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Holding out his arm to block his companions he hisses, "STOP!"
He then points out the details of the trap to the others, "We've located at least one method to protect Akhentepi's tomb. But there's also some good news."
Djedefre asks Luke and the others to confirm, "I don't see any signs the layers of dust and fine sand have been disturbed. No one made it past this point into Akhentepi's burial site."
Jolánka jumps a bit at Djedefre's warning, but then breathes a sigh of relief when she realizes the rubbing wasn't ruined. After he points out the trap to her, she makes a disturbed face and steps away from the wall.
"As much pity as I have for the poor skeleton back there, at least their failure means this exploration may prove fruitful yet," she comments.
"As much pity as I have for the poor skeleton back there, at least their failure means this exploration may prove fruitful yet."
The stubbly mouth couldn't help but twist into a grin at this comment. "Why, how positively opportunistic of you, dame. Cynical even!" Luke drawled in faux outrage, mirroring Taldan polite society as a funfair's house of mirrors might, which was to say very unflatteringly indeed, before going on in his usual baritone. "We'll make a grave robber out of you yet."
He was ribbing her, of course. No one was more pleased to know their exploratory predecessors here had likely failed than himself, sympathy be damned. Heck, the young man felt just a bit vindicated if anything. Screw Osirion's dead misers in their overly fancy tombs, hoarding wealth and luring future generations to their demise. Yes yes, he conceded Djehuti's points in their defense yesterday, but surely the poor sod with the broken legs proved his? These petty death traps that served as tombs to fat cats like this Akhentepi were disasters in the waiting. The 40 ft. drop was just the start. Mark his words, they'd encounter more elaborate obstacles before they finished prying the war leader's headdress of his dumb, cadaverous head.
Cynically, Luke was almost pleased when Djedefre confirmed his suspicions the very next moment. Right up until he remembered that they were the ones who had to navigate the lethal traps.
"So there is," he replied to the aasimar, lifting his torch high and squinting into the dim hall as the latter pointed out the particulars of the snare. "Those peepers really are blessed, huh?"
Finding a trap was only half the battle, however. Now came the ever tricky task of eluding it. And the Taldan thought he had an idea in this case. "That tile right there?" he queried Djedefre in pointing out the specific pressure plate to avoid. Pulling off his hefty backpack, he then made a few experimental swings with it... before tossing it down the hallway.
Ancient Osirion's architects had been an impressive lot. Building some sort of dart launcher into these walls was a sophisticated bit of building. But it was Luke's guess that they surely weren't sophisticated enough to reload themselves once expended.
Notebook in hand, Djehuti watches with interest as Luke's backpack goes sailing down the passageway. "I am glad to be here with experienced explorers," the elf says from behind the front line.
"Yes, best stay clear of the corridor." Senemheb take a couple backward steps as Luke starts throwing his backpack.
Luke's pack arches down the hall to land on the slight depress in the floor. A grinding click and whirl later and the holes hidden along the corridor fire a volley of darts dense enough that nowhere in the hall would have been safe. The metallic darts clatter to the lightly dusted floor with a tinny ringing, preserved by the dry atmosphere and bearing no sign of rust or dulling. The heavy pack keeps the triggering mechanism depressed, so there is no sound or sign of the trap rearming.
"As much pity as I have for the poor skeleton back there, at least their failure means this exploration may prove fruitful yet."The stubbly mouth couldn't help but twist into a grin at this comment. "Why, how positively opportunistic of you, dame. Cynical even!" Luke drawled in faux outrage, mirroring Taldan polite society as a funfair's house of mirrors might, which was to say very unflatteringly indeed, before going on in his usual baritone. "We'll make a grave robber out of you yet."
"Don't get your hopes too high," Jolánka replied with a roll of the eyes. "I'm just grateful that they didn't get an opportunity to destroy anything of historical value further in with the characteristic carelessness the average tomb raider develops the moment they spot something shiny. The sheer amount of broken pottery I've seen in some places..." she trails off, clearly revisiting an unpleasant memory.
She watches as Luke harmlessly activates the trap and picks up one of the spent darts, looking closely at it.
"Still sharp and surprisingly free of rust. Akhentepi, or his family, clearly spared no expense on security. Good work, Luke."
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Peeking to see what the aftermath of the trap looks like he says to Amal, "I will check again. I think every Osirion has heard tales about thinking there's only one trap and then the person finding out they were wrong - the hard way."
To Jolánka he says, "Indeed it's such a tragedy to lose that much history, heritage, culture, and knowledge just for a few coin."
Looking at Luke he concludes, "Some things are priceless."
"I would hope with that amount of darts shooting out, someone needs to fill them up before the trap could trigger again."
Shielded by the logic of his thinking, Senemheb starts leading the way into the corridor.
"Let's proceed. Riches of the tomb await us."
"If people don't mind, I have some experience with mechanical devices like this. I could make sure it is deactivated before we proceed?" The elf pats a small toolkit hung from their belt. "It won't take too long. We should not be in a rush. Getting out is just as important as getting in." Which is easy for an already century-old elf to say.
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[dice=Disable Device, just to make sure the dart reservoir is empty?]1d20+9
"If people don't mind, I have some experience with mechanical devices like this. I could make sure it is deactivated before we proceed?" The elf pats a small toolkit hung from their belt. "It won't take too long. We should not be in a rush. Getting out is just as important as getting in." Which is easy for an already century-old elf to say.
"Agreed. Danger is easy to walk into, difficult to walk out - hopefully alive and unharmed. I'll gladly wait while you attempt to deactivate any traps."
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"I hope you were not transporting oil or water in that thing."
"What, like this?" A slovenly sloshing was heard from the russet, little flask Luke shook in his hand demonstrably. Even corked a sulphurous stink like a cornugon's breath wafted from it. "Give me some credit, kid. Took out anything like that before tossing the pack. I'm not so stupid as to..."
A wet sheen glimmered bright down the trapped hall, the reflection of his torch. The dusty stone floor had been treated to a small gallon of water. While the Taldan had remembered to retrieve any fragile equipment of note, he had overlooked his waterskin. "...Dammit."
Looking at Luke he concludes, "Some things are priceless."
"We don't know the same fences," a none too pleased foreigner replied in pulling a dart free from his backpack, now soaked and worse for wear. As long as there were amoral merchants and bigwigs with more money than sense, everything had a price. So as far as he was concerned, things were worth whatever buyers were willing to pay for them, and grimy pottery with history did not command the same price as shiny gold with history.
Let's see about finding some. Luke looked up from his pack to the doors at the end of the hallway.
Djehuti sets to work disarming this trap. The elf wedges a spare piton or two into place, keeping the pressure plate from rising and rearming the darts. Further investigation suggests there is an ingenious mechanism within the walls to reload the dart launchers, though without cracking open the bas relief there is no way of knowing how many volleys are contained within.
Opening the heavy but unstuck doors the party finds themselves in a foyer of sorts, with doors to the north and south. The western wall is covered by a faded and slightly weathered tapestry depicting a middle aged Akhentepi, a beautiful woman, and two handsome but young boys.
Flanking the tapestry are two small pedestals each bearing a mummified cat, each wearing a collar over their preserving wrappings bearing small, intricate golden symbols.
"Interesting. It looks like we will learn the entire story of Akhentepi's life if we continue all the way to the general's crypt." Djehuti translates the ancient hieroglyphics out loud as they transcribe them into their notes.
They continue to speak their observations out loud as they write in their notebook while traveling further down the hallway. "The hieroglyphs seem to confirm some tragedy befell Akhentepi's family. Unfortunately, any glyphs or writing that would state what that tragedy was has either faded or was possibly nibbled by insects."
"Due to the premature death of his family, it seems they were buried elsewhere, while this grand tomb was constructed well into or after Akhentepi's successful military career."
"The northern cat wears a miniature holy symbol of Bastet on its collar and the southern one the holy symbol of Anubis."
"I hope you were not transporting oil or water in that thing.""What, like this?" A slovenly sloshing was heard from the russet, little flask Luke shook in his hand demonstrably. Even corked a sulphurous stink like a cornugon's breath wafted from it. "Give me some credit, kid. Took out anything like that before tossing the pack. I'm not so stupid as to..."
A wet sheen glimmered bright down the trapped hall, the reflection of his torch. The dusty stone floor had been treated to a small gallon of water. While the Taldan had remembered to retrieve any fragile equipment of note, he had overlooked his waterskin. "...Dammit."
"Worry not, I can conjure water from the aether, pure and clean," Jolánka says. "It was one of the first spells I sought to learn when I took up Osirionology, knowing that running out of water in the desert is almost a guarantee of death."
She reads along with Djehuti as they translate the hieroglyphs.
"Tomb robbers aren't the only destructive force in places like these. Vermin can get in even easier, and they can't be reasoned with," she comments gloomily.
The mummified pets, however, make her eyes light up.
"I've always wanted to see one of these in its original resting place! There's something about seeing these in a glass case that makes it feel clinical, detached. These were beloved pets, so much so that Akhentepi could not bear to be separated from them by death!"
She begins sketching the mummies eagerly.
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Amal can barely make out some words that ring a very distant bell from lessons in school, plague and tragedy being ones that any Wati children would have familiarised themselves with. He is glad to have Djehuti confirm that initial intuition. "I can't tell if that hieroglyph means a literal plague or a metaphorical one," he points at a symbol. "Most of the context is missing."
Aside from that, there is not much that Amal can gather about Akhentepi's life based on this room. The man liked his pets - though the sight of the tiny mummies make Amal wince. Poor sods were probably killed to be ritually buried with their masters.
As for the family portrait, there was little to say about it, save that Amal suspected that the tradition of men marrying younger women might have existed for a very, very long time indeed.
They gladly accept an alchimist's fire from Luke. "It's better if they don't go in the backpack," he states tactfully.
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"Hrmh. 'Great woe befell the house' and some such, huh? Yeah, join the club, buddy."
Less than cultured though he might be, the foreigner demonstrated some aptitude for ancient hieroglyphs, apparently gathering the gist of them in the sort of dismissive glance over one's shoulder others might deign a bawdy tavern sign. Of which his favourites included The Lady's Legs, famed for always being open; The Half-Pint, staffed entirely by halflings; and The Dirty Oar, a port dive in Cassomir which had evaded the city's obscenity laws for years.
None of which he would ever partake in again unless the group found something of worth down here. And on that topic: "Beloved pets, you say?"
Luke joined Jolánka in looking over the mummified cats. The gleam in his eyes was of a significantly more material bent than the scholarly young woman's, however. Bespoke work, he thought. Artisanal too, with both historical and - the golden symbols gleamed beneath his torch - monetary value. Surely the right buyer would pay a fair price for these?
Something to keep in mind. For now the Taldan let the twin pets be. Once the group had fully explored the tomb, they would have a better idea of what was worth bringing with them. It was on this note that he looked to the dark hallways stretching opposite directions. "Anyone have a preference here?" he queried in turning south.
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"If you want," Amal gladly lets Djehuti make extra sure that the trap is disarmed.
They turn to Djedefre: "You should stay in the front while we explore, considering that you have the best sight out of all of us. How come you see so well in the darkness?"
"It is a gift from a celestial ancestor of mine from many years ago."
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Just barely missing out on what the hieroglyphics mean Djedefre asks Amal and Djehuti for assistance in learning how to properly read the ancient language of his forebears.
Learning more from Djehuti, he comments "Remember the warning about Anubis from the entry? Perhaps there's something more to these cats."
To Luke, "I can also create water if we need it. I won't let you go without."
To Jolánka, "The cats might be beloved pets but they may serve other purposes. Gifts or offerings to those deities?"
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"Hopefully Akhentepi's journey down the River of Souls was free of rats, with these two travelling along." Senemheb takes a closer look at the mummified cats, but soon loses interest in them.
So far, nothing out of place here. More or less exactly as he has read about the burial customs of his ancestors.
He peers into the hallways leading onwards - first to the north, then to south. But the flickering light from the torch doesn't reveal anything to make a one better than the other.
"I do not know if the cats are pointing at the path or not. But since we were warned about Anubis, perhaps we should head for Bastet instead. So North would by my choice."
"Hopefully Akhentepi's journey down the River of Souls was free of rats, with these two travelling along."
It was all the foreigner could do to stop himself remarking how some very real household was deprived two cats just so this general guy didn't have to suffer imaginary rats in the afterlife. Really now, tokens of respect though the two mummified felines were no doubt intended as, the gesture was just plain silly. Also more than a little morbid. One would think one cadaver enough for any funeral. The line of thought behind the two little mummies could get darker still as well. Although he hadn't seen proof of such claims, it was this same logic that fuelled stories of the rich and powerful taking more than mere pets with them to their graves. Some spoke of servants, even spouses, joining bigwigs in death. And not all willingly.
Yet Luke held his tongue. No reason to antagonize anyone, especially in the thick of it as they were now. Besides, distasteful as the practice was to him, the Taldan was happy to benefit from it: calloused fingers snuck their way beneath the decorative collars, lifting them from the desiccated necks.
Still, this whole death fixation of Osirion's... It didn't sit right with him. Plain creepy.
"Yeah, alright," he replied to Senemheb, stowing away the chokers. "You might be on to something. Which is to say that sounds obtuse as anything, but then that'd fit here. North it is."
Turning from the southern hallway, Luke's tentative feet walked down its mirrored opposite, torch held high and eyes keen for more traps.
Just barely missing out on what the hieroglyphics mean Djedefre asks Amal and Djehuti for assistance in learning how to properly read the ancient language of his forebears.
Djehuti happily instructs Djedefre- and anyone else, for that matter- in what the hieroglyphics mean. "Always glad to help, my friend."
Learning more from Djehuti, he comments "Remember the warning about Anubis from the entry? Perhaps there's something more to these cats."
The elf with the nearly white eyes nods. "Perhaps. I appreciate your caution. It serves us well."
"Please leave the collars and cats alone - for now. We'll ask if we're permitted to remove them with the proper authorities. Wouldn't want to get in trouble on our first day yes?"
Djehuti keeps looking down at the notebook, scribbling something as they respond to the developing situation. That seems to be a habit of theirs, to hide their eyes when they want to avoid confrontation. "I believe the Ruby Prince's intent is for items to be removed from the structures, my friend. This is designed to boost Wati's economy, after all. And the Third Rule- Honor The Departed- seems to anticipate us needing to move remains. Remember Marwanun said if we need to disturb the interred to receive a relic or antiquity, simply make sure to replace their remains with care."
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Just barely missing out on what the hieroglyphics mean Djedefre asks Amal and Djehuti for assistance in learning how to properly read the ancient language of his forebears.Djehuti happily instructs Djedefre- and anyone else, for that matter- in what the hieroglyphics mean. "Always glad to help, my friend."
Djehuti keeps looking down at the notebook, scribbling something as they respond to the developing situation. That seems to be a habit of theirs, to hide their eyes when they want to avoid confrontation. "I believe the Ruby Prince's intent is for items to be removed from the structures, my friend. This is designed to boost Wati's economy, after all. And the Third Rule- Honor The Departed- seems to anticipate us needing to move remains. Remember Marwanun said if we need to disturb the interred to receive a relic or antiquity, simply make sure to replace their remains with care."Nodding at Djehuti, "Fair point. I was being cautious since these were religious items. I don't want a curse brought upon any of us. Should we bring the cats with us as well?"
The doors swing openly with minimal scrape or undue noise, revealing a steep staircase going down to another set of doors. Opening these reveals a display room of sorts. A brightly painted chariot sits in the center of this chamber. Beyond the chariot, a large canvas stretches between two stone columns. The skins of several animals—antelopes, great cats, and crocodiles—now faded and deteriorated with age, are tacked to this canvas. A wooden chest, lacquered white and trimmed with gold inlay, sits in the southeast corner. In each corner of the room a small stone shield is molded into the masonry at shoulder height. An open hallway leads east into another section of the long display room.
The chariot is a light model of its kind, meant for one person either for racing or skilled warfaring drivers. It, along with the skins on the canvas, have suffered the ravages of time. However, the chariot could be restored or sold as is as an art piece of antiquity. However, it must have been dissembled, brought in piece meal, and then reassembled in its current resting place and would have to be taken apart to be removed from the tomb.
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Nodding at Djehuti, "Fair point. I was being cautious since these were religious items. I don't want a curse brought upon any of us. Should we bring the cats with us as well?"
Djehuti shakes their head. "I would consider those remains. Let us just be respectful and leave them be."
"Oh my...it's like stepping into a museum as Djehuti and Jolánka said! I must take sketches in case we can't remove the chariot safely."
Djedefre retrieves his journal, ink, and ink pen to take notes, sketch a primitive map, and write down translated versions of any hieroglyphics Djehuti provides.
Djehuti is awestruck by the beautiful, if rather aged, display room. "This is exactly what we were sent here to find!" The elf walks carefully around the room to make sure they see everything, keeping a safe distance from the displays and their hands busy writing everything down.
"Beautiful," they say of the brightly painted chariot, and "Hunting trophies," as they catalog the animal skins. "What an interesting chest," Djehuti says as they write down the description in their notebook.
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Djehuti shakes their head. "I would consider those remains. Let us just be respectful and leave them be."Nodding at Djehuti, "Fair point. I was being cautious since these were religious items. I don't want a curse brought upon any of us. Should we bring the cats with us as well?"
"Normally I would agree but I asked for two reasons. First we don't know who else will enter the tomb now that we've opened it. Second I don't know if the authorities are interested in how creatures were mummified."
Djedefre finds the chest a marvelous find but the lock is trapped with a poisoned blade that will attempt to strike anyone who picks the lock. While breaking the chest open might avoid the trap, it will ruin the value of the chest and might destroy anything held within, as the chest is rather delicate.