Tomas nods his thanks to Otto, and takes a step forward. The lightning of the room almost seems to bend around him, highlighting the Lamordian for an Important Announcement as he put the glasses on his face. "A secret passage to the temple of Horus?!" Tomas exclaims.
And then.
He takes the glasses off, narrowing his eyes. "We'd better investigate!"
This most important of rituals done, Tomas hands Otto his glasses back, claps Mandisa on the shoulder, and starts walking towards the well.
The Eye of Anubis: Book Ten
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Rock of the Fraternity
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NeoTiamat
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Re: The Eye of Anubis: Book Ten
The Abandoned Temple, Har'Akir
August 27th, 761, 6:28 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Such things, of course, were easier said than done. Following Mandisa's departure to continue her duties, one had to find the entrance to the secret tunnels, navigate an entire assembly of short passageways carved into the living rock, sneak out behind the Temple of Horus, avoid the Falkovnian guards there, get out of Muhar avoiding mobs and Falkovnian patrols, get ferried across the nameless stream beside Muhar, and then make your way to the Old Tombs.
This, as might be imagined, was not simple. Thus it was closing in on dusk when you finally arrived in the canyon that marked the older tombs of Muhar.
The sun was a luminous, bloody orb hanging low over the horizon, extending long shadows across the valley. The endless rock and sand of Har'Akir was tinted with a ruddy, iron glow, as though the entire land had been left to rust. The wind, growing colder and colder in the desert evening, blew across the valley-mouth, raising an eerie lament. The dead of the tomb wept, and the wind carried their tears to the Gods.
The entire valley had a pockmarked feel to it, with entrances carved into the rock, with maybe a narrow pathway leading to most of them, if that much. Some few looked as the entrances to temples or mausoleums in the rest of the world, but most resembled nothing more than small caves and fissures bored into the canyon wall. Inside, you knew, those who could not afford a true tomb lay in long galleries, with a few worldly possessions to see themselves to the afterlife.
Somewhere out in the labyrinth of canyons and valleys to the north lay the falsely-named Tomb of Menetnashte. Perhaps it had statues of Anubis flanking the entrance, with a wax-sealed door and protective inscriptions. More likely, it was just another fissure in the rock, like thousands others in the desert.
In the center of the valley, a single structure rose that was not dug out of the canyon walls. It was a temple, or so it seemed, a small, utilitarian building not much larger than a village chapel of Ezra back in the Core. The walls were once decorated, perhaps, but now were eroded to nothing more than wind-pitted shadows of their former glory. Columns that looked like nothing so much as natural outcroppings of the rock, so great was their age, held up the overhanging roof. There were no doors, and a flickering light came from inside the abandoned temple.
Outside the temple, a single figure moved soundlessly. Menetnashte wore no mask now, though still she stood in the tattered, ragged burial robes of her calling, the gleaming, curse-tainted blade worn without a scabbard by her side. She walked along the face of the building, touching her gloved fingers gently to the surface of the wind-erased walls. The Anubite gave no notice of you, paying attention only to the walls which had once, like her, been great. And were now only a shadow of their once-radiant glory.
August 27th, 761, 6:28 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Such things, of course, were easier said than done. Following Mandisa's departure to continue her duties, one had to find the entrance to the secret tunnels, navigate an entire assembly of short passageways carved into the living rock, sneak out behind the Temple of Horus, avoid the Falkovnian guards there, get out of Muhar avoiding mobs and Falkovnian patrols, get ferried across the nameless stream beside Muhar, and then make your way to the Old Tombs.
This, as might be imagined, was not simple. Thus it was closing in on dusk when you finally arrived in the canyon that marked the older tombs of Muhar.
The sun was a luminous, bloody orb hanging low over the horizon, extending long shadows across the valley. The endless rock and sand of Har'Akir was tinted with a ruddy, iron glow, as though the entire land had been left to rust. The wind, growing colder and colder in the desert evening, blew across the valley-mouth, raising an eerie lament. The dead of the tomb wept, and the wind carried their tears to the Gods.
The entire valley had a pockmarked feel to it, with entrances carved into the rock, with maybe a narrow pathway leading to most of them, if that much. Some few looked as the entrances to temples or mausoleums in the rest of the world, but most resembled nothing more than small caves and fissures bored into the canyon wall. Inside, you knew, those who could not afford a true tomb lay in long galleries, with a few worldly possessions to see themselves to the afterlife.
Somewhere out in the labyrinth of canyons and valleys to the north lay the falsely-named Tomb of Menetnashte. Perhaps it had statues of Anubis flanking the entrance, with a wax-sealed door and protective inscriptions. More likely, it was just another fissure in the rock, like thousands others in the desert.
In the center of the valley, a single structure rose that was not dug out of the canyon walls. It was a temple, or so it seemed, a small, utilitarian building not much larger than a village chapel of Ezra back in the Core. The walls were once decorated, perhaps, but now were eroded to nothing more than wind-pitted shadows of their former glory. Columns that looked like nothing so much as natural outcroppings of the rock, so great was their age, held up the overhanging roof. There were no doors, and a flickering light came from inside the abandoned temple.
Outside the temple, a single figure moved soundlessly. Menetnashte wore no mask now, though still she stood in the tattered, ragged burial robes of her calling, the gleaming, curse-tainted blade worn without a scabbard by her side. She walked along the face of the building, touching her gloved fingers gently to the surface of the wind-erased walls. The Anubite gave no notice of you, paying attention only to the walls which had once, like her, been great. And were now only a shadow of their once-radiant glory.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Rock of the Fraternity
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"So this is where she went," Lia sighs. The Wizard dips her fingers into her collar and brings forth a holy symbol, carved in silver: the sign of Ra. Allowing the sign to fall freely on her chest and catch the light of the setting sun, Lia surveys the valley of the dead and the world beyond. "Well," she says, "here we are. Now what? Does anyone recall whereabouts the elder al-Muhadin dwells?"
"Perhaps" Sascha says squinting into the reddening dusk "we shoudl ask the one who seems to be familiar with this place?". As he speaks the knight follows Tomas' gaze towards the figure stalking around the broken temple.Rock wrote:"Well," she says, "here we are. Now what? Does anyone recall whereabouts the elder al-Muhadin dwells?"
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
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yalenusveler
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Otto huffs and puffs a bit behind the rest of the party--while he's a good bit more fit now than he was six months ago, having to evasively maneuver for the better part of the day is enough to make most men a bit winded.
He still found a moment to wave a tentative "Hi" to Menetnashte, though. A silent one, of course: hardly polite to say "Hello" to someone who can't say it back.
He still found a moment to wave a tentative "Hi" to Menetnashte, though. A silent one, of course: hardly polite to say "Hello" to someone who can't say it back.
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NeoTiamat
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Re: The Eye of Anubis: Book Ten
The Abandoned Temple, Har'Akir
August 27th, 761, 6:35 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The Anubite, as was standard, ignored Otto as you entered the abandoned temple. For an entity that once ruled a diabolic empire crossing the length and breadth of Har'Akir, Menetnashte was a very odd person. Though a millennium of cursed existence would make even a well-balanced person odd.
The interior of the old temple was rather sparse, merely an open room. Such hieroglyphics and paintings as once adorned the wall were aeons gone now, replaced only by a faint memory of what must have once been quite beautiful. A handful of wooden benches dotted the interior of the temple, near petrified by the age and heat. A single statue, somewhat utilitarian in style, was located behind the altar, though what god the statue once depicted was all but impossible to discover. An animal-headed god, one with a long snout, such as Sobek or Anubis or Thoth. In more detail it was impossible to tell.
The only signs of life to be found were on the altar, and beside a doorway leading to the back of the temple. Upon the altar burned a bright, cheerful brazier, sending up faintly scented smoke into the air, the source of the light that had drawn you here first. A ritual rod of bone lay on the altar as well, along with a bronze knife with a rather dull edge. A couple of scrolls were also on the altar, the papyrus tightly wound alongst a wooden roller. Unlike the rest of the temple, these objects looked clean, and recently moved, and quite out of place with the general aura of decrepitude upon this abandoned temple.
Elsewhere, a light shone from one of the back rooms of the temple, the shadows on the wall revealing a figure hunched over another altar with something on it.
Before the doorway, however, lounged a dog. It was a small dog, about the size of a setter, with a narrow, pointed face and a short coat. A bushy tail was curled around the dog's legs, and a broad, silver-black stripe ran down its back, contrasting pleasantly with the animal's golden fur. It yawned as it watched you enter, showing small, neat teeth. Well, perhaps it wasn't a dog. Perhaps it was a jackal.
"Hello, come in." A rough, well-worn voice sounded in Akiri from the backroom as the shadow straightened a little. It was a pleasant enough voice, cracked with age but still perfectly serviceable. "Please, uncover your heads and faces and come in. I am just finishing up."
August 27th, 761, 6:35 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The Anubite, as was standard, ignored Otto as you entered the abandoned temple. For an entity that once ruled a diabolic empire crossing the length and breadth of Har'Akir, Menetnashte was a very odd person. Though a millennium of cursed existence would make even a well-balanced person odd.
The interior of the old temple was rather sparse, merely an open room. Such hieroglyphics and paintings as once adorned the wall were aeons gone now, replaced only by a faint memory of what must have once been quite beautiful. A handful of wooden benches dotted the interior of the temple, near petrified by the age and heat. A single statue, somewhat utilitarian in style, was located behind the altar, though what god the statue once depicted was all but impossible to discover. An animal-headed god, one with a long snout, such as Sobek or Anubis or Thoth. In more detail it was impossible to tell.
The only signs of life to be found were on the altar, and beside a doorway leading to the back of the temple. Upon the altar burned a bright, cheerful brazier, sending up faintly scented smoke into the air, the source of the light that had drawn you here first. A ritual rod of bone lay on the altar as well, along with a bronze knife with a rather dull edge. A couple of scrolls were also on the altar, the papyrus tightly wound alongst a wooden roller. Unlike the rest of the temple, these objects looked clean, and recently moved, and quite out of place with the general aura of decrepitude upon this abandoned temple.
Elsewhere, a light shone from one of the back rooms of the temple, the shadows on the wall revealing a figure hunched over another altar with something on it.
Before the doorway, however, lounged a dog. It was a small dog, about the size of a setter, with a narrow, pointed face and a short coat. A bushy tail was curled around the dog's legs, and a broad, silver-black stripe ran down its back, contrasting pleasantly with the animal's golden fur. It yawned as it watched you enter, showing small, neat teeth. Well, perhaps it wasn't a dog. Perhaps it was a jackal.
"Hello, come in." A rough, well-worn voice sounded in Akiri from the backroom as the shadow straightened a little. It was a pleasant enough voice, cracked with age but still perfectly serviceable. "Please, uncover your heads and faces and come in. I am just finishing up."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Is every temple in this place secretly a temple to someone else?, Tomas thinks, letting his hand ease towards his sword...
Oh, hey, mysterious shrouded figures. And it's friendly, too! Still, it has a dog, I can't blame it for that. Taking his hat off, Tomas smiles at the jackal-dog-dealy, offering the underside of his hand in a traditionally placating manner.
Oh, hey, mysterious shrouded figures. And it's friendly, too! Still, it has a dog, I can't blame it for that. Taking his hat off, Tomas smiles at the jackal-dog-dealy, offering the underside of his hand in a traditionally placating manner.
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Rock of the Fraternity
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Lia sidles over to Tomas and genteelly elbows him in the side, whispering urgently to him as soon as he turns to her: "Watch them both, as only you can." That done, the Wizard agonizes momentarily, then takes a step back to the exit. "I am not going to unmask for a total stranger," she mutters to Charles. "No great loss - I am not diplomatic. I will watch from the doorway, and watch for activity outside, yes?" Unless someone stops her, Lia continues to back towards the doorway and assumes a stance half-in, half-out, eyeing in turns the landscape outside and the scene evolving within.
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NeoTiamat
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Re: The Eye of Anubis: Book Ten
The Abandoned Temple, Har'Akir
August 27th, 761, 6:37 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The jackal flicked one of it's large, open ears at Tomas, favoring the Lamordian with a glance of vaguely bored curiosity. Still, the animal sniffed delicately at Tomas's hand, in a manner common to most canids everywhere.
Finding Tomas to be nothing strange, or at least nothing stranger than usual, the jackal gave the Lamordian's index finger a brief lick. The jackal had a rather rough tongue, but it seemed to approve of him.
It yawned again and went back to watching the rest of you idly.
August 27th, 761, 6:37 PM; Day 163 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The jackal flicked one of it's large, open ears at Tomas, favoring the Lamordian with a glance of vaguely bored curiosity. Still, the animal sniffed delicately at Tomas's hand, in a manner common to most canids everywhere.
Finding Tomas to be nothing strange, or at least nothing stranger than usual, the jackal gave the Lamordian's index finger a brief lick. The jackal had a rather rough tongue, but it seemed to approve of him.
It yawned again and went back to watching the rest of you idly.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Tomas chuckles at the elbowing, giving the dog the universial man-signal for, 'Women, what can you do?' as he gently scratches the dog's chin. None of this makes his peering into the spiritual realm obvious, and Tomas endures the rigors of his spiritual sight long enough to turn around and take another look at the shadowy figure.
"Please forgive our reluctance, sahib." Tomas says politely, "But the rigors of travel tend to ware away at one's manners. As for my robed friend, she has taken vows that forbid her from showing her face. She's also taken a vow of silence-fortunately, I speak the sign language she is familiar with."
Tomas grins at this as if he were talking about a cheerful afternoon picnic.
"Please forgive our reluctance, sahib." Tomas says politely, "But the rigors of travel tend to ware away at one's manners. As for my robed friend, she has taken vows that forbid her from showing her face. She's also taken a vow of silence-fortunately, I speak the sign language she is familiar with."
Tomas grins at this as if he were talking about a cheerful afternoon picnic.