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I am so so so so happy for an updated library and store page! But I'm also biting my nails waiting for an update on the forums. Please... my nails are so ragged... >_<
Behind the Screen:
The crowd ushers the victorious duo down the pavilion to where a small makeshift stage has been set up. There, in full splendorous regalia, is Muminofrah, with a very irritated-looking Deka. "All hail the victorious Obadiah and Danu!" Muminofrah bellows gleefully. "What a harrowing race! Danger unlooked-for at every corner! Even assassins on the roof! How terribly unexpected! I am delighted to see you all safe after that. And winners, as well! I chose my champions rightly, wouldn't you say, haty-a?" "Yes, Your Grace," Deka says through clenched teeth. Her forced smile looks like the rictus grin of a skeleton. If looks could kill, the four of you would probably be disintegrated. As if that wasn't enough to infuriate Deka, Muminofrah says, "Haty-a! The chest." Deka looks like she's ready to hit someone, and her neck is nearly red with shame as she reaches behind her and plucks up a modestly-sized sandstone chest, intricately carved with the image of a desert oasis, with a water pool made of sparkling topaz. Deka opens the chest for Danu and Obie. Inside is a gem-encrusted gold camel. Muminofrah pulls it out, offers it to Obadiah, and absolutely showers his face with kisses, much to Danu's delight. The crowd cheers enthusiastically. "In addition, my dear Obadiah, you may keep the camel and chariot. Keep or sell them as you see fit, but a camel may come in handy one day!" She winks and chuckles. "A celebration! Guards, bring drinks and food for these thirsty citizens! I want to celebrate my champion properly!" Low tables and cushions are quickly scrounged up for the hundreds of people in attendance, with nearby taverns clamoring to offer up their best brews for the Fan-Bearer and her impromptu shindig. Soon the pavilion is packed with drunken revelers, though as noon creeps up, the oversized awnings become packed with clusters of people escaping the glaring sun as they laugh, sing, and talk excitedly about the absolute madness that was the chariot race.
Behind the Screen:
People crowd the duo and attempt to lift them up in the air whooping and hollering. Meanwhile, the woman on the ground next to Melech and Ulysses groans and stirs. Her hood falls from her face, and bright orange-red locks surround a familiar--if battered and bruised--visage.
Behind the Screen:
The opposing dwarf snarls and tries to ram the father/daughter duo off the road. Their chariots smash together as Obie and Danu collide against each other and the right-hand rail, very nearly toppling over the side. The chariot tilts wildly with the uneven weight distribution, and the rival driver begins veering away to ready another sideswipe. Frantically, Obadiah dismisses his visualization of the mind spell with a small purple-blue burst of energy. Divine power flows through Obadiah's body, traveling through his limbs as strange wispy purple strands like ethereal cobwebs. His head snaps back as the strands all smash into his hippocampus at once, pouring knowledge like a river into his mind. Bes' grace, he's going to have one Hell of a headache after this. The rival driver swerves to try another sideswipe, but Obadiah gently pulls on the reins and leads the camel just out of reach. Realizing he missed, the other dwarf begins pulling away for another try, but Obadiah is ready this time, and keeps their chariots dangerously close. Understanding is pulsing through his brain like an entire library on driving mounts was crammed in there, and while pain throbs back and forth across his temples, he knows what he needs to do. He realizes he understands the beast at his reins. More importantly, he understands the beast at the opposing dwarf's reins. He spurs their chariot forward, and with a flourish, snaps his whip directly above the other camel's head. Rather than a huge exaggerated reaction, the camel simply flinches and bleats plaintively. It's barely a reaction at all, really. But it's enough. The chariots, neck and neck, drift just a few inches apart, one just a hand's-length in front of the other. When the two chariots burst across the finish line to uproarious cheers, Obadiah and Danu are the victors!
Behind the Screen:
Melech and Ulysses: The camels, having more sense than some of the people, have already noped off the road and are huddled in a nearby corner between two buildings, bleating plaintively. The woman stirs next to Ulysses with a groan. ---- Danu and Obadiah:
Obie's spell smacks one of the two snipers in the face with a burst of radiant holy light. He screams and falls backward. The flash also dazzles his buddy, whose aim is ruined. His bolt meant for Danu's skull instead embeds in the window sill of a pottery shop. Danu's spell goes off, and the halflings--and their camel--cry out in shock before veering off to the side. The camel skids to a side-swiping halt, Osirion Drift style, and the halflings' chariot smashes into a pile of pillows a vendor had set up. She screams in fury and begins smacking the halflings with her fly swatter. That just leaves the dwarf.
FINAL EVENT: The Finish Line! Danu and Obie are neck-and-neck with the dwarf as the two chariots barrel down the final path, the finish line in view! 1. Fake Out the Competition: Bluff DC 25 2. Charge Ahead: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 25
Behind the Screen:
Danu and Obadiah: At first, the camel simply bleats irritably at Danu, who snaps the reins once or twice more to try and get the old beast moving. When it finally moves, the whole freaking chariot ERUPTS forward like a bolt from a crossbow and careens down streets and alleys, even some of the spectators on the sidelines ducking away instinctively at how recklessly the chariot is blazing forward. The duo flies past several racers, coming in close proximity to two more chariots, one with a stodgy dwarf and one containing two Song'o halflings arguing frantically with each other as they struggle to gain ground on the dwarf. The father-daughter pair nearly wedge themselves between the two chariots before the haste spell finally dissipates and the camel returns to normal speed, looking for all the world like it couldn't give two s@%+s that it just broke every camel-speed record in the world. ---- Melech and Ulysses: Ulysses pulls out the smelling salts, but they have no effect. Just as he starts to panic that he just accidentally killed the woman, Melech hustles up and assesses the damage. Despite a sizeable pool of blood from her ear and her left forearm jutting at a rather alarming angle, she's definitely still breathing. However, she looks like she'll bleed out eventually if left untreated.
---- Danu and Obadiah: As the three carts enter the final stretch, a long, wide pavilion with huge crowds gathered on either side, cheering and hollering, Obadiah catches a glint of sun off shiny metal from the teeming masses right before more crossbow bolts come flying at them! Event 12. Cultists in the Crowd Those dang cultists are at it again. They just don't give up, do they? Outrun Them: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 25 (I will allow creative use of spells here for an alternative, since 25 is a bit high for you) Fire Back: Ranged attack roll at -8 against AC 18 (again, will allow ranged targeted spells here too)
Behind the Screen:
Obie and Danu:
One of the half-orc's camels plants its hooves and bleats a challenge at the oncoming chariot before hawking a gob of some hideous, viscous ooze that only tangentially resembles "spit" at them. Obadiah suddenly knows what that other driver went through with the chamberpot earlier, because HOLY F%!+ING S#*+ CAMEL SPIT IS IN HIS MOUTH AND IT'S SO F$+!ING GROSS and he immediately projectile vomits. That hits his camel and it is clearly about to come to a screeching halt in protest. Thankfully, Obadiah manages to keep his cool enough to yank the reins over hard and come to a rapid halt instead of smashing into the obstinate camel in front of them. The race seems like it may very well be a loss for them at this point...
---- Melech and Ulysses: Look. This was all going so well. No, really. You gotta believe me. It was going great. AND THEN THE GNOME HAPPENED. Ulysses, in his excitement, forgets momentarily that they are on a fast-moving, bouncing cart drawn by a very excitable camel. He pulls the tanglefoot bag out and pulls back to throw it, but a loose cobblestone jounces him up into the air, and the tanglefoot bag sort of just flops down onto the ground between the two chariots. A wave of vivid green slop bursts out in all directions, snagging BOTH chariots and causing the camels to panic. Behind the Screen:
Alas, nobody keeps their heads enough to avoid disaster. The tanglefoot slime instantly hardens, and is far more effective than Ulysses assumed. The camels both stumble and freeze in place. Thankfully it's just slow enough a hardening that it doesn't shatter their leg bones, but it does give them a painful jolt. None of the drivers are quite so lucky.
All three fly through the air and smash into things. The woman and Melech both smash into tables of clay jars, which shatter and embed them with many shards before slamming into the walls of buildings with bone-crunching force. Ulysses instead flies into the crowd, taking out two gawking men and one hapless old lady.
Melech is pretty sure he has like 254 broken ribs, but is somehow still alive. He glances over at his rival driver. She isn't moving. ---- Obie and Danu: Unbeknownst to the father-daughter duo, they are actually still in the race!
Behind the Screen:
Obie and Danu: Obadiah and Danu manage to steer clear of the kids, their chariot going up on one wheel for a single nauseating moment before slamming back down on the sandstone street and racing forward. By now the marketgoers are finally realizing there are bloody chariots in the area and are diving for cover, allowing the racers to pass unhindered. Event 10: Camel Souk Just as the duo is about to reach the other side of the marketplace and the crowd is clearing, they see an immense half-orc merchant with a trio of camels, tugging futilely at their reins to get them to move out of the way. He turns and his mouth opens into an "O" as round as his belly at the approaching chariots! 1. Dodge the Fat Merchant: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 20 2. Spitting Camels: Fortitude DC 15 ---- Melech and Ulysses The slayer and the bomber manage to overcome the blinding rays and sand to dart into an alleyway, the #1 chariot now within inches of them. The woman at the reins, her head covered tip to neck by a thick scarf, shows a pair of bright blue eyes that widen as she finally catches sight of her opponents. Her shock quickly turns to something else--delight? amusement?--before she spurs her camel on in an attempt to maintain her rapidly diminishing lead. The two chariots burst out from the alleyway into a long, wide-open pavilion. The finish line is in sight, a pair of tall poles with a string of bright silk scarves tied across it. A huge crowd of onlookers erupt in a roar of applause as the two finalists race for the finish, neck-and-neck!
FINAL EVENT: Finish Line! The woman spurs her steed ever-onward, and begins picking up the pace! She could very well retake the lead! 1. Fake Out the Competition: Bluff DC 25 2. Charge Ahead: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 25
Behind the Screen:
Oh yeah, those snipers are definitely aiming for the BBC. Thankfully Danu ducks down and only Obie is hit, but he shrugs off the poison anyway. He feels sluggish for a second, meaning this is probably a sleeping poison of some kind, but he pushes through it and stays awake! Which is good, because falling asleep and tumbling off a racing chariot would probably have ended very badly for the old dwarf. While the snipers might have been trying for the BBC, the hail of bolts threw the whole mess of riders into a tizzy. While Obie and Danu get caught up in the chaos, Melech and Ulysses are able to use the opportunity to push forward and gain on the lead chariots! They blaze past a very surprised-looking elf and now there's only one chariot between them and first place! Danu and Obie: The father-daughter duo burst through an alleyway right into an open market! Event 9: Crowded Market WHO DIDN'T CLEAR THIS PLACE BEFORE THE RACE?? 1. Smoky Confusion: Perception DC 15 2. Cut Through the Crowd: Intimidate DC 20 ---- Melech and Ulysses: The lone driver ahead of you is still a bit of a ways, but you're quickly catching up! One more good push will do it, and you feel like the finish line isn't far off. But as you follow the leader through a shortcut and avoid the marketplace and who knows what else, you suddenly bank east onto an open courtyard and the wind picks up, throwing sand and blaring sun in your faces! Event 11: I Can't See! The sand and sun threaten to throw you off-course! 1. Sand in the Eyes: Reflex DC 20 2. Sun in the Eyes: Perception DC 20
Behind the Screen:
Obie and Danu:
--only to take a massive load of s!#! to the face. He screams and releases the reins as he wipes frantically at his eyes and mouth. The last thing you hear before he goes tumbling off the back of his chariot is "if in muh mouf". Poor bastard. Father and daughter quickly rush ahead in the gap, and soon find themselves catching up to some familiar faces! All: Melech follows Ulysses's directions and they cut down an alleyway, bank hard to avoid crashing into a huge pile of food refuse, and quickly find their way back onto the track. Within moments, they see the chariot of Danu and Obie not far behind them! Everything's coming up Millhouse. Then a crossbow bolt slams into the rail of Obie and Danu's chariot, right next to the wizard's gripping fingers. Looking up, you see two more Forgotten Pharaoh cultists peeking out over the rooftops, firing crossbow bolts at you! Event 8: Rooftop Snipers That bolt is oozing something unwholesome off the tip and onto the wood of the chariot... 1. Dodge a Crossbow Bolt: Reflex DC 25 2. Poisoned Bolt: Fortitude DC 20
Behind the Screen:
The wind is buffeting the newcomers as you both careen down the street, causing their cowls to stick to their faces, but only seeing their lower jaw area is more than enough. Melech instantly recognizes the funerary masks of Forgotten Pharaoh cultists! It would seem they have followed your merry band to Tephu. What luck. Thankfully, a certain pint-sized pyromaniac knows just how to welcome them to the city. The gnome scores a direct hit, splattering the cultist with flaming goop. While it's not quite an insta-kill, it does the job--the chariot takes significant damage, and a single outcropping of stone in the pavement sends the chariot juddering into the air. The strain on the already-damaged wood is too much, and the chariot splinters apart. The cultists find themselves under the hooves and wheels of a rival chariot, who also goes flying off-course and crashing into a nearby barrel of water. The driver hits the wall of a storefront, but thankfully doesn't appear too terribly injured. His camel trots off the road and into a nearby alley, bleating frantically, and the cultists' camel follows quickly after. While the driver and camels are thankfully not badly hurt, the same cannot be said of the cultists, who lie bleeding out in the street; one of their heads is crushed, and a second later, he is engulfed in flames, triggering the death throes of the unconscious cultist next to him. Two chariots have to veer off-course to avoid the sudden bursts of flame. The whole disaster is quickly left in the dust as Melech and Ulysses fly around a bend in the street and head toward their next roadblock. Thanks to Ulysses' quick thinking, Danu and Obadiah have no obstacle to overcome and navigate around the wreckage easily enough. But Melech and Ulysses are nowhere in sight--they must have taken a huge lead thanks to the tumult of the exploding cultists!
Melech and Ulysses: The chaos allows you to push yourselves hard past some of the competition, but suddenly the quartet of chariots ahead of you split in two different directions! Event 7: Tricky Maneuvers 1. Sharp Corner: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 25 2. Hidden Shortcut: Perception DC 20 ---- Obie and Danu:
Event 5: Quiet Neighborhood 1. Low Hanging Clotheslines: DC 10 Perception 2. Housewife Emptying a Chamberpot: DC 15 Reflex
Behind the Screen:
Melech recalls a secondary route not far from the bridge at the last second, and veers hard left. One of the nearby chariots doesn't realize the danger in time and decides to try the gap. It doesn't go well. As Melech and Ulysses peel out onto the proper route from their detour, a new chariot bursts from a side street and tries to ram them. Wait--what the heck are they wearing on their faces?? Event 4: Skullduggery! 1. Something's Not Right Here: Sense Motive DC 20 2. Knock 'em Off The Road!: Bull Rush vs. CMD 20 ---- With the duo bellowing and cracking a whip in the air (Danu was handed one when you both got on the chariot but she hasn't had the heart to use it on the actual camel) the crowd finally gets their poop in a group and gets out of the dang road. Now the bridge is approaching and Danu and Obie have to make a choice! Event 3: Bridge Under Construction 1. Find an Alternate Route: Knowledge (local) DC 15 2. Jump The Gap!: Handle Animal DC 25
Behind the Screen:
The good news is, Melech's booming voice has the desired effect and the people dive frantically out of the way of his oncoming chariot. The bad news is, they dive directly in the path of Obadiah and Danu.
The cleric yanks the reins to the right and just barely manages to avoid smashing into an oncoming racer when his camel bleats frantically and stops short. SOMEHOW, he manages to keep from crashing their chariot. He has a sneaking suspicion that his blessing from Bes is the only reason he kept his cool enough to not cause a deadly pile-up. Thankfully they didn't crash, but their sudden stop means Danu and Obie are falling behind!
---- Meanwhile, Melech and Ulysses are keeping up with the rest of the racers. Despite a solid start, they're not much ahead of the middle of the pack. As they round a bend, ahead of them lies a sandstone bridge. Unfortunately, the bridge is under construction and the middle of it is little more than a latticework of boards! There's no way over it-- --OR IS THERE?! Event 3: Bridge Under Construction 1. Find An Alternate Route: Knowledge (local) DC 15 2. Jump The Gap!: Handle Animal DC 25
Behind the Screen:
The two chariots are off! Finding their way into about the middle of the pack, the gang manage to keep from getting sideswiped by a couple overzealous drivers as they fight to gain ground along the wide but twisting pavilion. As you come through a surprisingly sharp turn, you find the road is littered with over-eager spectators! The chariots are veering left and right to dodge out of the way of the people, who keep crowding deeper into the road and calling for spectacle. 1. Make Way!: Intimidate DC 20 2. Entertain the Crowd: Perform (any) DC 15
Behind the Screen:
The time has come. The chariots and their camels are arranged in rows of four, crowding the wide pavilion. The haty-a of the city herself stands at the starting line, giving a speech to the gathered onlookers about the long and storied tradition of chariot races in Tephu, and the pride it should bring its drivers, and so on. The crowd seems to be getting restless, fidgeting and hooting for the excitement to begin. Finally, Deka raises one hand into the air, and a great burst of light erupts from her palm with a sound like a thunderclap, and the race is on! EVENT 1: Crowded Start
1. Jockey for Position: Handle Animal or Profession (driver) DC 15 2. Scream and Dash: Intimidate DC 15
Behind the Screen:
Behind the Screen:
After their plans are set, the BBC heads to bed. A few strange dreams plague Ulysses, but none that he can remember. Even as the dreams leak away like water from a sieve, he has the vague recollection of a sense of loneliness. However, as he basks in the light of the new day through his window, the feeling slowly passes. Besides, with his beloved tumor monkey snuggling with his small intestine, how can he be lonely?
The day is bright and clear, as it is most days in the sweltering desert of Osirion, but it is early enough that the sun has not turned the street stones into griddles. A crowd of a few dozen single- or double-person chariots, each attached to an irascible-looking camel, cluster together at a makeshift starting line in the city streets. Connecting alleys and side-streets have been blocked off with barrels, carts, crates, and any other sturdy objects that could be found. People line the sidewalks behind makeshift barricades of low sandstone and clay bricks. The barricades are far too low to provide any real safety, especially if the races can get as violent as Muminofrah implied they can, but the citizens seem heedless to the danger, gathered in tightly-packed crowds along the racing route or hanging out of open windows, yelling and gawking at the upcoming spectacle. Opportunistic peddlers wend through the throngs, selling food, beer, and baubles to the onlookers. All in all, the air hums with anticipation and excitement. The party is gathered at the starting line in their chosen vehicles. As it turns out, Muminofrah was not able to find her own camels to supply them with on such short notice, but thankfully the city had several racing camels to spare. You doubt they're of the finest quality or training, but they'll have to do.
Behind the Screen:
Ulysses digs up the dirt on the local tradition, and considering how orderly Tephu seems to be, it's shockingly bloodthirsty. There are up to two people per chariot. Chariots and camels are provided by the city, though some prefer to bring their own racing camels in (such as Muminofrah). The charioteers drive along a predetermined and well-marked route through the city that will be blocked off from foot traffic for the duration of the race. Harm of bystanders or crashing your chariot will result in disqualification, but otherwise all bets are off. People have absolutely died during these races, but considering how lawless they are, it's surprisingly rare.
Behind the Screen:
Despite her girlish futtering of her fan and heavy-lidded gaze in the cleric's direction, Muminofrah gives him a long, appraising look before snapping her fan shut. "My dearest devoted, of course I am happy to help--once you have helped me, of course. Partake in tomorrow's chariot race in my name. I will have two chariots made ready for you, as they are two drivers per chariot. Race well, and I shall grant you my blessing to continue your noble quest! I might even have a little something extra for you if you bring glory to my name tomorrow!" She winks coquettishly. She then gives an exaggerated yawn and stretch. "I do fear it is time for my beauty rest, my sweets. Fare thee well! Be at the starting point two hours after dawn, and do not be late! My very reputation and heart rides with you!" One of the guards bows to her, then gestures toward the barge's gangplank, intimating politely but firmly that the meeting is over.
Behind the Screen:
"I would deign, indeed!" she giggles, fanning herself coquettishly. "Do go on, my sweet."
Behind the Screen:
When they reach Muminofrah's pleasure barge, the burly guards halt the party as one of them hurries to tell the Lady of your presence. He quickly returns and beckons you to follow. The barge is somewhat less imposing when it's empty. The untended bar and large house-area, now dim with the fading daylight and the lack of servants rushing in and out with fresh food and wine, makes the whole craft feel abandoned. The guard pulls aside the heavy veils draped around Muminofrah's She pops a grape into her mouth and chews mechanically, but then rests the hand on her hip in a fairly suggestive way as the party takes cushions around her. "Obadiah! Scarab of my eye. Darling." She drawls the last word in a half-whine. "You simply must rescue me. The city is hosting a chariot race tomorrow! It's a bloody holiday, so everyone will be out to watch! A chariot race! And I was not informed ahead of time, so I did not bring any of my champions from Sothis! I had to scramble just to find camels, but they're useless without drivers. I am surely ruined by my plight. The embarrassment!" This last word is spat with some vehemence. "That bloody haty-a is snubbing me on purpose. She's mad with jealousy over my good looks." She winks at the party, but once again it really is hard to tell whether it's meant for Obadiah or Ulysses. You're starting to get the sense that if the two threw down and devolved into a fistfight for her affections, she'd be in absolute heaven. When that doesn't occur she settles into a brief moment of melancholy before her face lights up. "Dearest Obie! Ulysses! Other... two. YOU could drive for me! Yes, yes! It's quite simple, really, just steer the camels about. Surely you would not leave me in duress like this, my sweets? I would certainly owe you a token of my gratitude..." She bats her eyes coquettishly.
Behind the Screen:
Unfortunately the Dark Repository is mostly a blur. Ulysses remembers there was a glyph of warding on the main doors he was able to bypass with a "borrowed" scroll of dimension door that he recalls took several tries to even activate, and he remembers having to hide from shadow-shapes that roamed the halls. He only saw one section, so he doesn't recall much else other than the basic layout . Any other information he might have been able to gather was driven out of his head when he fled the Aspis thugs and the bone-creature that assaulted them. He didn't even get a good enough look at the monster to know immediately what it was. However, while one's first assumption at the words "bone monstrosity" is to jump directly to "undead," Ulysses suspects it was actually a construct of some kind, based on its movement and general shape. He doesn't recall it being the skeleton of a specific creature, but was also too uniform in shape to be some amorphous, spontaneous bone amalgamation that you sometimes see in the ranks of the undead. Perhaps with a bit of study, he could figure it out. And he is in a library right now. Surely they wouldn't mind a quick look in the public section? It's also impossible to say what, if any, of the threats down there would be bypassed by simply being there with permission, since Ulysses was definitely not there with permission last time.
Knowledge (arcana) DC 23 (Ulysses) or DC 28 (anyone else):
After leafing through a couple primers on constructs, you're fairly certain what tore through those Aspis thugs was a bone golem. Like all golems, they're immune to magic with a few exceptions: 1. Magic that heals the living slows a bone golem for 1d4 rounds. 2. Negative energy heals the bone golem for 1 point per 3 damage the spell or effect would have done. 3. Raise dead, resurrection, or true resurrection negates its DR and magic immunity for 1 minute, though good luck getting it to sit still for 10 minutes. Oh, and it can make bone prisons so that's probably why it was put down there as a guardian.
Behind the Screen:
Ulysses remembers the Dark Depository all too well. A dark, seemingly endless shaft ending in a dank and gloom-filled hall divided into four sections. He'd gone there with the intent of continuing his research into the Vulcan Solution. His memories of the place are fuzzy, because the last time he was there, he was run out by a group of Aspis thugs and... something else. A great bone monstrosity that had been awakened by the thugs' break-in. Ulysses had also broken in, but he'd been more careful (or lucky) and hadn't tripped any alarms. Whether the bone-thing had been a guardian of that library he doesn't actually know. All he knows is the screams of dying Aspis agents followed him as he ran from the Repository. And somewhere in there, he hid all his notes on the Vulcan Solution. He does know where to find it, however.
Behind the Screen:
Despite Obadiah's inability to help, the dynamic duo manage to kick this library's ass into the dirt. And oh, it's a damn juicy bit of dirt. It's actually Ulysses who discovers the scroll, though it's Danu's keen eye that marks its significance despite its dusty, unassuming appearance. It lacks the winged symbol of Hakotep I, which is why Ulysses didn't immediately mark its importance, but Danu managed to catch a snippet of writing as it fell open and began to curl back shut that caught her eye: "winged tomb" Quickly and excitedly reading the full scroll, it details the lengthy burial of Hakotep I, Sky Pharaoh, as well as a passing reference to his tomb having "wings." It also contains a rather tantalizing fragment of a confession from a member of a group called the Sacrosanct Order of the Blue Feather, who claimed that when the Sky Pharaoh was interred, his heart and his funerary mask were both stolen from the tomb, and that the objects supposedly carried fragments of Hakotep's soul. A bit of calculus by Ulysses of the calendar date on the scroll (using the ancient calendar of the time) against the modern Absalom Reckoning, notes the confession was extracted in -1560 AR, 50 years after the death of the Sky Pharaoh. There are also references to considerable efforts by Hakotep's successor, Pharaoh Djederet II, to round up members of the Sacrosanct Order for questioning. The results of the interrogations were recorded on a collection of scrolls called the Scrolls of Inquiry, but the collection does not appear to be with this scroll. Knowledge (local or religion) DC 20:
The Sacrosanct Order of the Blue Feather is a secretive sect of the priesthood of Nethys dedicated to the collection and preservation of knowledge. It appears the Order has been around for an exceptionally long time. Hungry for anything else, the pair scour the other scrolls looking for answers. Unfortunately, all they can find is a curator's catalog buried under all those scrolls that mentions the Scrolls of Inquiry were moved to another library--something called the Dark Repository--just over 100 years ago.
Behind the Screen:
The evening passes uneventfully, and the Crew gets some much-needed rest. In the night, Ulysses is plagued by... not nightmares--the images are not frightening, just intense--but some deeply unpleasant emotion that he cannot quite place until after he's awoken the next morning, the images fleeing from memory, leaving behind a deep sense of... Loneliness. Profound loneliness, as if he has spent a hundred hundred lifetimes in wretched solitude. When he reaches the common room to join his compatriots for breakfast, he cannot shake the sensation that he hasn't seen them all for a lifetime and more... at least, not until he's got some coffee and greasy overeasy eggs in him.
Sunday might be a day of rest for many, but the Great Library apparently never takes a day off. You are soon shown back through the doors into the Spiral Archive. You do not see the young woman from the day before, but otherwise it is just as you left it.
The librarian frowns. "Osirian woman? There should have been no one else in the archive but yourselves." He quickly hurries over to one of the nearby guards and has a whispered conversation before the guard calls over two of her coworkers and they rush back to the entrance to the Spiral Archive. The librarian returns to the party and continues leading them on. "Thank you for alerting us. While it is exceptionally difficult--and beyond foolhardy--to break into the Spiral Archive, we do occasionally discover someone who is desperate or stupid enough to make the attempt. As to your question, we do not keep a record of those who enter the Spiral Archive here at the Great Library. As the haty-a is the only one in the city with the authority to grant access, it is her office which keeps such things recorded. But to my knowledge, no. You are the first visitors to the Spiral in several months, so far as I am aware. The last visitor I can recall was a visiting scholar from the Arcanamirium in Absalom. Older gentleman, a conjurer of some repute if I recall. Name started with a 'P,' I think. Pen-something? At any rate, he was working on a curriculum for phaoronic genealogies of ancient Osirion for his graduate students. Pleasant enough fellow. A bit doddering, but friendly." You reach the entrance to the library, and the librarian bows to you. "A pleasant evening to you. I expect we shall see you all again tomorrow?"
Behind the Screen:
Obadiah is a little too preoccupied with not falling to his death to be much help today, but Ulysses is a rockstar, clambering up shelves (carefully, of course) and using his analytical mind to suss out the most likely spots for new useful information. With his help, Danu compiles a series of solid notes.
1. After about an hour of scouring indexes and catalogs, Danu realizes that all the scrolls copied from Hakotep's library have been moved or hidden and are not where they are supposed to be. 2. After almost four hours of searching the many shelves, Danu and Ulysses locate the missing scrolls in a huge pile that contains several references to the Sky Pharaoh and his participation in some ancient war. The Sky Pharaoh is represented by a very distinct hieroglyph of a winged pyramid. According to the scrolls, the Sky Pharaoh was convinced that an attack was coming from enemies who lived in cities in the clouds, and that he was frantically searching for a weapon to defeat them. Apparently, the pharaoh eventually succeeded in finding such a weapon, but all that remains of the scrolls that detail this weapon are a handful of ragged papyrus scraps depicting confusing geometrical patterns.
Both Danu and Ulysses both realize that the missing scrolls should absolutely be here. They have clearly been purposefully removed. 3. As the day winds down to a close, Danu uncovers one more important piece of information. A large collection of tablets bound in cloth marked with the Sky Pharaoh's winged pyramid hieroglyph contains a number of transcribed recollections of several courtiers at Hakotep's court. These accounts make passing references to the Sky PHaraoh having access to stolen Shory magic. Knowledge (history) DC 20:
The Shory were an ancient civilization located on Garund. Little is known about their civilization aside from the fact that they somehow mastered the art of magically enchanting their cities to be able to fly. If they were truly attacking Osirion at this time, that would make them dangerous opponents indeed. How the civilization eventually fell remains a mystery. While Danu feels like there's still more to find at this library, there's probably not a lot more to find. She's confident that with another successful day of research, there's a good chance they can get all the data they can expect to get from this place.
Behind the Screen:
After many twists and turns, the corridor finally opens into a wide, circular chamber. Instead of a floor, a vast well lined with row upon row of books, scrolls, and parchment plummets downward. Below, flickering flames gently illuminate the chamber in soft light. A flight of narrow stone stairs descends in a spiral along the inner walls of the shaft, which is crisscrossed by a lattice of slender, impossibly thin bridges.
The Spiral Archive
Behind the Screen:
She blinks at Obadiah, looking both startled and unsettled by the party's presence. "Uh... yeah. Just... just follow the winding hall. You'll get to the Archive eventually." She goes back to her books, clearly hoping to end the conversation there, but she does glance over the top of her tome at the party occasionally.
Behind the Screen:
You follow the corridor for about 30 feet before reaching a right-hand branch. Further ahead, you see a hexagonal room whose walls are covered in dark red scrawl. Something about the room feels deeply ominous. You recall, however, that the librarian told you to take the first right-hand turn. You follow the corridor around a south bend, which then slowly curves southeast until it's headed eastward again. Along the way, you come to a narrow corridor on your left that leads into what appears to be a reading room. To your mild surprise (considering all you had to go through to get in here) the room is occupied. An Osirian woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, sits at a reading table surrounded by a few small stacks of books. One of them is open before her, and she is reading intently. She does look up when she sees the party, however. "Oh. Uh. Hello." She looks as surprised to see others in the Spiral Archive as you likely do.
Behind the Screen:
The BBC reaches the Great Library more quickly today, as they are slowly beginning to memorize streets and landmarks. Inside, the Avistani dwarf from the other day is back on duty. After reading the letter, he nods, hands it back to you, and leads you to a pair of large brass doors at the north end of the Inner Sanctum. He produces an ornate brass key, turns the lock, and steps back. The two huge statues on either side of the door suddenly lurch to life. They each grasp one of the massive door handles and slowly pull the doors open. "Just follow the corridor and take the right-hand turn when you reach it," he says. "Follow it along and eventually you will reach the Spiral Archive. The guardians will leave you unmolested so long as you have your letter of permission on you. An attendant will come find you at the end of the day, or you may knock three times on the doors to be let out early, if you wish." He bows and leaves you be. The lighting in the tunnel ahead is spotty, even dim in places, but never pitch-black. A single sconce sheds light every twenty-five feet or so, eventually leading to a stairwell heading straight down. You follow the stairwell and descend what must be at least sixty feet before you finally reach the foot of the stairs. The air is dusty and dry, with a faint hint of must on it. Yet you'd never know this place is centuries old; not a speck of the dust you can taste in the air touches the walls or floor. Undoubtedly, magic is afoot to keep the place tidy.
"Farewell, my dearest Obadiah! Sweet Ulysses the Grand Storyteller! Good luck in your studies. And you will keep me apprised of what you find, yes? I am most curious! I expect a personal debriefing." She winks at them, though whether she is winking at Ulysses or Obadiah, it's hard to say. Probably both. The crew eventually returns to their rooms at the inn, still pleasantly buzzed and very full of fancy food.
When the party wakes, the innkeeper hands Obadiah a scroll sealed with wax that is imprinted with the holy symbol of Nethys. You break the seal to find it is indeed a letter of permission to enter the Spiral Archives in the Great Library.
Behind the Screen:
Obadiah's instincts are right on the money. Muminofrah happily goes on and on about the difficulty of procuring meats from an entirely different continent via powerful magic, how she absolutely fell in love with quail egg caviar until she actually saw a quail and completely lost her appetite for it, and how as much as she loves her job, she does tire of so much travel all the time. Her palace back in Sothis is nowhere near as impressive as the Ruby Prince's ("As it should be!" she adds firmly, though you can clearly see she's at least a little envious) it still spans several acres, and Obadiah simply must visit sometime and rest under the manufactured oases she has planted all across the grounds, and-- --and then Obie notices that by the gods, Ulysses is putting on one hell of a show. The nobles are all enraptured and positively delighted by the story, hanging on Ulysses' every word. Everyone, that is, except Deka An-Kheret. She doesn't look sullen or angry anymore. Rather, every word from the gnome's lips seems to drain more color from her face, until she finally quietly excuses herself near the end of the tale and slips off the barge into the city. When Ulysses blurts out about the tumor monkey, a couple of nobles blink in drunken confusion, but others simply laugh, not understanding that Ulysses isn't kidding. But the whole crew can feel the awkward silence approaching...
Behind the Screen:
At the mention of Deka and her obstinacy, Muminofrah's eyebrows rise ever so slightly. "She did, did she? How very peculiar." She fans herself and bats her eyes coquettishly, but a canny observer might notice the gleam in her eye that suggests cunning at work. "Well, I would simply hate to impugn on the Haty-a's sterling reputation by suggesting incompetence, but that is an odd request to deny." She snaps her fan shut and rises slightly on her pillow-pyramid. (Pillowmid? Pyrallow?) "I am tempted to--" A guard clears his throat at the veils, and Muminofrah huffs irritably at him, "What?? I am entertaining guests!" The guard, looking equal parts abashed and nervous, bows deeply. "Most humble apologies, My Lady, but you summoned for Deka An-Kheret. She has arrived." Muminofrah goes from severe irritation to looking positively giddy. "Oh, is she now! What serendipity! Do show her in, won't you?" The guard bows again and lifts the veil, and Haty-a Deka An-Kheret steps into the pillowed lounge. She immediately clocks the party and her jaw clenches. "You called for me, My Lady?" Muminofrah's eyes narrow. "I do believe you are forgetting your station, Haty-a." The statement is spoken calm enough, but there's a subtle edge to it that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A small vein appears in Deka's forehead as she stares at the portly woman casually flopped across a mountain of pillows, then finally bows deeply. "A thousand apologies. My Lady Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King, I answer your summons. How may I serve you?" When she stands straight again, Muminofrah's demeanor has completely shifted once more into the lazy, girlish flirt, a wide smile on her face. "You are received, Haty-a. Thank you. I was going to request a full report of the goings-on in Tephu since last I visited, but something slightly more... intriguing has come up." Deka freezes in place, very, very pointedly not looking at the party. "Has it, My Lady?" "Mmm." Muminofrah snaps her fan back out and wafts it at herself as she studies Deka's face. "I am told these heroes of Wati came looking for assistance in researching the recent tragedy that befell their fair town. I am also told you denied their request to enter the Spiral Archive?" She phrases it as a question, but her face makes it clear it's rhetorical. "Well--I--" Deka begins, stuttering, but her voice trails off. Finally, she clears her throat. "There is dangerous knowledge in there, My Lady. I did not think it prudent to allow outsiders to plunder its depths." Muminofrah raises an eyebrow. "Well, then it is fortuitous that I outrank you, Haty-a, because your thinking is quite flawed. Odd, for one who follows a god of knowledge, hm?" The jab clearly stings Deka, who flinches at the words. Muminofrah taps the fan against her plump lips thoughtfully, before continuing. "In light of their noble endeavor, I think it is only fair we give them three days' access to the Archive. Only so much mischief they can get into in three days, don't you think?" Deka finally seems to get control of herself, and her face becomes perfectly neutral. "As you say, My Lady. I will have a letter of permission drawn up and delivered to whatever inn they are staying at." Sense Motive DC 20:
Deka may have managed to get her emotions in check, but the slight twitch in her eye and her sweaty palms tell you she's furious. But not just furious--maybe frightened, as well? Muminofrah gives Deka a saccharine smile. "Very good, Haty-a. I will expect a full report later, but for now, I am famished! Come, my new friends, you must join me for a feast!" A wide area of the barge outside the pillow lounge is cleared and set up with low tables and sitting pillows. Slaves and servants bring out tray after tray of delectable and rare foods, some of which are impossible to get in Osirion without the aid of magic, including elk steaks from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, anaconda eggs from the Mwangi Expanse, and exotic fruits and vegetables both locally grown and from the far-frung regions of Golarion. Muminofrah insists that both Ulysses and Obadiah sit next to her, patently ignoring Melech and Danu (both of whom are probably relieved not to be under her scrutiny). Several of the guests, seeing the place of honor the Bomb and Blade Crew have, are eager to talk with the party and learn of their endeavors.
Behind the Screen:
Muminofrah giggles girlishly and offers her hand for Obadiah to kiss. "Such a gentleman! You shall make me blush, Master Dwarf." She smiles politely as Obadiah makes his request, but when Ulysses, taken by some unknown spirit, produces a small flower he'd preserved with a flourish as a gesture of goodwill, she squeals with delight. "Oh, my! This is a Mwangi sunpetal! How in the world--?" She holds it gently to her ample bosom. "I shall treasure this gift indeed. An audience is granted. What would you ask of the Fan-Bearer to the Ruby Prince?"
Behind the Screen:
It doesn't take long before the guards pull apart the curtains to allow your party inside. A heavyset woman dressed in revealing silks and wearing a gold headdress lounges atop the pyramid, almost lost in the vast mountain of cushions. A guard intones, "Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King, will see you now." Muminofrah fans herself with a large hand fan containing a single ostrich feather, and regards the party with open curiosity. Knoweledge (nobility) DC 15:
You have heard mixed things about Muminofrah. You've heard tales of her wrath, and of the dreadful fates of those who wronged her--including one or two about people being fed to crocodiles in the River Sphinx. But you've also heard of her generosity, such as the poet she showered in gold after he pleased her with a particularly beautiful poem, or the the young slave she made a noble after the girl traveled 100 miles to pick a rare flower for her. In other words, she's fickle as hell and you should probably be careful how you speak to her, but it sounds like she's open to flattery. You also know the proper etiquette is to bow to your waist, and to officially request an audience with her before asking any favors.
"Such a curious group to seek an audience," she says in a husky voice. She seems particularly interested in Obadiah. "Well aren't you a dashing gentleman!" she coos. "Old age rarely suits people, but you wear it like a silk robe. So, what does such a unique group
Behind the Screen:
The trio mange to gather some sweet deets about the local hoity-toities, but most of it is useless. Who's sleeping with whom, nobles betraying nobles, the usual high-end political tripe. You do learn, however, that Deka and Muminofrah absolutely despise each other. Muminofrah finds Deka impertinent, and Deka finds Muminofrah to be an insufferable blowhard who wields her position of authority like a club against anyone she doesn't like--and is fickle, to boot. Unfortunately for the party, it sounds like she's also the only one who can get you into the Inner Sanctum. But gods know what it will cost you. The queue has shortened to only one person. You could probably get in to see her very quickly...
Behind the Screen:
The guards glance at each other, and one raises his eyebrow before turning back to Obadiah. "No, indeed. Thank you for your invitations. Enjoy the festivities. If you wish to pay your respects to Her Excellency, you may join the queue. Otherwise, drinks and food are over there." He gives a slight bow, then the two return to their stances, khopeshes at their sides. On the deck of the barge, you see over a dozen people from Tephu's upper class mingling, though you are apparently not the only adventurers. A trio of similarly garbed Osirians stand with a tall Mwangi woman in brightly-colored and very expensive fabrics, regaling her enthusiastically with some sort of tale. She listens with polite smiles but appears bored. At the bar (for which there are no seats; standing room only) another slave in plain, clean linens pours drinks for the various guests, who mingle around the area chatting and eating finger foods plucked from trays carried by a pair of servants who look like they could be twins. And of course, near the pyramid of pillows behind the sheer curtains, there is a short line of people chatting and waiting their turn to enter through the drapes to the small section beyond--presumably where Muminofrah can be found. Six more guards line the barge, four of whom stand at each of the pillars holding up the curtains to Muminofrah's area. All stand at attention but look fairly miserable in the rising morning heat.
Behind the Screen:
The girl leads the party through the streets, eastward to the docks. But she doesn't approach the southern docks, where the BBC came in the other day. She leads them to the north, to a smaller set of docks with significantly more guards patrolling, and much sturdier piers that clearly see regular cleaning and upkeep--a far cry from the rickety, mildewed wood planks of the quays where the party's barge moored on their arrival. Several river boats are moored here, all of them of exquisite craftsmanship or aesthetics (indeed, several of them are so clearly meant to be gaudy icons of wealth that you're not sure how they even stay afloat). But one stands out even among all of these fine crafts: a huge, multi-tiered river barge, on which several people in expensive clothes mill about. Someone on board is playing a mellow, pleasant tune on a sitar. The girl brings you to the base of the pier, then bows. "I may go no further. Her Excellency is there, but you will need to speak to the guards to gain admittance." A gangplank leads up from the quay to the deck of the pleasure barge. Brightly painted and trimmed with shining gold, the barge's polished wooden planks gleam in the sun. Toward the stern of the vessel, painted and gilded columns support a silken canopy, shading a pyramid-shaped dais heaped with cushions that rises from the barge's deck. Sheer curtains between the pillars stir slightly in the weak breeze along the canal. At the end of the gangplank, two guards in fine gilded armor with masterfully-crafted khopeshes and steel shields stand at attention.
The guards narrow their eyes at you and cross their khopeshes, barring entry to the barge. "Invitation only. And you definitely do not have an invitation."
Sense Motive DC 15: These guards do not look particularly happy with their assignment. Downright irritable about it, in fact. A little coin might be sufficient to convince them to let you on board.
Behind the Screen:
The girl blinks in surprise at Melech's shared brand, then her brow furrows in confusion, as if she doesn't understand what she's seeing. To be fair, it's quite rare to see a branded ex-slave in Osirion. She finally remembers herself and smiles. "No offense was taken. Meaning no ill to the most honorable Haty-a, but it is my experience she can sometimes be... reticent in her dealings." She's surprisingly diplomatic for a simple messenger, but perhaps that's not so shocking upon second thought. After all, one would have to be able to speak carefully when referring to superiors who can have you whipped for the mere impertinence of making eye contact. "My name is unimportant. I am but a humble servant of Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King, who has blessed the people of Tephu with her presence. If you wish to speak with her, she is holding court at the Palace of Gentle Reeds. I do not know if you will be allowed entrance, but you are certainly welcome to try. I can show you the way, if you wish." She sweeps her hand at the door in offering.
Behind the Screen:
Deka doesn't take the mask. She stares at it where it sits on her desk for all the world like she would a viper threatening to strike. She studies it carefully without touching it. Her face never moves save for a small tic in her left eye. After several moments, she says quietly, "You have brought a deadly power into my city, without so much as a forewarning, and now you wish to enter our most sacred archives? If this thing is as powerful as you claim, you had no right to bring it into my city. Take it and get out. You have twenty-four hours to get this... thing... as far as Tephu as you can manage. After twenty-four hours, I will remove you by force. Do I make myself--?" Her cold anger suddenly spikes hot as a figure rushes into the room, interrupting her tirade. The Osirian woman is young--perhaps no older than nineteen--and garbed in plain, clean linens. Of more immediate note to Melech, however, is the brand on her forehead marking her as a slave. She immediately pushes in front of the crew and falls to the floor, prostrating herself before the Haty-a. Deka no longer looks stern; she looks absolutely livid. "What," she snarls at the slave, "is the meaning of this interruption?!" The young woman barely raises her head, not far enough to make eye contact with Deka. "A thousand pardons, Haty-a An-Keret. My mistress, Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, demands I bid you a message immediately." A range of emotions, none of them pleasant, pass over the Haty-a's face. Finally she snaps, "Very well. Come here." She turns to look at the party in frustration before stepping to the far side of the spacious office and entering into a whispered conversation with the girl. Ulysses' keen ears pick up the conversation almost without even trying. "Muminofrah requests your immediate presence," the girl murmurs. "Tell Muminofrah I will see her as soon as I can. I am quite busy, and--" Shockingly, the slave girl interrupts Deka. "She is most insistent, Haty-a. Her displeasure is quite... severe." You're not certain, but you think she might have shuddered when she said it. Deka's jaw clenches, and she closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths before returning to the party. "I am afraid an urgent matter has come up and I must take my leave. I trust you can find your own way out. If not, the guards will be happy to assist you." That definitely wasn't not a threat. She doesn't wait to hear any response from the party, instead hustling briskly out the doors that the guards open for her. They leave it open and stare pointedly at the party. The messenger girl, however, has not left yet. She smiles pleasantly at the party, head slightly bowed, never quite making eye contact with anyone. Melech is all too familiar with these social cues; Viqir had attempted to instill them in him once. The necromancer was always more a stick-over-carrot sort of teacher, to put it mildly. Had Melech not fled when he did, perhaps he'd be in the same situation as this girl.
Knowledge (local or nobility) DC 15: Muminofrah is a high-ranking noblewoman from the court of the Ruby Prince himself. She is the only person in all of Tephu who outranks Deka. If anyone can override Deka's stonewalling, it's probably her. Getting an audience with her is its own challenge, however.
Behind the Screen:
Deka's face might as well be stone for all the information you can glean off it; she remains perfectly neutral throughout your explanation. When the group finishes, she considers each in turn for several moments before she asks, "And this... mask. Do you have it with you now?"
Behind the Screen:
The dawn rises on a new day.
You return to the Sanctuary the next day after several cups of coffee and some runny eggs (and a few lesser restorations) to keep everyone on their toes. You return to the desk of the secretary, whose smile at your approach is maybe just a little less stiff than it was yesterday. "Hello again. Would you like me to see if Haty-a An-keret is available to see you?"
She heads into the Haty-a's office for a few moments before returning with a look of mild surprise. "The Haty-a will see you, but she urges you keep your meeting brief." She leads you into an office that is surprisingly spare, considering the opulence of the outer hall. A tall, severe woman in priestly robes sits behind a marble desk, its colors a swirl of ebony and ivory fitting the halls of a church of Nethys. "I apologize for a lack of pleasantries, but I have a city to run so let's be brief. The Inner Sanctum of the Library of Tephu contains much knowledge that is extremely dangerous. Why should I allow you access?"
Behind the Screen:
Much of the evening is a blur of rowdy sitar music and table dancing (which, since all the tables are designed to sit at while on the floor, isn't really much different than regular floor dancing, though it does give the barkeep a hernia). A few bright moments do shine through, however. An androgynous halfling with bright green eyes and night-black hair strikes up a rousing conversation with Ulysses on the finer points of various phaoronic eras in Osirion's history while sloshing most of their rice alcohol onto the table. Danu dances with a group of Tien travelers visiting the Library of Tephu for a foreign exchange program with Ngon Hoa, the capital of Xa Hoi; she speaks not a lick of their language, but the language of dance wins out anyway. Melech attracts a couple of local mercenaries eager to talk shop; one is even a grizzled old warpriest of Pharasma with a few pointers on how to handle dread wights. Obadiah stays in his room and prays like the wet blanket he is.
Behind the Screen:
The secretary sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Look. If the Haty-a says she is busy, nothing you or I say is going to get her to see you right now. Certainly I am not in any position to tell her what to do. You may try again tomorrow, or you may place an appointment at the times I have suggested. That really is all I can do. I am sorry." To your surprise, she genuinely seems to mean it.
Behind the Screen:
The secretary looks up at him, mildly annoyed, and drags out a leatherbound book from a desk drawer. She scans down the orderly lines of the pages and finally says, "Her schedule is very booked for the next two weeks. I can pencil you in for a tentative ten o' clock on the twentieth, but even that will be pushing it. If you want a guaranteed sit-down, you're looking at the fourth of Desnus at the earliest. I can mark you in one of those days, but otherwise your best bet really is to just come back tomorrow and hope you catch her at a good time."
Behind the Screen:
Obadiah has a hard time getting a read on the young woman. He certainly feels like he's getting the run-around, but whether or not that's what is, in fact, happening, he cannot read from her face.
Behind the Screen:
The secretary gives Obadiah an inscrutable look and takes the letter. "One moment, please." She stands up and strides to the door, which the guards pull open for her and close behind her. Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass, which turns into a minute, then two, then five. Finally, the doors split open, this time being opened by a different pair of guards on the other side of the door, who close them behind the secretary. She seats herself back at her desk and gives a professionally apologetic smile. "I am afraid the Haty-a is busy today. You may try again tomorrow, if you wish, but I can make no promises. She is very busy this week. Have a nice day." She returns to her scribbling without so much as looking at the party again.
Intermission: The Marooned One: Thrashing and choked sobs burst form the water as Scourge clambers onto the shore of Bonewrack Island. His octopus assailants have since vanished back to the Aether from whence they were summoned, but the blood of his wounds attracted a pair of hungry tiger sharks. He'd managed a lucky stab on one with his cutlass, and by a stroke of luck, the other shark went into a frenzy and tore its compatriot to pieces, giving Scourge a head start on his swim to shore. He'd just finished beating the remaining shark back when he finally reached the shallows. He turns in time to see the Man's Promise unfurl her sails and begin a swift journey away from Bonewrack Isle. The sight breaks what little will he had left in him, and he collapses in on himself. Ragged and bloody, covered in welts, bruises, and lacerations, the former boatswain of the Wormwood-cum-First Mate of the Man's Promise staggers onto the sandy beach, staring disoriented at his surroundings. To his left, eastward, is a low hill. To his right, tracks in the sand lead toward a small cluster of huts. He staggers toward them, whimpering and shivering despite the rising heat of morning. In the--well, a half dozen huts hardly constitutes a "village"; in the commune, then--he finds most of the huts undisturbed, save one. Piled just outside the door is a trio of dead ghouls, presumably once human women, but difficult to say with any authority now; their bone structure has been violently altered by their undead transformation. They still wear the tatters of frippery that is common among the courtesans and prostitutes of Bloodcove. That port is a long way from this sorry pit of an isle. How did they get here, he wonders? And more concerning, how did they become ghouls? Scourge was never a man burdened with an overabundance of schooling. His school had always been the one of Hard Knocks, and it was a lesson he constantly failed. Where hard living usually led to hard men, Scourge was, is, and likely always will be, a coward. He hurts when the opportunity arises, but mostly he hides behind those more powerful than himself. He peers into the shadowy gloom of the hut, noting the slowly fading footprints of those mutinous bastards who led to his current predicament. He knew from the moment they threw fists at him on the Wormwood that they'd be trouble, but back then he had Mister Plugg and one of the most feared pirate captains of the Shackles to cower behind when they got truly out of line. Now... Now, he has no one. A man with even an ounce of self-awareness might take this moment to reach an epiphany on the perils of being a bully with no backbone, or to let stronger folk do your thinking instead of being independent of thought, or... well, Hells. Any kind of lesson, really. But Scourge is also notorious for a spectacular dearth of self-awareness, as well. So instead, he slips into the shadows of the hut and curls up against the wall, shaking and whimpering. Occasionally his utterances turn feral and vicious, snarling empty promises of hateful vengeance on the mutinous dogs who left him here. Then he seems to realize the futility of such curses, and lapses back into silent, shuddering weeping. All the while, he absently swats at stinging botflies that try to land on his exposed neck, face, and forearms. Clutched in his hand is one of the only possessions to survive the combined octopus and shark attacks: a single pocket watch, its glass face cracked but otherwise in functional condition. He grips it without looking at it, winding it up and letting the steady tick of it lull him into a self-pitying stupor. His maudlin reverie is perhaps why he doesn't notice the plodding of footsteps in the sand outside. The sun pulls the figure's shadow away from the hut's entrance, so they have no trouble reaching their long arms into the hut and snatching the boatswain by the throat. Sharp claws dig into his flesh as he's lifted bodily into the air, and his startled thrashing suddenly halts as his limbs stiffen. Paralyzed, his eyes dart in all directions to try and see his attacker, but they remain behind him. Slowly the powerful limbs turn him to face his attacker. A ghoul stares hungrily at him, its dull white eyes staring with an appetite that is wholly unnatural, as a long purple tongue twists and writhes over cracked black lips that hide jagged yellow fangs. The ragged remains of a noose dangles from its neck like a macabre cravat. Its throat is partially collapsed in a dark, bruised ring from where the creature had been hanged. It tries to speak, but no intelligible words come out; the damage to its esophagus is too great. Scourge doesn't care about what it has to say anyway. It sinks its long, needle-like teeth into his shoulder, which erupts in a volcano of burning agony. That grotesque purple tongue laps at the rivulets of blood with gurgling, choking moans of pleasure. Unable to withstand the terror any longer, Scourge looses his bowels and blacks out. ---- After being attacked and paralyzed by a ghoul, the last thing Scourge expects is to ever wake up again, but wake he does. He is still in the hut. Darkness has fallen, but a steady stream of moonlight illuminates the shadowy figure of the ghoul. It hunkers in the far corner, watching him with eyes that shine dully in the moonlight. It croaks at him eagerly, but again the ruins of its vocal cords makes speech impossible. It claws at its throat in frustration, then slams a fist into the wall. Scourge manages a small squeak of terror and curls in on himself. If the ghoul takes note of his terror, it doesn't show it. Instead, it stands up and storms off into the darkness. Scourge falls back into a fitful slumber. ---- When he wakes again, it is well into daylight. The hut has become insufferably hot, and the stench of s#** fills the air, making him gag. It takes his brain-fogged mind several minutes to realize the smell is coming from him. He staggers out into the blazing sun, feebly shielding his eyes with his forearm, and stumbles into the ocean water. It takes several minutes to scrub his ragged clothes enough to get the stench of feces out of them. He doesn't think there's enough water in the world to scrub out the stench of his failure, though. He looks around the beach, but sees no sign of the ghoul that attacked him. The bite on his shoulder has scabbed over, but angry red lines are already spreading from it. And under the red lines are thinner lines of pitch black, like thread made from the Dark Tapestry itself. Through the haze in his brain, he thinks that this cannot be a good sign. But the haze is powerful, and thick, and it discourages thought. Soon he lets it carry him like a cloud back to the huts. He picks one other than the one he shat himself in and collapses in exhaustion. Just the small exhertion of washing himself has taken every ounce of energy he has. He feels terrible; his stomach twists into knots that are not just of hunger, and his body aches all over both from his many injuries that are refusing to heal, and from some sickness that has taken root in him. A cold, perhaps, or some stomach bug. He patently ignores the angry red wound on his shoulder as he thinks this, instead taking the pocket watch back out and staring at the intricate web of cracks in its face as it ticks away the seconds that remain of his life. ---- How long has he been lying here? Hours? Days? It is night again, but he has the vaguest sense that he has been here more than two nights. The sun no longer burns his skin when he goes out, but something about its brightness is offensive to him, and he hisses at it, curling back into a ball inside the safety of the hut until it passes below the west horizon. He crawls on the ground like a beast, sniffing the air, but he no longer smells anything. No longer tastes. He found some fruit at some point, but when he put it in his mouth he immediately vomited. Sweet pineapple had tasted like rot and ash mixed with grain alcohol. He needs something else. Something fresher, sweeter. He needs meat. He skitters through the darkness. He is joined by his friend, the Hanged Man, he calls him. They crawl through the brush in search of food. His belly aches so. Everything seems dim, flat, and dull. Everything... but the bright, wriggling outline of a viper slithering through the grass. He pounces on it. The snake sinks its fangs into his skin, puncturing through the gray, rubbery flesh that is now pulled tight over his bones, but the venom it pumps into him holds no danger anymore. It is poison poured into dead flesh. Scourge snatches the writhing serpent in both hands and bites it in half with rotting teeth. Several of them fall out in the effort, but he doesn't mind. New ones are already growing in, hideous yellow needles protruding through bloated blue gums. Those few needles already present are enough to tear flesh from bone. It's a small meal, a meager meal, but it tastes sweet as a pastry to him. The hot, fresh blood of the viper pours down his gullet like a dying man in a desert who's just found a canteen. The Hanged Man leaps on him, fighting and scrabbling to steal his kill from him. He fights back, but the Hanged Man is much stronger, much more powerful. A slap to the jaw knocks him completely senseless, and Hanged Man takes the halves of the snake and rips hungrily into them. That's alright, though; he got the freshest of the animal's blood. He grovels and mewls plaintively at the Hanged Man's thigh, eager to show his subservience to the stronger ghoul, but the Hanged Man simply swats irritably at him and returns to his wet, crunching, squelching meal. Scourge quietly retreats. The Hanged Man suddenly stops in mid-chew, dull white eyes perking up and staring southward. Without word, he drops the dead snake and lopes with horrid, unnatural grace toward the southeastern shores. Curious, Scourge scrambles after him. The moonlight pours over a single jolly boat that has been dragged up onto the sand. Far out in the dark waters, a lantern illuminates the deck of a modest-sized sloop. The Hanged Man turns to Scourge in the darkness, the eager hunger in his eyes mirrored in Scourge's own. The two ghouls scramble quietly into the boat and begin rowing toward the sloop, each turn of the oars as slow and soft as they can make it, as they creep toward a veritable buffet of sweet meats. Scourge pauses rowing to tug out the gold chain of the pocket watch, its slow ticking a balm to Scourge's undeath-wracked mind. He stares curiously at the picture inside the lid, a small drawing of a woman who looks distantly familiar, holding a baby in her arms and smiling warmly for the artist. The last few scraps of his humanity struggles to recall why this woman looks so familiar to him. It is remarkable she looks familiar at all, seeing as how he never met her in his life. He did, however, meet his daughter--who aided in him being marooned here. But soon, even that thought is drowned out by the buzzing need for meat. Scourge snaps the watch shut, tucks it into a ratty pocket, and concentrates on rowing toward his next meal with his new master.
Behind the Screen:
With fresh wind in the sails, blood swabbed off the decks, and an eye on the horizon, the party leads the ship toward their destination--and hopefully, no shortage of booty.
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