luke with preparing and carrying items out of the tomb.
"That's...somewhat reassuring," Jolánka says as she traces the spiral on her chest while Djedefre prays for Akhentepi. "I'll admit that I'd have left the charms, personally. It just feels...I don't know, more disrespectful because they were bound with his actual mummy rather than just left lying about the chamber. But if you and the other actual Osiriani found it objectionable, you'd have said so, so I trust your judgment."
She nods at Luke's assessment of what they now had to do.
"It might be practical to gather the treasure AT the entrance shaft all at once before going up. That way we only have to go up and down repeatedly, rather than needing to go deeper into the tomb with every trip."
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"That's...somewhat reassuring," Jolánka says as she traces the spiral on her chest while Djedefre prays for Akhentepi. "I'll admit that I'd have left the charms, personally. It just feels...I don't know, more disrespectful because they were bound with his actual mummy rather than just left lying about the chamber. But if you and the other actual Osiriani found it objectionable, you'd have said so, so I trust your judgment."
She nods at Luke's assessment of what they now had to do.
"It might be practical to gather the treasure AT the entrance shaft all at once before going up. That way we only have to go up and down repeatedly, rather than needing to go deeper into the tomb with every trip."
Nodding at Jolanka he says, "For me it is yet another moral dilemma: Where is that line? I understand Luke's point that there is a monetary value to all of these finds. But there's also scholarly value: History, culture, perhaps even knowledge of magic in the case of the charms. If the Church of Pharasma deems we have violated the Third Rule we shall work with them to make right our wrongs."
"In Osirion the belief is that if a person is remembered they never truly die."
The foreigner's face twisted into the sort of world-weary frown one might expect on a melon farer in Irrisen. "Remind me to run into a wall and give myself a concussion on the way out, then..."
He shrugged one shoulder, settling the weight of the chest in carrying it out.
Djehuti shrugs. "It is not my place to question the judgment of the leaders of the Church. If they bless retrieving these items, that is enough for me." The elf smiles. "If anyone has insight into Pharasma's feelings, I have to assume it is them."
They nod at Djedefre. "I, for one, am glad the Prince and Church decided to allow groups like ours into these places. Better to explore and recover what there is to recover than seal the dead behind a wall and forget about them." Djehuti taps their notebook and gestures at Jolanka and the others who have been taking notes. "I hope many people read our accounts and descriptions, here and in other cities."
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"In Osirion the belief is that if a person is remembered they never truly die."The foreigner's face twisted into the sort of world-weary frown one might expect on a melon farer in Irrisen. "Remind me to run into a wall and give myself a concussion on the way out, then..."
He shrugged one shoulder, settling the weight of the chest in carrying it out.
Djedefre gives Luke a smile, "Perhaps more than once? Just to be thorough of course.."
As Djehuti explains the properties of the armor, Jolánka's eyes widen a bit.
"This is some really impressive armor, to have survived fully intact for so long...I have to wonder if maybe its value to us may be more than monetary. I think one of us may be able to get it refitted to them and wear it, especially Luke. What better revenge against Akhentepi than to wear his armor into battle and earn greater fame than he so it becomes known as YOUR armor rather than his?"
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"Sealing the dead behind a wall is quite the opposite of forgetting about them," Amal crosses their arms. "This will remain the Tomb of Akhentepi, no matter what we do and what we take from it. Whoever else happened to be buried here as well do not exist in the eyes of the Prince; perhaps not even the Church."
He shrugs. "I would have left the charms where they were, but frankly I don't know where to stand with this 'touch-but-don't-touch' policy. It seems like even the higher-ups are torn between leaving the dead well alone, and taking what they seem fit. Perhaps it's only ever been about taking from the dead, and not bringing them respects." They massage their temples. "At least this is what it feels like right now. I'm not sure which stories will be told." It's the first time he's ever talked that long since they left the Handlers, he realises.
Djehuti cocks their head at Amal's comment. "Is it? To me, putting a wall around a place and forbidding anyone from entering seems like the definition of forgetting about it." The elf shrugs. "If it weren't for the Prince forcing the issue would any of us know who Akhentepi was? And if it wasn't for our notes and the relics we've recovered would anyone in the future remember the general?"
"I believe the third rule implies they want explorers to recover as much as possible. If they did not want us to retrieve items from the remains themselves there would be a rule about not disturbing the remains. Instead, they direct us to replace their remains with care." Djehuti nods at Dejdefre. "As long as we act respectfully and follow the rules set for us I think the Prince and the Church wants us to bring back as many relics as we can find."
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"And the issue of balance. A purely academic team wouldn't, and shouldn't, feel confident they could enter here unguarded and safely work. We can't move the entire sarcophagus to the Church for study. So we make decisions about what to take to them, what to leave behind, and realize we are not the only ones in the Necropolis. The others may not be as careful and scrupulous as we are and destroy things in their rush to loot the tomb."
Djehuti shrugs. "It is not my place to question the judgment of the leaders of the Church."
"Sure it is." His expression was hidden behind the chest jostling on one shoulder in traversing the complex's halls, but Luke's tone was direct, as pragmatic as only a tomb robber's could be. "You're a person, aren't you? What do you think the church's leadership consists of? Just people, that's all. Them having fancier robes than you doesn't make them right."
If anything, the young man's admittedly limited interactions with the fat cats of decadent Taldor had given him the impression they were usually wrong. It was a notion buoyed on the rebelliousness so typical of the young and disaffected. Like a hoary dragon stirring from its century-long slumber, this anti-authoritarian streak reared within him.
Not that he could muster much fire right now. No, the day's trials had been entirely too tiring for that, so Luke merely went on, calmly: "There's this saying back home my dad once told me. An nescis, mi fili, quantilla prudentia mundus regatur? It was said by this statesman to his son, upon the latter being intimidated at the idea of joining the ranks of great politicians himself or whatever. I don't speak Azlanti, but I'm pretty sure it translates to, 'Do you not know, my son, with how very little wisdom the world is governed?'"
His long strides were regular, even in stepping over the husks of the bugs they'd bested earlier. "It's true. The silk-stockings in charge are as dumb as the rest of us, and when they fail, ain't no one gonna kick their generous backsides in order but us. So don't dismiss your own opinion, elf. Respect isn't worth the cost of self-respect."
The foreigner's inclinations could evidently express themselves in something beyond grumblings about native cuisine and local history. Which didn't feel incongruous to Luke himself. After all, a healthy dislike of the high & mighty of society was in part how he justified ransacking their tombs.
"This is some really impressive armor, to have survived fully intact for so long...I have to wonder if maybe its value to us may be more than monetary. I think one of us may be able to get it refitted to them and wear it, especially Luke. What better revenge against Akhentepi than to wear his armor into battle and earn greater fame than he so it becomes known as YOUR armor rather than his?""
"Oh, get off it," Luke replied, pursing his stubbly mouth as if in dismissing flattery. "I mean, yeah, that's some quality spite you're serving and I approve wholeheartedly. But you're barking up the wrong tree. 'Fame in battle'? Dame, I'm a grave robber, not a glory hound. I don't want fame. That tends to be an obstacle in this business, getting in the way of what I actually do want, that being cold hard dosh."
The supposedly so pragmatic man set down the chest with a thud, the group having reached the entrance shaft. He huffed in squinting up the darkened tunnel. The rope hung there still, easing the long-brewing fear at the back of his mind that they were all going to starve down here. "Still," he huffed, "if you've got any other ideas for spiting Akhentepi, don't hesitate to speak up." The sceptical eyes fell on the eponymous armor. A practical man had to least see what the fuss was about. "And maybe pass me that thing. Lemme have a look at it."
The inspection that followed was as brief as its conclusion, however. "Trash." The ancient armament was tossed back to Djehuti like a dirtied rag. A rejection so offhanded for so fine an armor called for some justification which Luke, to his limited credit, tried providing.
"No, listen," he said defensively. "This isn't just me being all snide with all things Osirian or what have you - even if this design is gods-awful... This thing is one step removed from the stuffy sweater your grandma made you that one birthday! It's just cloth! I don't care how much witch juice its been soaking in! Not when the leather I'm already wearing is twice as durable and half-again as thick. My stream could punch through this rag after a late night at the tavern!"
"And is there wisdom in reciting quotes in language one does not understand?" Senemheb smirks.
But there is truth in the saying. The leaders are where they are due to their birthright, ambition or pure strength, wisdom seldom has part in that. For the common man, however, wisdom is not to question out loud the ones holding the power. And trying to tell that to the foreigner is just wasted air.
"But you are correct about the armor. It is not a garment for a warrior. I hope some collector would be willing to buy it."
Djehuti shakes their head at Luke with a smile on their face. "Please don't misunderstand me. I don't mean I have no right to question, I just have no interest in it. That is their purview, mine is here." The elf gestures at the tomb around them. "All that matters to me about their motives is how it affects how the administrators of this contest might react to what we bring out of here."
As they gather the heavy containers at the bottom of the rope, Djehuti looks up the hole at the ground level of the tomb. "I do wonder if any other groups might ignore the first rule and try to ambush other groups to take their relics and notes. The Church certainly anticipated that might happen. We might want to take a peek outside before we take these things up the rope."
Returning to the threshold, seeing the fallen thief's corpse, there is a pregnant silence as the aasimar reaches out for the rope. Giving it a fierce tug or two, a chorus of relieved sighs breaks the tension as the rope doesn't break or fall loose.
Djedefre clambers up, awkward at first for the initial ten feet before reaching the vertical tunnel. Returning to the surface, the cleric and whoever accompanied him look out into the sand-dusted ruins.
At first, they need to adjust to the intense glow of Ra as he reaches his zenith just after noon. Once they do, they'd see a figure poorly hidden among the ruins due east of their site, wearing mostly white to ward off the heat but with a sash of red around the waist. Metal glints at their side, but it is difficult to identify from this distance .