Raiders of the Lost Tomb Part 1

Tashraan, Veyshan

The noise is what hits newcomers the hardest. The whole city seems to be shouting at itself, pleas, curses, offers, counter-offers, it's a wall of sound. Even with a dozen mercenaries from the Tashraan Archaeological Society escorting you, keeping people at bay, it's still an almost stifling, claustrophobic sensation.

Once you're inside the thick walls of the Society proper, the noise level drops to something approaching sane quantities, letting you actually get a word in. High Inquisitive Salah is a large man, more portly than muscular, but his eyes are sharp and intelligent as he welcomes you into the parlor set aside for discussion. Waving aside any talk of business just yet, he plies you with snacks and cool drinks first, away from the Veyshanti heat. Only once he's assured you're comfortable does he get down to the matter at hand. "On behalf of the Society, I welcome you to Veyshan," he says in his deep voice, removing his conical hat to rub his head absently before replacing it. "Are you aware of the nature of this contract?"

One among those present seems perfectly comfortable. Brown as a berry beneath loose, light-colored clothing that covers braided brown hair and the rest of her leather gear, a similar loose cloth covering the lower half of her face, Aimarra stands, looking around her at the group of people sh's fallen in with. _Alexandrians. I thought I'd gotten away from this._ "I am not, High Inquisitive. Perhaps you'd be so good as to explain."

The loose, light-colored clothing covers everything except the bow across her back and the sword at her hip.

Carver almost gets into a shouting match, and would have been lost if not for the professional hand of their escorts. Not used to the bustle and the press of bodies that is a Veyshan marketplace, by the seventh bump without so much as a by the way, she's ready to throw hands and snatch hair. Still, thankfully, the guards corral her alongside the others and into the interview.

She sits with a sour expression, and for once, without all her furs and leather she's much reduced in size but the strength of her arms show through with corded muscles. That twitch when she crosses her arms and pouts until refreshments arrive. "Shoo," The ranger garbles around a biscuit. "Stealin' from dead rich men."

Honestly, being mostly rust red and white lends some aid in this environment. And it's clear as day that the egalrin among the party flitted about the harking stalls before getting back with the group and settled with the others. A cool drink in one hand, and a snack in the other with a crumb being fed to the tiny bird on their shoulder, Slixvah grins with a closed eye smile.

"Thank ya fo' tha' warm welcome!" she chirps back, the swaths of white Veshanti silk swaying from her robes and shawls, brass and gold plated bangles and charms littered all about her. Her beak clacks behind a shear veil. "Sort of familiar wit' it, but li' th' other say, love ta hear the details!"

Irshya has been quiet since the first few waves of stifling heat roiled over the group. She hides in her hooded robes, limping along using her trident as a walking staff. She keeps well within the small cordon of protection offered by the guards.

The cool drink is eagerly downed, the little face peering up at the High Inquisitive to ask for more. At Salah's question, the Goblin clears her throat. "Something's been found, and you'd like it ... mapped out?"

Fidget doesn't mind the bustle and the noise, it reminds her of home, especially the cursing!

Enjoying the snacks as the Inquisitive opens discussion, she speaks around a mouthful, "You want us to loot a tomb, bring back shiny things, pretty much? You expecting danger? Some of the former owners less than restful?" she says, knocking back a glass of whatever drink was offered, she nods with approval, "Tasty!" and leans forward to grab another.

Carver's hand lands on the same treat at the same time as Fidget's. Uh oh.

Aelwyn was grinning. The winter of Alexandria alone would have been enough to drive him towards anything resembling warmth. Yet, to be in Tashraan - the ruddy sith-makar was grinning, as he was near dancing on the sands of his place of beginning, occasionally pausing to yell into the crowd. "And a sheep skin to boot!" He sibilantly calls out, rumbling in amusement soon afterwards. "It is nice to step free on these streets." He tells the others; voice probably lost in the cacophony.

The sounds and jostling; feel of people alive. And Aelwyn was holding on really tight to his glaive, keeping too curious people aside.

The exposed and darkened scales of his body were barely hidden under the armor and the loincloth he was wearing, shimmering from the heat. He too drowns the drink quickly though - the sun gets all. "This one is of the nature, but this one is not aware of what we are truly signing." He rumbles with a flicker of tongue. "What are the specific details what is required of us?"

Salah nods and grins. "A refresher is a good thing." He clears his throat. "You are here to excavate and secure the newly discovered tomb of the Gray King, Ahlatos. He was called such as he was not just a king, but also a priest in the service of Vardama. After his passing, his burial place was hidden, as later rulers were... discomfited by the example he set." Salah's lips quirk in a sardonic smile. "For Ahlatos was not a particularly -likeable- man, but he was honest to a fault and unfailingly just. A stickler for the rule of law and practically incorruptible, even by modern standards. He probably wasn't much fun at parties but he was respected by the commons and the nobility -- well, some of them."

While Salah is talking, Aimarra has secured for herself a cup of water and a snack, pulling down her face covering to reveal half-sil features that are just as brown as the rest of her. She pointedly ignores the byplay going on around her to consider the task being set. "I'd be surprised to find undead in the tomb of a Mourner. The Basalt Queen doesn't look kindly on that. But - you say secure. Are you thinking raiders, or something else?"

Slixvah is warmed to see Aelwyn so relaxed back in his homelands. Honestly, she'd been beyond curious about the place. Perhaps after this, she could flit around the place to see what the local culture is like.

An amused glance is shot towards the little conundrum at the snack table before she looks up to Salah. "Ahh. I see, I see. A fair but dull man. Mmm. I bet that tomb is beyond consecrated if theys a priest of Vardama," she points out, giving a nod towards the half-sil of the group in agreement. "Eyy, good point."

"It sounds like the good King was ahead of his time.", the Goblin says softly. "Did they wish to desecrate his tomb, and loot it of all it's burial goods? Or simply wish to remove a monument to his existence?" She rubs at a cheek, and eyes the others a moment, before glancing back to Salah. "Have you sent others in, and they have not returned? Are there any clues as to what sort of .. hijinks await us within? Traps? Eternal guardians, or wargolems? Ancient curses?"

Her hand landing on the biscuit at the same time as Carver's, Fidget makes eye contact with him and slowly backs her hand away, as if considering letting him have it, then she snatches it quick as she can and shoves the entire thing into her mouth and then gives a toothy grin at him in victory. She may not be entirely paying attention to the explanation being given by their employer.

Aelwyn tilts his hip and twists his head back, clicking his tongue. "Excavate? Does this mean actual digging out the tomb?" Another tilt of his head and he leans his glaive down. "And one hopes the contract comes with an expiration date?" A wide grin on his face. It was a pretty macabre grin.

"Tch, one for rule and law. No wonder the rest of the royalty were disquieted." He rumbles in amusement, before his attention falls onto the snack fight going on between Fidget and Carver. Quietly, he sneaks his hand around to steal a biscuit too.

Carver's stare is calm, composed. A true killer's stare, ready to fight and die over this cookie. When Fidget seems to withdraw in surrender, her gap-toothed front teeth are flashed in a broad smile. Her self-satisfaction is quickly flipped to surprise that filters through the sift of realization, quickly finding sterling nuggets of outrage. "That was mine!" Her grabby hands at Fidget are too late, for the goblin's cheeks are already stuffed like a green chipmunk's with sweet betrayal. She, too, is not an active participant in the planning stage it looks like.

Salah settles back in his chair. "As a Mourner, to use the modern vernacular, Ahlatos would not have tolerated undead guardians. However, he would have seen no problem in guarding his tomb with traps, constructs, curses, or bound and summoned creatures." He furrows his brow. "Many past tombs were built using slave labor; Ahlatos's tomb was built by men freed under his rule, and those who died during the work were laid to rest in places of honor in said tomb. It is not impossible that they might rise up spontaneously, though I would hope their place in the tomb would prevent that."

He tilts his head at Aelwyn's question. "We don't think there's been any blockages -- it seems the landslide that revealed it was confined to the surface and not indicative of a more serious issue. But if you run into problems, let us know. We'll be setting up a base camp outside."

Aimarra shoots a withering look at Carver and Fidget, and takes a sip from her cup of water. "Let's hope you're right. So, just about anything but." She nods to herself, and pulls again from her water, with clear intent to finish it. "No maps would have been made, so we'll need to bring chalk and similar tools for navigation, and rope and grappling hooks. Traps are likely. Well, I suppose I haven't any other questions," she turns to Slixvah and Irshya. "Even in the desert, it will be cool underground. We'll want to bring sources of light."

Slixvah giggles at the snack antics, the veil swaying as she shakes her head at them before keeping her attention at the task at hand. "Mmm. Traps, constructs, and curses, oh my!" The eglarin rubs her neck. "Mojo a lil' whacked for thi' biz, but I think I can swing it-" She stops, then smiles brightly. "I /knew/ takin' up map-makin' would come in handy some day!"

She thumps a fist into a hand after finishing off her refreshments. "Wit' those tools, I think we can cook up somethin' ta get it figured out!" An eye closes in a crinkling smile at Aimarra. "I can make some light! An' I got a fancy lil' torch tha' can gimmie some light too! I think we got this."

"Ain' got no mo' questions, Salah! Appreciate ya reachin' out!" she chirps warmly.

"Hmm. What do you call a spirit who returns for what they see as a righteous task, to serve their ancient King willingly after death, unbidden? Would Vardama allow such a thing? I know she would tear into those who practice necromancy in the form of raising undead, but how would she look upon those who wish to serve, to protect an incorruptible ruler's resting place?" Irshya taps at her chin. "I am interested in investigating the tomb based on that question alone."

The Goblin nods to Aimarra, and she glances at their host. "Is there somewhere we may go to purchase such supplies? I believe that's the only question I have at this point." A glance to the group. "I'm willing to put up coin for such purchases."

Laughing through her biscuit at Carver's fury, Fidget gets a bit stuck in her throat and she coughs for a bit, flailing until she can slam another glass of sweet chilled beverage, and she gives a last cough before breathing a sigh of relief, "Worth it" she says to Carver, behind the others having their serious important discussion. "Constructs can be fun" Fidget chimes in, "To tinker with, or to explode."

"... hm." Aelwyn clicks his tongue out. None of his (implied) questions were actually answered! Flicking his tail about, he leans further back and takes a bite off his biscuit. "There is a rate for every day of work specified outside the Guild contract." He warns the man with a point of his finger. "And no selling our labor." Have to be clear about the details.

There's a little dumb look on his face as he looks at Slixvah. "Ribbon knows how to paint maps?" A crunch on his cookie. "An odd activity for her." Then his gaze tilts towards Irshya, twisting his lips. "This one knew there was something dragging Sharkie out of the pool." A sharp grin on his face.

Towards Aimarra, the not-so-ruddy sith-makar bows his head and taps the set of ropes wrapped around his waist. "Always carry a kit for climbing, Stranger." Flash of his teeth.

Carver does not see the signs of annoyance from her coworkers. Largely, because she is trying to imagine a goblinsplosion approximately Fidget-Shaped. If she had the means, a crudely flamboyant green doll would be hexed and stabbed by now.

Salah claps his hands, deliberately not paying attention to the shenaigans involving goblins, biscuits, and grumpy rangers. "Splendid. Splendid. Ah, one last thing..."

"It has been decreed by the Vardamen hierarchy here that the Gray King should be borne from his tomb and enthroned in the necropolis established a century ago. Hence the Society's involvement, as the grave goods and artifacts will need to be catalogued before being placed on display in one of our museums." Salah offers a wry grin. "So I'm afraid you can't take any souvenirs, but rest assured between the church and the Society, you'll be well compensated for your troubles."

"I would ask that you minimize any damage to the tomb, as once it is secured there will be a veritable horde of scholars to examine it. Defend yourself, by all means, but do not indulge in excessive property damage. Try to make note of anything you are forced to destroy, as it might be meaningful down the road."

"Understood. I wouldn't want to take anything out of a tomb anyway, the gods alone know what might follow me home if I did." Aimarra sounds mildly disgusted. "We can get our supplies in the markets here in the city. Nothing unusual. Make sure we've got plenty of clean water, we aren't likely to find much down there." She finishes off the cup of water, and sets the cup aside. "I'll certainly do my best not to destroy anything I don't have to."

Slixvah shoots Aelwyn a look back. "What, Flutter? I do like ta travel 'round a lot. Is it reall' tha' big a surprise I like ta do some cartography here an' there?"

The clap gets her attention back on Salah. A laugh escapes her as she waves her hands about. "Oh no no no, ain' takin' nothin' from a tomb ta a high priest of Vardama, tha's jus' /askin'/ fo' trouble!" she assuages with Aimarra. "But yuh, I'll keep tha' in mind! No promises tho', 'cause, gonna be honest, it'd be a heck of a hard one ta keep!"

She pats Irshya on the shoulder. "Thanks fo' tha', hon! I probably will get some rope too. We all set? Couple snackies fo' th' tomb?"

That earns a frown from the Goblin. "You're going to place the King's grave goods on display? Offerings to the Gods?" It is apparent that this does not sit will with Irshya at all.

"I had no intention of taking anything from the tomb for myself. I am compensated by the Guild, and yourself. And smart people don't do things to anger slumbering ancient Kings, especially one who were incorruptible, and a favored of Vardama."

She lets out a lengthy sigh, "But if you accept the possible trouble it may bring, I leave it on your head to soothe the dead King's spirit, should it arise and come looking to deliver justice to thieves."

A grin spreads across Irshya's expression, "Of course, hon, we've got to work as a team, and it's the least I can do to help out with provisions." Aelwyn gets a snort from the short woman. "Pff, I am curious about such things, you landlubbers have such interesting rituals."

Fidget tries to appease the firey, snack-aggrieved woman by levitating several biscuits off the table and floating them towards Carver's head. It's not the most graceful, so one of them bounces off Carver's nose on the way to the floor, while the others float in orbit around Carver's head. She hears Irshya's comment about angering dead Kings, and definitely wasn't wondering what she could acquire from a king's tomb, he must've had lots of shiny things, and it's not like he needs them now. "How's the ghost going to know that we're stealing his stuff on behalf of someone else? Seems a little like we'd probably be the first targets for revenge, then maybe he'd come after museum people next."

Aelwyn bows his head towards Salah, signifying he understood the conditions. "Proper compensation for the proper work." His attention then slips towards Slixvah. "Ribbon does travel around a lot," He grins, with a playful flick of his tail. "From innocent heart to innocent heart. This one was just not aware she drew maps as well."

There's a low rumble as he leans over to take one last gulp of the water. "Tch, if Sharkie did not have such sharp teeth, this one would be afraid the markets would devour her." There's a tilt from his head. "Be careful from whom one buys from." He adjusts his belongings about him, before he stops. "Shall we, then?"

Society Base Camp, Veyshan

The trip into the deserts north of the Golden Coast is uneventful -- unsurprising, as you go as part of a column of Society researchers and hired guards, along with even a couple priests of Vardama. The faith here in Veyshan tends to be different from how it's practiced in Alexandros, with the priests dressed in earth-colored robes and wearing bronze circlets emblazoned with the scales on their brow.

Soon enough, you come to a cliff face, some vast spasm of stone rising up before you. A small camp sits in front of it, with several guards looking toward the column of men and camels attentively. You are expected, it seems. Beyond the small camp, the stone has crumbled away from a section of the natural wall to reveal a pair of massive double doors, incised with the traditional pictographic language of Old Veyshan.

Rashid bin-Byoden mops his face with a cloth, the hard-bitten, tough looking Veyshanti trail leader regarding the tomb with suspicion. "And here we are," he grunts. "Well, at least nothing bad's happened so far. You... er, do what you need to." He clearly hasn't spent much time around adventurers.

Once outside of Tashraan, Aimarra had nearly entirely shrouded herself in those light-colored, lightweight veils that shield her from the worst of the brutal desert sun. She seemed to be comfortable traveling in the desert, noting waymarks and the direction of the sun. When they arrive, she turns and faces the trail leader, touching fingers to head, lips, and heart in that order. "Hopefully most of us will return." A sour look is cast behind her, and then she turns to study the doors, to see how they might open. It is unlikely to be anything so obvious as a welcome mat and a door handle.

Slixvah curiously peers about the priests as they arrive, her retying down a bright white shawl that an errant wind knocked asside. "Bah, we'll be fine," she chirps at Aimarra after watching the little gesture giving to the trail leader. "Got a smart crew, ain' got no doubt 'bout it. Jus' a lil' luck and a lotta skill and we be fiiiine~!"

She looks up to Rashid. "Thanks! We'll do wha' we do, gettin' in! Mi' wanna stand back a bit," she smiles, waving hello to the men and camels as she adjusts some rope thrown about her shoudlers.

An errant breeze wafts by Carver as one of Slix's wings brushes against her.

Irshya's teeth are indeed sharp, and seems at home haggling. Can't run a business without it, in a port city. Supplies are secured, and the Goblin is quite pleased. While she once more hides under her robes, the crunches on something the whole journey there.

She eyes Aimarra curiously at the gesture of respect the Half-Sil makes, and the Goblin follows suit with a deep bow, and a soft "Thank you."

She can only stare up and up at the large doors, and lets out a sigh. "Hello doorness my old friend, I've come to knock on you again." The Current begins to look around the edges (as far as she can reach) slowly and carefully. "We're looking at one of two things... either these things were never meant to be opened ever again, or they're weighted in such a way as to be openable at a touch... unless locked or jammed somehow. Probably the former."

There was lot to be enjoyed along the trip for Aelwyn - and during the quiet, a wineskin. When they arrive, Aelwyn bows his head towards Rashid, before he flashes his teeth at Aimarra. "Tch, most of us? This one always wondered from where these deserts such optimism was from." He flickers his tongue. "Try not to get the Alexandrians agitated."

Tilting his head at Irshya, the draconian then looks at the double doors, then back towards the short goblin. "Does one think we will be covered in poison darts if one nudges at the door?"

Carver made sure that her steed would be well taken care of, prior to joining the others on the march. Like others, she wears light breathable layers to keep the sun off. She leand back to inspect the great barrier, thinking toward lessons of the past. What would one do, if one sought entrance to such a place in its prime.

GAME: Carver rolls Knowledge/religion: (10)+3: 13
GAME: Aimarra rolls perception: (3)+14: 17
GAME: Slixvah rolls alertness: aliased to perception+2: (2)+15+2: 19
GAME: Fidget rolls knowledge/religion: (15)+10: 25
GAME: Slixvah rolls knowledge/religion: (3)+6: 9
GAME: Fidget rolls linguistics: (15)+11: 26
GAME: Fidget casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 7 DC: 16
GAME: Irshya rolls knowledge/religion: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Aelwyn rolls perception: (19)+1: 20
GAME: Irshya rolls perception: (18)+13: 31

The doors are large, elaborate, with inlaid pictographic tiles. Tiles that depict various stages in the life of mortals, starting with birth, proceeding through life, and then finally death, burial, and judgement before the Harpist. Irshya and Fidget realize, after some hesitant touching, that the tiles can be slid around -- while there's no magic to the doors, the puzzle is like an intricate locking mechanism.

Wearing her primary attire, it seems like Fidget should be melting in the heat, but she seems fine. She does ask, as they walk, "What do you mean 'most of us', Aimara', let's hope all of us come back."

When they arrive at the door, she's quick to cast her Detect Magic spell, to scan for anything interesting that might be enchanting it, while looking for anything else of note on it that would indicate how it opens, and whether it's likely to be trapped.

"Ooh, a puzzle!" she adds as she figures out the door.

Irshya is entranced by the door, working out at roughly the same point that the door is actually a puzzle.

"So if we slide these around in the right order, it should unlock. Ooor drop us into a deadly pit trap or fill us full of poison darts!" The blue Goblin gestures to the taller people. "I think that one with the person in their prime is the first one to move. Would one of you slide it... to the left?" She glances at Fidget a moment, as if looking for confirmation."

Not having followed the puzzle, Aimarra raises an eyebrow. "Huh." Not being a tall individual, she looks around, and shuts her mouth.

Slixvah makes a clicking sounds in the back of her throat. "Oooh, puzzles!" she smiles as Fidget points it out. "Love me some puzzles!"

With her hands on her hips, the brass and gold bangles clink softly as she cranes her head back a bit to take it all in. "Mmmm.... mmm. Yeah, I ain't a Mourner. Mo' a Ceiwen gal. Buuuuuut- I agree. Sure! Aelwyn darlin', you got some big sticks, gimmie one I'll scooch it! Lets see if th' poison darts gone stale!"

She's either not taking this seriously or is masking nerves with joy.

Aelwyn had no idea what he was looking at. Except the pictures were kind of nice? Then the others start talking, and it takes him a moment to figure out what kind of puzzle they were actually talking about.

"Big sticks in their prime?" Aelwyn flashes a grin to Slixvah, swaying the glaive off down his shoulders. "Now why such a sweet tongue, when one need only ask?" He flickers his tongue - restricts the urge to flex his bicep - and steps up to the door. "... though one should keep the sweet tongue." Hand slides down to his hip, tail swaying back and forth playfully.

In case the tile in question is too high, he'd use his glaive to slide it. But only if he really, really, reeeally must.

Carver is the last to realize that this is a puzzle and the first to surrender to it. Either cowardice or prudence. As others gather around to discuss this first barrier, she instead turns and observes the guides that led them here. Her squint could be blinding sun, or paranoia.

It takes about fifteen or twenty minutes, a couple of false starts, and a brief argument over who should stand on Aelwyn's shoulders. But the tiles, one by one, are slid around, slotting into place. When the last tile -- a pictogram of a man walking into what is an abstract depiction of paradise -- is nudged into position, there's a rumbling sound from the doors. Of ancient mechanisms stirring to life, as the locking bars withdraw. Slowly, the doors swing inward, releasing dry, dead air, the hall beyond dark and lightless. No footprint on the dusty floor, no torch to drive back the gloom.

The workers are all very impressed, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the clearly wise and clever adventurers, while the two priests immediately finish setting up a portable altar and shrine near the steps up to the doors and begin performing prayers -- presumably to propitiate the soul of the Gray King and his servants.