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Rook chases after Hatyah, using the hyena's bulkier frame to protect himself. His fur stands on end as he hisses profusely at the spider, mrrrroooowwwll! ... but alas, he is probably not particularly scary to a strange, soul-sucking spiderish aberration.
Rosalia, meanwhile, seems to grow more pale than the quite white-skinned Northerner already was. A soundless whimper escapes her lips as the creature saps her magical reserve and the colour drains from her cheeks.
Rosalia twitches in her comatose state, lips silently mouthing half-formed words. In her nightmares, she helplessly flees from enormous spidery beasts with spindly legs and poison-dripped fangs... thousands and millions of them... "Nnghhh," she groans. Rook hisses angrily at the spider, unwilling to leave his mistress' side but likewise not suicidal enough to attempt retaliation.
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE... Rosalia has absolutely no idea which hell spawned this terrifying obscenely long-legged spider thing, though her guess is the Elemental Plane of DO NOT WANT.
Gurgling some unknown and garbled eldritch screams, Rosalia tries and fails to flee from the horrible horrible THING that is now consuming her face. "GetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOOOOOFFFF...."
"Now, why ever would you have that feeling, Lyrian?" Rosalia murmurs as she rather unceremoniously rifles through the woman's sash. Rook yawns widely on her shoulder as she begins the slow task of aura identification...
*peeks in and waves cautiously* Sorry guys. I'm alive. Just had some personal drama hit after my exams so I've been sulking around avoiding most people for the better part of the week. dien managed to poke me hard enough this time to get me to come back for now. :P
Good luck to you as well!!! I'm sure you'll be fine!
Strange vibrations in the floors and bizarre, writhing, alien script? Rosalia's becoming increasingly nervous about her time in this pyramid, and she begins to wonder anew if they made the right decision to pursue this mission from the Society. She tries to shake off the nervous gnawing in the pit of her stomach and focus on the task at hand, occasionally shooting a subtle glance over her shoulder to make sure the sunlight from the entrance is still visible behind her. "Given a short time I could memorise some spells to potentially help us with both this trap and the stone," she informs the rest in a matter-of-fact voice. "An invisible servant to walk ahead of us and set off the trap, for example. Though I'm not convinced it would not immediately reset..." "Or perhaps a spell to imbue Shaggar with even more brute strength than what he already has," Rosalia adds with a smirk. "Alternatively, we just make a run for it and hope for the best. I don't fancy standing around here for too long with that rumbling coming closer..."
Apologies to everyone in games I'm in. I have exams at the moment, which is making me busier than normal, but I also had a mild family crisis (nothing serious thankfully!) that resulted in me needing to babysit my sister's kids while trying to juggle studying and exams and whatnot. Busy times. I'll try my best to catch up tonight and tomorrow, but please do bot me in the instance that I am (almost certainly) holding things up. After my exams are done next week things will be better. Sorry again!
"I think this whole place is filled with bloody runes," Rosalia mutters. "Raegos even said it - they'd been going for a while, and Imivus' apprentice was translating a lot of things as he went." "Can't help but feel we're not even close to the worst of 'em yet..."
Okay, so, she wasn't delusional, this mummy was just weird as hell to have holy water on its... "person". "Maybe he was a Zon-Kuthon worshipper," Rosalia suggests weakly. "You know. Self torture and all that." She wisely decides to not muse longer on that topic.
Rosalia seems almost... disappointed when the mummy is shot down. She blinks at it a few times, then blinks down at her rather useless blade, before finally sighing heavily and slipping it back into its sheath. To save face, she decides to not mention her bitterness at the failed (and apparently completely unnecessary) plan and instead carry along with the others. While the group discusses rune removal methods (Kind of like stain removal, but more dangerous, Rosalia thinks to herself), the resident can-actually-identify-magic-items lady takes up the bow and the bottle stamped with Pharasma's spiral and considers their properties. "The bow's just got a minor enchantment on it to make its arrows fly better," she explains simply. "As for the bottle..." Well, I dunno. But I don't necessarily want to say that... Rosalia hurries on with another topic. "Oh, yeah, and I can make us plenty of acid if we need to."
Rosalia rolls her eyes and sighs in disgust as now three people decided the wisest tactical decision was to stand right in the hallway in direct line of sight of the flipping archer. "So are we trying to lead this guy down here to us or not? Because currently you are doing a pretty pathetic job of that," she remarks scathingly.
Rosalia rolls her eyes at Lyrian, but she's not got the patience to explain that no, his positioning was just messing up their plan, yada yada. She's too busy keeping one eye out around the corner for if the mummy would follow after them.
... She's clearly distracted by this. She really really really wants to go off at Lyrian, apparently.
With a nod to Javi, Rosalia retreats back with everyone else to the room with the runes and magical portraits... ... well, everyone but Lyrian that is. She hisses at him from around the corner, "You idiot! Get back here! It's just gonna fill you with arrows!"
Rosalia follows suit, silently creeping down the corridor to beside the hulking gnoll that had become a rather appreciated, solid companion. She eyes up his wounds with a frown, but says nothing as he recalls what he knows of ancient mummies. She had not expected to face something of this sort just yet... it surprised her to think that one of the ceremonial undead would be one of the pharaohs' lesser defenses, not something hidden away at the very centre.
While Heldar considers the strange (and concerning) enchanted runes, Rosalia's eyes are caught by a glowing, fiery aura concealed beneath a pile of ancient dust. Pulling up her sleeves, she rifles through it and eventually locates an obsidian ring; most curious indeed. Alas, she's distracted by the return of the odd shuff-shuff-shuffler and hasn't the time to consider it right now. She pockets the find to deal with at a later date before following cautiously after Shaggar.
Rosalia also begins to examine the places of magic in this chamber, her eyes glowing bright with brilliant blue energy.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here...?" she murmurs. "The runes on the archway... I do not know what they spell out exactly, but they seem to form some kind of... protective magics, I suppose. I suspect that it is protective of this pyramid, however, not of us..." Rosalia then turns her attentions to the portraits, and almost immediately arches an eyebrow at what she sees there. "Well, anyone in here already knows we're here," the magus mutters with a shake of her head. "I should've expected this." She makes a sweeping gesture, indicating the portraits, as she continues. "Whoever enchanted these portraits can see through the painted eyes as if they were their own." Quieting herself, Rosalia spends some time staring at the images, trying to notice if there are any subtle changes within them--something to indicate the caster is watching them, for example.
Rosalia takes the last plane out of Shaggar airport up into the pyramid's entrance, pausing at the opening so far up in the sky for a few moments to look out at the vast swathes of empty desert they had left behind them. For all she loathed the trip here-- and not only that, but practically everything about the entire country she had experienced thus far-- she didn't fancy spending her last moments trapped in some god-damned ancient pyramid either. So--for one last hint of confidence, she takes in the elemental war for just a couple of moments, before sighing, taking her blade in hand, and then following the others into the depths. Noticing Shaggar creep ahead, Rosalia continues up towards the rather dusty room that Lyrian had stopped in as well, not willing to venture far past Heldar's light nor wanting to interrupt those who could sneak in darkness. But... she wants to be ready as well.
I am happy with whatever marching order, so long as someone else sees the cursed runes first. ;) *flops* Now would university please give me a break?
Multiple flying archers and 10d6 falling damage, apparently. :P
Rosalia will of course do the honours of imparting just a fragment of residual air elemental power (free radicals and all that, you know) into Shaggar's body. He feels lightweight, as if he could leap over a mountain with ease... ... for those on the ground, they may notice two tiny, mostly transparent angelic wings poking out of Shaggar's back, barely the size of his paw apiece, fluttering prettily in the breeze. Rosalia's snickering is probably enough to let on that this is just a 'flair' of hers she added for the heck of it...
Rosalia gapes in amazement as the pyramid makes its sudden appearance, slowly and unconsciously dropping the mask from her face in some abject state of shock. "That... That is certainly not what I expected," she manages to stammer out, gingerly replacing the mask in her belongings for fear that a quick movement would cause the pyramid to disappear back from whence it came yet again. She feels a twinge of guilt for the fate of the unknown Chelaxians; but only a twinge, for there are more important things to worry about, like avoiding having to scale a three-hundred-foot edifice. "Magic, of course," Rosalia sniffs, turning to Shaggar and sizing him up with an arched eyebrow. "Much faster, and much less dangerous than the alternative!"
The time spent cooped up in the small cave is a harrowing one for Rosalia, filled with nightmarish visions of cave collapses and being buried alive, so much so that she barely even pays the barest heed to the amazing forces of nature warring mere metres away from them. Instead, she can mostly be found cooped up behind a small boulder somewhere, hands wrapped around her knees and occasionally muttering to herself. Scant moments after Shaggar digs their way out from the sandbank, Rosalia charges on outside, anxious to be out from those cramped and concerning quarters. "Let's..." her voice crackles from a mouth dried from nervousness and the heat of the day. "Let's get this over with before that happens again." Once everyone's all ready and accounted for, Rosalia will get out the two funerary masks and prepare to put one of them on.
"I can't say I was very impressed by them - arrogance just tickles me funny" - the man adds, then looks at Rosalia with a smile - "Most of the time" "Are you trying to imply something here, Master Heldar?" Rosalia responds acidly, shooting him a withering stare. However, she drops the topic right there and then; clearly, she can see the merits in focusing on their current problems rather than creating a few more here at home. (And besides--she was well used to Heldar's playful teasing by now. Much as she's loathe to admit it.) Rosalia leans back and listens to the conversation unfolding, her eyes caught by the elemental storm in the distance more often than not. However, when she finally speaks up, it's clear that her mind was definitely not wandering off with the air and earth spirits that battle for supremacy on this mortal coil. "I'm with Shaggar on this one--more out of practicality than anything," Rosalia says with a vague shrug. "I don't play them as fools; arrogant, for sure, but not fools. If they want to challenge us for the pyramid, it's their lives they're forfeiting. The main thing I'm worried about is them telling our other Chelaxian headache where we are."
Though happy to get away from the obnoxious Chelaxian crew without needing to draw her blade, Rosalia is nevertheless busy frowning as the group retreats back to a safe spot to plot their next move. "The problem is," she says once they arrive, jumping down from the camel and stretching after a long day's ride, "we don't know what to expect when we put this mask on. Is it like seeing an illusion? Does it summon the pyramid out of nowhere? Does it alert us which of these four is the "right" one? Who knows! What I do know is that I don't want some stinking Chelaxians around here when we do it..."
Ah, Chelaxians. Wooonderful. Ever pleasant people to be around. Rosalia rolls her eyes at both the hamatula-woman's attitude and Shaggar's counter-swagger. "I wasn't aware that walking by these pyramids constituted such offence," the Brevic woman says dryly, having to raise her voice somewhat as a result of the elemental storm's infernal racket. "Or, for that matter, that you could claim territory around here. Rumour has it there's nothing of any worth in these tombs anyway." She remains on her camel and behind Shaggar, but keeps an eye out for any funny business from these tomb-robbers.
Rosalia pulls up her camel when the elemental juggernauts finally come into view, her mouth slack-jawed at the sheer immensity of the events occurring just on the near horizon. Her own magic allowed her to borrow powers from the elemental planes; those titans? They were made of her meagre magics. They had the ability to shape the face of Golarion with a single booming step. To a mage such as herself, it was nothing but awe-inspiring. But Shaggar's voice, ever the realist, brings her back to reality, shattering her amazement like a single stone dropped into a perfectly placid lake. Rosalia nods, spurring her camel into action and following the gnoll's guidance down the rocky route to the valley base. When they are far enough away from the living storm to not need shouting, Rosalia informs her allies, "I've been thinking about the conversation we had with Raegos back in Sothis, and I think I know how we get to the pyramid we're interested in. We need to go to the four pyramids those other travellers told us about and put on that mask!"
Rosalia is happy to let Heldar do the talking. The combination of his pretty face and empty head made for a perfect 'face' towards the public. Of course, she could talk to people quite well; her young years contained many years of learning to kiss arse like any good noblelady, and the skills had come in handy many a time during her tenure as a Society agent. But... this was much easier. Listening was far more useful than speaking, in the end. With no further questions herself, she waits until the group has left before addressing her companions. "Seems like everyone's on their way home," Rosalia says, pointing down the road to where she can make out the vague figures of further groups hurriedly making their way away from the strange desert storms. "Good! Means we won't have any more competition than we already have. Hope it scares those damned Chelaxians away as well." In other words, she's completely unperturbed by these travellers' warnings. "...Do we have any idea which of these pyramids is the one we're interested in?" she wonders idly.
Rosalia follows Javi's example with the strange, flowing keffiyeh (a garment she still hadn't gotten used to--although she appreciated its use in the daytime heat), eyes watering from the sand granules still managing to make their way into her face. "If they've been to the pyramids, they may have some useful information," she replies to Javi with a nod. "I doubt our Chelaxian friends would be riding away from the pyramids, after all."
For all her complaining about the standards of living here in this awful country, Rosalia has little to complain about once they actually reach the inn. Perhaps it's the many, many days of rations having ruined her palette, but damn, she cannot get enough of the domiati, and stocks up for the winter (so to speak) on the delicious, delicious fresh foods. Goat's milk to top it all off (she still resents the hangover she picked up at the Dung Beetle) leaves Rosalia in quite the food coma, and she pleasantly drops off to snore away the next few hours in a real bed. If only they had real baths here... Her last thoughts spring to mind just as sleep takes her. Maybe it would be a half-decent place to be... an oasis in the desert... Rook is given a saucer of milk and some fish by the innkeeper at some point, much to the cat's delight. (He'd been wisely hiding away during the bath ordeal, and kept up the habit once Rosalia's anger... well, electrified.) He keeps hearing the word 'Bastet' mentioned around him for some reason, but, being a cat with food in front of him, he basically doesn't care one iota. Come the morning--uh, evening--Rosalia is still in good spirits, humming an old Brevic child's song to herself as she flips through her spellbook. Rook 'helps out' by sitting in her lap and occasionally pawing at the pages, but even that isn't enough to ruin the post-food bliss. She meets up with the others, pays her fees to the innkeep, and practically skips on out of the place.
Sorry for being crappy with posting lately. Dien knows, but blegh life/busy. Rosalia will endeavour to give more of a shit about things from now on, promise!... well... okay, no promises there. ;) Also! I'll take a single flask of holy water, but I already have one of each of the other things, so I'll let you guys fight it out.
I vote we pop for Delay Poison instead of Neutralise Poison. Much cheaper, and once we're out of combat we can use Heal checks (and possibly some Antitoxins @ 50gp a pop) to get a high enough bonus to not worry about the poison. Antiplague is also a good idea. I'm honestly more worried about disease and curses than I am poison. Poison is temporary - debilitating, but temporary. Diseases and curses when we're a million miles from civilisation are much more dangerous. Also, mummy rot. :P
Rosalia's barely listening to this strange man, particularly after he expresses confusion at the actual meaning of the word "bath". Perhaps it's a translation problem. She merely rolls her eyes at the portents of doom and taps her foot impatiently for Heldar to be done with this nonsense. She's seen too many over-the-top lie-peddlers pretending to have portents of doom to take this one seriously.
"No, Lyrian, I most certainly did not," Rosalia spits venomously, a crackle of lightning jumping down her arm and sparking out of the index finger she points at the bathhouse. "For one, this is false advertisement! There was nothing even remotely resembling a bath in that place! And... and..." A flame rises to her cheeks as she remembers being surrounded by so many naked people happily revealing themselves to be doused down or massaged. "Ugh! No! You just won't get it. You're too much like Heldar!" An insulting thing to be, apparently. ... Shortly thereafter, when the Pharasman priest approaches them for a fortune-telling, Rosalia remains darkly silent and brooding. She doesn't pay any heed to the useless prophecies that the church espouses. Good fortune was something you made, not something you hoped would meet you somewhere along the way.
Rosalia knew something was up the moment she was offered sandals and robes. Public bathhouses weren't that uncommon, really, though she would have much preferred a private little place in which to soak away the pains of the road. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and she was excited enough for the opportunity to bathe that she even waves off Heldar's teasing comment without much complaint. Alas.
She stares in confusion at the garments proffered to her by the bathhouse attendants, resulting in a rather awkward stare-off between the strange and pale northerner and a shy-looking woman unable to communicate in Taldane. Rosalia eventually dons the robes, albeit warily, often shooting furtive glances over at any other women preparing themselves alongside her. Nobody else seemed weirded out by the fact that you needed to get clothed in order to... well, get hot, wet, and naked, as it were. This place is as backwards as ever, Rosalia notes dryly as she proceeds into the bath area... ......? ...Wh--what-- The magus spends some time blocking the doorway until an older woman roughly pushes her forward, muttering some complaints about rude foreigners to her companion that Rosalia can thankfully not understand. This room was... awful. It was like being locked in a library in Absalom in the middle of summer. No, even worse than that--a tropical cyclone was on the way, the clouds not yet broken, creating the unpleasant humidity Rosalia so loathed about the City at the Centre of the World. Except this time she had to be naked around a bunch of strangers during it. Taking up a spot on the very edge of a stone seat, Rosalia stares pointedly at her lap (thoroughly covered with a robe, of course--she's much too prudish to let much of her skin show, even amongst other women) and awaits this hell to end. She can't tell if the flushing of her cheeks is from the stifling warmth, her bubbling anger, or plain old embarrassment at this stage. Patience, Rosalia, she tells herself, sighing heavily and closing her eyes. This is clearly some weird local practice, but there's got to be a payoff at the end. It's like... going for a run before you bathe, right? Rosalia nods assuredly to herself. Sweat heavily, and then the bath is doubly nice. Rosalia point-blank refuses a massage despite her aches and pains from days of camel-riding, not feeling comfortable showing off her pale body amidst so many strangers. Are the Osiriani really into public nudity, or something? Absolute nonsense for one used to long, cold winters and short, mild summers, but she could sort of understand the logic in a place that seemed to be perpetually hot. ...but then why make yourself even hotter in that warm room...? Every time Rosalia feels she's figured something out, yet another perplexing question comes to mind. Finally--finally!--Rosalia is led into a cooler room, and she looks around excitedly for the tubs. Unsuccessfully, of course. She watches in confusion as a few other bathers get jugs of water poured over them, and accepts the treatment once, though refuses to undress--her loud shriek of shock as the cold water splashes down her bare shoulders convinces the confused attendants to leave her alone after that though. Indignant, Rosalia (clutching the now drenched robes around her chest in a desperate attempt to retain some modesty) gets up to leave--and then stares in slack-jawed amazement when she is offered her clothes. "B-B-But... the bath...?" The pretty young attendant smiles widely, understanding neither Rosalia's words nor the disbelief and utter despair on her face. ... Rosalia awaits Heldar and Lyrian to emerge from the bathhouse just outside of the building, a veritable stormcloud of anger and embarrassment. Her pride keeps tears from forming, but her fists unconsciously clench and electricity unconsciously sparks along her fingertips, causing passers-by to give the strange foreigner a wide berth...
"Why would you assume they're our... friends?" Rosalia says, seemingly distracted. She's already trying to sneak a peek down the route to the temple of Pharasma--err, Pharaz-Mat. The baths. They're close. She can feeeeeeeel it. "I mean, weren't they on a boat before?" Her feet are already moving down the street towards the spiral-marked temple. "Go tell Javi and Shaggar if you want," she calls flippantly over her shoulder, "but either way there's nothing we can do about it~" Rosalia will keep an eye out for an inn somewhere in the general vicinity of Anoor's bathhouse.
When it becomes apparent that, yes, she would get to sleep in a real bed, and yes, she would get to have a real bath, Rosalia perks up significantly, and seems the happiest you've probably ever seen her. Is she... is she humming happily? "Hey, I know a thing or two about getting people to talk. But I might need a translator, because seriously, have your people never heard of Taldane before?"
Rosalia really, really, really, really, really wants a bath. Prestidigitation helps with the worst of her odours, but nothing beats a good, long soak in hot water. She suspects her pores are filled with sand after the long travel. ... That said, she's also not dumb, and will defer to the wisdom of Shaggar and Javi should they think travelling into town is a poor idea. She might just meet their eyes from time to time and sigh heavily from then on. You did this to me, her eyes would say. You made me suffer through this pain.
Hope your crew feels better soon!
Rosalia is more than happy to leave the sphinx behind, giving him a polite nod and a vague wave before mounting up on her camel once more.
"Shaggar here loves the camels a lot," Rosalia adds with a sly grin, gesturing towards the gnoll as she speaks. She pats the prettiest of the camels fondly. "He would be heartbroken to lose them..."
Rosalia is happy to see that this sphinx was, at least, not immediately going to charge at them with claws and teeth and... well, probably horns, too. However, Shaggar's warning sits well with her; if the sphinx wanted something from them, she damn well wasn't going to give it to some weird lion-goat. "We're just travelling," she says, unable to understand Heldar and determined to put her own mark on the conversation either way. "I don't want anything from your territory, I assure you. I'd much prefer to be out of this stinking heat."
Rosalia immediately draws her camel to a standstill and dismounts. She keeps the camel's reins in one hand as she brings her gladius out from its scabbard with the other, truly hoping she wouldn't have to fight like this. As the shadow approaches, she thinks back on that 'guidebook to Osirion' she had read before the trip. There were other types of sphinxes, she recalled vaguely... was this one of them?
The interrupted sleep combined with a gnawing hunger has left Rosalia in an extra grumpy mood today, snapping at people fairly arbitrarily as she readies her stuff for loading onto the camels. "Yeah, I can't wait either," she mutters acidly, "... until I can be on a ship out of this god-forsaken place!"
Is it too late for me to rescind what I said earlier and say "aw mannnn consider me too pls"? Even though I shouldn't. But I started looking at steampunk pictures on deviantart and then I started thinking about Cowboy Bebop and... yeeeeeeah. (No worries if you're full though. :P)
Typical high fantasy stuff is my comfort zone. :P Different cultural influences are fine though (i.e., Egyptian vs. Chinese vs. Germanic kind of settings are all good with me). I have very little pop culture/RPG experience with other sorts of genres, so it's harder for me to make a character up or feel as comfortable in the setting... modern times that may or may not include werewolves and/or vampires*, steampunk middle ages, futuristic space operas... basically all goes beyond what I'm used to playing or reading. Not that there's something bad about going beyond what I'm used to. :P * Something like a Harry Potter-esque setting is much more familiar to me though.
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