DM oKOyA's Mummy's Mask: The Half-Dead City

Game Master Lord oKOyA


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The ancient lands of Osirion are blanketed by the sands of time, and eldritch secrets and vast riches lay just beneath the sun-blistered surface. As modern Osirion opens its vaults and tombs to outsiders for the first time in centuries, many of these lost treasures and secrets are now emerging—some more troublesome than others. Hakotep I, a now-forgotten pharaoh, was robbed upon his burial. A secret sect took his heart and his funerary mask, both containing a portion of his soul. Betrayed the chance to pass on into the afterlife during his burial, Hakotep has existed in a state between life and death for millennia. The recent rediscovery of one of these lost soul fragments has allowed the trapped pharaoh to once again work in this world to redress the wrongs committed against him, and a cult worshipping him as a god-king grows in the heart of Osirion. Can a group of heroes brave terrible guardians, foul cults, and the burning sands of the desert to stop the rebirth of this ancient tyrant?

In Wati, the half city, the church of Pharasma holds a lottery allowing explorers to delve the tombs of the city’s vast necropolis in search of the nation’s lost glories. In the course of investigating dusty tombs and fighting their ancient guardians and devious traps, the heroes encounter a rival adventuring group intent on keeping one tomb’s treasures for themselves. At the same time, the heroes learn that a potent artifact, potentially capable of animating the dead, has been stolen from the tomb. Can the adventurers defeat their rivals, or will they join the undead defenders of the city’s necropolis?

Sovereign Court

Dot.


-.. --- -


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

dot...


~~~ PRELUDE ~~~

A few weeks ago...

Professor Aristedes and Pherenike Kyriakos:

Professor Aristedes and Pherenike had only been in Sothis for a short time, when a messenger arrived with a letter from his father. The message informed Ahkenaten to seek out a Pathfinder there by the name of Colm Safan. The man was an expert in many things pertaining to Ancient Osirion and it was believed that he might have some valuable information regarding the Aristedes family's plight.

The two went to the Pathfinder Lodge in Sothis where they came into contact with the local Venture-Captain, a man by the name of Norden Balentir. When questioned the man revealed that Colm Safan, his long time friend, had travelled south some weeks ago to find the final location of a great hidden monument the locals spoke of in hushed tones, called the Ravenous Sphinx. An ancient myth of the Keleshites of southern Osirion recounted of a beastly monument in the desert that comes to life and swallows whole any who dare draw near. Safan searched the libraries of Sothis for 10 years to find even a hint of the Ravenous Sphinx’s location and 6 months ago he believed he had finally found it. With great time and great effort, with mountains of gold and honeyed promises and gallons of wine, he obtained maps and stories; he obtained horses and supplies, and finally he obtained the services of a caravan master willing to lead him into the empty nothing-lands that simmer in the rain-shadow of the Brazen Peaks. Other than a short letter informing Balentir that he’d found the sphinx, was using local labor to dig it from the sands, and would soon enter to explore its purpose, Safan has not been in contact with the lodge recently.

The Venture-Captain suggested that Ahkenaten and Pherenike travel to Wati and the dig site to seek out Safan personally for answers to that which they sought. Balentir provided them with rough directions to the dig site and asked that they remind Safan to file further reports outlining his progress as soon as was convenient.

Securing passage on a river barge, Ahkenaten and Pherenike travelled to Wati a few days later. Once in the Half-Dead city, and after some discreet inquiries, including name-dropping Balentir, they learned of a caravan that was due to travel to the dig site the following morning...

Please feel free to retcon any RP you want to do regarding the events within the exposition, including talking to Balentir, or adding anything else you think is relevant. When you are ready we can proceed to the morning meeting at the caravan.

Mus'ad:

A short time ago Mus'ad was contacted by a Sothis based Pathfinder by the name of Colm Safan to act as guide and caravan master for an expedition based out of Wati. The expedition was to locate the final location of a great hidden monument the locals speak of in hushed tones called the Ravenous Sphinx. An ancient myth of the Keleshites of southern Osirion tells of a beastly monument in the desert that comes to life and swallows whole any who dare draw near. Safan searched the libraries of Sothis for 10 years to find even a hint of the Ravenous Sphinx’s location and 6 months ago he believed he had finally found it. With great time and great effort, with mountains of gold and honeyed promises and gallons of wine, he obtained maps and stories; he obtained horses and supplies, and finally he sought the services of a caravan master and guide willing to lead him into the empty nothing-lands that simmer in the rain-shadow of the Brazen Peaks. His first choice was a local Pahmet, who would have personal experience and knowledge of the area, as well as with dealing with the fierce gnolls, the Pahmet's primary adversary in the region.

Mus'ad agreed and some weeks ago, lead the expedition deep in to the sun baked hinterlands south of Wati. There Safan was indeed able to locate that which he sought. The expedition began in earnest, attempting to unearth the buried entrance to the lost ruin. It was slower going than expected, even with the labourers working for days on end to expose the entrance. The need for fresh supplies necessitated a return to Wati. Safan also asked that another healer be hired and brought to the site, providing Mus'ad with the name of an oracle known to be in Wati; Kheled Hadri. The caravan is restocked and Kheled is expected to meet the caravan, which is ready to return to the dig site, the following morning.

Please feel free to retcon any RP you want to do regarding the events within the exposition, including talking to Safan, or adding anything else you think is relevant. When you are ready we can proceed to the morning of the caravan's departure.

Kheled Hadri:

A messenger arrived a few days ago offering employment with a Pathfinder expedition in the desert to the south of Wati in the shadows of the Brazen Peaks. The expedition's leader, Colm Safan, has requested the services of a divine healer and someone equipped to deal with the undead. Safan is attempting to locate a great hidden monument the locals speak of in hushed tones, called the Ravenous Sphinx. An ancient myth of the Keleshites of southern Osirion tells of a beastly monument in the desert that comes to life and swallows whole any who dare draw near. Safan searched the libraries of Sothis for 10 years to find even a hint of the Ravenous Sphinx’s location and 6 months ago he believed he had finally found it. With great time and great effort, with mountains of gold and honeyed promises and gallons of wine, he obtained maps and stories; he obtained horses and supplies and set off into the desert a few weeks ago. A caravan has returned from the site for re-supply and Safan has requested that you return with it. You are to meet the caravan the following morning.

Please feel free to retcon any RP you want to do regarding the events within the exposition, including talking to the messenger, or adding anything else you think is relevant. When you are ready we can proceed to the morning of the caravan's departure.

Corven Endronil:

One afternoon a few days ago, Corven found himself in the Sunburst Market perusing trinkets and artefacts in one of the many tents dealing in antiquities of the area. The proprietor struck up a conversation and after failing to peak Corven's interest with the various items he had for sale openly, he inquired if Corven was perhaps interested in something a little more "unique". Corven's interest finally aroused, the vendor proceeded to produce an ancient tablet that had recently come into his possession. It had come from a very recent, still ongoing in fact, expedition to the desert south of Wati. The expedition, lead by a Pathfinder by the name of Colm Safan is attempting to locate a great hidden monument the locals speak of in hushed tones, called the Ravenous Sphinx. An ancient myth of the Keleshites of southern Osirion tells of a beastly monument in the desert that comes to life and swallows whole any who dare draw near. The tablet is from the site and seems to confirm that Safan has indeed located the Ravenous Sphinx. Although Corven could not afford the vendor's price for the tablet, Corven was able to pay for information about the expedition itself, learning that a supply caravan is due to leave Wati the following morning for the dig site. He has decided to join that caravan, one way or another.

Please feel free to retcon any RP you want to do regarding the events within the exposition, including talking to the vendor, or adding anything else you think is relevant. When you are ready we can proceed to the morning of the caravan's departure.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

So Kheled, you are still going through with this course of action?

Of course Musjafa, this has always been my destiny.

A treasure hunter???

I wouldn't say it so, you know I am not in it for the treasure.

Thats not what the others believe, to them you have no faith...you never have.

And that is part of the reason why I must leave. They have never believed in my destiny. Tell my brothers that I continue to believe that Pharasma leads me down this path, as she leads them to theirs.

May Pharasma's light always guide you and keep you from darkness Musjafa. The man nodded but said nothing in return. Kheled knew this was most likely the end of his friendship with him. They had been friends for a dozen years yet few understood his path, especially in the church. They were powerful in Wati and some in the church thought their path was to rule...at least indirectly. He had little interest in those sorts of things. He had read about the Arm of Light in the church when he was younger. It was in a text rarely read by those in the church. They were a part of the church dedicated to finding and destroying undeath in all of its forms. He imagined himself one of its members even if they were no longer an active arm of the church.

Kheled strapped on his meager possessions. He stared at the spear and crossbow he carried...he barely knew what direction to point them but he carries them anyways, maybe they would make him feel better. He had his power though, he could still feel it in him wanting to get out.

He trundled off as the sun began to rise to meet this Colm Safan and his caravan, he would fight...as he knew he always would.

Sovereign Court

Unremarkable.

That had always been the best word to describe Pherenike. She had been an unremarkable student, studying hard to redeem the advantages she had been given but never naturally clever. She was unremarkable in looks, neither markedly attractive nor notably homely. And training for the Taldan Phalanx, she had worked hard to be an unremarkable soldier; keeping in step, staying in formation, giving the trainers no reason to dress her down. She could walk the crowded streets of Oppara without drawing a second glance from anyone she passed.

That's what is making this first trip out of country so uncomfortable for her. She is suddenly notable: her manner of dress, the accent with which she speaks, and the tint of her hair and skin marking her as out of the ordinary. It puts her on edge to be noticed, when she has spent her whole life up to now blending in, going along, measuring up to expectations. Every glance in her direction she meets with distrust, reflexively wondering why they are looking, what evil intentions they might harbor against the man she is traveling with, before remembering they mightly merely be staring at the strange foreigners with idle curiosity.

She lets the Professor handle the talking and the travel arrangements; if he is satisfied with the answers he is getting, she surely has no reason to question them. Her focus is solely on protecting his purse and his person against any who might threaten them. She looks forward to getting out of town; while their fellow travelers on the caravan might be no less sinister, they will at least be less numerous than the potential threats filling the city streets.


Male Dwarf (Pahmet) Ranger (Warden / Trapper) 2

DM oKOyA:
Net time for me is limited and brain is currently french fried by spending 2-3 hours a day driving everywhere.
Would be good if I can start chiming in once the caravan is assembled come morning.


'Typical,' Corven thinks to himself as he walks the streets of Wati. Moments ago he was bartering with a merchant who, after some convincing, finally showed the sorcered a truly interesting item. But, as it usually happens with interesting items, its price was beyond his meager means. However, the price of the merchant was not and the Varisian man left his stall a few coins lighter, but having learnt where he would be able to find other artifacts such as the one he could not afford.

Still, all was not as simple as he would have preferred. The caravan heading to the expedition site is due to leave the following morning. And he is not invited. "As if that has stopped me before," he mutters softly, bringing to mind his pursuit for knowledge and the power that more often than not comes with it and the places it has brought him to so far, Wati being simply the latest of those. Not that he does not enjoy the traveling itself; what Varisian does not? But it does help when not only the path is the incentive, but the destination is promising as well.

"Well," he concludes, "what caravan does not need people to carry various things around? I am sure whoever is in charge can never have enough of those." There is a twinkle in his eye; the hunt, so to speak, is on.


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use

Professor Ahkenaten Unsu Aristedes, simply known as Professor Aristedes to most, was worried; but he did his best to show absolutely no sign of it in front of his uncomfortable companion and to look as accustomed to this place as he could. This was only his second time in Osirion and he had never been to Wati itself, but his family had history here- and his bodyguard did not need to know the extent to which he was a stranger. As the pair walked the streets of Wati he took the time to point out signs and particular words the two overheard, testing his companion's grasp of the language, taught to her over the past weeks of travel.

He was a fairly tall man, with a frail, scholarly build. Thin and clearly not muscular, the Professor was rapidly approaching his early forties, his hair already having turned silver. He wore silver scholarly robes, which matched his hair perfectly and made him look rather grand despite the robe's humble worth. The status of his family and their wealth meant he was perfectly entitled to grow himself a beard of great length and stature; but in his efforts to distance himself from his family in years past, he had grown accustomed to keeping it to a fairly short goatee. The stress of the arduous travel was apparent on the Taldan, most visible in small, tell-tale signs that he had not devoted time to his usual rituals. His chest ached from the strain of the weight of the chain shirt Pherenike had picked out for him. He was almost completely unaccustomed to wearing armour since some basic martial training in his now-distant youth; and it showed. His movements were difficult and the younger woman had to walk a slower pace than she herself was accustomed to.

The main source of his worry was his rapidly dwindling coin purse. Were it not for his persuasiveness and imposing character; he would have already ran out of coin. Nevertheless, he knew what he must do next- and resolved to seek out the caravan master that Balentir had mentioned.

Come, Pherenike. Our next course of action is clear to me. We must secure passage with that caravan by any means necessary. Perhaps Balentir's good name will be enough. If not, we must be... persuasive. I suppose I could claim far greater mastery with this... the Professor gestured to the weapon strapped to his back via straps his companion had fitted as he searched for the right word crossbow, was it? I'm sure I won't ever need to actually use this thing of course, but the pretence is certainly proving useful, hmm?

Damn thing is likely to give me a back condition if she keeps insisting I carry on like some mercenary...

Forgive the liberties taken with Pherenike's prior actions, thought it would be more fitting for her to have insisted the Professor be armed and armoured, much to his protest.


The morning of the caravan's departure...

In the early pre-dawn hours you make your way through the nearly empty streets of Wati. With the sun yet some time from cresting the horizon, the air was cool and still. Entering "The Veins", Wati's harbour district, you pass block upon block of woodcarvers, tar kilns, warehouses, and whatever shanties can be crammed between them. The myriad shallow canals within the district breeds unabating clouds of insects, the bites of which spot the bodies of the locals, who stain their hands and cheeks with pitch to repel the pests.

Eventually you reach the warehouse indicated to you previously as the departure point for the caravan. A bustle of activity surrounds three wagons, as porters transfer goods from the darkened doorway of one of the warehouses. Supervising and directing the workers is a Pahmet Dwarf. To his side stands an obvious local merchant holding a piece of papyrus, evidently the order being filled. As goods are brought out by the various workers, the dwarf gives them a quick inspection before either allowing them to be placed upon the wagons, or turned back for replacements.

It is obvious that the caravan will be loaded and ready to depart shortly...

Take it away! :)


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use

The Professor made a beeline for the dwarf, nothing his authority over the workers.

Pahmet; my name is Ahkenaten and this is my companion, Pherenike. We have business at the dig site on behalf of Pathfinder Venture-Captain Balentir. I have been referred to Colm Safan by both the patriarchs of my family and by the good venture-captain himself. Do we have your blessing to travel the sands with you?


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

Kheled's bad leg was already sore by the time he reached the caravan site. As he watched the activity as he moved up he noticed the grey haired man talking with a dwarf. He moved up close enough to hear the conversation but didn't interrupt until they were done.

He then approached the apparent Dwarf in charge, I am Kheled. Colm Safan requested a healer and someone with knowledge of undead. I am here to fulfill that need. How can I be of assistance?

Sovereign Court

Professor Aristedes wrote:
Come, Pherenike. Our next course of action is clear to me. We must secure passage with that caravan by any means necessary. Perhaps Balentir's good name will be enough. If not, we must be... persuasive. I suppose I could claim far greater mastery with this... the Professor gestured to the weapon strapped to his back via straps his companion had fitted as he searched for the right word crossbow, was it? I'm sure I won't ever need to actually use this thing of course, but the pretence is certainly proving useful, hmm?

Pherenike stifles a smile. "As long as you remember how to load it, sir," she replies, remembering how he'd put the bolt in backwards when she was showing him how to use the weapon. "I'd advise against giving anyone an actual demonstration, if you're hoping to impress them."

As the Professor approaches the dwarf, she stays protectively at his elbow, distrusting the hubbub surrounding the caravan's imminent departure. Dwarves are known to be capable warriors, she evaluates with grudging approval, and you rarely hear of a duplicitous one. She notes the approach of the lame native, and her hand moves a little nearer the hilt of her falchion. Beggars are likely to be extortionists at best, perhaps even working for a gang of pickpockets and thieves to distract honest travelers. She keeps a wary eye on the man as he lingers.


Corven approaches the caravan getting ready to set out, noting the general activity and the people moving back and forth, loading the carts. He takes a moment to study the scene, seeing two people, a merchant and a Pahmet dwarf, who appear to be more or less in charge. Sighing to himself, he considers his options.

"Well, noone generally gives a porter much of a glance," he reasons, muttering softly to himself. "And such a caravan is always in need of one more, I wager."

Taking care to approach in a roundabout way as to not be seen by the two men directing the activity -not that it should take too much effort, considering how focused they are on their task- he enters the warehouse the other porters appear to be taking the goods from. Without talking to anyone, other than a nod of his head in greeting here and there, he starts doing what they do, even if he does avoid the heavier boxes and sacks.


Male Dwarf (Pahmet) Ranger (Warden / Trapper) 2

The dwarf of the sand was shrouded in loose fitting dark robes of brown and black, neck swarthed in a scarf that looked long enough to gird the pahmet's head against the reproach of both the sun and sand both when needed. His body was heavy, but he moved with a languid grace borne of economy of motion. Much of the direction he offered the caravaneers was borne of slight inclinations of the head or economical gestures of the arm. Words were not offered often, and when they were his tone was even and quiet... his voice deep but soft.

The approach of the Professor was taken in stride, his face rising to meet the old man's and eyes scanning laterally to take in the lady at his elbow also. A pause is what initially follows the request, before a slight nod and bow were given in return to both the Professor and Pherenike "Mus'ad... the name that was not asked for... and this caravan is bound for Safan. The sands do not belong to me... so I can hardly deny any who wish to travel them." his eyes still level at the Professor and voice soft and without malice "If you share our destination then it would be best for you to travel beside us." ending the words with another slight bow.

Ahkenaten and Pherenike:
You get the feeling that Mus'ad has said yes, though in a guarded manner. By asking you to travel beside him, he protects against both eventualities... if you mean him harm, then you are within reach... and if your intentions are pure, then you are also near where he might be able to protect you.

At the approach of Kheled, Mus'ad gives a deeper bow and his arm waves the oracle towards the nearest caravan "Ahlan wa sahlan, I am Mus'ad. Please, rest in a caravan... the only work left to be done is not for you."


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use

The Professor was pleased that the caravan master had been so accommodating in response to his request. Ever quick at mirroring the habits of others as a simple tactic to ingratiate himself, he returned the gentleman's bow.

Much obliged, Mus'ad. While my best years are behind me, I am sure that should you have need of Pherenike's soldiering talents, or a strong arm, she would accomodate you Aristedes assured the Pahmet with a sidelong glance and a smile at his companion. My own skills tend towards the more scholarly and esoteric; of little use on the road, to my dismay. Please excuse us- it will take me some time to organise my belongings and I do not wish to delay our departure.

With a second bow for good measure, the middle-aged man strode towards the caravan train itself.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4
Mus'ad wrote:


At the approach of Kheled, Mus'ad gives a deeper bow and his arm waves the oracle towards the nearest caravan "Ahlan wa sahlan, I am Mus'ad. Please, rest in a caravan... the only work left to be done is not for you."

Thank you Mus'ad. Unfortunately the lady of balance chose to exercise the scales on me as well so I am not quick. The caravan will be much appreciated.

He returns the bow and wanders over, looking for a place to rest.

When he sees the scholar and warrior he wanders over to them. To the professor, Good day to you. I am Kheled Hadri, follower of Pharasma and champion of life. Are you part of the expedition?


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use

The Professor looked on the crippled man with sympathy as he noted his difficulty in walking. He nodded in greeting to him as he approached with a sympathetic smile.

I hope he is not seeking coin. I have precious little left to give...

His smile was pleasant and charming as he acknowledged the greeting, extending a hand to be shook. The smile was, however, accompanied by a raised eyebrow; a mixture of wry amusement with a little inquisitiveness- and a touch of indignance that reflected into the Professor's query.

Oh good, he is not seeking coin. But what a strange man who introduces themselves in such a manner!?

Well met Kheled Hadri. I am... Ahkenaten Aristedes he began, thinking to introduce Pherenike. He was hesitant to continue speaking for her, worried that he would become overbearing for the younger woman. We happen to also have business at the dig site. I mean no disrespect but I must ask- Champion of Life? Are you so powerful a clergyman to warrant such a title? Do you not think it is, perhaps, rather ostentatious to introduce yourself as such to strangers? If you are simply keen to tell the tale of where you... acquired this title, then by all means pray tell? We have a long trail ahead of us, after all.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

People give titles for themselves often...soldier, scholar, beggar, merchant.
Perhaps I should re-phrase though, I champion the cause of life. It did sound a bit grand. I am a healer by trade, though I don't particularly care for the creatures that try to resist Pharasma's judgment. The head of the caravan asked for someone from the temple willing to go on this caravan with my skills. With my experience on several like digs I was an obvious candidate.

Leaving out the fact that many there were happy to see me go...


Corven's disguise/bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Mus'ad's perception/sense motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Nice how the dice co-operated. :)

Corven slipped into the warehouse, having previously donned a loose fitting light colored linen tunic, similar to the common dock workers and caravan porters, over his own garb. He followed one of the other porters, picking us a basket of goods and fell into line to file past Mus'ad. The dwarf barely acknowledged him as he passed and Corven then swiftly climbed into one of the wagons to busy himself with arranging and organizing the load.

I'll give some more time for RP before moving things along.

Sovereign Court

Kheled Hadri wrote:

People give titles for themselves often...soldier, scholar, beggar, merchant.

Perhaps I should re-phrase though, I champion the cause of life. It did sound a bit grand. I am a healer by trade, though I don't particularly care for the creatures that try to resist Pharasma's judgment. The head of the caravan asked for someone from the temple willing to go on this caravan with my skills. With my experience on several like digs I was an obvious candidate.

"A healer?" Pherenike asks. "And you say you have been on similar excursions? What manner of ills have you been called on to treat? Does the dwarf expect this to be a dangerous journey? Or is it mainly for injuries and mishaps among the men at the worksite that you are employed?"


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

My father was an explorer of such sites in his day. I accompanied him many times, though I can't tell you if they are similar to this one until I know more about where we go.
As far as ills, both minor and major wounds. Pharasma has granted me the power to heal those in need.
Who knows if this journey will be dangerous but ancient sites are often filled with traps, beasts, and the restless dead. Their hatred for life is such that they must try to destroy that which they find. I am looking forward to whatever we find. It has been some tie since my last dig.

And what is your name Ms.? I assume you are an accomplished warrior by the numerous weapons you have on you?
Kheled pulls back the cover from his head revealing a handsome man in his 20's.

How about you, honorable Aristedes? He gives you a slight nod. You sense he assumes you are some type of noble, with a bodyguard at your side.

Sovereign Court

"Pherenike Kyriakos," she supplies the missing name. "I am a soldier by training, but I have taken leave to accompany the Professor on his expedition." She eyes the man with a new interest now that his face is revealed; a pity about his leg.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4
Pherenike Kyriakos wrote:
"Pherenike Kyriakos," she supplies the missing name. "I am a soldier by training, but I have taken leave to accompany the Professor on his expedition." She eyes the man with a new interest now that his face is revealed; a pity about his leg.

A foreignor and female warrior as well. Quite a rare combination in these parts. I will be sure to keep an eye on you then...just in case you get hurt. he clarifies.


Male Dwarf (Pahmet) Ranger (Warden / Trapper) 2

The Professor's proffered bows are returned in kind and the Pahmet listens, but does not respond to the words. There is nothing standoffish or threatening about his nature... the feeling instead is one of paucity in words and action unless either is truly warranted. As he turns away to attend to the final affairs of the caravan the cloth girding his form shifts and reveals axe and armor of treated bone, as well as the curve of a bow.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

Kheled will look for a nice place to sit in the caravan. Hopefully there is a wagon he can ride on since he has no mount or animal to ride.

He is quite willing to talk to anyone else in the caravan, being an open and amiable sort.


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use
Kheled Hadri wrote:


How about you, honorable Aristedes? He gives you a slight nod. You sense he assumes you are some type of noble, with a bodyguard at your side.

Merely a scholar, on business for the Kithrodian Academy in Taldor Professor Aristedes replied with a shrug.

Bluff (Believable, +0): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

A sharp-eyed man might have caught a brief sidelong glance at Pherenike beside him and a flash of warning in the older man's eyes.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

Sense motive 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Sovereign Court

Professor Aristedes wrote:
A sharp-eyed man might have caught a brief sidelong glance at Pherenike beside him and a flash of warning in the older man's eyes.

No expert at concealing her thoughts, Pherenike blushes and casts her eyes to the ground. After the healer departs, she says quietly, "I'm sorry, Professor. Did I say too much?" Her eyes follow Kheled to his resting place. "Do you think he was injured on his last excursion and hasn't yet fully recovered?"


The caravan consists of three wagons. The first contains a double row of benches within to specifically carry passengers. This wagon also differs from the other two in that its' side and rear walls are extended and crenelated, providing rudimentary protection from attack. An elevated light canvas top also provides shade from the elements. Besides the benches, a few crossbows and a barrel of bolts were contained within, obviously meant for defense of the wagon. A strongbox is also bolted to the floor at the rear of the wagon. Piled around the rear of the compartment was additional food and water stores.

The other two wagons were much simpler conveyances, designed to carry cargo, with mundane canvas tarps to keep the contents out of the direct sun.

In addition, a few single horses and camels were to carry outriders for additional protection.

The porters finished securing the last bits of the cargo and then took up positions upon the two cargo wagons, two men riding up front with a third tucked into the back with the supplies, with the rest in the passenger wagon. Corven joined the porters in the passenger wagon, taking up a crossbow like the others.

Mus'ad waved the rest of you aboard and took up a seat in the front of the lead wagon, alongside the wagon driver, eager to depart on time.

If anyone noticed that the caravan was one porter heavy, nobody said anything.

Everything in place, Mus'ad waved the caravan on with a simple gesture, and they lurched forward. The caravan turned south immediately, away from the river to the north and, a few minutes later, the caravan exited The Veins and entered the Midwife district.

The Midwife district is the heart of Wati, cradling most of the city’s temples, markets, and professional artisans. Along with the necropolis, Midwife is the oldest of Wati’s districts, with a history stretching back to the city’s founding, and its residents take pride in maintaining their ancient community. Midwife’s buildings, carved from stone and towering two to six stories tall, reflect the grandeur of Osirion’s First Age, and house a wide variety of apartments, shops, and workshops.

Turning down one street, just beginning to stir with activity, you passed one if Wati's well known inns: The Tooth & Hookah. This modest inn and hookah bar is best known for its mascot, Toothy—a tiny crocodile that lives in the inn’s well and for being a favorite stop for adventurers and foreigners alike. A few blocks later you rode past the Precinct of Left Eyes.

This retrofitted fortress houses Wati’s town guard. The precinct encloses guard barracks, a jail, and two dozen pillories used for public punishments for minor transgressions.

Knowledge (local) DC 10:

Long ago, Wati’s laws dealt only two punishments: gouging out the right eye, or death. Though these laws soon proved untenable, over the years, the locals’ nickname for the palace of justice came to be its official moniker.

Knowledge (local) DC 15:

Befitting a city obsessed with death, Wati’s criminal underworld revolves around the trade in grave goods and even the dead themselves. In response, the militant wing of the Pharasmin church, the Voices of the Spire, has taken over guarding the tombs in the city of the dead.

Knowledge (local) DC 20:

Rumors also claim that the Voices of the Spire have excavated a dungeon deep beneath the precinct for those criminals, necromancers, and spirits who require fates far worse than imprisonment, torture, or death.

Another couple of blocks after that, you exited the Midwife and entered the outlying district known as the Asp. This long, winding district of low buildings and twisting alleyways runs along Wati’s southern edge. Asp was built without the planning or engineering insight of Wati’s core, making navigation difficult for newcomers. The buildings here run the gamut from the well-off estates in the west to the slums of mud-brick hovels huddling against the walls of the necropolis in the east.

Knowledge (local) DC 10:

Few of Asp’s residents think of themselves as members of a common community the way inhabitants of Midwife or Morning Sun might. Instead, the district is a loose alliance of dozens of blocks, neighborhoods, and streets all pursuing their own agendas. These associations hold bitter rivalries as well, usually along economic lines, which run from the well-off estates in the west to the slums of mud-brick hovels huddling against the walls of the necropolis in the east.

The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon when the caravan approached the outskirts of Wati. The last cluster of buildings on your left before you exited Wati and entered the surrounding desert was home to Terhk’s Fine Expeditions. Part caravan company, part hunter’s lodge, and part adventurers’ guild, Terhk’s Fine Expeditions tries to be all things at once for anyone traveling the deserts of southern Osirion.

Knowledge (local) DC 10:

Terhk Fourwinds the towering, half-orc scar-riddled proprietor, is always eager to bring on new guards or wilderness guides, though
word about town claims he eats those who fail him once too often.

Knowledge (local) DC 15:

Long-time residents know that Terhk’s fierce exterior is an act, however, cultivated to sell his company’s services and intimidate challengers before they become violent.

Knowledge (local) DC 20:

Around those he trusts, Terhk happily slips on his glasses and whiles away evenings with a book or a senet board.

Knowledge (local) DC 30:

A sucker for fiery, independent women, the pacifist half-orc has pursued a clandestine love affair with Teht Blackblossom* of the Whispering Stone for years, though neither of them is willing to admit to their growing need for commitment.

*If someone manages to make this spoiler, I will add another entry for Teht Blackblossom and the Whispering Stone.

As the caravan left the city, with Wati's outer farms out to the west and the Brazen Peaks off in the distance to the south, the many passengers wondered what the future, and fate, would hold for them in the following days and weeks...

I'll stop the wall of text here and give players a chance to roll knowledge checks and do any further RP they wish to. Next up will be the travel montage and arrival at the dig site.

Sovereign Court

Pherenike sees Professor Aristedes seated in the middle of the front wagon before taking a place beside him, between him and the street, should any danger arise. She keeps a sharp eye out for trouble.

Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

"One of my trainers spent some time in Osirion, providing security for a diplomat. She said that at one time, there were only two penalties in Wati's legal code: execution and gouging out the right eye," she murmurs, leaning toward the Professor as they ride past the Precinct of Left Eyes. "They're less barbaric now, but the prison and fortress are still named for the old punishments. Nowadays, they say the town guard handles crimes against the living but has turned over policing the tomb robbers and necromancers to the church of Pharasma, to an order known as the Voices of the Spire. They say even death isn't a sufficient punishment for some crimes against the dead in the Pharamins' mind, that they've excavated a dungeon beneath the streets we're riding on to imprison and torment the worst criminals, refusing to release them even to their own goddess's judgment lest she be too lenient."

Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

"She said 'ware the Asp," Pherenike adds as they leave the Midwife district. "A brood of vipers, it is, divided even against itself. It's less a district and more a potluck of whoever's unlucky enough to be living there. They can't even get along with each other, the residents of the Asp, let alone any outsiders."

Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

She shudders as they pass Tehrk's Fine Expeditions. "Half-orc owns the place," she confides to the Professor. "Hires guides and guards to rent out to expeditions, but they say he butchers and eats those who don't measure up. I wouldn't accept an invitation to dine."


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use
Pherenike Kyriakos wrote:

No expert at concealing her thoughts, Pherenike blushes and casts her eyes to the ground. After the healer departs, she says quietly, "I'm sorry, Professor. Did I say too much?" Her eyes follow Kheled to his resting place. "Do you think he was injured on his last excursion and hasn't yet fully recovered?"

Flextime-

Aristedes shook his head slowly with a reassuring smile.

The fault is mine. I should have been clearer from the start; and perhaps I should have adopted an alias. Best not refer to me as Professor for now- that should be enough. Its not like these people are even Taldan... he said with an arrogant smirk.

He seems to carry the injury as part of his character. I suspect its more long-term. Complications in childhood, perhaps.

Present-

The Professor had been a recluse for most of the caravan journey; at least, as much as was possible while sat with several other people. The man obviously valued his personal space and the close confines were clearly difficult for him. He seemed to be familiarising himself with what he knew of Wati, Osirion generally and working on his Ancient Osiriani; it had been some time since he had last spoken it aloud.

The Professor was impressed with the extent of Pherenike's knowledge.

My, my... I am impressed you are so well studied; I must confess I had initially expected only a knowledge of Taldan history, weapons, warfare and strategy from you. I beg forgiveness for underestimating you, companion.

He listened to her with rapt attention as she displayed her local knowledge; only knowing enough to add a little about Tehrk. His encouraging body language and keenness to listen spoke of many years mentoring young Taldans.

Knowledge (Local) untrained but Bardic Knowledge lets me have a go at the higher DC's anyway :).

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

I was aware of the two crimes from my studies of history... These Pharasmites sound quite barbaric to me, from what your telling me.
Something had definitively got the man riled up and he raised his voice a little, passion filling it. What kind of sacred order would treat a crime against the long-dead more harshly than the living? Does it not strike you as hypocritical that they do not trust their own favoured deities judgement? he asked Pherenike incredulously. Church and state... never the two should mix... he muttered. Leaning closer to whisper and ensuring no prying ears and eyes were on him, he said softly to Pherenike.

Such... distasteful acts might prove necessary in our own quest. I can only apologise for such an act in advance; and assure you that once the Aristedes family is fully restored to its prior status- you will be rewarded most handsomely.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

The Professor nodded slowly.

I had heard distasteful rumours about the inhabitants here. My family used to have dealings and contacts here, long ago. They sound even worse than the lowest of the Unbearded...

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

With a twinkle in his eye, Ahkenaten smiled at Pherenike's words about Tehrk.

The half-orc is well known to my family; he used to recommend adventurers for operations in Garund; particularly for guarding troublesome caravan routes and the like. I recall my father telling me that should I ever have to deal with him, to remember that he acted the fearsome lion, but was a soft hound underneath. Quite a soft and cultured man, despite his apparent reputation. Perhaps my younger brother Gabradon is known to Tehrk; he ended up the heir apparent once I declared my interest in more scholarly pursuits...

Sovereign Court

Professor Aristedes wrote:
The fault is mine. I should have been clearer from the start; and perhaps I should have adopted an alias. Best not refer to me as Professor for now- that should be enough. Its not like these people are even Taldan... he said with an arrogant smirk.

"Yes, Prof-- yes, sir," she catches herself. "I'll try to remember."

Professor Aristedes wrote:

Present-

The Professor was impressed with the extent of Pherenike's knowledge.

My, my... I am impressed you are so well studied; I must confess I had initially expected only a knowledge of Taldan history, weapons, warfare and strategy from you. I beg forgiveness for underestimating you, companion.

She smiles, both pleased and a little flustered by the compliment. "You undoubtedly know far more than I about all those things," she assures him. "I was never very good with names and dates. My history teacher used to say if I paid half as much attention in class as I did to gossip and scuttlebutt, I would have been a better student. But stories about people I might actually meet and places I could actually go always seemed more interesting to me than ones about people long dead and battles that had already been fought."

Professor Aristedes wrote:
Such... distasteful acts might prove necessary in our own quest. I can only apologise for such an act in advance; and assure you that once the Aristedes family is fully restored to its prior status- you will be rewarded most handsomely.

Pherenike looks startled at the thought of breaking Pharasmin law, but she quickly reassures him, "I am looking for no reward, Prof -- sir. Your family has been more than kind to me already. What I do, I do to repay them for their generosity." She sneaks a glance toward the healer Kheled and the rather forbidding looking man wearing the symbol of Pharasma who had joined the party just before the caravan's departure and whispers, "Do you suppose those Pharasmins might be part of the order? Voices of the Spire?"

Professor Aristedes wrote:
The half-orc is well known to my family; he used to recommend adventurers for operations in Garund; particularly for guarding troublesome caravan routes and the like. I recall my father telling me that should I ever have to deal with him, to remember that he acted the fearsome lion, but was a soft hound underneath. Quite a soft and cultured man, despite his apparent reputation. Perhaps my younger brother Gabradon is known to Tehrk; he ended up the heir apparent once I declared my interest in more scholarly pursuits...

She blushes with embarrassment at having spoken ill of a friend of her benefactors. "There you go, sir; that just goes to show how listening to tales and rumors can mislead a person. My teacher was right: I'd be better off with facts than anecdotes. Still, it's comforting to know you've a friend of sorts in Wati -- a friend of the family, anyway -- if you should need one." She marks the compound's location carefully before the wagon leaves it behind.


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

The man had obviously lied to him about who he was. Was he a criminal? Someone who was embarrassed about his past? Hard to tell.
The women was obviously who she was, embarrassed as she was by the circumspect description of who he was.
He would keep an eye on the older one. Foreigners, many of the couldn't be trusted to know the ways of the desert people.

Kheled took a place on the wagon with Mus'ad.

Do we know anything about the dig site yet?


Male Dwarf (Pahmet) Ranger (Warden / Trapper) 2

Mus'ad inclines his head into a slight nod replying flatly "Yes... lots of sand and shovels" without a hint of humor in the voice, and any upon the face concealed as Mus'ad turned to narrow eyes at one of the wagon's wheels.


hp 10/10, AC 15/11/14, CMD 13, F: +4, R: +3, W: +5; Init: +2, Perception: +7, Sense Motive: +8 + Human Inquisitor of Pharasma 1

Knowledge (local) - Jail: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Knowledge (local) - Asp: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Knowledge (local) - Terhk's: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

As the caravan reached the city gates, it found a group of armed men bearing the spiral of Pharasma waiting. One of them, a tall man armed with a longspear and wearing leather lamellar armor, detached himself from the rest and stepped forwards to greet the occupants of the first wagon.

"Well met! You must be the group headed for the dig in the Brazen Peaks, who requested the the church of Pharasma send people skilled in healing and dealing with the undead. I see our healer found you already. I am here to handle the other part of the request. I apologize for not joining you earlier, but our patrol of the necropolis wall have only just finished. I am Tariq Ur Amothep, of the Voice of the Spire."


With Tariq aboard, the caravan headed out into the desert...

Over the next few days the caravan was expertly lead through the trackless desert without major incident. While the heat was oppressive, the shelter provided by the wagons, coupled with its copious amounts of water and supplies, and aided by a light wind, made the journey tolerable. On the second day, the caravan was approached by a scorpion of prodigious size, but a number of bolts and other projectiles, mundane or otherwise, convinced the thing to seek an easier meal elsewhere. The evening of the third day, with the wagons in their nighttime defensive formation, the sounds of a gnoll raiding party was heard nearby. They too seemed to desire easier prey, apparently bypassing the caravan in the night.

Around noon on the fourth day, within Mus'ad promising the dig site to be just an hour away, the winds suddenly picked up significantly. Recognizing the threat of a sandstorm, Mus'ad ordered the caravan drivers to push the horses hard in a dash for the dig site.

The concern was soon validated, and the gambit to push the animals paid off, as the caravan raced into view of the Ravenous Sphinx, a jet-black crouching lion topped by the snarling head of some fantastical beast, just as a sandstorm threatened to overtake the wagons. The caravan raced for the safety of the expedition's base camp set up surrounding the recently excavated monument. Numerous tents of various sizes were set up around a set of large double doors carved into the black basalt between the lion body's front paws. The pair of the strong looking wooden doors, bound with steel plating, were 20-foot tall.

As the wagons rapidly approached the camp, it was clear to all that nothing stirred within. Some of you speculated that they might just be taking shelter from the approaching storm. As the wagons came to an abrupt stop, Mus'ad ordered everyone out and to take shelter in the largest of the tents. The porters and sprung into action, checking to see that the cargo was secured and unhitching the horses from the wagons. While most of you headed for the largest tent, the porters were guiding the horses into an almost equally large tent at the other end of the camp.

It quickly became apparent that the camp was indeed deserted and that the large double doors remained tightly closed...

You figure you have 5 or 10 minutes at best before the storm arrives.


hp 10/10, AC 15/11/14, CMD 13, F: +4, R: +3, W: +5; Init: +2, Perception: +7, Sense Motive: +8 + Human Inquisitor of Pharasma 1

Tossing his backpack into the large tent, Tariq wrapped his scarf around his nose and mouth and turned to survey the deserted camp.

"Something is wrong here. Look for tracks and signs of a struggle. Be sure to check all the tents. Quickly, we have only a few minutes before we must take shelter inside." he calls out to the others.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

We should organize into groups before searching. I have a little experience tracking as well to help someone.

Guidance and check for tracks.
1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 1 = 23

Pity the storm came upon us, I would have liked to look over the statue and study it.


Male Dwarf (Pahmet) Ranger (Warden / Trapper) 2

After seeing the porters directed to see the animals safe... and sending a single man to check the double doors to see if they were either open or an answer came from within, Mus'ad heard the words spoken in furtherance of searching and acted to quell it "NO! We see ourselves and the caravan safe, or the sands will cover us also. Respect must be given to the coming storm."


hp 10/10, AC 15/11/14, CMD 13, F: +4, R: +3, W: +5; Init: +2, Perception: +7, Sense Motive: +8 + Human Inquisitor of Pharasma 1

Not taking his eyes off the ground he was examining, Tariq answered the dwarf calmly. "The porters are already busy securing the horses and wagons. We will seek shelter before the storm hits, but once that happens, any traces will be lost to us forever. This is our only chance to learn what the sands have to tell us of what happened here."

Sovereign Court

Pherenike gives the insubordinate Pharasmin a hard glance before dismissing him. "Sir, get to shelter," she urges the professor, then turns toward the dwarf. "What can I do?" she asks him, waiting for direction.


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use
Pherenike Kyriakos wrote:

She sneaks a glance toward the healer Kheled and the rather forbidding looking man wearing the symbol of Pharasma who had joined the party just before the caravan's departure and whispers, "Do you suppose those Pharasmins might be part of the order? Voices of the Spire?"

I sincerely hope not... Aristedes muttered. When Tarik announced himself, a look of contempt and disappointment flashed across his face briefly.

Present-

Don't be fools and get lost- either of you... Aristedes shouted towards the two Pharasmites. They've had several minutes on us while we raced here; they would surely have already taken shelter! The Professor started to make for the large tent, but stopped to glance at the double doors. Fascinated by their size, he wandered over to them, wondering if the dig site inhabitants had perhaps taken shelter inside.


A quick check of the remaining tents failed to turn up a single person. Even a cursory glance around the camp seemed to indicate the occupants having fled in a hurry; items strewn about, lockers left open and a lack of survival type gear and foodstuffs remaining in the camp.

Outside, Tariq and Kheled found tracks that confirmed a mass exodus of the camp's previous inhabitants. Most tracks seemed to lead off to the north, the direction the caravan has just come from, while others left in the direction of the Brazen Peaks further to the south. What the two Pharasmites didn't find were any tracks leading into the camp, apart from the caravan's own.

As Mus'ad continued to direct the porters in preparation for the looming storm, Aristedes approached the enormous pair of doors. The doors were even more impressive than when first viewed, looking positively solid and extremely heavy. Up close, the Professor noted that the doors had previously been sealed with a bead of pitch, but that one of the door's seals had recently been compromised. There were multiple disturbances in the sand of the threshold, like many people had previously clustered around the entrance. The doors remained completely closed presently. Leaning towards the door, Aristedes listened for the sounds of camp's missing inhabitants on the other side, but could make out nothing in the howling wind.

As the storm's full fury began to push into the camp, the strong wind blasts made even the act of standing difficult, while at the same time stinging particles of sand blasted exposed flesh, hampered vision and made breathing difficult for anyone still outside. The sky darkened as the storm blotted out the sun. More disturbing that the flying grit, the intense heat accompanying the wind, akin to a blast furnace, drove home the immediate need to get out of the storm...

The iconic desert storms of Osirion are locally known as khamsin. These blasts of hot wind can last days, sweeping across the desert and carrying the dunes before them until the land is changed beyond recognition. Khamsin are capable of swallowing whole towns, uncovering ancient ruins, and scouring skin from the bones of anyone foolish enough to be trapped in one.

Knowledge (local) DC 10:

Though they resemble the sandstorms encountered in other deserts on Golarion, the violent khamsin aren’t simply mere meteorological phenomena—they’re seasonal sandstorms made truly dangerous after being affected by spirited conflict between various elemental chieftains of wind and fire that dwell in Osirion’s deserts. Once set in motion, a khamsin can be as unpredictable and as tempestuous as the warring elementals themselves.

Osirian desert dwellers believe that since khamsin aren’t of natural origin, they can perhaps be assuaged by mortal action. Locals often wear charms to appease the spirits or to alert themselves to impending storms. Because of Osirian legends about armies able to march unscathed through khamsin winds, scholars are open to the idea that the spirits of the khamsin can be influenced by those who know the old elemental magic.

Most of the desert’s denizens, however, lack the wherewithal or hubris to tempt the wrath of the storms; instead, they simply remain within easy reach of their homes or other forms of shelter during khamsin season. From the first warnings of coming storms to the last khamsin of the year, the Osirian desert empties of all but the most foolish or desperate.

Survival or Knowledge (geography) DC 15:

A khamsin storm reduces visibility to 1d6 × 5 feet and imposes a –8 penalty on Perception checks. The storm’s blasting sands deal 1d6 points of nonlethal damage and 1d3 points of fire damage per hour of exposure. A khamsin leaves behind 1d6 inches of dust and sand per hour it rages over a specific location. A single khamsin can last anywhere from 1d4 hours to 1d3 days, and historians report a rare few lasting a week or even longer, generally resulting in a completely different landscape left in the wake of its shifting sands.


Male Taldan Bard (Dirge, Sound Striker) 2, HP 15/15, AC 16/15/11, CMD 10, F: +2, R: +4, W: +3, SR7; Init: +1, Perception: +5, Sense Motive: +0, 2/11 BP used, 2/4 Lvl 1 Spells Use

The sand storm sobered Aristedes from his brief spell of curiosity and he hastened into the large tent for shelter.

The seal on the door had been broken he commented to no one in particular.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Knowledge (Geography): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

Kheled pulled the covering from his face and wiped the dirt and sandy grit from it...Quite lucky that we got here before the storm decended upon us. It would not have been good to have been caught out in the open. Is everyone ok?

Kheled's instincts take over as he talked to the people in the caravan making sure they were okay.


hp 10/10, AC 15/11/14, CMD 13, F: +4, R: +3, W: +5; Init: +2, Perception: +7, Sense Motive: +8 + Human Inquisitor of Pharasma 1

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Satisfied that they have learned all they can, Tariq hurries back inside the tent, pausing to make sure that the slower moving Kheled and the others make it in safely.

"It looks like the occupants of the camp found something inside the Sphinx that frightened them so much that they rushed off into the wilderness to face the raging storms and roving bands of gnolls and bandits rather than remain here. We had best be vigilant, and prepare for the worst once the storm dies down." he says, once everyone are safely inside.

Sovereign Court

Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

"Isn't it more likely that the Sphinx swallowed them up?" Pherenike asks. "I mean, that's what it's supposed to do, right? That's why they were looking for it?"

"I'm more concerned about us. From what I've heard, these storms can last for days and bury entire towns. There's no simply hunkering down in a flimsy canvas tent and waiting for it to be over. Pr-- sir," she says, turning toward the Professor, "you said the seal on the doors was broken. Shouldn't we be taking shelter inside the Sphinx? It's survived these kinds of storms before and come through unscathed."


Male Osirian Oracle (Life) FC 4 HP:34 AC:15 INIT:+1 PERC:+3 F/R/W:+3/+2/+4

Not to be an alarmist but it may be just as likely that the others discovered something horrible inside and fled before the storm came.
We could swing the doors open, trying to rush in to avoid the storm while horrible creatures of undeath are trying to get out. I would not go in now unless we have no other choice.

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