The city of Wati sits on a sandstone shelf at the confluence of the Asp and Crook rivers, which provide it with building materials, rich farmland, and deep harbors sufficient to support a settlement three times its size. But even with its tenacious citizens, abundant fish and game, and thriving marketplaces fueled by the most important rivers in Osirion, Wati is forever a city better known for its dead than for its living. Behind sanctified walls, an entire quarter of the city quietly sits as a massive, urban tomb. Shops, schools, markets, and estates serve as eternal resting places for those lost to madness and disease. To manage such an immense project, the city’s entire economy shifted to the industry of interment. Almost 1,800 years after the necropolis’ inception, many of Wati’s residents continue to serve the city’s funeral industry, either directly as embalmers, undertakers, and clerics of Pharasma, or indirectly by crafting the myriad grave goods all Osirians hope to carry with them into the afterlife. Death has become the city’s lifeblood, and Wati prospers from its morbid specialty.
Welcome to the Half-City!
4714 A.R. 7th of Pharast
The bustling desert city of Wati is near bursting with excitement. Adventurers from every corner of the Inner Sea region have assembled here beneath the hot Osirian sun to explore the tombs of the city’s necropolis, waiting only to be assigned their first sites for exploration. Surrounding the participants, the public has gathered to observe the ceremony as well. There is a festival-like quality in the air, and numerous street vendors are hawking goods and refreshments to participants and spectators alike. Some merchants have even brought what can only be considered adventuring gear to sell as last-minute convenience items to explorers, while others advertise that they’ll buy recovered treasures and antiquities from those who visit their establishments. In front of the imposing edifice of the Grand Mausoleum, an immense awning has been erected between decorated pillars in the market to provide shade for the priests of Pharasma overseeing the lottery. Beneath the awning, two urns sit atop a table elevated a few feet above the ground on a wooden stage constructed for the event. The high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, sits behind the table, while two acolytes confer with her at either side.
Leaning a bit lazily against a tent pole, Idari-lucien smiles at all the lucrative opportunities presented in front of the wizard. A touch over 6', the Catfolk's black fur properly groomed and presented strategically under a grey/black explorer's outfit, complete with a long coat. His blue eyes peering across at the stage erected in front of the Grand Mausoleum, Lucky Strikes awaits for his next opportunity to be called.
Everyone has need of a guide.
He had to duck to avoid the arm swing of an over-excited man telling what sounded like a well-practiced story of an earlier great adventure in a faraway land. Varisian judging by his size, wardrobe, and accent. The words were unfamiliar but the pace of his speech accompanied by various sound effects did make Radamiel curious to understand how this hero prevailed.
"Oh, yes, quite exciting, please mind your arms." Radamiel's voice was either unheard or ignored. "Well, no harm done, congratulations on that whole thing there and welcome to Wati." He said, shaking his head as he continued to make his way through the crowd.
He spied a familiar face and quickly walked over to a food vendor working quickly to attend to the group of hungry patrons surrounding the stall. The smell of spiced meats made Radamiel's mouth water despite having recently had a meal with his parents.
"Karek!" He waived as he walked around to enter the stall from behind and grabbed an apron hanging on a post. "Where are your children, did they abandon you today!?" He took a few coins from a woman and handed her a flatbread with spiced meat and rice. "Let me help you for a moment."
"Our lines were too long to keep up so I sent Dalka and her friend into the crowd. I saw her over there a moment ago." Karek nodded to his left. "Vannla and Nanesk will be back shortly with more supplies, we're running out so fast." He looked up with an expression of mixed joy and stress. "We've had a VERY busy day!"
"Congratulations, my friend! That's a marvelous problem to have and you've earned it with your very hard work. May Pharasma smile favorably on your family." He patted Karek on the back and felt the familiar warm surge of divine guidance run through him and into his friend. The past year had been a challenge for Karek's family and Radamiel was pleased to see his friend in good spirits. "Will Vannla have the baby with her? It's been too many days since I've seen that smile."
Tethys fights through her nerves. The crowd made her want to back into a corner until it cleared. It didn't help that she didn't understand half of the speech she heard.
She forced herself forward, she had some spare gold, ill-gotten from her past life. But not enough to retire on. She had to take advantage of the tomb opening.
When she spied the khajiit cat-folk and clearly heard the word "guide," she swallowed her fear and approached warily. "What is your price Tom? You are a guide?", she asked in Lucky's native tongue, her accent was thick and she didn't quite realize the slur she had spoken.
Idari-lucien smiles warmly at the approaching half-elf. Straightening his lanky frame, tipping his cap and bowing a bit, the Catfolk greets her.
Most gracious Mistress. Perhaps, a tour of Wati to open you up to its treasures. Perhaps, a tour of the spas, gardens and magical massage markets to relax after your laborious journey. Perhaps, your mind needs to breath in the rich volumes of knowledge that can be gleaned from Wati’s libraries. Perhaps, a simple spill of sods and soaps to wash away the Clinging Sands of Osirian climes.
The Wizard provides some visual support to his words by interspersed samples of Prestidigitation.
The Wizard bows awaiting her reply.
Idari-lucien, at your service. Lucky Strikes, I am known.
Falric popped another date into his mouth, as he skipped merrily along the streets of Wati on his way to the Grand Mausoleum. The lottery assignments would be handed out today! At least that's what the clerk had told him when he signed up earlier this morning. The instructions were simple: hand in the token, secured in his belt pouch, to the High Priestess when the location was assigned. Now, he had been told that the lots were assigned to teams, not individuals, so he assumed he would randomly be assigned to a group of tomb explorers. Falric did not mind, he was a people person after all.
Falric reached the plaza, excited to go tomb delving to learn the mysteries of death and get rich in the process. He looked around the large crowd, the majority of the folk sweating hard as the sun's rays were intense today. The 3' halfling smiled, feeling as cool as the other side of the pillow, not one bead of sweat on his forehead. By Sarenrae's will, he loved magic and science. His keen eyes scanned the crowd for dangers and pickpockets - crowds like this seemed to draw in thieves in the droves. He needed to get closer if he wanted to watch the festivities and listen for his name. Thankfully, people tended to ignore him and in crowds like this, his size was priceless. He made his way to the front, nimbly dodging through the humans' legs.
Sahba takes in the multitude of the bustling crowd, picking up snippets of excited conversation in at least half a dozen languages, as well as others she didn't recognize. It was clear that Wati's call to explore the vast necropolis had drawn adventurers and treasure hunters from all over Golarion, all eager to find some lost artifact from the age of glory.
She wasn't all that different. Yes, the knowledge and magic of Ancient Osirion fascinated and intrigued her, but she would be lying if she didn't admit that the prospect of adventure was as much of a draw to her.
Making her way through the crowd toward the Grand Mausoleum, the striking Keleshite half-elf rests her hand on the pommel of her blade, the khopesh in the weathered scabbard handing off her hip that was as much a part of the urge to come to Wati as anything else. Running her other hand through her thick, flowing, midnight-black hair, she tries to put aside thoughts of the odd dreams of walking through an ancient Osiriani city, always with the same blade in hand or on her hip.
Was it possible this was where the warrior she'd claimed it off of had come from?
Numerous adventuring groups stand in small clusters near the stage, made up of multiple nationalities and races. Most keep to themselves, but some teams engage in quiet conversation with other teams, mostly speculating about what they’ll likely face in the necropolis.
The high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, rises to her feet and looks over the crowd, indicating the start of the ceremony. Sebti seems surprisingly young to hold such a distinguished position, but she has a confident air of authority.
She calls for the crowd's silence and they obey. She begins with an invocation to the Lady of Graves, followed by the following discourse:
"In –1608 AR, Pharaoh Djederet II ordered the construction of the grand city to mark the birthplace of the Osirion’s greatest natural resource: the River Sphinx, springing from the confluence of the Asp and the Crook. Named Wati, the riverside town soon dominated trade across southern Osirion. For centuries, Wati endured through political upheaval and the births and deaths of entire dynasties as it dominated its younger sister cities of An and Tephu. But Wati’s destiny was forever warped in 2499 AR, when the cult of Lamashtu unleashed the Plague of Madness among the city’s thriving populace. Many of those whom the fever did not immediately kill were driven to murderous insanity, and within months, more than half the city had fallen in painful, anguished death. Most of the survivors fled Wati to make new homes elsewhere, but a stubborn minority remained behind, determined to reclaim their city. It took almost half a millennium for Wati’s fortunes to reverse thanks to the church of Pharasma. A Pharasmin priest named Nefru Shepses marched on Wati in 2953 AR with a small army of alchemists, masons, and morticians under his banner, intent on consecrating the entire city to the Lady of Graves, beginning with a new, monumental temple to Pharasma called the Grand Mausoleum, where we find ourselves today!"
The crowd erupts into applause. When it dies down, Sebti smiles, "I think you've had enough of a history lesson today. Let's get to why you're here today. Let the lottery begin! Although many of you have requested specific sites to explore, we must leave these matters to fate. The Lady of Graves is a far better judge of destiny than we of this mortal sphere. The gates of the necropolis will open at sunrise tomorrow. Use this evening to prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Let these rules guide you in your endeavors in this holy place: remember how this came to pass, every slave’s hut is a memorial, and honor the departed. May you go with the Lady’s blessing.”
Tethys recognized a pitch man when she saw it. She reminisced about her old crew, Don was their pitch man. She mumbled an in-joke "It's toasted."
She shakes herself from her reverie and introduces herself, "Tethys. And I need a translator. I don't speak Osiriani."
She smiled and added, "Perhaps the gardens after I explore my lottery assignment."
After the speech took off her breastplate and regarded it sourly. No matter how hard she wiped, oiled, and scrubbed it never seemed clean. Or if she managed to get it sparkling, she would spy a spot of dirt or rust an hour later.
She double checked her gear, made sure her rope wasn't fraying, counted her pitons (18 in all), topped off her waterskin, and ate the last bit of goat jerky. She slept sitting up in the corner of a common room, sleeping only lightly.
Seeing the selection process was beginning, Radamiel served the last few customs and removed his apron and hung it on the post where he had retrieved it earlier.
"I need to go but The Lady smiles on you today." Radamiel patted his friend on the back as he left the stall. "My hugs to Vannla and a kiss on the baby's cheek from me. I will visit soon!"
He moved toward the crowd to hear the High Priestess' words feeling a sense of excitement growing inside him.
"Lady guide us." he said quietly as he wondered how he would be able to sleep tonight.
His pack had been arranged for days but he took everything out again to look at it and wonder if he would need anything else. Then, he arranged it again trying to keep the things he might need, within reach.
He slid a couple of potions and flasks of holy water into his bandolier checking the friction fit to be sure they were safely secured.
His breastplate and shield were freshly polished and the leather cord on the handle of his heavy mace was tightly wound.
Dinner with his parents was a shared discussion of excitement and concern. His father repeated several times that if it were just a few years earlier his name would be in the selection drawing too. But, it's a busy time for the bakery and his knee has been cranky. His mother's interest was largely in her son returning safely with rich descriptions of the Necropolis.
Watching the high priestess' speech from among the crowd, Sabha thoroughly enjoys the history lesson, the knowledge behind what she was doing was always of importance to her. She joins in the applause, eagerly paying attention to the selections.
Excitement and anticipation make sleep an uneasy thing to come by naturally, though she finds others from assorted teams, who choose to celebrate their last night before delving into the uncertain depths, celebrating life with song, drink, and revelry. Much later, when she has had her fill, she finds herself a secure place to sleep, ready to face the dawn with her new team and head into the unknown.
Falric reached the front of the line using his agility to circumvent the humans and other tall races. He said a silent prayer for the dead when the priestess talked about the victims of the Plague of Madness. Afterward, as the time to announce the lottery selections approached, a certain level of anxiety came over the halfling. He was excited to meet his teammates and discover the area in the Nexropolis where they would be exploring. He was literally bouncing.
Seeing the high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, rising to her feet and looking over the crowd, indicating the start of the ceremony, Idari-lucien smiles. The excited Catfolk rubs his paws together.
A guide? Osiriani? Today is most definitely your Lucky day, my new friend, Tethys!
After the speech and eminent dispersal of the crowd, the gargarious catfolj is seen entertaining at a slightly out of the beaten path Inn. Lucky Strikes seems to have a liking to cards....
Have I ever told you about the one eyed ysoki and the owlbear?
After Sebti finishes her speech and returns to her seat, the two acolytes accompanying her each draw a wooden token from one of the urns on the table. One of the acolytes reads the token aloud, "Scorched Hand". The acoloyte next draws another token from the other urn randomly and reads it aloud: "The Phoenix Brothel". One of the members of the 4-member adventuring group presumably known as the Scorched Hand, a female dark-skinned human woman, steps up the staging area and accepts the assignment, although it appears that she is disappointed with the selection. The lottery assignments continue, as you hear the names of other adventuring groups: "The Cryptfinders" (definitely not local due to their pale skins), "The Dog Soldiers" (all halfling group), "The Daughters of the Desert" (all female band), among other colorful names. The places assigned are a brewery, a private home, and a perfumery. The next name called is "Team A", followed by the names of 4 adventurers, who appear to be meeting each other for the first time, so it appears individuals who signed up, such as yourselves, are randomly chosen for a team. After 5 minutes, "Team C" is called and your individual names are read out aloud in alphabetical order: "Falric, Idari, Radamiel, Sahba, and Tethys. Please step up to receive your assignment: the Tomb of Akhentepi."
Oohs and aahs are heard throughout the crowd, as that is the first tomb assigned of the day. You hear some catcalls from the crowd, including derogatory names such as "Whiskers", "Shorty", "Tomb Virgins" directed at the group's members and the group itself.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Tethys eyes Lucky as they just happen to draw the same lot, "Lucky day indeed." The tall and plain half-elf followed the other's lead, not being the first up there to be spurned by the crowd. But she accepted her assignment once it became apparent she wouldn't ascend alone.
Radamiel's pulse quickens when his name is called. Tomb of Akehentepi? That does sound like an interesting destination.
He steps forward to receive the assignment, noting the catfolk and the half-elven woman making their way to the stage.
Radamiel is a human man with bronze skin, a bald head, bright blue eyes, approximately 5'8". Today he is wearing grey robes with black trim and a holy symbol of Pharasma hangs from his neck.
"Greetings, friends, I am Radamiel. It appears Pharasma has deemed it wise that we belong together on team c. I hope we can share a meal or at least tea and get to know one another before we enter the Necropolis together tomorrow."
As her name is called, the young unarmored desert warrior steps up to meet her new companions and accept her assignment. "It looks like I'm to share this adventure with you all! An interesting group we make no? I'm Sabha, pleasure to meet you all!" she says giving her new companions a warm smile of greeting.
Practically preening himself purposefully playing up to the crowd, Idari-lucien skips, hops, catcrawls (to much giggles behind hands and scarves), flips and purrs his way through the crowd of his adoring fans to present himself on stage!
Thank you, Ladies and Germs! Tis I, your friendly neighborhood Lucky Strikes proud to present....
The grinning Catfolk peers purposefully across the gathered crowd to point, clap and laugh!
You must be seers! Yes! May I present
Idari-lucien points at each of his new teammates, clasps each hand and bows to each!
Our epic renown has been summoned this day to explore he Tomb of Akhentepi."!
The sly catfolk smiles at his audience.
Prepare your purses for the majestic treasure hoard that we shall bring out to sell! Cash only, no notes. Thank you!
Idari-lucien turns to the others.
Lucky day indeed!
Falric leaps up to the stage with a smile on his face, ignoring the catcalls. He knew that he who laughs last laughs the best. "Hello all, I am Falric, remember the name, for I will be either famous or infamous. I have not decided yet!" The halfling waved to the crowd and proceeded to turn in his token and get his assignment. He then looked to his companions, "Pleasure to meet you all. I would love some tea, actually, Rad. Lead the way."
Tethys puts her hands on her face in an exasperated attempt at hiding her embarrassment. She follows everyone up and hopes that her suffering will end soon.
, Falric proposes a toast with alcohol when the group is gathered at the table. "To the pursuit of knowledge, history, redemption, or fortune! Whatever butters your bun, as I say." The halfling takes a swig of his drink. He looks around the table and breaks the silence. "I guess I will start. I'm a lock/trap disabler and spotter and tomb delver, that's what I bring to the group. How about the rest of you? Does anybody have any idea who this fella Akhentepi was, besides being rich/important enough to afford his own tomb? I must admit I am not familiar with Wati history and personalities."
Surprised, entertained, and unsure what to make of Lucky Strikes' display, Radamiel chuckles.
"Very good, very good, well met."
He does what he can to ignore the jeering but finds it slightly frustrating. Seeing Tethys' blushing cheeks, he turns and whispers "We'll be out of the spotlight shortly, hold strong. Honestly, it's not really my thing either." He tries to give a comforting smile and a nod.
"Something stronger than tea is a fine idea. I'd like to learn more about my fellow members of Team C."
"I'm Radamiel. I follow the path of Pharasma, Lady of Graves. I grew up here in Wati and have always been curious about the Necropolis. I put my name in the lottery because I want to see the old city and also because I have been called to help the unresting dead find peace." He raises his cup in salute and takes a sip.
"I'm a resident of Wati but I'm not familiar with Akhentepi but this part of the city has been closed off for a very long time.
When the loudmouth jesters in the crowd begin jeering, Sahba holds her head high, looking forward to the moment when they return triumphantly, forcing the fools to eat crow.
Joining her new companions for drinks and a meal, she picks out a table far enough from the bar to give them room to talk privately among themselves.
"I'm Sahba, a sword mage of sorts, explorer, adventurer....and a bit of a scholar as well." the lovely half-elf introduces herself, brushing some of her hair behind a pointed ear as she takes a sip of her drink. "Hmmm...Akhentepi...the name vaguely rings a bell."
Tethys offers her name over the tea and explains her skills succinctly, "When undead inevitably object to our looting of their tombs I will destroy what remains of their bodies." She motions to the over 6ft long pole arm that ends in two spikes and a four pronged hammer sitting within reach.
She thinks for a moment, "I'm also capable of picking a lock or disabling a trip wire but I'm far from a master in the craft."
Finally she adds deadpan, "I can also sail a ship." She frowns when her attempt at humor is beached like a sick whale.
Tethys doesn't explain where she's from but her accent is distinctly Taldan.
Idari-lucien listens to his new teammates of delving and dangerous digging, of picking locks and tripping over wires, of lacking undead Affinity and deadly dealings inacted. The Catfolk smiles, raising his tankard of ale.
To Akhentepi! Whomever the f&@+ he was. Better be rich!
A d, he then offers his skill set.
I am a Wizard.
Upon confirmation of your tokens, the acolytes hand you a hand-scribbled map of the location of the tomb in the Necropolis, which is in the NW section, about 30-minute walk from the Pharasman needle and the gates of the city. As you come off the stage after your selection, the various merchants hawk their wares. "Crowbars! Crowbars for sale! Every good tomb delver must have a crowbar!" Others yell "Waterskins! Torches! Rations! Everything necessary for the expeditions!" Finally, another young man yells, "Tomorrow, after you finish your expeditions, please join us at the Tooth & Hookah for drinks and stories!"
"Ah yes, Akhentepi! I knew I'd heard the name before!" Sahba, blurts out, setting her drink down excitedly as the memory surfaces. With the attention of her companions, she delves into the history of their assigned site, or at least, it's subject.
"He was a human military commander from before the Plague of Madness, somewhere around the Twenty-fifth century. Pretty important since he was in command of the city's troops then. Born in 2416 AR and died in 2488 AR, which is 11 years before the Plague of Madness happened. Oh, and he was a worshipper of Pharasma, according to the records I've encountered."
Sitting back and taking another sip of her drink she looks around the table at her companions. "Given his position, it's likely that he amassed a decent bit of wealth before his death."
The grinning Catfolk lifts his tankard into the air at Sahba's pronouncement of their quarry.
Cheers to Akhentepi! I do like a man in uniform.
Idari-lucien purrs at Tethys.
The Wizard then turns a serious look over at Radamiel.
Doubling down on the Pharasma theme for this one, huh.
Idari-lucien winks at the halfling, as he is seen Prestidigitation some sugar cubes to manifest into the Fighter's beverage.
Falric smiles, impressed at Sahba's memory. "Thank you for the information, Sahba. So his tomb should have some interesting knickknacks. Now, how prepared are we for this expedition tomorrow morning? Do we have a crowbar, rope, flasks of acid or fire for swarms, that sort of stuff? I'd be happy to contribute some gold for said supplies. Unfortunately, due to my size and lack of muscular physique, I cannot carry that many supplies so I tend to eschew such things, except for the flasks of course. Maybe, Tethys can carry such stuff, if we need it. She looks strong." The halfling winks at Tethys innocently.
"Oh, interesting, good that you're so well-read, Sahba. To be honest, I can't always keep names and dates in my head.
If he followed The Lady then I hope he found his way to the Boneyard and on to what she determines to be next. In which case, he no longer needs his worldly belongings." Radamiel raises an eyebrow and lifts his cup as if to toast the group and takes a sip.
"But, I do hope we can conduct ourselves in a way that is respectful to Akhentepi's place of rest." He finishes the drink in his cup.
"I have some rope, I can cast light as I'm sure several others can. I could probably purchase some alchemist fire or oil."
Tethys pats Lucky on the head when he purrs at her, unsure of the protocol. She quietly worries about offending him.
When the practical concern of equipment comes up she nods yes. She lists off some of the pertinent items, "Grappling hooks, pitons, crampons, lantern and oil, over 100ft of rope, tension wrench, hook, ball, rake, half-diamond. Hmm, no crowbar, could be useful to open a tomb. I will carry it for you Falric, you are rather puny."
Idari-lucien lifts his tankard.
To us and here's hoping the military paid well!
The Wizard catches a catnip before preparation in the morning....
On his way out of the tavern, Radamiel takes some time to buy a few last items before he goes home for the evening.
Tethys picks out an iron crowbar and is ready to head to the tomb.
Falric nods his head, "I can cast magical light too. And thanks for being the pack mule, Tethys." The halfling smiles sweetly.
"I can create my own light as well, but I do have a few torches on the like. I'll pick up supplies to map our progress. Other than that I should be ready." Sahba adds
4714 A.R. 8th of Pharast
You spend as much time as you wish, chatting and sharing stories. You do some last-minute shopping. Eventually, you head home to rest and prepare for the following day. The next morning you gather and meet the other adventurers from the lottery at the gates to the necropolis. Everyone is anxious and excited. After a few warnings from the Pharasmin priests to stick to the sites assigned, as there are rumors of packs of undead in certain parts of the city, the gates open. The first site that catches your gaze is Pharasma’s Needle: a black meteorite dredged from the river’s depths and carved into a capstone for a sacred obelisk, erecting the monument just inside the gates to the necropolis.
After admiring its architecture, you move NE, following the map provided to you regarding the tomb you're seeking. Eventually, you reach your destination.
A rectangular stone mausoleum sits alone in what appears to have once been an actual cemetery. The trunks of a few dead trees poke out of the sand around the tomb, and a hot breeze whistles through their desiccated branches. A set of massive stone double doors is affixed to the northern side of the structure, beneath a facade bearing the likeness of an Osirian man. Windblown sand is heaped around the crypt, partially burying the doors that lead within.
If anyone speaks Osiriani, Akhentepi's name is engraved upon the doors, with his date of birth and date of death, consistent with the information previously provided by Sahba.
After evaluating the situation, Radamiel, Sahba, and Tethys realize that the mausoleum's doors are on concealed hinges and swing outward. However, they are currently buried.
Seeing the state of the mausoleum's doors, Radamiel looks around at the others on his team to see if anyone has a shovel.
Well, I suppose that seems a little obvious now. Yesterday I didn't even consider how useful a shovel might be.
I wonder... Radamiel looks around to see if there might be another way in.
- Just in case his religious study might also include tomb architecture:
"Hmm... a shovel never occurred to me, which it should have...considering we are underground. I do have a scroll with a spell that could help though, it allows for sudden digging, usually to make a pit, but it should work as well to clear away the dirt." Sahba points out to her companions after studying things.
Falric looks dumbfounded and checks his minimalist equipment. "Yeah, no shovel on me either. You have a scroll Sahba?! Awesome. I am willing to contribute 5gp to you for the use of the scroll. It would save us the trouble of traveling back to town to buy a shovel and then back again."
Idari-lucien's blue eyes shine at the magnificent architectural marvel that is...
Pharasma’s Needl! a black meteorite dredged from the river’s depths and carved into a capstone for a sacred obelisk! What a sight!
The Wizard resists any urge to pose for any impromptu fans wanting a drawing.
When confronted with the rectangular stone mausoleum sits alone in what appears to have once been an actual cemetery. The trunks of a few dead trees poke out of the sand around the tomb, and a hot breeze whistles through their desiccated branches. A set of massive stone double doors is affixed to the northern side of the structure, beneath a facade bearing the likeness of an Osirian man. Windblown sand is heaped around the crypt, partially burying the doors that lead within, the Wizard absently scratches behind an ear, while considering the sand issue.
Sand of all cursed things to be foiled by! They may tear up our Adventure's cards for this! The horrible shame! The pursuant guilt! We're all going end up drunks and beggars not fit to carry someone else's shovel!
The catfolk gris.
I have a few scrolls of Unseen Servant. Anyone want to donate a shield or helm for the poor bastard?
Tethys weighs the cost of her time vs the cost of letting Sahba or Lucky spend a magic item on the endeavor. She has the heart of an accountant and determines her time is worth less. She starts running back towards the merchants, unless stopped.
"It'll be worth it I'm sure, and if things go as well as we expect, I'm sure we'll recover a hundred times it's worth." Sabha says, taking out the scroll.
Moving a bit in front of her companions, the magus recites the arcane words inscribed on the vellum, a swirl of arcane sigils dancing around her before the dirt and dust in front of the door erupts in a blast that clears the debris in their way.
"Tethys, wait! Don't be so hasty" Radamiel shouts as Tethys starts back toward the bazaar. "Let's stick together, even when we're so close to familiar territory. There's no telling who or what might be creeping about."
When Sahba starts reading the scroll he motions to the magus and says more quietly. "See there? Sahba's saved us some time and effort."
"Excellent, Sahba. Much easier than shoveling our way through."
Idari-lucien's blue eyes shine in delight at the creative casting of Sahba!
Time is money after all! Tethys may you be so kind as to purrruse the door, as I prepare.
The Wizard begins casting scrolls prior to entry.
Sahba moves the sand blocking the entranceway and deposits it 25' away, clearing the entrance for you. Now is the time to open the tomb itself.
--- Falric
--- Tethys
Sensing no traps on the door, Tethys realizes the tomb entrance is stuck and she pulls out the crowbar and tries to force it open with her great strength. Unfortunately, it does not open on her first try. She focuses her strength again and opens the tomb door on her second try, thanks to the crowbar!
Looking past the door, the ceilings within the tomb are 10 feet high and rooms are unlit and dark. The dust and sand in the room, as well as the stale air, indicate that nothing has entered this room for at least a few decades.
"Very impressive, Sabha. Never seen that spell on my formula list before."
Falric arches his eyebrows, "Strong.." and gives Tethys the thumbs up. "I can go first, if you're all cool with that." Falric intones magic and four glowing spheres of light appear in a 10' radius. "I can move the lights up to 100' away in any direction I want, so this should be helpful." Falric is ready to move forward, scimitar in one hand and the other is free.