Arthur G's page

That's an idea. There's a money changer in town. Let's say we pocket the gold and platinum and dump the rest over there to exchange it all to gold? That's 585 gp we're missing out on otherwise, minus whatever such a service costs us.

EDIT: Made a post where we do just that. Sorry. Ignore or undo if this doesn't fit somehow or you disagree, seriously. It's just that the whole money business was taking far too long.

He remembered it being so big. Just impossibly immense. But then of course he had; they had all been so small. Kade looked at the ruin that used to be the fearsome Witch Tower, and recalled his earliest memory with the monolith.

Whispered shouting. That's what he remembered. They had been less than kids, children, and the Witch Tower had been more than a building. In their minds, expansive and enormous as only the minds of children can be, the Witch Tower was dread manifested in masonry. They'd all heard the stories. The ghosts. The monsters. The witch. Every scary bed time story, every urban legend, every cautionary boogeyman they had heard in their short lives, it all lead back to this place. This tower. This impossible tower where every brick was a fresh fear. Little Menas, tall for his age, swore that the mortar was made with the ground-up teeth of bad children. And they could all swear that the tower reached up for miles. The embodiment of everything evil, that's what the tower had been.
Gods, they had been so little.

Whispered shouting. None of them dared to speak, lest the tower woke, but shout they must because something had to be done. Kade couldn't recall how many they were. More than a few, all standing there under the great shadow of the obelisk, all of them pink and tiny and so very, very young. Little Susán was tiniest of all and it was for her that they were there. Because little Susán was missing a sock.
From what they could gather in between her great big sobs, an older boy had run off with her stocking. He had run off towards the Witch Tower, put a rock in the sock, and then lobbed it at the accursed fortress. The little thing was inconsolable and soon enough she had attracted the sympathetic ears that now surrounded her. Her tiny foot was still uncovered, however, because even though the stocking was perfectly visible from where they stood, retrieving it meant going near the tower. And going near the tower was quite impossible. You might as well ask a child to enter a nightmare. If it didn't swallow them, their parents would; they weren't supposed to be even this near the tower. Every child in Belhaim knew this. If the feelings the structure inspired in every fearful heart string wasn't enough, then the knowledge of their guardian's ire was; no child would go near the Witch Tower.

And yet their visceral little child minds wouldn't let them leave. The sock remained. Proof of their transgression was right there for all to see. It had to be retrieved. And so the scrawny little Killough boy stepped from the group to do just that. The whispered shouting stopped, but the group did not let a collective gasp replace it; they dared not. The lanky child was invoking every calamity, every curse in the whole wide world upon him by walking so near the manifested nightmare-scape that was the tower. Little Menas thought him brave for it. The rest thought him mad and neither was the truth. Kade Killough had been afraid. As afraid as anyone suspecting to be snatched away into infinite blackness at a moment's notice should be. In truth he was mightily glad that he had relieved himself not too long ago; had he not they would all be able to see his fear on his trousers. But he did it any way. He did it any way, because even at that age Kade Killough did what was right, damn it. It was madness, perhaps. He was too young to understand what drove him to slowly walk up to the tower, kneel, pick up the sock, and turn back. It would be many years before he was able to formulate the need to do right; that to give up on one's morals was to betray the self.

Little Susán didn't want the sock. She just didn't want it near the tower. The effort might have been thought pointless for ever-silent Kade, if it wasn't for the fact that when the group dispersed he wasn't alone. Menas was still there, and Kade had made his first friend. The friend he would later sacrifice 10 years of his life for. The friend whose secret he still carried. The secret he could never tell anyone.

Kade looked at the utterly harmless ruin and ran a hand over his stubbly chin. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. Him being faithful to his oldest friends couldn't also be what prevented him from forming new friendships. It was too ironically cruel.

Finishing her own mouthful, she presses some of the food to Kade’s chest as she walks past him, moving with the group as they begin to make their way back towards the tunnel.

”Here, eat this. You need it,” she says, walking away before he can argue.

Yes ma'am.

There was no use in arguing. Cira seemed to have gotten a handle on working him, Kade noted with some concern. Selfless to a fault, he would refuse any pittance. He absolutely would not be a burden onto others; the idea horrified him. But shove a meal into his hands and suddenly the ball was in his court! Now exercising his selflessness required him chasing after the half-elf, bothering her to take back her charity. Thusly he would be negating that very selflessness in acting upon it! Truly a genius maneuver.
Kade smirked, both at Cira's thoughtfulness and his own absurdity. He opened his mouth to swallow some dried fruits and meat whole. The least he could do was finish the generous meal quickly. Cira really was... The heck was he eating? Some sort of honey sweetened pineapple-berry? Was this an elvish thing? It was pretty good.

Assuming that Francis warns the rest:

Kade held out the scintillating stick and, with the cleric's directions, managed to see the trip wire suspended across the first barricade. Was this a trap? If so it seemed downright quaint compared to the convoluted contraptions they had come across in the dungeon otherwise. This had to have been erected recently, by whoever carved out this tunnel. Kobolds?

Kade looked to the others and mimed throwing his torch at the thin thread. Should they release the trap and assume that some distance would protect them from whatever mechanism it released, or just try to bypass it altogether by stepping over the wire?

Don't know if any check is required for avoiding the trap now, but here's an Acrobatics check for the sake of expediency (and because wasting crits is a capital offense).
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Apologies for being absent the last two days. Busy period at work.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Is it... laughing?

Kade didn't know what the raven was, but he knew it was no bird. Birds didn't speak. Birds didn't live underground. Birds weren't magical, as Marcus had noted. And birds certainly didn't take enjoyment in the pain of others. It was this last detail that altered Kade Killough's ever-present resting frown into an antagonistic scowl. Insects were one thing; they operated by instinct. Ghosts were little better, with their warped minds. But a sentient being that enjoyed hurting others? That he did not take kindly to.

"You okay?" he asked the half-elf.

He wasn't sure if the question applied to her physical or mental condition. While he hadn't caught on fast enough to prevent Cira from sitting in the iron torture device, it was the slight strain of panic in her voice that really drew out a sharp twinge of sympathy. The mental invasion was apparently more distressing than the bodily harm. Seeing the chipper half-elf like this was less than pleasant.

Which was bad for the raven. Kade had decided that it was due something unpleasant in turn. It was a poor idea to target the ally of a man willing to endure 10 years behind bars for his friends, and Cira was more than an acquaintance to Kade. He walked past the half-elf and the dwarf and crouched at the bladed chair. He was checking to see whether it was bolted to the floor. Kade hoped that Francis and Marcus got their answers quick, because he intended to chuck the torture device at the raven's evil beaked face.
This was not anger. This was a deterrent against further aggression. It was an eye for an eye. It was poetic justice. And it was some extra reach for the unarmed guy about to start a fight with a winged enemy. How was it that one phrase went? Two birds with one stone?

Feel free to stop him or to just assume that him picking up the device takes as long as your questioning last. Not trying to be disruptive; I'll follow your lead. But if this turns into combat Kade's gonna smash a chair at this thing. Don't know what the weapon dice for it would be, Robogeisha, (d6? d8? there's a section on improvised weaponry) or if he takes damage from grabbing the thing but Kade grabs it regardless.

Inspecting these cells brought the oddest feeling of deja vu. Kade supposed that prison cells everywhere looked much alike, so there was no helping that. The whole architectural concept of 'square box' had pretty much been perfected already. Turning his back to the room, he wondered for a moment why the lighting had gotten brighter, only to realize that Cira the torch bearer had snuck up right next to him.

Gah!

The half-elf had gotten too close for Kade's interpersonal skills to handle once again. How did she do that? He managed to maintain his stoic facade this time though, just barely. However, the look on Cira's face immediately got him worried. She looked... troubled? Cira Illivar, troubled? She'd been nothing short of buoyant all he'd known her. Even with his impassive manners, she had always treated him well and although he had difficulty showing it Kade had great appreciation for anyone who managed to tolerate him, especially these days. Seeing Cira serious now just made him anxious.

”You okay? I just thought that being back in a prison, maybe...” She gave a small, one shoulder shrug, suddenly feeling very self conscious in bringing up such a personal subject. ”I’m sorry if that’s rude to bring up, I just… never mind.” She flashed a quick, awkward smile, then moved away from him, silently chiding herself for her odd behavior.

"Wh...?"

That's what preoccupied her? Here they were, deep underground, in a 200 year old dungeon presumably full of kobolds ready to ambush them just around the next corner, and she found it in her to ask the reserved thug about his feelings? Kade rarely knew what to say, but here he was truly lost.

"N-no! You're not being rude... You... Thank you."

Thank you? Yes, Kade did feel the need to express his thanks. This group, the party, had been the first people to treat him cordially since he returned to civilized society, and now Cira showed genuine consideration for his well-being. It was almost too much to handle. What in the world had he done to earn this?

"For asking, I mean."

When Kade had gone to prison he'd largely given up on making any new social ties for the rest of his life. This hadn't bothered him overly much, introvert that he was. He knew that he could manage just fine on his own; he was the type. But this one little query from the half-elf threatened to overwhelm him. It reminded him of what it was like to have people who cared. And damn if it didn't feel good.
He looked at Cira awkwardly, but his mouth widened into an honest smile, his first in a long, long time.

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Hmph!"

Kade stifled a cry as the remaining centipede snaked around his arm and then dug its mandibles deep into his shoulder. That hurt. That hurt something fierce. By whipping his arm forward he managed to shake off the bug, but those jaws stung almost as bad going out of flesh as they did going in.

"Careful, feels like ... poison"

Oh. Fantastic.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

It was true. As he was eying Marcus's leg, Kade felt his own arm start to go all pins and needles. But it was odd; it was just a faint prickling, and he didn't feel altogether hampered. But to hell with the arm, regardless! What use were his fists? Kade had a moment of despondency as he wondered what the heck he was doing down here. Next to the rest of the group he felt ridiculous. Here he was standing among divine agents, spell slingers and storied elves (half-elf, he corrected himself), and what was the best he could do? Try to punch centipedes? He was just a meathead bruiser; he wasn't cut out for this.

Besides, nobody could possibly box with a centipede. Its body is too malleable and its too low to the ground. All the force of the strike goes to waste. It would have to be crushed, but...

Kade looked from the ground level centipede to his own feet. And then he just stopped thinking. Where his next maneuver came from he had no idea; it just seemed logical, but before he knew it he had raised one leg high. Very high. So high, in fact, that the sole of his worn but well maintained shoe was staring at the cracked ceiling. From that perfectly vertical position his foot suddenly came crashing down, in a maneuver that some other martial artists would have called an axe kick. Kade didn't know what it was called. His body simply knew that the centipede could be killed by crushing its head between his plummeting heel and the floor.

Attack roll: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Hope you'll forgive me for making some assumptions about my rolls here, Robogeisha.

NO SUCH THING.

I've got a situation I'm not entirely sure how to play out, would be good to get some advice.

Essentially, just finished rescuing Marquel, ended the session before delivering him to the captain. [...]
Anyone have any tips on how to react to this? What would Cassius do?

That part in bold could be what saves you. Like Shaun and Raynulf I too have played with this type before, and it can be tiresome. The only reasonable, adult thing to do is let the poor sap go through with their ill conceived plan against the NPC with several levels over him, and then get rightfully smacked upside their thin-skinned head. Actions should have consequences. However, I'm going to advice against this. The adult reaction is not appropriate here as the problem never would have arisen if the player could behave like an adult. The player will just get increasingly prissy when his frustrations find not an outlet, but yet another imagined insult when the Captain successfully defends himself. A moody player at the table will just ruin the session for everyone.

Instead, consider playing up the reunion between Marquel and the Captain the next time your play. Emphasize the Captain's worry about his lover and that he might have been in an agitated state when he tossed this mission on the PCs' shoulders. Try to elicit sympathy and maybe this player will find it in his sensitive little heart to forgive him. As GM the best thing you can do in this situation is to try and defuse the situation, not to meet force with force.

I'm offended.

Your metre is all over the place and the rhythm shoddy. Come back when you can pull of an iambic tetrametre.

Deadmanwalking wrote:

Iomedae has always been pronounced in my head something like this:

EYE-ohm-eh-day

Which doesn't sound that uncomfortable to me. I've always liked the way that one flowed, personally.

For me, it was always Eye-OHM-eh-day. :D

Putting the stress on the second syllable actually doesn't sound too bad, yeah. I suspect that this is more of a personal problem since we don't speak English at our table and the name just doesn't mesh with our spoken language, but still. Four syllables of which the first three all sound vowel-like? Yeesh.

You know what? Yeah. I'm totally incorporating this into my own game. One of the few problems I have with HR (and I wish to preface this with saying that it really is a great path) is that it doesn't spend enough pages on the Lawful vs Chaotic dichotomy. Much has been said about how this is Paizo's quintessential CG path, but I see no reason why the Lawful types should feel uncomfortable here. Barzillai is working within the law only in the sense that he's rewriting it as he's breaking it. His regime is a perversion of rules that even the LN crowd should be utterly disgusted by. Never mind having a party of Han Solos; I could easily see myself GMing a group of Judge Dredds here.

Introducing a lone member of the Glorious Reclamation early on would be a good way to emphasize the difference in philosophy between the GR and... well, Kintargo as a whole. It's mentioned more than once throughout the path that even worshipers of Iomedae in the city are not on board with the GR, but no specific reason is ever given. Having a just, disciplined and just a bit too headstrong NPC trying to steer the revolution in a certain direction could be an alright way to emphasize the character of Kintargo; heck, probably the characters of the PCs too (because let's face it: in a path centered around a revolution the PCs are more than likely going to be even more chaotically inclined than the two-legged escapism vehicles we usually make are).

Mr Lone Glorious Reclamation shouldn't be played as being wholly negative; his purpose should just be to give a different perspective. He would probably work best as an ally, maybe even a leader of one of the rebellion teams. This would all come to a head during the final negotiations for Ravounel, because Gorbacz observation earlier seems spot on. In making peace with Cheliax, you are (in part) dooming the GR. Put the party in a difficult position. Be the principled paladin type and let the whole ship sink, or make the figurative deal with the devil, save your own people and let honor be damned.
Hell, with the right group this could practically play out like the ending of Watchmen, with Mr Lone GR taking the role of Rorschach.

And yeah, replacing the kukri-wielding assassin with a VERY misguided member of the GR, desperate to save his own flagging rebellion could be a real nice twist. I realize that this runs the risk of painting the entire GR as being the very worst Lawful Stupid has to offer, and may give the players a wrong impression of them, but honestly? Nothing I've read about the GR has given me reason to think otherwise of the guys.
Now, obviously, changes such as these are wholly inappropriate if your group isn't interested in some moral quandaries and the ethics of rebelling. There's nothing wrong with simply wanting to play the plucky young rebels out to kick the despot of his throne.

Thanks for the inspiration, Axial. I'll be incorporating something along these lines in my own game.

There were not "big editorial shears" involved in the adventure's development, and in fact, as with all of the adventures (and particularly with Hell's Rebels overall, which I put a VERY heavy development hand into in order to tie the adventures together more than I've ever done before), I added quite a lot of additional material...

Huh. Yeah, I can see that. Funnily enough, the Bastion is actually my favorite location within the Bone Tower. The idea of power hungry Barzillai hating his own lack of power as a child makes perfect sense, as does the punishment of infantilizing the petitioners there.

Thanks for the swift reply and for the little view into the editorial process, and while I have you here, thanks for the whole path, man. Looking forward to GMing it for my group. Will drop a review sooner rather than later.
Do apologize if my original post somehow painted the editorial staff as Asmodean redactors. Was certainly not intended. I know enough about the editorial process to see that this is not the case.

It would be neat to see the Anaphexia or Asmodean redactors used as the "good guys" at some point in the game. Knowledge so dire that it tears people's sanity apart is a cornerstone of Lovecraft, so having the normally antagonistic organizations usually maligned for hoarding knowledge and keeping the masses ignorant take on the role of guarding man's fragile psyche would be interesting.

CorvusMask wrote:

Eh never called it a good thing, I don't know for sure what kind of group CCG is, but if they are conservative patriots, old fashioned in inapporiate ways is kinda fitting. Or maybe I just have had bad experiences regarding patriotism and nationalism...

The argument is that unlike Earth, Golarion never had an issue with sexism in its past, therefore presenting exclusionary language as "old-fashioned" is inaccurate. Golarionites don't apparently have a history of sexism to harken back to.

It doesn't change my position on this topic; "Queenspersons" or any of the other suggested alternatives don't get at what I'm looking for. But, that's the argument against this as I understand it.

It is also worth mentioning that linguistically there is nothing sexist or exclusionary about the word. "Man" does in fact refer to humanity as a whole and comes from a wholly different source separate from "woman", however unlikely that may seem today. Their etymologies are not the same. "Man" is not a root word from which "woman" was derived. Heck, if one were so inclined the argument could easily be made that it is one of the most inclusive word in the English language, doing double duty referring not just to those with a Y chromosome but to all people.

And more on topic, I like your contributions to the path so far, Shaun, both in this thread and elsewhere. I'm going to be changing Vyre slightly, even though it really is neat; the place doesn't quite seem sustainable as presented, and I play with a major sociology nerd whose outcries would be too disruptive to gameplay if I let the place be. Chief among the changes is going to be a tighter border control. The 'no name' policy will stay intact, but not just anyone is going to get in. Once you are in it's still all debauchery, but the "government" is wary of elements that could disrupt the status quo.

And the skum are out, replaced by sahuagin. For no other reason than that I don't like skum and do like sahuagin.

Tacticslion's wall of awesome

Dang, Tacticslion. You put some thought and time into that. Appreciate it, man.

I'm especially grateful for the insight on how to balance the player's potential buffs and nerfs, although the suggestions for other penalties to apply are great. I think I'm going to create a little table of select deformities, curses and the like, and then have the player roll maybe two of them himself. This guy loves random tables, so much so that I expect simply having the chance to roll for random effects is going to soften the blow for him.

Right, so for those curious this is what I'm thinking so far storywise: the 'slinger is damned to the Abyss and rightfully so. However, once there a demon lord intercedes on his behalf. Nocticula, being the ruler of succubi, knows about the affairs of Delvahine and has learned of the impending world-shattering threat of Mhar. How? I dunno, she's a demon lord; she has people.
Being a patron of assassins and a fan of subtlety she sees an opportunity here to send a mortal to unknowingly do her bidding: make sure that this one foolish adventurer reaches his destination, the Spires of Xin-Shalast, and once there stops the Leng Device. Delvahine is given a soul gem containing the unfortunate 'slinger and sets to work resurrecting the guy with the help of the wrath wing, all the while implanting some hefty charms in his head.
Some days later the 'slinger wakes up at the frozen gates of Xin-Shalast, not quite himself and with no memory of what brought him here. Except he feels a burning need to reach Karzoug's crib and do... something. Kill the bastard? Yeah, that's probably it. But no, there's something more... some purpose he has to fulfill. If only he could remember...
And for reasons he can't quite fathom he now speaks Abyssal.

Something along those lines.

Thanks for the back and forth, guys. Seriously, this has helped.

Make it a loose Worldwound connection. She doesn't want Mhar getting loose and doing a romp and stomp all over Golorian because the demons want to do the stomping. So send him back with perhaps a nudge towards a certain location.

That would make sense, thanks! Although I'm not sure how I would justify her even knowing what the Leng guys are planning. The whole occlusion field is supposedly scrying proof, I think.

transformative stuff

Yup, would have to talk to my player before making such drastic changes to his character. Not sure he would dig being turned into a succubus. An incubus on the other hand...

I don't want this player to get too powerful though, even at this late stage. This player has utilized every dirty trick in the book(s) to optimize his gunslinger, except for double barreled firearms which I specifically banned. He clears 100+ points of damage in a full-round easily. If anything I want him to get slightly nerfed from this. Dumb decisions should have consequences and I think that he definitely should suffer some from this.

Maybe I'll go for the whole "warboys in the wrath wing flesh craft you a new body" angle and give him the fiendish template, but also one of those random ogrekin deformities to reflect that he comes back misshapen. Could have him roll for it too.

Dracovar's kick-ass suggestions

Your first suggestions brings up a good point: where does the soul even go? The lore on daemons and souls is plenty detailed, and devils taking ownership of souls is classic, but what do demons do with souls? Delvahine herself is stuck in Runeforge but would the gunslinger simply be sent to the Abyss as a larvae? 'Cuz I kinda like the idea of the party looking through Xin-Shalast for a portal to the Abyss and a method of finding a specific larvae among millions... It's an ancient uber-magical city; why wouldn't there be, say, an interplanar observatory to help them along?

That said I also love the idea of my party turning a corner in the city and suddenly the guy's just there. That would, as you suspect, drive them nuts. As players they are extremely paranoid (as any good party should be). Delvahine wouldn't have let her pet go without implanting some sort of hardcore charm on him, of course. Just have to think about what the lady actually hopes to gain from this...

Thanks for the suggestions, man.

Hoping to get some ideas from the creative minds I regularly see on this forum.

The situation is this: my players have finally reached Xin-Shalast and in following the yellow brick road they encounter no Cowardly Lion but rather two less than cowardly rune giants. The ensuing fight did not go well for my players, leaving two of them dead. On the one hand I'm never overly happy about killing my players, on the other I am quite happy that these towering runelord created freak-shows are now established as a serious threat, as they should be. But on the marilith's third hand I'm not particularly bothered either way as a GM, because at this level death is quite literally cheap and I know that my players have the capability to resurrect their fallen friends.

Except then I remember; one of the deceased, the party's gunslinger, has sold his soul to a demon.

Specifically, he sold it to Delvahine, the incestuous succubus from Runeforge. Now there was a fun encounter. The 'slinger in question, a male half-elf, established himself as a promiscuous womanizer right at the very start of our game, so I knew that I should except something special from him in the area dedicated to the sin of lust. He still managed to surprise me. He convinced the rest of the group to let him go and parley with the queen succubus on his own, and once there offered her his soul in exchange for her help in Runeforge. The accompanying ability score bonus from her Profane Gift might have tempted him too.

I honestly loved the gesture; it really fits his chaotic neutral, power hungry, path-of-least-resistance happy character. But I have to admit that I'm not sure where to go from here. Normally I would simply tell the player that his character's soul is well and truly doomed, that he deserves nothing less, and that it's time to make a new character.
But we're at the endgame, halfway through Xin-Shalast. This 'slinger has been with us since level 1. He's gone from killing goblins to finally being offed himself by a 40 ft. monstrosity with a sword three times bigger than he is. The player wants to see his character finish this campaign, and I share his sentiment.

So I'm adamant about bringing this 'slinger back, and not least because it just wouldn't make any sense for a new PC to join the party halfway up fantasy Mount Everest. My problem is that I'm not sure how. Hoping that some of you reading this see options here that I'm missing. Anyone here know of any official rules for reclaiming a soul now in the clutches of a fiend? That preferably won't necessitate trekking all the way back to Runeforge...

I'm not entirely lost though. I have a vague idea about using Delvahine's tenuous alliance with the wrath wing to bring this character back. The wrath guys could surely fashion him an all new body to inhabit in their creepy flesh lab. Not entirely sure why she would even want to do so, but it's certainly an option.
Thoughts? Suggestions?

Sorry I'm late to the party and that this post doesn't really advance anything.

Rubani wasn't going anywhere. Anywhere other than down, that is. The half-elf remained in the hollow left in the sand, with Thane, and just kept digging. He worked slowly and methodically, brows tightly knit, trying not to let the sand sink in any further. There was no point in hurrying this task. No point at all. Because Rubani was quite sure that the young Azghaad's team members were dead.
He wasn't sure how he knew this though. It was just a gut feeling.

No, it isn't, you silly little man. It's experience. After all, you've seen this before.

Ah. Yeah. That might be it. The cave-in. Rubani's father had died in a collapsed mine shaft. Heck, that cave-in had been the death of his entire village. It was abandoned soon after. The bodies of the miners were never recovered.
Well, not this time. He wasn't a child this time. He was strong. And he wasn't leaving to get the help of the Pharasmins or the priests either. Because he was a Pharasmin himself. And he was a priest, damn it. When they arrived here the only thing they would do, could do, was jump into this hole and start digging alongside him. Might as well get a head start. Right. That would make this quicker. Right?

Is that what they would do? Or would they simply declare this sinkhole a new grave for the newest occupants of the Necropolis? Would they retrieve the bodies so that they might be delivered to their families? Or would they demand reparations from said families for the damage caused to the Necropolis by the deceased? The half-elf didn't even know anymore. He had come to Wati to find enlightenment in the city dedicated to his deity, but he had never felt more out of touch with his own church. It was this damned lottery. It went against everything he had been taught as a Pharasmin. Government pressure or not, how could the church have agreed to this travesty?

Stop it. It's not really the church that's frustrating you. It's guilt. And you know why.

... Yeah. Yeah, he knew. It was because he was a cleric. A cleric that had decided to dedicate his life to serving the people through the Lady of Graves' teachings. So why? Why in the holy name of Pharasma herself had he been more worried about these dusty graves than about the people descending into them?!
Here he was, enrolled in this foolish lottery because he wanted to protect the ancient memorials from grave robbers. But it was Naomi who had had it right all along. He shouldn't have worried about what the living could do to the Necropolis; he should have feared what the Necropolis could do to the living. All his nasty thoughts about "foreign opportunists" here to steal Osirion's cultural heritage... In being more concerned about the explorers, rather than for them, he had let his xenophobia and nationalism get the better of him. And now innocents were dead.

And he had proven what a stupid young novice cleric he really was.

Rubani did the only thing he could and kept digging.

You don't have to worry about adding this in the recap, Fabian. I realize it's out of place and not really relevant.

Much appreciation for the help, people. I remain grateful to the supportive souls of this forum. You guys rock.

Oh, and I guess that means Tim lived to see another day. Currently he is on a quest on the third layer of hell to find himself a lawyer.