The Court reunited, there are a few directions to go. In the courtyard, there are tarnished bronze gates to the west and east, both hanging open. In the foyer open archways reveal rooms to the north, east, and west.
leads into what was once a lush garden. leads into a parlor with a staircase leading up to the second floor. leads into an inner courtyard, open to the sky through the second floor. leads into the baths. leads into the servants' yard. Where does the Court go first?
So how's your day going, Luke?
Not too great, Luke, thanks for asking. First, ghosties took up residence in my brainbox like cats in a damn hamper, and I think I might be hearing voices.
That's unfortunate, Luke.
Real unfortunate. Then the group's resident oddball - an achievement in this ragtag crew! - turns out out to be not just some weirdo who carries out one-sided conversations with a dusty skull...
Well, that's nice...
... but rather a simple necromancer!
... From the lion's den to the dragon's lair, eh?
That about summed it up, yeah. The Taldan made no attempt at hiding his dismay at seeing the scattered bones reassemble themselves like so many jigsaw pieces. Brow furrowed, he lifted his foot for a thighbone clattering its way across the floor. There was good reason to be skeptical of Senemheb's display, of course. Necromancy didn't have the most positive reputation, especially among the common folk. And Luke was nothing if not common.
Even so, his practical side had to admit there was a certain appeal in battling the undead with walking skeletons of one's own. It spoke to the ironic cynicism in him. "... Fighting fire with fire, huh?" The scoff that followed was wry, though no unamused. "As long as you can keep the thing under control, Sen..."
A shrug of the shoulders denoted the foreigner's reluctant acceptance of this necromantic tool. After all, he reasoned, who was he to judge? Being a self-professed tomb robber, Luke was in no position to condemn others' dodgy vocations. That would be the height of hypocrisy. As his conduct with the Pharasmins evidenced, he wasn't fond of hypocrisy.
If only he wasn't almost equally unfond of the undead.
Erk. Give me the creeps.
Turning away from said creepy skeleton, he joined the cleric in examining the shriveled garden. "What's up? You seeing something out here?"
Djehuti joins Djedefre and Luke by the entrance to the garden.
"Is this... Something else you've animated?" He points at the skull that Senemheb is holding.
"Animated? No. But related." Senemheb pats the satchel where the skull now lies. The work has now been done, and he doesn't have the patience to listen to the old man's yapping. Luckily the thick leather is quite soundproof.
"And he's the one raising the skeleton, so unfortunately I cannot give any details how it's done." he gives an apologetic shrug to Djehuti. "But we've done this before. It will obey me."
And as to prove the words, the skeleton starts its slow march towards the garden. For a moment, Senemheb just watches it's stride, and then follows it.
"Do you see anything in there?" he asks the others.
Peering through the open gates, the Court sees the western courtyard. It has an L shape, turning up to the north, mostly given to sand, sun-dried earth, and the ancient husks of dead trees. Stone benches line the walls of the yard, and a large tiled pool sits in the southwest corner, dried and partially filled with sand. A short flight of steps leads between a pair of pillars to a set of stone doors in the west side of the house. At the north end of the yard stands a squat stone building with columns at every corner.
Djehuti notes that the garden was probably designed to hold trees and flowering bushes. The weathered benches would have allowed the house's inhabitants to sit and bask in either shade or sun while surrounded by lush and well-tended flora.
Djehuti shifts their gaze over to the tracks and tells the group anything they recall.
Djedefre manages to determine that the tracks lead up to the dried out pond in the southwestern corner. Djehuti, studying the tracks and their size, is certain this is a giant centipede of some sort.
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No sooner had Luke voiced his hope that the bone whisperer could keep his unholy abomination under control than selfsame admitted he wasn't even sure how the magic worked. Worse still, the one running the show was supposedly his pet skull, an assertion the Taldan didn't know what to make of. Was that dusty death's head even anything more than a morbid bauble? If so, Senemheb was apparently surrendering the control of undead to... other undead? If not, the guy was crazier than a parliament of goblins. Luke might not be the only one hearing voices...
Either way, his confidence in this whole scheme plummeted like a lead anchor. Still - one had to laugh at the absurdity. "Hells below, Sen." The chuckle was dry as the withered courtyard. "An undead to govern your other undead? As if middle management wasn't unholy enough."
Seemingly serious though it all was, the young man thought he could afford the humor, or so he hoped. After all, even if the skeleton should go berserk on them, one such was a manageable threat, especially as a group. Just had to keep a close eye on it. And if nothing else, Senemheb had certainly earned the chance to prove this madcap idea.
Besides, they might have more immediate concerns to contend with.
"Look here; insectoid tracks of some type. Does anyone know what might have made them?"
"I'd wager an insect." The bright eyes glancing over the manifold tracks were a bit too innocent to be anything other than sarcastic. "Maybe a big insect."
Far from maligning anyone, this was merely the foreigner's world weary cynicism at work. Of course some hideous bug was lying in wait for them here. Why should anything ever be easy? Sword drawn, he stepped further into the garden, boots crunching carefully over the sand. Hopefully this went better than the last time he took point.
Jolánka, who's kept silent as the group has reconvened and recovered, gasps and traces the spiral when she witnesses Senemheb's newly revealed skills.
"Necromancy?!" she yelps. Then when he indicates his satchel, her panic shifts to confusion. "You have a necromancer in a bag?"
As they move on she says "We'll have words about this later...hopefully amiable ones."
Djehuti replies to Luke off-handedly as the elf keeps their place by the garden entrance while the tougher team members advance. "They're not insects, incidentally. Different classification. Like how spiders aren't insects."
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Djehuti replies to Luke off-handedly as the elf keeps their place by the garden entrance while the tougher team members advance. "They're not insects, incidentally. Different classification. Like how spiders aren't insects."
Djedefre blinks and tells Luke, "He's smart. I just know many of the creeping creatures of Osirion are deadly."
As Luke treads forward, a horrid scraping announces the rousing of the source of the tracks. An elephantine centipede rises from the pool and rears up to hiss and clack at the Court.
The centipede rushes forward, taking a bite at Luke, being the closest. Its bite sinks through the clothing and armor, and Luke feels something being pumped into his bloodstream.
"You have a necromancer in a bag?"
"Just a dead one." Senemheb shrugs, and almost lets the matter be. But then decides otherwise. "And let me be clear. Grandfather Rashid was a scholar, an adventurer, and perhaps a necromancer. But now he is dead. Not undead. Merely dead." he wags his finger at Luke on top the lecture.
"And I am merely... OOHH - IT'S HUGE!" whatever Senemheb's train of thought was, the appearance of the giant centipede drove that away.
First instinct is to direct the newly raised skeleton to lead the assault. And while the undead slowly approaches the centipede, Senemheb catches up quickly and draws his heavy blade to strike the enemy.
"Spiders aren't insects? What are you on about? Of course they are! Next you'll be telling us tomatoes aren't vegetab...!"
The young man fell mute mid syllable as something even more egregious than the scholarly elf's affront to common wisdom - difficult as this might be to believe - demanded all attention. Indeed, the colossal centipede that rushed their way from the dried pool was an affront to the eyes! Stavian's fire, what was this monstrosity?! Luke had anticipated more of those dog-sized arthropods - plenty big enough themselves! - not some squirming nightmare fit to constrict an elephant.
Worse still, while its bulk was beyond measure, the beast apparently had all the speed of its smaller cousins. In an instance it was upon them. Specifically, the pincer-like mouth was on and even within the Taldan.
"Grah!" he cried as wriggling talons the learned types like Djehuti might be able to inform him were called forcipules dug into his flesh. What needn't be said, however, was what these carried. Luke was plebian enough to be familiar with centipedes, and cynical enough to guess this overgrown variant was at least as venomous too.
Knowing no way out but going further in, the foreigner gritted his teeth and stepped up to the beastie, pursuing its undulating head even as it retreated with his blood trailing the mandibles. He had no idea whether he was poisoned or not, but that was a question for when this thing lay dead!
"Whiptail centipede," Djehuti calls out. "Venomous, and with a very long reach! Watch for its tail, it will try to trip you!"
As they're reciting interesting (non-)insect facts, the elf's pale eyes seem to glow behind their smoked glass spectacles and the shadows pooled at their feet (against the prevailing light of day) stretch out 30 feet across the dusty courtyard toward the centipede. The shadow's reaching arms slip under the giant arthropod and grab the centipede's shadow, wrestling it to try to hold it in place. The elf casting the shadow, meanwhile, hasn't moved a muscle.
The centipede lashed out at the skeleton, destroying it instantly. However, its distraction allowed Senemheb, Amal, and Luke to rip and tear into the vermin as Djehuti's shadow trap held it in place. It was over in seconds, despite its size. As the dust settled, the Court assessed their wounds. Luke had grit his teeth and the carrion-eater's venom didn't take hold .
There is nothing else of note in the gardens but dust and dead flora.
"You have a necromancer in a bag?"
"Just a dead one." Senemheb shrugs, and almost lets the matter be. But then decides otherwise. "And let me be clear. Grandfather Rashid was a scholar, an adventurer, and perhaps a necromancer. But now he is dead. Not undead. Merely dead." he wags his finger at Luke on top the lecture.
"And I am merely... OOHH - IT'S HUGE!" whatever Senemheb's train of thought was, the appearance of the giant centipede drove that away.
Jolánka jumps at Senemheb's warning of danger and watches as he and the others take it down swiftly.
"Do you require assistance with the healing, Djedefre?" she asks. She also turns back to Senemheb. "Thank you. I should have been paying closer attention."
Djedefre confirms Luke isn't poisoned, marveling at the Taldan's resistance to venom and manners. Otherwise, Luke is good as new. Djedefre also finds no traps leading into the parlor.
Stepping into the parlor, Djedefre first notes the large staircase climbing to the second floor from this room. Sand and dust cover the floor, and painted columns stand in all but one of the corners. Pieces of broken wood, shattered pottery, and disintegrating fabric litter the room’s perimeter.
The second thing he notes is the hot and fetid breeze caress the back of his neck. However, nothing seems to follow that discomforting sensation.
Was there some hitherto unknown link between the aristocracy and centipedes, Luke had to wonder? Because as it happened, both bled blue. One and the same in being vermin, certainly. He wiped the ichor, whatever it was, from his blade. The last death spasms were still passing through what remained of the giant monstrosity, and when you had what looked like a million legs, that made for a lot of spasms.
"Tidy work, people," he huffed, still catching his breath. It was true; the beast had gone down in remarkably efficient manner, far quicker than he'd feared. Perhaps there was truth in that whole "the bigger they are, the harder they fall" phrase.
Though on the topic of falling, Senemheb's recently risen abomination had shattered like so much porcelain at first contact with the centipede, one sweep sending bone fragments raining all over the yard. It had at least served as a decent distraction: the rest of them had been able to get up close and personal thanks to the doubly deceased. "Are condolences in order?" the Taldan asked the maybe-necromaner. "Not sure what's custom when the one biting the dust is already dead..."
At least that settled the issue of spelunking with the undead for now. No undead, no issue. Well, until Sen animated one of the other two skeletons still more or less whole.
"I believe I have resolved the physical damage but I don't know if the centipede injected venom into Luke."
"Eh, I feel fine." Luke made a measured swing of the arm as he took stock of his own facilities while the cleric applied another round of curatives. He could only conclude that the venom hadn't taken hold. Maybe the giant bug was like one of those overpriced, fancy taverns: showy glassware, but weak drink... "Hey, where are you going, friar?" The young man interrupted his own thoughts at seeing the aasimar go back into the house.
"We were just in that haunted mansion. Went out to check the perimeter and now we're going back in? What are we investigatin' first? Make a decision." Despite the light grumbling, he was quick enough to follow. "Going in and out like damn cats..."
Head buried in their notebook scribbling notes, Djehuti absently follows Djedefre into the house. "It does make you wonder what lives around here that's big enough to support such large vermin. Oh that reminds me...!" The elf suddenly slams their notebook shut and drops it to hang from their belt as they scrabble to withdraw something from their backpack.
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"Are condolences in order?" the Taldan asked the maybe-necromaner. "Not sure what's custom when the one biting the dust is already dead..."
"It was a tool, no more. No need to shed tears when they break." Although having an undead servant for slightly longer could have been useful. On the other hand, what the centipede did to the skeleton could have happened to Senemheb. Better this way.
"It served it's purpose. It took the hit for me.Senemheb watches Djedefre tend the Taldan, who seems to have escaped the monster without greater harm. "You seem to be a strong man, Luke, to withstand the monster's venom. Or is it what passes for food in the north that makes you immune to lesser poisons?"
He considers going back to raise another skeleton, but since he sensed some hostility from his companions on necromantic practices he decides to wait and see what the future holds. Casting a final look on the broken bones of his late servant, he sighs and follows the cleric into the parlor.
Stepping in, he immediately notices a glint of silver amongst the rubble, and moves to investigate closer. One treasure leads to another, and it seems there is still some valuables left in here.
"Oh, look at these... I think this one might be magical, even" Senemheb picks up the ring, and presents it to the spellcasters.
As Senemheb offers up the ring from his kneeling position, the scene around the parlor shifts akin to a mirage's veil. In a blink, the Court finds themselves as shadows in a renovated and well-furnished version of the parlor, as the muted sounds of wailing and mourning is carried on the hot dry wind outside.
In the center of the vision, a young man clasps the hands of a young woman, both handsome and of good breeding and social standing. They speak Ancient Osiriani, as some of you might know by learning it yourselves, but even Luke can understand what they say.
"I am so sorry, beloved." The young man's face is crestfallen. "I cannot find the ring I bought anywhere. I just had it!"
The woman places her palm on the man's cheek. "It is alright, darling." Her voice is quiet, devoted, but slightly hesitant. "It is not the right time to tell my family of us anyway."
"Come away with me, Ariseti!" The young man is desperate, fearful. "Across the river, where we can be safe!"
"Not yet, darling. My father assures us we will be safe here. You go, be safe for me. When this plague has passed, come back for me. We can announce our engagement then, when all is well."
She pauses, then moves the hand on his cheek to his forehead. Her brow furrows with concern. "Are you feeling well? You are burning up!"
The scene shimmers and returns to the dusty ruins initially seen by the Court.
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Djedefre gasps and tells the others, "I don't know if it's connected but I felt a hot and fetid breeze caress the back of my neck when I entered. Perhaps it's connected to the vision? I'd better write this down before I forget!"
Djedefre writes down the scene the Vulture Court witnessed in the hopes of learning more information later.
"We'll see if the historical records know anything of Ariseti. Oh my this vase looks quite valuable!"
"It was a tool, no more. No need to shed tears when they break." Although having an undead servant for slightly longer could have been useful. On the other hand, what the centipede did to the skeleton could have happened to Senemheb. Better this way.
"It served it's purpose. It took the hit for me.
Jolánka grimaces a bit at Senemheb's words. She didn't even know where those...remains...had come from to be conjured into undead, even if only temporarily. But treating the dead as tools was necromancer talk to her. Even if Senemheb himself seemed uninterested in the dark secrets of those arts beyond their utility in protecting himself in the short term, it was...unbecoming. But she keeps her mouth shut. Now was not the time to begin more arguments and it didn't look like he (or the skull, or whatever was doing this magic) could do much blasphemous magic anyway.
As the scene of the past unfolds before them, she takes out her tome and begins taking notes alongside Djedefre.
"Another residual haunting," she comments. "One of a doomed love, it looks like."
"You seem to be a strong man, Luke, to withstand the monster's venom. Or is it what passes for food in the north that makes you immune to lesser poisons?"
Was it some deep-seated emotional issue or plain machismo that rendered the young man so hostile to compliments? Whatever the case, as had been demonstrated before, he responded far better to honest critique or crude humour than he did kindness. Senemheb's little barb proved no exception. An amused snort escaped the straight nose. "Oh hello, Pot. Name's Kettle. Have we met?"
It struck him that this particular idiom might not translate across the Inner Sea, only to realize he didn't really care. Luke was picking up the local cant well enough; why not educate the natives in turn? "That's rich coming from the land of boiled cow trotters, fish cooked by burying it in sand, and that darn fermented camel milk." The Taldan had been treated to more supposed 'delicacies' than he cared for in his voyage through Osirion's inns. Of course, what he hadn't realized was how their proprietors had treated the lout to the more acquired tastes merely to see the rude foreigner squirm.
Yet even in downing enough jellied cow hooves to shoe the giant centipede would Luke ever defend his own home country's food culture. While decadent Taldor might consider itself the height of refinement, its haute cuisine could charitably be described as... inimitable. So much gold garnish...
All thought of food was rather put aside at the haunted house flexing its incorporeal muscles, however. The sudden vision had the young man more than a little spooked, looking in every direction for ghostly assailants as the surroundings returned to their dilapidated state. He didn't like ghosts. Beasties out for one's guts he could defend against. Ghosts that went straight for one's brainbox? Not a lot a bloke with a sword could do about that. "Great," he grumbled, "Star-crossed sweethearts whose love extends beyond the Boneyard... Way to put the romance in necromancy. Be real cute if we weren't caught between their spectral tryst."
Honestly, it was almost enough to put a treasure hunter off evaluating all this silverware they came across. Almost.
Hesitant as Luke felt about handling what might be haunted items, he couldn't help but note the state of the first person to touch these. "You alright, Sen? Looking a little flushed."
In tandem with the ghostly woman touching her beloved's forehead, Senemheb touches his.
"I.. uhh..." Heavily breathing he leans to a wall to take support to stay up. The silvery trinkets almost slide out from his hands as he struggles to keep his fist closed.
"I don't... feel too well."
He slides down and collapses to the floor. Face turning a shade of red, he hastily removes his headwear to cool down.
"And the fish..." his voice is already raspy, turning into a whisper. "...we don't really eat it. Just.."
"...feed to foreigners."
"Let's step out of the room for a few minutes and let the spirits settle." Djehuti is frantically scribbling down their recollection of the ghostly scene to make sure they don't forget the details. As they finish, they look up and notice Senemheb's sudden sickness. "Yes, let's leave the ghosts to rest for a few moments. Amal or Luke, could you help bring him out here?" The elf heads for the door, not intending to go far, just out of the room.
Jolánka starts swinging her tome around awkwardly, attempting to fan Senemheb with the bulky book as best she can.
"I'm feeling a bit better, thank you." Senemheb says. He sounds still weary but clearly getting better.
"Well, for now," the foreigner chimed in, voice light with levity and brow heavy with concern. "Once we get back to the Tooth & Hookah you really will be sick. 'Cause we're spending this loot there buying nothing but fermented fish. And I'm gonna make sure you eat till you puke, you skunk."
He gave the shoulder he'd been supporting a comradely thump in letting go, Amal and himself propping the stricken man from each side.