A New Assignment, Part II
After checking the "adherer" and its surrounding room for anything lootworthy, I checked the next set of stairs going deeper into the crypt. Sure enough, there were small holes, just big enough to allow spears to pop out, lining both walls. You know that saying that "Many hands make light work"? If I weren't a proper lady (*snort*) I'd tell you exactly what I thought of THAT little ditty. I let Eyra take the lead in disarming the thing, and I knelt down to help. She pulled one way, I pulled another, and for some reason Davelek came charging onto the staircase yelling, "I can help, too!" Next thing you know all three of us are enjoying our newfound perforations. Between Davelek and Blackwing, I marvel that we're still alive.

Eyra patched us up all right, but Davelek took a host of healing; apparently he hadn't bothered to mention just how badly the adherer had hurt him. But she did quip that we wouldn't be having to worry about having extra charges left in our wand once we were done with this little sortie. Oh, good.

We made it down the rest of the staircase without further incident (thank the gods!), and found a weird room with a long stone table and a couple of brass urns in it. Eyra and I poked around a bit, and we discovered the "Off" switch for the staircase. Good to know for our way out -- assuming Davelek wouldn't find some way to disable IT. Even though there was a wide passage leading into an even bigger room to the east, the group agreed with my approach of always following the left wall. I find it more sinister. Hey! Even a girl from Riddleport gets SOME education, you know!
As we pressed forward, we caught site of movement ahead of us. Another swarm! And this time it was made up of... cats!?!??!

Yes. Now I was sure I'd seen everything, as a tangle of hundreds of furry bundles of claws and teeth came tumbling towards us. I warned Eyra to step back, but being Eyra, she stood her ground, obviously intent on doing something magical and unfortunate to the kitties. Much as I hated to do it, I prepared a flask of alchemist's fire to show them what-for. As usual, Blackwing did his song-and-dance of, "I can controoooooool you!"
But this time, the cats listened!!!!!

As the cats calmed down and herded around us, you could see that they really were dead. Hundreds and hundreds of little dead cats. All obeying a big black bird. Yeah, my world view is upside-down. Plus, I had a flask of primed-but-unused alchemist's fire in my hands. I guess I wouldn't be going near any torches, nor doing any fighting any time soon. We rearranged the party with the cats in front and proceeded.

OK. I'm lying.

Blackwing made the cats dance. He made them sing. He tried to make them carry his stuff. He tried to make them carry him. We stood there for a good 5 minutes while Blackwing tried everything he could think of with his poor undead horde. Eyra smiled and even laughed a couple of times at his antics. Davelek guffawed. I have to admit, it was pretty cute. In a sick, twisted, necromancer-y sort of way. But he petted the cats and forced them to purr for him, and objected strenuously when I suggested that THEY take point. Fortunately, when I pointed out that they were already dead, so could hardly come to harm, and if they died, meh, he could find other toys, he cheered up and let them take the lead.

The passage we were following arced around and joined the big room we'd seen before. This big room was another big disappointment. It seemed only partially-finished, as there were half-dug passages leading out from all sides of it. The cats (and then I) searched all the dead ends and found... nothing. We checked the torch holders, the stone tables, everything. We found nothing. The only way to proceed was down a short flight of steps to a pair of stone double doors. There was no writing on the doors. No traps. No locks. I was getting less and less hopeful that we'd find anything at all in this crypt. On the other hand, Blackwing had his cats, and he was happily clucking away at them as they made their horrifically-distorted meows back at him. Nothing like necromancer "cuteness" to make you ponder missing a meal. But that's crazy talk!
We opened the door and found the tomb proper. Some guy named Pentheru the Younger. Eyra read all the hieroglyphs all around the room, all about his life and times and this and that and the other thing. She noticed that Pentheru the Younger was obviously a LOT more popular than Pentheru the Elder. All I knew was that I still had an active flask of boom in my hands, and I was itching to find something undead to gift it to.

Before we set to looting exploring proper, Eyra used Detect Magic around the room. There was something in the sarcophagus. Good! Looked like we'd be getting some loot after all! We opened the sarcophagus and there was a brief moment of anxiety but... nothing. There was Pentheru, buried with his favorite cat or something. Eyra Detected Magic again and whatever had been in there was gone. We'd set off something, and now it was just a matter of time to find out what.
Pantherho the Younger was obviously not a rich man. We took his funerary mask and pendant, but took pity on the poor guy and didn't bother scraping the gold or prying the gems off his sarcophagus. At the end of the day, he really didn't have much worth anything, so we sealed him back up in his coffin, Eyra took some notes on his life, and we headed back up to the surface.

By miracle, we remembered to flip the switch to deactivate the spear trap before we went up.

Now that we were done with poor Pootenanny the Kid's tomb, we figured it was time to loot his house. Once again, the door was untrapped and unlocked. I was pretty thankful, considering my hands were still full, but I was starting to wonder about security in old Wati. NO ONE in Riddleport left their doors unlocked; not even the criminally insane! There was a nice courtyard in the center of the house, but again I chose the direction for the group, and we went... left. Blackwing's cats trotted into a pretty nice (but pretty stinky) dining room without incident, but as Davelek and I stepped in, four heads rose from the table to menace us. Finally! I gave them the gift of fire. Blackwing gave them the gift of hundreds of happy undead cats getting to pounce on floaty heads in the air. I have no idea what they'd intended to do; talk to us or bite us or invite us to dinner. They didn't last long enough to do much of anything. If they'd had eyes, I think they would have looked a bit astonished at how poorly things went for them. Blackwing said he'd researched the things and they were called "Beheaded" and they could breathe fire and scream and do all kinds of nasty things, so I was just as happy to watch the undead kitties gnawing on their now-motionless forms. The dining room proved a bit more profitable, with silver plates and goblets worth a tidy sum, but as always, they'd hidden the silver. What IS it about nobles and silverware? "Should I hide my firstborn or the silverware?" "The silver, darling! Of COURSE you hide the silver!"
My extensive searching came to naught -- I couldn't find that darned silverware anywhere. So I took their plates and goblets just to spite them.
The next room along was a lesser dining room. Still no silverware!
Eyra, probably fed up with my obsession with eating utensils, suggested we approach the courtyard. As usual, Blackwing sent his cats in first. I was towards the back when I heard a woman's voice in Common call out, "What are all these cats doing in my house?!?!!"
I know a cue when I hear one, and vanished behind the wall so whoever "she" was wouldn't see me.
Eyra, far more diplomatic than I, greeted the woman in return. She identified herself as the "spirit of the house". She and Eyra managed to exchange pleasantries for a good 30 seconds before Eyra asked, "Is there anything we can do for you?", and the woman responded, "You can DIE!!!!"
She did... somethingorother and we all felt sleepy for a moment, but we all snapped out of it as Blackwing's cats swarmed over the woman and Eyra slashed it so hard it made my ears ring. Note to self: Never get Eyra angry while she's exchanging pleasantries. It's... bad. There was no room in the doorway to engage, so I started going around. However, Eyra hit it again, Davelek was laying into it, and the cats were all over it, so by the time I made it around there was nothing left to fight but... a pile of sand.

Ah, well. All's well that ends well, I guess. I wonder what the heck she was?

A New Assignment
While I often speak disparagingly of halflings' cowardice, obsequiousness, and general attitude of "step all over me, please!", there are some halfling "traditions" that I cannot understand anyone doing without. The idea that the "biglings" only eat THREE meals a day has always baffled me. I set out to relieve my fellows of this ridiculous habit, introducing them to first breakfast, second breakfast, brunch, lunch, afternoon cakes, dinner, supper, and evening cakes. They didn't even make it a day. How can they be so BIG while eating so LITTLE? Nevertheless, the party had saved my life, and I set out to show them how much I appreciated it, spending my gold profusely on fine rooms, fine dining, baths, and masseuses. As one of my priestesses once said, "You cannot know how to die if you don't know how to live."
During our sojourn, Eyra did some research into the god she hadn't recognized, and it turned out it was "Anubis", lord of the underworld. Kind of made sense to me, and I was happy she was continuing her unending research. You never know when some obscure factoid is going to come back and save your life.

As we spent our days in the lap of luxury, funded by me, though I knew full well my party members both appreciated it and considered it unnecessary, we learned more about our erstwhile "rivals", though "co-delvers" would be a better term:

The next two weeks passed rather blissfully. I was well-fed, well-equipped, had a hot bath and a shampoo every night, and got to travel about town with Eyra as she asked all kinds of questions I didn't understand. Davelek sometimes accompanied us, and sometimes went off on his own. Blackwing spent most of his time locked in his room, feverishly copying spells from scrolls he'd bought into his spellbook, or creating magical scrolls from said spellbook for later use. I swear, that bird is going to end up with a cramped wing the way he writes!

Finally, we were summoned once again to appear before the crocodile lady. This time was different from the last; we showed up alone, and she just assigned us the "House of Pentheru" and gave Eyra the map. Seemed rather odd, but considering our last mission had made us rich, I saw no reason to mistrust the lady.

We got all our gear ready and headed over to the house. Eyra rather tactfully pointed out that, since we had met several other groups, some of whom were not satisfied either with their lots or with us (thankfully she made no mention of halflings with dogs), it might behoove us to scout the perimeter of the establishment before going in. I volunteered to sneak around the perimeter to check for other parties. Eyra raised an eyebrow. "Is it wise for you to go alone, or should we all go together?"
There are things that I hate to admit, but damned if I'm going to let my own personal pride and hangups endanger the group. And one of those things is that halflings really are better sneaks than humans. We just are. There's no competition. Eyra was graceful enough she might be able to pull it off, but the notion of Davelek, or, Calistria save me, Blackwing trying to sneak around an old ruin was enough to give me shudders. Eyra didn't like it. She made me promise over and over again that I wouldn't try to fight anything, and I'd yell if I encountered anything, and she finally let me go. I suspect it had more to do with my reticence than her believing it was a good idea.
The trip was... odd. I didn't see any signs of other parties. I didn't see any signs of danger. But as I walked along one wall, I heard the sounds of an angry mob yelling and wailing inside the walls. If a group was ahead of us, they'd brought a lot of friends. A lot of angry, unhappy friends.

I reported my findings to the group, and we decided to head in the front gate anyway. Mobs are easy to spot and almost as easy to flee (as long as they're in one place), so we were pretty confident we could get away from them if they showed up.

The front gate was boring enough; a couple of statues flanking a gate that said, "House of Pentheru", according to Eyra. As we entered, I once again heard the sounds of the approaching mob. Since I couldn't see anything, we waited... and the gates started shaking, and a woman's voice cried out in ancient Osiriani (Eyra later translated for me that she'd been screaming about holding the gates against some kind of attack). As the rattles subsided, my eyes grew wide. "This is the coolest. House. EVER!!!!"
The others were not as impressed.

We decided to save the house for last, and explore the grounds first. Heading clockwise, we entered what might once have been a garden, but what was now sand. As we walked across the garden towards a dried-out pool, a HUGE centipede emerged from the pool and attacked us. And I really DO mean HUGE. This thing was at least twenty feet long! As usual, Davelek and I engaged it as Blackwing tossed acid blobs and Eyra fired her crossbow. As I sidled around for a flank, the unthinkable happened: The centipede, finally getting its bearings after realizing that we were no ordinary prey, bit Davelek. Hard. And Davelek ran away! That's right! Our big, bad, armor-clad fighter of Cayden Cailean ran away, leaving little ol' me (at all of 2'9") facing a 20-foot centipede! I don't play the helpless damsel often (well, EVER), but seriously?!?!? In what world is it OK to leave a woman alone to fight a giant poisonous bug?!?!?!
But of all the things people might call me, "Coward" is NOT on that list. I kept right on stabbing, carving tiny chunks out of the centipede. Given enough time, I might have created a nice platter of assorted meats out of the thing. But Eyra had other plans. She walked right up to the other side of the centipede, quipped, "I have your back, Red," and stabbed the centipede. HARD. It looked like she might have done more damage in a single blow than I had in three or four. And the centipede noticed, and bit her. Hard. And she reeled. I desperately kept stabbing the thing, wishing I was bigger, or that my daggers bit deeper, but I knew that it would still take me some time to drop this beast. And Eyra, dizzy from poison and loss of blood, chose not to run, but to stab it again. And again she struck true and deep, and the centipede shuddered and fell to the ground. As Eyra collapsed to her knees, I scrambled atop the centipede to finish it off.

I lit into Davelek something awful. And I'd do it again. If your job is to be in the front lines, you NEVER leave. You HAVE to trust your healer to keep you upright. If you run, your healer dies, and everybody dies. He should know that. Davelek made all kinds of excuses as to being badly hurt, and bleeding, and wah wah wah. Fortunately, Eyra was able to heal both Davelek and herself up with her wand, and the poison ran its course without incapacitating her (though she was a bit wobbly), so we proceeded.

Rounding the corner of the house, we saw the family crypt. After a quick consultation, we decided to try the crypt first, as Blackwing would be of most use there. As we descended the stairs into the crypt, it got darker and darker, so Eyra lit up one of Davelek's swords. I took point, as I no longer trusted Davelek to hold his ground. As we neared the bottom of the stairs, a weird mummy thing charged forward. I stepped next to Davelek, forming a defensive line, and called out, "You're up, Blackwing!"
He cast some kind of spell and called out, "It's not undead!"
If there has ever been a more useless bird, I am unaware of it. I am beginning to think I know what the main course of our next banquet will be.

Davelek and I laid into the mummy-but-not-undead thing, and it seemed to want to prove its non-undeadness by sprouting a bunch of tentacles that engulfed Davelek. Eyra coated him with Grease and he got loose. I was momentarily distracted while pondering other uses of the spell, and Davelek was forced to finish it off on his own. Once it was dead, Eyra examined it and declared it an "Adherer", and definitely not undead.

Whatever. It was dead now.

We moved deeper into the tomb...

Interlude
We clambered victorious out of Akhi-whatever's tomb, not even losing Blackwing to some freak accident, and headed back into town. We reported to the powers-that-be that we were done exploring the tomb (well, Eyra reported, because she's familiar with all this stuff. Plus, she's beautiful, charming, and knows the local language and customs, so yeah, 'best fit' and all that). The powers-that-be expressed surprise and amazement: Were we really done in only 2 days? They had set aside a month for each group to finish exploring its assigned tomb. As Blackwing translated the conversation for me, I first felt chagrin: Had we missed something? I thought back on Eyra's map and our careful explorations, plus the documents we found in the tomb itself, and I was sure that no, we HAD explored the entire tomb. Then I felt ripped off: Why had we been given such a puny tomb? Finally, I thought back on the spider things that had nearly decorated their nests with my entrails, Blackwing's near-death experience with the well, and (shudder) my entombment in the living sarcophagus, and I realized we'd gotten off easy: Our tomb was rich (I already had more money than I'd seen in my lifetime, and we hadn't even sold our second haul yet), it was small, and we were all alive.

Sometimes, you just have to be thankful for the good things, rather than dwelling on what might have been.

So as Eyra signed off on whatever forms or whatnot we were supposed to finish, I checked my "pocket change". Did I mention we were rich? I had more "pocket change" than one of Saul's best pickpockets could earn in a month, so I decided another night of feasting, massages, desserts, and baths were in order. And tonight, it was all on me, in gratitude to the party for getting me out of my black death trap! I knew I'd have nightmares of that black space. If they were too bad I'd track down Eyra and cuddle up with her. One of the benefits of being a halfling: No one minds holding you when you need to be held.
Plans for partying and how to spend a fear-filled night aside, I'm no fool: If Wati was anything like Riddleport (and looking around town, I suspected it was), word of our early success and relative wealth would get to the wrong ears in short order, and we'd have to keep our eyes open for trouble: Pickpockets, cutpurses, gangs of thugs, and worse. I made sure not to let Eyra out of my sight, and kept both my eyes and ears open. Davelek had proven to me that he could more than hold his own in a fight. Blackwing was such an oddity that I doubted anyone sane would target him. But Eyra, with her otherworldly beauty and nose always in a book was a prime target, as was I due to my size. They'd learn I had pointy bits soon enough...

The evening passed... spectacularly! Plenty of good food, fine ale, many teacakes, a wonderful oil massage from a dark-haired, olive-skinned woman with strong hands who didn't speak a word of Common, and baths, baths for no reason other than the luxury of a fine bath! I curled up in my gargantuan bed, sure of the nightmares to come, ready to appeal to Eyra for a need to be held...
...and I woke up the next morning, fresh as a daisy, and ready to take on the world!

I was rather delighted when I was interrupted in the middle of first breakfast when Eyra tapped lightly on my door, and asked me whether I'd like to 'accompany her shopping' or some other hoi polloi term that basically meant, "Watch out for me while I do silly things with old stuff."
I agreed immediately, got my armor on and arranged, and we set off.

It was soon quite obvious that Eyra's vision of 'shopping' and mine were canonically different. We sold the antiquities we'd looted from Afdajkeaoa's tomb for quite a tidy sum. I considered it, "Loot". She considered it, "A bounty for recovering priceless antiquities on behalf of the Ossirian government." To each her own. Cash is cash. We set aside Blackwing and Davelek's shares and went to town.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm as much of a 'girly girl' as the next woman when I have cash in my pocket. Perfumes, baubles, manicures, and pedicures attract me just as much as a finely-sharpened brace of daggers. But Eyra's approach to shopping was... different.
At EVERY stall. And yes, I really mean at EVERY stall, she had to stop and look at everything. And discuss the object's (dubious) history with the shopkeep. And turn the item over again and again in her hands, furrowing her oh-so-perfect brow as she pondered whether or not the item was genuine. And then chat with the shopkeep some more. It would have been immensely tedious if I hadn't taken to asking about each item. "So, which Furrow was in charge when that was made? What was he like? Did he have any lovers? What were they like?"
Eyra was a font of information, and loved to wax about the history of every Furrow who'd ever ruled Osirion, and his foibles, and his failings, and his achievements. And honestly, I actually found a little of it interesting, so I dealt with having to stop at every single stall in the ENTIRE BAZAAR. It didn't help that most of the shopkeeps spoke nothing but Ossirian, so Eyra had to translate for me on top of everything else.

On the bright side, I knew exactly what I needed, and Eyra's random pattern of shopping took us everywhere I could have wished for. I replaced my shoddy, well-worn backpack with one far better-suited to one my size, and everything in it felt lighter due to a set of clever straps that the shopkeep showed me how to adjust. I replaced my cheap hemp rope with a silken one to match Eyra's, and went so far as to get a set of FIVE flasks of alchemist's fire and another tanglefoot bag. There's no such thing as being overprepared, as it were. While Eyra was safely distracted at yet another stall full of "antiquities", I crept off and got her a nice set of masterwork thieves' tools to make up for the ones I was always borrowing. I'm afraid the exchange didn't go off quite as well as I'd hoped.
"Eyra, I know I've been borrowing your tools all the time, so I thought I should make up for it, and I got you these."
"Oh, Red. These are quite delightful!"
"So, if you don't mind, I'd like to keep your old set, if that's OK."
"That would be just fine. But they're human-sized. Are you sure you'll be able to work with them?"
"Oh, I have deft hands. You'd be amazed at what I can do with them..."
I trailed off, blushing furiously, wondering how I'd managed to wander into that particular trap. Fortunately, Eyra was still oblivious, admiring her new tools.

Our final two stops were on my behalf: We stopped by the weaponsmith. Sure enough, he had a brace of utterly beautiful mithral daggers with red-and-black hilts that I just HAD to own. When I asked him whether he had a changing room, he just stared at me blankly. I swear, sometimes people just don't understand what their items are used for. So there, right in the middle of the store, I shucked off my top and started rearranging my wares. Daggers on the calves. Daggers up the sleeves. Mithral daggers in my hip sheathes. Where was the fourth set to go? I finally decided on a pair of sheathes against my back, near the small of my back, but it took a bit of adjustment to get them to the point that I could comfortably sit in a chair and not let on that I had daggers back there. You can never have too many daggers. Not that the weaponsmith understood that, of course. But I finally got everything arranged, re-dressed, and we were on our way.

I finally suggested that we get pedicures, just because we had cash lying around and it would be nice. Eyra didn't understand the idea at all. "Why should we have our feet decorated, when we are always wearing boots?"
"Because it feels good and looks nice."
"But... our feet are always hidden."

Ah, well. Some day I'll teach her the benefits of a proper pedicure. Until then, it looks like we're all dressed up with nowhere to go! I guess we should go find out what Blackwing and Davelek have been up to, then decide what we're going to do for the next three weeks while the other groups finish up...

Halfling: It's not what's for dinner, Part II
Fortunately, our second trip down the "well" was a LOT less exciting than the first. I went down ahead and took cover, in case there was anything waiting for us. There wasn't. Eyra and Davelek lowered Blackwing down, then climbed down themselves. One of these days we either have to get Davelek a Ring of Climbing, or we need to get that man some training. At least we can rely on Blackwing to plummet. With Davelek, you never know what you're going to get.

The first new room we got to was rather annoying; it held a massive mirror, flanked by a couple of statues of gods Eyra didn't immediately recognize. As Eyra stared at the mirror, she started rubbing her forehead, as if she was beginning to get a headache. Blackwing, Davelek, and I looked into the mirror, and saw Octopeppy himself, glaring at us disapprovingly. Well, enough of this nonsense. I pulled out my bow and shot the mirror, shattering it, and breaking whatever hold it had on the rest of the party. "Well, that was rather destructive," Eyra commented. Meh. Magic mirrors. They're always bad in the end. Better to shoot 'em early before they cause any trouble. Looking more carefully at the room, there were more tracks in the dust. Great. More company. I couldn't figure out which way the tracks went, so we figured we'd stick with Eyra's plan of going to the shortest dead ends first and turned left. It was a big room with a bunch of jackal heads and an altar that screamed, "Trap!", but I didn't see anything obvious so I decided to head in. I was almost immediately attacked by some weird spider creatures (Eyra called them "Solifugids", but bigger than they were supposed to be), and they hit something vital, as my eyes started going dark and I started wobbling on my feet. Only my training kept me going. "Eyes forward. Trust your healer." I called out to Eyra for aid, stabbed the one in front of me pretty well, and a glowing greenish glob of fluid flew over my head, hit it squarely in the body, and it collapsed, writhing in pain. Blackwing had done something!!!! As Eyra healed me and I finished off the beast, Blackwing explained that he'd changed his prepared spells for the day, and could now help. Thank the goddess for small miracles! I was turning to help Davelek when his rapier went in one side of the thing in front of him and way, way, waaaaaay out the other. Apparently Davelek's new sword was pretty sharp. Nice!
We finished healing up (thanks to the wand *I* suggested we buy!) and searched for valuables. I say we found nothing. Eyra figured out that the female goddess being depicted was Pharasma. OK. Great. Doesn't do us a lot of good in fighting bugs, but she was happy, and heck if I'm going to dump on someone else's mood. Makes her happy? It's all good.

Going back the other way, we saw a staircase that sceamed "trap" 10 ways from Sunday. Half-buried stairs? Check! Holes in the wall? Check! Signs of burrowing creatures? Check! We all moved our flasks of alchemist's fire to easy reach, then I tried to demonstrate how not to disable a trap by slipping on the stairs, tumbling down the stairs, and sitting there in an embarrassed heap as the sand itself rose up to attack Davelek, who had miraculously managed to stay ahead of me the whole time. (Maybe it was that I'd fallen all of 2 steps. But hey, for a halfling, that's a long fall!) I have to admit, the whole, "I'm made of sand, you can't hurt me!" thing kind of scared me, 'til I hit it and it obviously showed signs of being hurt, and Eyra told us to just keep hitting it. It didn't last long; Davelek and I are turning into a really good team, and even Eyra got into the act with her crossbow, dropping it right after Davelek gave it a particularly nasty blow with his rapier. Good on her! Having both Blackwing and Eyra contributing to our fights was raising my spirits immensely; the fact that they both now had kills under their belts raised my confidence in them. Sometimes, it's good to be an optimist!

The next room was pretty boring, except for a really pretty tapestry depicting souls of the dead entering a river and moving towards a giant spire. If I had a proper room of my own, I'd have kept it. As it was, I was extra careful with it as we folded it up and added it to our loot sack. Both doors out of the room were locked, and Eyra wanted me to open the western one, so I did. It popped so fast that Eyra quipped, "Wow! Must have been just like the lock on your boyfriend's bedroom!" I wish! The barb hurt a little more than it should have, both because of my lack of experience in that particular area, and because of my unnatural attraction to Eyra. No worries. She'd find scarab beetles in her bedroll soon enough! Payback's a chore, but a fun one!
We got into some kind of unfinished room, and Eyra explained that it had been intended for Akkiakkiakki's mistress, but he'd died too soon, so it didn't get built. Hey, at least he had a mistress! Eyra knew from the writings that there was a secret door, so we quickly found it, got it open and headed up an unfinished passage. The mistress' secret way to her lover. How romantic! Halfway through the corridor, the way was blocked by a couple of big beetles. I'm talking, "Big enough I might be able to ride one" beetles. But Davelek just pushed past them and they didn't mind, so Eyra gave them some of her rations, and while they were busy noshing on those Blackwing and I moved by. Eyra told us they were "mining beetles". Well, if I couldn't ride 'em and they didn't want to fight us, they could be called whatever they wanted to be called.

The exit was... underwhelming. So, Akiakiakiptang's mistress was supposed to slip into something slinky and scandalous, tiptoe through a dirt passage past some big darned beetles, then come into... a junction? Fortunately, Eyra had a map, and we moved on into a room full of Akpoh's "stuff for the afterlife". I have to say, the guy was just not a party animal. Food, clothing, more nard (what the heck is it with "nard"!?!?!?), a couple of holy symbols of Pharasma, and some silversheen and weapons? What about alcohol? Party games? Scandalous outfits? The man knew NOTHING about having a good time in the afterlife! Especially after taking all the trouble to take his mistress along. What about some manacles? A horse whip? A gag? Some leather chaps? Hmmm... maybe my upbringing in a temple of Calistria is showing...
So we took what was worth taking (I pocketed the silversheen, figuring it might come in handy), found the secret door Eyra knew was there (seriously, dude! If you're going to build a "secret tomb", make sure the map to it doesn't end up in the historical archives!), headed down the passage, and had Blackwing cast Open on the door at the end. (Blackwing's other newly-revealed talent: The ability to open doors and chests at a distance. For which I would have kissed him. If he didn't have a beak. And bathe in his unborn brethren.) Unfortunately, that popped off a trap that summoned a swarm of cockroaches to attack us. Me, I have to agree with Eyra: If your protectors feel that you merit nothing more than a swarm of cockroaches, then maybe, just maybe, you're not as important as you thought you were.

So, all of us had been taught to deal with swarms at some point or another. All of us with the obvious exception of Davelek. As the rest of us were running away, preparing our alchemist's fire for just such an emergency, Davelek stood fast, sword raised, ready to defend us from this vile attacker. Yeah, I'd thought he was of average intelligence, so this move was... interesting. Eyra had no choice. She filled the passage with fire from her Burning Hands spell. Davelek smoldered. The roaches swarmed over him. Davelek bled. Blackwing and I were ready with our flasks by the time Eyra healed Davelek and he finally got a clue and ran away. The roaches burned beautifully. I particularly liked that they kept crawling towards us, determined to get us to their last, but the alchemist's fire and Eyra's spell did their work, and the bugs died before reaching the rest of us. A few more bit Davelek, but Eyra got him all healed up. With the wand. That *I* told everyone she needed to have. Not that I'm smug about it or anything.

There were chests in the room so I headed in, ready to unlock their riches. Some cobra jumped out at me determined to cause mischief, but even though I couldn't hit it to save my life (stupid snakes and their slithery movements), Davelek tore into it, and Eyra's bolts and Blackwing's acid were more accurate than I was, so the snake fell without having bitten anyone, and without a scratch from me on it. We looted the chests (some magic padded armor, gold, and jewels), and, after some discussion as to whether we were allowed to do it, scraped the gold off the sarcophagus. Whoever was inside we left alone. I'm not much one for rules, but when they give you thousands in free gold with the one instruction, "Don't mess with the dead", it's better not to mess with the dead.

Our final stop was the big central chamber on Eyra's map. We decided to come in through the mistress' entrance, since that was the least likely to be trapped, and I didn't see a trap. Unfortunately, it was a halfling's worst nightmare: Once Davelek and I stepped into the room, a pressure plate sealed the door behind us to cut us off from our healer and our necromancer, the room started filling with cold, brackish water (I love baths, but I hate swimming in cold water), and the sarcophagus on the huge platform in the center of the room jumped up and decided to start attacking us. Yep. I was confused, too. But I was too busy worrying about the water to worry about the sarcophagus. So it waddled its way down one staircase, and I took advantage of its slowness to put an arrow in it and move towards the other staircase while Davelek worked on smashing down the door. As I kept putting arrows in it, Davelek announced that he couldn't do anything about the door from this side, and started doing something that I didn't quite understand. Climbing the side of the center platform? A weird human dance? Whatever it was, it was pretty much down to me and the coffin. And my arrows didn't seem to be doing much to it.
Once I was safely out of the rising water, I tried to throw a tanglefoot bag at the approaching thingy, but my throw went wide (I wonder why? Considering I was fighting a giant animated coffin while my spellcasters were trapped outside and my lone ally was trying his best to drown in two feet of water) and it came forward to attack me.

For a good 20 seconds, I thought I had a chance. I was taking small chunks out of the thing with my daggers, its clumsy attacks were easy to dodge, and Davelek finally decided to stop playing around and help. Unfortunately, I finally dodged left when it bit left (yes, it had teeth!), and it picked me up in its mouth. Visions of my life passed before my eyes as I realized I had no healer, no hope of killing it, and the coffin opened to swallow me whole. As my last act, I could try to escape, squirming like a cowardly halfling, or I could go down fighting like the warrior I was. I stabbed the d**n thing. Didn't do a lick of good. The last thing I saw was the door through which Eyra and Blackwing were trapped open, and Davelek's desperate cry of, "Let her go!"

Blackness. Utter, overwhelming blackness. And quiet. But plenty of space. And room to swing my daggers. I knew that at any moment steel blades were going to pierce my body and it would be my last act on Golarion, but d**ned if I was going to go down sobbing, or flinching, or worrying about what might have been. I hacked away at that creature from the inside, watching the sparks my daggers generated as I slid them across its rocky hide. Then, the sizzle of acid. The thunk of a well-shot crossbow bolt. Davelek's rapier nearly stabbing me as it created a pinhole of light in my coffin. My friends! My companions! They brought the creature low! Before it could do whatever horror it had planned for me, they brought it low! As Davelek lifted the lid, I nearly leapt up and kissed him full on the lips! But it was Davelek, and he was human, and it would be... awkward. So I held back. And held in my joy, tears in my eyes, as my friends helped me out of my coffin.

As we explored the rest of the tomb, and knew we had fully explored it, and knew our mission was over, I knew one thing: I had finally found the companions I needed to be with.

Tonight, there would be baths!

Halfling: It's not what's for dinner, Part I
Once people had finished picking through the (non-small) weapons, armor, and other junk (an urn full of ancient perfume and lard nard is worth something to someone? Who knew?) Davelek and I packed the rest into our backpacks for later identification and selling. I swear, Blackwing's a good 3 feet taller than me, but if you got him wet he'd probably tip over. And still weigh less than me. I don't know what good he is; he hasn't done much so far other than nearly plummet to his death, but Eyra has faith in him, and he says he's really good against undead, so I guess time will tell. Until then, he's pretty much dead weight. The poor bird can barely carry a torch. On the bright side, he's not obnoxious. We had thugs on our little sorties in Riddleport who seemed bound and determined to cause trouble where none was needed, and they always made our lives harder. Blackwing doesn't do much other than fall down shafts, but at least he's quiet about it, and doesn't pick fights where they aren't necessary. (Which is exactly nowhere in this tomb, as far as I can tell.) The only really interesting stuff we found was some old ledgers and stuff from back in whats-his-name's time. Eyra LOVED that stuff, and scanned it thoroughly before re-wrapping it as if it were antique calfskin gloves and putting it all back ever-so-lovingly into its cases. To each her own. It's obvious where Eyra's passions lie, that's for sure..

Speaking of Eyra, she declared herself pretty tapped out from our "adventure" so far, so she wanted to head back up, sell what we'd found, re-equip, and come back on the morrow. Considering I was still sporting the wound from the scorpion thing, and Eyra hadn't offered to heal it yet, I figured either she didn't like me much, or she really was pretty tired. Since I'm so utterly charming, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and I agreed that we should head up. Neither Blackwing nor Davelek had any objections, so up the rope we went... sort of. Eyra and I had to climb up first, then Davelek tied the rope around Blackwing and Eyra and I hauled him up. Turns out Eyra's a lot stronger than she looks. The woman is full of surprises! Davelek clumbered (yeah, "clumbered", because there was nothing graceful about it) up afterwards, and we went back to town.

There is nothing quite as wonderful as finding a townful of grateful residents happy to take antiquities off your hands for cold, hard cash, with the exception of finding a townful of grateful residents happy to take antiquities off your hands for cold, hard cash, and having a party of companions willing to acquiesce to your every whim. We sold everything we didn't think we could use and ended up with upwards of TWO THOUSAND gold pieces burning a hole in our pocket. Being a sensible lass, I suggested we purchase a wand of Cure Light Wounds for our erstwhile archaeologist before splitting the rest of the monies. The party agreed immediately. Seeing that they were in an agreeable mood, I suggested that we also needed a suite at the inn with hot baths for all, a banquet, massages, and plenty of teacakes for secondses. Eyra responded that I was indeed true to my halfling roots, and agreed immediately. Even Davelek piped up that he loved massages. Thus, it was decided, and with a few words to the owner about proper treatment of well-heeled guests, we were feted, wined, dined, rubbed down, massaged, and bathed. And if I hadn't mentioned my girl-crush on Eyra before, the bath was a real eye-opener. The woman is perfect in every way. In every striking, distinguishing detail. I don't know whether to hate her from sheer jealously or make love to her from sheer animal lust. But wow. Just... wow. I have to order us more baths! I just have to remember to avoid actually getting into the bath with her. As far as I could tell, the water she slipped into was still boiling, or nearly there.

Between ordering the wonderful baths and receiving them, we had some shopping to do. Davelek got himself a nice-looking masterwork rapier. Eyra got the shortbow she found repaired, got herself an off-the-rack rapier, got a magic scroll, and otherwise did archaeologist stuff I didn't understand. I personally tracked down a high-end leatherworker and got myself fitted for some beautiful, form-fitting masterwork studded leather in a deep brown with crimson highlights. Maybe no one will ever mistake me for Eyra, but I have enough to flaunt, and flaunt it I shall, thank you very much! None of us know what Blackwing did. He told us he spent 5 copper pieces on a dozen eggs and took a bath in them, then hid the rest of his "shinies" in a safe place. With nonhumans, I figure it's always best not to ask.

We slept well for the evening (and thank you very much, I controlled my unwomanly impulses towards Eyra). In the morning, our well-rested, sweet-smelling, re-armed and re-invigorated party headed back to the tomb...

An Auspicious Beginning, Part II
The trip to the tomb was uneventful, but the doors themselves were a piece of work: Partially buried in the sand, with signs that someone at some point had used crowbars on them. They were still sealed enough that even I couldn't squeeze in, but that didn't mean they'd always been that way. Was our "treasure" a dud? The only way to find out was to dig our way in. As Davelek and I dug at the door (yeah, make the halfling dig! That'll get the job done fast! But honestly I volunteered for the job, as I didn't think Blackwing could survive holding a shovel for more than 5 minutes without collapsing in the heat, and Eyra had better things to do than dig -- like try to find a better way in), Eyra and Blackwing circumnavigated the building, trying to find any kind of secret entrance that would save us from spending half the day digging in the hot sun. No such luck!

With Davelek's help, I got the doors clear. Yes, saying that amuses me. As did the teensy pile of sand I managed to accumulate with my miniscule shovel as Davelek did the lion's share of the digging (and then some). I was feeling better about buying him all the wine the night before. Next time I'll buy something decent. Maybe he'll notice the difference. If not, I can go back to the cheap stuff.

Anyway, once the sand was clear enough, we tried heaving at the door. Blackwing promptly fell in the crack we managed to open and pinned his head, trapping himself completely. As I disentangled Blackwing and dragged him away, Eyra and Davelek resumed their efforts, and were soon rewarded with the grinding sound of stone on sand that sings, "Treasure!" I lit up one of my torches and handed it to Blackwing to hold up. Amazingly, its weight didn't tip him over. Annoyingly, Davelek took the torch. I almost snapped at him about maybe, just maybe, needing TWO hands to fight whatever was down here, but he also volunteered to go in front of me, so I figured he was going to make up for stupidity with more stupidity, so that was all good with me.

The first room was a beauty... if you like old dust and writing no one in their right mind can read. I'm sure it took Eyra's breath away. Picture-writing all over the walls. A big stone wheel-thingy with a spiral on it (Eyra told us it was Pharasma's symbol) up against one wall. Eyra translated a bunch of it for us, but the part I liked was, "The only thing Pharasma despises more than grave robbers is unsuccessful grave robbers" or some such. At least the builders had a sense of humor! And hey, we were here at the Furrow's request. We weren't robbing... we were just, "Re-appropriating". So after a lot of hemming and hawing, and taking of rubbings, and otherwise killing time, it was time for me and Davelek to move the wheel. Again, we got Blackwing and Eyra to help. Just as the wheel moved, we saw a bit of movement and a bitty white scorpion stung Davelek. Now this was a foe my size! I laid into it with my daggers with great gusto, and was rewarded by getting a sting of my own, plus a claw. Apparently I wasn't as fast on my feet as I thought I was! The sting made me a little dizzy, but I recovered quickly enough, and the wounds weren't bad enough to require magic healing... yet. Davelek hit the little bugger and I stabbed it a couple more times and it died. Grand Adventure in the Tomb of Oxen Teepee. We were all pretty much OK, so we moved on, deeper into the tomb.

The next room was nothing more than a big hole in the middle of the room, like a well, but square. Eyra cast Light on a rock and dropped it down. 60' below, the rock hit bottom. A piton hammered into the side of the shaft showed again that we weren't the first people to explore this tomb. Unfortunately for whoever was at the bottom, the rope had broken or been cut. Fortunately for us, Eyra had new pitons and a good silk rope. Needless to say, I went down first. Weigh less than half the next smallest party member? You're in front, girl!
Much to my irritation, Davelek decided to come after me while I was still on the rope. Didn't his parents ever teach him about taking turns!?!?! So the rope's holding me and Davelek, and Eyra decides she's going to clamber on, too. I respected her faith in her piton, but seriously? I scrambled to the bottom as quickly as I could, having to make a bit of a knot to my own cheap hemp rope to get the bottom 10 feet, but I didn't particularly feel like jumping into the unknown. As I was looking up, Blackwing decided he could fly.

At least that's what it looked like. The silly bird just walked up to the edge of the pit, looked at the rope, reached out, and jumped off. I scurried out of the way to avoid plummeting plumage, but Davelek proved the alcohol hasn't fried his reflexes yet by catching the bird on the fly, as it were, and the rest of the party made it down. The room was more pretty decorations, plus a corpse. I made Davelek poke it with a sword to make sure it wasn't going to pop up at us (when your weapon is 3" long, you learn to make other people do the inquisitive poking). Once we were sure it was dead dead, I looked it over. It was our intrepid would-be grave robber. Pharasma must be pleased. Or displeased. Or whatever. Failed grave robber and all that. But he did have a couple of working pitons, a mallet, and some alchemist's fire, so his death was not in vain. Is robbing dead grave robbers still grave robbing?

The hallway ahead had more murals of Owlbear Teetotaler, so Eyra went first. Or at least she tried to. The moment she set foot in the corridor a wicked-looking dart struck her right in the neck, dropping her in her tracks. I couldn't budge her, but I screamed at Davelek to help and he managed to get her clear. As her life's blood oozed out, she managed somehow to gurgle out a spell, and she was whole again! Just like that! Magic never ceases to amaze me. I asked her whether she was carrying a tool kit, and sure enough, the ever-ready archaeologist had exactly what I needed. I set to work, sliding some shims under the pressure plate so it couldn't go down any more, then jumped up and down on it. Seemed solid enough. At least for me.

We moved on to the next room and found a big faded tapestry showing Oompa and his family. His house sure didn't look like a teepee. There were a couple of dead mummified animals that Blackwing assured us really were dead. Considering he also thought he could fly, I kept a wary eye on them. We moved north and found a room with a full-blown honest-to-Desna chariot in it. Talk about sparing no expense! Someone had to have disassembled this thing, lowered it down the shaft, and reassembled it here! We kept asking Eyra what was valuable and what wasn't, and she kept telling us that nothing we'd found so far was really all that worthwhile. The chariot would be worth around 100 gold, once we'd paid a carpenter to disassemble it and haul it up, but it hardly seemed worth the trouble. We finally found paydirt in the chariot room in the form of a chest. I borrowed Eyra's tools again and made short work of the crude bladed trap they'd left for us. Apparently growing up at Saul's did have its uses. The lock was similarly unable to resist my charms, and we soon had... three potions and a couple of books. Eyra's eyes bugged out when she saw the books! Apparently they were really valuable! Score one for us! We identified the potions as two potions of Cure Light Wounds and one potion of Darkvision. Davelek asked permission to drink one of the healing potions and we said sure, but it hardly healed him at all. You'd figure, after sitting around in this moldy old place for thousands of years!

We moved on to the next room -- some kind of giant model of an ancient city. I have to admit, I might had been admiring it a bit too much, because when the little doll guys climbed down the walls to attack us, I was totally unprepared. And I learned that fighting people even smaller than yourself is just no fun at all. I shot my bow. And missed. And swung my daggers. And missed. And tried again with a single dagger. And missed. Fortunately, while I was busy missing, Davelek was mopping the walls with them, chopping them into kindling or whatever. Remind me not to get on his bad side. If he even has one, the drunk. Even Eyra got in on the act, skewering one with great gusto. As expected, we looked around the room, and found some masterwork human-sized weapons. Ho hum. Davelek claimed a spear for his own. Eyra claimed a shortbow. There was a magic shield of some kind we're going to identify to give to Davelek as well. But were there any SMALL weapons or armor? Did Mr. "Oh, I'm a high and mighty general" ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, one of his grave robbers would be petite in stature? Noooooooooo! Everything in the room was sized for "right-sized" people. I decided I didn't like Amhopaloompa McTeePee, and I was glad he was dead.

Well, the little doll guys are dead. Time to look around...

An Auspicious Beginning, Part I
It turns out I was wrong about Davelek; the man's a fighter, not a sneakthief, but you wouldn't know it from looking at him. Nor smelling him. He's a worshipper of Cayden Cailean through and through, and I figure that's enough to excuse my mistake. So when Eyra picked him out of the crowd to join our erstwhile little party, I just figured he was either a sneakthief or a drunkard.

Now I know.

It turns out our "group" wasn't as tight-knit as I'd been thinking. Eyra's a local, sure enough, and an expert on all this "antiquities" stuff that's bound to make us some money, but she didn't know any of us before the "lottery" started. And don't get me started on the whole "lottery" thing! You have so many unexplored tombs that you invite adventuring groups from all over the world to show up and help, then too many show up and you have to hand out the sites by lottery? Bad planning, that. Anyway, it turns out Eyra was interested in getting a look-see at some of the tombs, so she went ahead and put together the pieces of a group on her own. Considering that she chose Blackwing, me, and Davelek, all I'm going to say is that her heart's in the right place, but maybe she's not the great tactician she thinks she is. A hopeless flightless tengu I could beat in an arm-wrestling match, a drunken fighter who'd spent so much on booze he couldn't afford anything better than leather armor, and a 2'9" ranger? Eyra was really scraping the bottom of the barrel, all false modesty aside. But I didn't mind; it was a paying gig, it sounded interesting, and neither Blackwing nor Davelek were too offensive (none of that, "But you're a girl! But you're a halfing girl" from those two), and Eyra. Oh, gods. Eyra and those eyes. Curse the day I was born a half-sized woman so I couldn't woo Eyra just for those burning, soulful eyes.

Eyra's eyes aside, we took our allotted place in the lottery and stood around. Yeah, it was about as exciting as it sounds. As a courtesy, the lady in charge (Sebti the Crocodile, which is a heck of a name. Maybe I should go by "Red the warthog" or something) spoke in both Common and Osiriani, so I could tell what was going on. I was pretty pleased when Eyra told us all we had to come up with a name for the group, and I suggested that we be the "Tomb Raiders", and the whole group accepted that name with some enthusiasm.
Our Sunday gaming group includes a guy who's worked on the graphics engines in every Tomb Raider since the first, so it's kind of fun to tweak him about it when we can.

Anyway, we sat around, bored, and I wondered when Davelek was going to topple over and crush poor Blackwing, but eventually I heard, "Tomb Raiders: The Tomb of Akhentepi". Might as well have been the tomb of Aroden for all I knew, but Eyra seemed to like the decision, and told us that he was some kind of ancient general. This didn't sit well with me: A general's tomb would be full of well-armed guardians guarding human-sized weapons and armor. Nothing likely to be in there for me, but loot is loot, and I'd heard we could sell anything we couldn't use, so maybe I'd loot some of the general's official fooferal and use it to get some nicer daggers. So we got some kind of a map (Eyra's job), and instructions to be respectful of those dead as didn't attack us. Easy enough; if there's no loot to be had you're not going to find me struggling to overturn some six-foot mummified dignitary just for a laugh. I agreed to whatever, because whatever didn't sound all that bad to me, and I figured Eyra would let me know if I was breaking my solemn vows and whatnot.

We turned in to an inn for the evening, and Eyra made us make some more solemn vows not to rob each other and whatnot. Again, I said, "Yes," 'cause it just didn't all sound like anything I was likely to do anyway. Rob a party member, wake up with a knife in your back. Or don't wake up at all. That's the way of Riddleport, and the way of the world. I spent a few of the gold I'd earned in Absalom buying Davelek a couple of gallons of sour wine; I wanted to see how far I could get the fellow to go. Much to my surprise, instead of drinking, he got up on stage and... started telling jokes?!?!? Even more, they were funny! I laughed my tiny little butt off! Yeah, I might have thrown in a few silver, too. He was THAT good. Once he was wrapping up and getting into the wine, I headed upstairs for a BATH!!!!

There is nothing that says, "You're a success!" like a long, hot, luxurious bath. With plenty of oil for your skin and shampoo for your hair. Sitting there, scrubbing off all the weeks of caked-on dirt 'til my skin was bright pink, then brushing, washing, brushing, combing, washing, and brushing my hair again was heavenly. I wrapped up my hair in a towel, oiled myself down with the exotically-scented stuff they'd provided for me (the bath wasn't cheap, so I meant to make the most of it), put on my pajamas, and curled up in the HUUUUUUUGE bed designed to hold a full-sized human (and then some).

Sometimes it's good to be a halfling.

Morning came FAR too soon for my tastes, but there was Eyra all raring to go, Blackwing all studied up with whatever arcane knowledge he kept in that pea brain head of his, and Davelek, surprisingly less hung over than I'd expected. So there was nothing for it but to get up, pretend I was happy to see them this early in the morning, grab my stuff, and head out to explore a tomb.

Red's Journal, Preview the 2nd
So, I know what you're thinking: A beautiful young halfing girl from Riddleport who frequented the temple of Calistria there, making it halfway across the world to Wati in Osirion. There must be a tale or two there, right? Romance, adventure, danger, wealth, love, loss, and all that rot?

Well, not so much, no.

Fact is, if you're a halfing and you're not a boot-licker, a bard, or a thief, no one's all that interested in you. Yeah, I spent three years training at the temple of Calistria whenever I could slip away from Saul, but the fact is the halfling patrons that came around sickened me with their spinelessness, sleaziness, or both. I scared the gnomes. They called me "disturbed". And other small races? Well, let's just say, "Yecch!" Have you ever seen a naked goblin? I have. It's not a sight I'll soon forget, much as I wish I could.

So three years at the temple of Calistria, and I left with my virtue intact. That pretty much says all you need to know about it.

The same was true about finding any kind of decent work as a warrior. "You're too small." "You're a woman." "Daggers are no weapon for a warrior." If it hadn't been for a Varisian caravan headed down to Magnimar, I might be in Riddleport still. As it was, they took me on as a "pity hire". They were nice enough, but just like everyone else they thought they could teach me to dance, or sing, or do something other than stab people. I tried for them. And they talked about how pretty I was, and how my cape offset my hair and my eyes so beautifully. And I think my singing scared the frogs, and if I were any heavier I might have broken some of the humans' toes with my "dancing". But they were good-natured about the whole thing, the trip was uneventful, and it got me out of Riddleport.

Magnimar was more of the same. I had enough coin to get by for a couple of weeks, but no one needed or wanted a half-size dagger-wielding "psychotic halfling". I don't know why everyone expects halflings to be all sweetness and good cheer and singing and dancing and whatnot, but break that mold and you're an outcast. Similar to Riddleport, the only reason I got out of Magnimar was that the paranoid captain of the Fortune's Gold figured he could use one more deterrent against pirates, and I was small enough that I wouldn't take up precious cargo space.

Sailing is boring. There. I've said it.

Day after day of endless blue. You're either baking in an unrelenting sun, or trying to keep your morning meal down in a driving rain with winds howling enough to turn you into a makeshift kite. Life was so boring I lost my virtue to the cabin boy. He was so boring I might have left a dagger in his side. Totally by accident, of course, but after that I was untouchable. Though the half-orc boatswain seemed to like me a great deal more after that little incident. Absalom was more of the same. No one wants a halfing warrior. But Absalom gets news, and I learned about great treasure to be had in Osirion, and that the Furrow of Osirion (what a silly name for a leader! Not that I'd ever say that to his face, mind you) was handing out ruins to explore like candy. So, off on a ship to Wati I went.

And it all happened again. Those few who spoke my language asked me where my adventuring party was. When I told them I didn't have one, I got shuttled off to an "independents" section and loaded in with the other warriors. A lot like a slave market, but with a lot more flexing and a lot less weeping. And when you're 2'9" and barely top 30 pounds soaking wet, and the beef-on-legs around you averages six and a half feet wielding weapons that outweigh you, you're hard to get noticed, even in red.

For the second time in my life, a golden-eyed beauty saved me. Maybe I should switch my taste to women. Doesn't seem like it could hurt.

Anyway, I was standing amidst the grunting, the posturing, the flexing, and the sweating. Oh, gods, the sweating! The smell in the "warrior" area was truly one of the foulest stenches I have ever experienced. Had NONE of these men (or women) ever learned to bathe?!?!? I'm sure they were all well and good with their swords, their axes, their hammers, and their... what the heck IS that thing, anyway? But if your enemy can smell you from half a mile off, you're going to have some issues with surprise.

Anyway, Erya came along, sizing up the stock as it were, and the men immediately switched to their "most embarrassing" mode. Every man wanted to be HER protector! She's a beauty, there's no doubt about it. And her spectacles and quiet charm just add to that whole "hot librarian" theme that makes every guy want to follow her to the ends of Golarion. So when she was sizing up one of the hunks of meat, I sighed, figuring that yet again I was going to get no notice. Until she spoke. "So tell me, sir. When we are in a narrow 2' passage in the depths of the ruins, how are you going to swing that thing?"
The warrior was flabbergasted.
She turned her blazing golden eyes on me and smiled. A smile that warmed my soul to the core, and made me want to protect her from anything that might ever harm those eyes, or those spectacles. Yeah, I have a girl crush. What are you going to do? But she looked at me and said, "I have need of a warrior who can fight in narrow spaces."

And that was that. I was Erya's warrior. Suck on that, beef men!