"Not this year, not yet!" Jolánka exclaims, drawing the spiral on her chest.
Then she loads her new crossbow and takes a shot!
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Jolánka grimaces at Senemheb's suggestion, but holds her tongue.
Jolánka's eyes widen as the gods clearly smile upon them. She makes the sign of the spiral and bows her head in reverence. So let it be," she says. Upon the discovery of the decapitated dumper, she sputters, choking down a laugh. "Pfft! Y-yes, let us not forget our rules: remember how this came to pass, every slave's hut is a memorial, honor the departed. Let us leave this poor soul in peace."
As a foreigner, Jolánka isn't familiar with the gods depicted, but she knows desecration when she sees it. "Allow me to help, please," she says. She chants in oddly archaic Ancient Osiriani and conjures pure, clean water. "May this place be cleansed as our souls before the gods."
"Professor Donath back at the University would sometimes talk to the skulls in the School of Medicine back in Lepidstadt, but that's just because he was a morbid weirdo. Like even by Ustalavic standards," Jolánka comments. She neglected to mention that several of the Order's own rituals involved speaking to preserved dead people, but in those moments the voice of the "deceased" was supplied by a senior member standing right behind the coffin. She approaches and takes up the crossbow, examining it and testing its string. "Remarkably well-preserved despite the march of time." She looks to the others. "Would you mind if I took this up for the time being? It may allow me to make more than a marginal contribution to the next combat."
Jolánka's jaw drops at the efficient dispatching of the spirit. "Good...good work, gentlemen!"
Jolanka barks an indignant laugh at the soporific sand. "I've spent FAR too many nights writing by candlelight sustained by spite, panic and imported Qadiran coffee for a little sand to send ME to sleep!"
"What is this?!" Jolánka snaps as the battle begins. "You would harm a guest under your roof? You will PAY for this breach of hospitality, spirit!" She marches forward to aid Amal and Luke, and gives the sandman a fearsome glare. There's a shift in the breeze, sending a cold ripple through the elemental's sandy form.
Jolánka curtsies to the spirit as well. "It is an honor and a pleasure, most noble spirit. I am Dame Jolánka of the House of Graydon."
"Yes, just because a haunting is residual doesn't mean it's any less dangerous than an intelligent one such as a true ghost," Jolánka comments. She advances to join Djedefre and Luke in looking around.
Happy belated birthday!
Jolánka starts swinging her tome around awkwardly, attempting to fan Senemheb with the bulky book as best she can.
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."
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."
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."
I have RETURNED from the fairy-tale kingdom of the southern lands (i.e. Florida), and shall begin catching up post-haste!
Jolánka chants a new incantation and taps Amal. "May the spirits lend their strength to yours," she says.
@GM: Is it okay if I give you permission to do as you think best in the case of botting? Djedefre will heal, provide flank, attack, etc. depending on the situation. I'm okay with this. Jolánka would very much behave similarly to Djedefre, since she's a Shaman.
Jolánka struts into the courtyard after Luke, taking a bit of smug satisfaction that she'd resisted its influence because of her upbringing compared to him. Upon seeing the skeletons, she reaches out and touches Luke on the shoulder. "Fear not, Luke. Just as there are spirits who crave to harm the living, there are those who draw strength from protecting them. I call upon such spirits now to protect you."
"Yes," Jolánka replies. "Like I said, residual haunting. Likely harmless." She shrugs and continues sketching.
Just an announcement, I'll be joining my family on a trip to Florida from the 11th to the 20th, so please feel free to bot my character in my absence.
Jolánka follows and listens silently, drawing and sketching until she steps into the courtyard.
"Hmm," she says nonchalantly. "Residual haunting. You have these all over the place in Ustalav. A psychic imprint of a moment when emotions ran high. Panic in this case, most likely. I think you're right Djedefre. This place was under siege."
Fair enough, she'd definitely wanna chip in. 824.7 it is! Now to work on it.
To clarify, I have 924.7 to spend, right?
"Yeah, shut up, you," the other Taldan concurred, not sparing the poor priest a glance in dismissing him. Luke didn't have the most favorable impression of the madame, but he was infinitely more interested in this supposed treasure trove of hers than the Pharasmins' impotent 'rules'. What were the god botherers going to do? Report the pharaoh's money-spinners to the pharaoh? Yeah, right. Jolánka's gasps and glares at Luke again, tracing the Pharasmin spiral on her chest.
"Wait!" Jolánka calls to Hypaxes. "Who should we be asking for in this hypothetical group?"
Jolánka listens quietly about this "Erudite Eye" and raises and eyebrow. Was this some oblique reference to the Palatine Eye? Some local offshoot of Aldus Canter's teachings? "Ab Sek, Abet Sahu," she says. "Once mine, always yours." The native Osiriani speakers will recognize the phrase as their language, but an oddly archaic version of it. If this foreigner had been initiated into the Esoteric Order, however, she would know to repeat the phrase back as a greeting. Upon hearing Senemheb describe a "Sanctum" of the Erudite Eye, a physical place, her countenance falls a bit. This woman probably was not a fellow initiate. Just another pushy tomb-robber with no respect for the people whose tombs she was robbing...at least Luke seemed more mellow than this woman.
"Kam vargti mokantis kalbos, jei viskas, ko ją naudosi, tai menkinti tą kalbą ja kalbantiems žmonėms?" Jolánka mutters under her breath. "Kruvinas nepilnamečių kultūrinis postringavimas šūdas." Varisian: "Why bother learning a language if all you're going to use it for is belittling the people who speak it?"
"Bloody juvenile cultural posturing s%#%head."
"And we've already taken our first step towards correcting that." Jolánka adds. "I think we learned quite a lot about Akhentepi and who he was from his resting place. How any of us feel about that notwithstanding." She shoots an aside glance to Luke.
As the group goes about the seedy work of selling off their finds, Jolánka continues to refine her notes and sketches. She has an edifying chat with Dexia Trenziano, discussing their respective foci in Osirianology and exchanging contact information. She's a little reluctant to offer up the remnants of the cobra to Zidakeak, but she relents relatively quickly, asking only to once again exchange contact information with the gnome, explaining she may have a project in the future that his expertise would be invaluable.
Jolánka seems a tad put out by leaving so soon, since she's barely half-way through the meal with how daintily she's been eating, but follows as they're ushered out, surreptitiously trying to grab a few fruits on the way out as a snack for later. And maybe a chicken leg.
Jolánka politely begins tucking in to her meal, cutting her food into dainty little bites that she pairs with dainty little sips of wine. Her brow furrows a bit as, from her perspective, Luke continues to be a boor.
Jolánka follows along and her jaw drops when they enter Amal's family home. "I've...never seen this much magic in one place my entire life," she says. She quickly regains her composure and folows Amal's example, removing her boots and gloves, before washing her feet, hands and face. At Hafiz's arrival, she does the best curtsy she can not wearing a dress. "It is an honor and a pleasure, Master Mage. Dame Jolánka Graydon of the House Graydon of the Immortal Principality of Ustalav, at your service. Amal's bravery and skill with a blade has been indispensable on our archaeological survey." She takes a seat herself, though she's clearly not used to just sitting on cushions in the way Garundi and Keleshite folk do. "It's certainly better than the crumbling manses and haunted hunting lodges I bounced between growing up, living off the charity of various great-aunts, cousins and family friends. A noble family line may be able to carry you far, but I think it only does so in that it grants you access to power, something adventurers of all stripes tend to accumulate quickly."
"No takesies-backsies among thieves," Luke drawled, a wryly humorous glint in the bright eyes avoiding the Dame entirely. "Looks better on me, anyway." "Then it's a good thing I'M not a thief, at least by Akhentepi's standards," Jolánka replies as she walks right up to Luke and takes the hat back. At the revelation that the wizard they would be visiting was Amal's father, her eyebrows rise. "Then we have more in common than I expected," she says to Amal.
"I agree. And the sooner you get your brands removed the sooner I get my hat back," Jolánka adds.
"I have the remains of the cobra in my pack," Jolánka adds.
I'm okay with either Google Slides or what we're using now!
Jolánka wordlessly passes by Luke and puts her wide-brimmed hat on his head.
Jolánka smiles a bit at the crocodile as it departs. It seemed the reptiles got a pretty sweet deal here in Osirion, the locals just giving out free food for doing what crocodiles do. "He's adorable," she comments. At the mention of the marks on some of the group, she nods. "Our first day has been a success, though not without embarrassment. Desna reminding us to be humble, I suppose." She helps the others display their spoils. "Be careful with that one," she says as Marwanun examines the box banging around lightly. "We managed to trap a guardian construct in there. If it doesn't attack the moment that thing's opened, it'll probably make a break for the Tomb to resume its post."
Jolánka says nothing else as they begin the long haul back into Wati proper. She's much too focused on trying to help lug their prizes, even though everyone in the group is likely stronger than her. She raises an eyebrow at the group they encounter, noting that the leader seemingly looked a lot like her. Purple wasn't a good choice of color, though, not in this heat. But she imagined a person like this would have just sneered at such a suggestion. It was an interesting contrast: a prideful foreigner at the head of that group, while Jolánka herself deferred to the native Garundi among them. Her eyebrow rises further when the aiuvarin among them gives them a wink, uncertain as to how any of them might know her, because she certainly didn't.
Jolánka sighs again as she recovers her temper. "I was trying to build some rapport with you by recommending you receive an item that I thought you'd use best out of all of us, since Amal wears heavier armor than you, and I'm nowhere near fast enough to protect myself the way armor like that requires, hence why I wear my father's old mail. And your dismissal of it as 'trash' felt like a dismissal of that rapport. It's not about the armor, it's that I was trying to look out for you and give you first pick of stuff that might actually be useful to us from Ancient Osirion's treasures, as opposed to just selling it off to sit in some dusty collection to be gawked at by unappreciative undergraduates." Her tone is measured, deliberate. The way someone talks when they're trying to make their thought process clear. "I'm sorry I blew up at you for it. But I don't know how else to relate to you since you have little interest in the academic or spiritual aspects of what we're doing, and I've got equally little interest in profit beyond how it can facilitate the rest of my work and don't share your seeming contempt for Osirion's culture and people, and frankly I'm surprised the others, actual natives, have been as tolerant of it as they have been. Doe that make sense?"
Djehuti shrugs. "It is not my place to question the judgment of the leaders of the Church." Jolánka chuckles a bit. "Father would have REALLY liked you." Then she sighs and frowns a bit. "I hope he recovers. That werewolf mauled him half to death." At Luke's dismissal of her idea to use Akhentepi's armor, she shrugs. "We've had to do some fighting in the course of our grave-robbing, so even if you're no glory hound you're still likely gonna get some as our tomb-raiding earns us fame, if only because you're the best swordsman in the group, so people will naturally assume you're some kind of hero or leader. It's why you had so many weak-armed fops looking to join the dueling clubs back at the University, even if they only wore their swords as an accessory..." When he calls it trash, however, she becomes annoyed. "I'm trying to find common ground with you, camel-arse! How are we going to repeat the success we've just had if we keep arguing like this?!"
Rolling for HP: Shaman (True Silvered Throne)
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?"
"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."
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.
"Oh right, THAT'S what those are for. I'd forgotten," Jolánka says sheepishly.
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."
Jolánka gingerly hops off the sarcophagus, and joins the others in searching the chamber.
She gets distracted by the smashed cobra, picking it up and turning it over in her hands.
Jolánka, seeing the crowd in the room trying to deal with this creature, and takes a deep breath. "May Akhentepi forgive me for treading upon his resting place," she says as she clambers onto the sarcophagus and reaches out to Luke. "Spirits give you strength," she intones.
Kind of wondering what I can actually DO this round. Senemheb's already gone and there's no real room for me to get around to cast guidance on Luke...
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