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After working together for various reason over the past couple of years you have forged some level of trust between each. Enough trust that when word got out of the decree by the Ruby Prince you decided to form a group and throw your own hat into the ring. You submitted your name as the The Sun Jackals, since the church of Pharasma is in charge of the exploration your group name was collected by a cleric at the Grand Mauseleum. Tomorrow the spots to be explored will be assigned at a ceremony.

 

For now you are all able to gather at the Jackal's Rest to finalize your plans and make sure the gear is all set. The closed off portions has been sealed for years and now it will open for exploration.

 

 

 

 

Overall Game Notes

 

 

Game Site

 

 

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Aakesh sat quietly with the group. Dressed much like one of the dessert nomads in a dusty coloured set of loose light robes, his features wrapped and veiled in white cloth, with only his piercing blue eyes looking out, seeming to wander constantly around him, while he listened to snatches of conversation about him. The talk of the evening was, as to be expected, almost universally the opening of the Necropolis upon the morrow, but as a newly minted 'Sun Jackal' that was of plenty of interest to him. Of course, unlike most of the others around, he had actually been over the wall before, and walked the streets of the Other Half of Wati, but not for a long time. In the corners of his mind, te thought came, of if any of the priests of Pharasma would recognize him, if any of them still held grudges, or owed favours to his past master that could make his life difficult, but he would not speak of those fears now. There was just too much happening to sour the atmosphere.

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Thorgrim sits with the group loudly discussing their chances of making the draft.  That is, when he isn't silenced by consuming the weak beer that he habitually complains about.  Is armor and weapons are arrayed before him on the table, as he meticulously ensures that every strap and rivet are sound and every edge is weak. 

 

After the ensuring that his gear is set to rights, he offers to go over the rest of the groups.  His insistence would be annoying to strangers, but the rest of the group has know him long enough to realize that this action is just his response to nervousness and excitement.

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Without a word, Aakesh hands over his rapier. It is a decent blade, but nothing particularly fancy. A bit out of place in this land perhaps, and something he has often considered trading in for a less conspicuous, and more locally favoured weapon, but it was fast in his hands and  had saved his life on more than one occasion.

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Nikolis lets Thorgrim satisfy his compulsion. Nikolis knows his way around the forge: he crafted this blade's heart with the blade of Anriel's sickle.

 

He buys another round for his adventuring companions, but drinks little himself.

 

"I wonder where we'll end up in the lottery?!" Secretly he hoped he could keep everyone safe, and still manage to find some clues about the identity of the strange symbol he found all those years ago. He had a good hunch there would be undead to destroy, and he comforted himself with those thoughts. In the meantime, he waited for his companions to assemble.

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Handling his compatriots weapons, he keeps his opinions on their craftsmanship to himself.  Not that there is anything particularly wrong with them, they just weren't dwarvencraft.  Perhaps after the lottery, he can find a small forge and rectify that.

 

He takes a whetstone from his pouch and starts touching up the edges.

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Downing the ale in front of him Too'Rahk thinks of might happen in the dead city tomorrow. What could be found there he wonders. How long has it been since the gates of the necropolis had been opened for the living. For now thou the new mug of brew in front him will have to do.

 

He raises the mug & acknowledges the gift from his companion, Nikolas. Not a bad group he thinks to himself. Hopefully we find something in there.

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"I am not sure where we will end up. I do not necessarily trust the priests to be fully compliant with the Pharaoh, and would not be surprised at all to learn that certain tombs end up going to groups who they have some sway over if they feel it necessary. Then there are the other groups. Most I suspect are the same as we. Eager to explore, to learn what they can, and to find riches and fame as well. Still there may be others who will use the potential dangers of the Necropolis to engage in thuggery and mayhaps worse. It will do us well to watch our own backs, while we see what we can find."

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Zak silently watches the group and crowd, some who start to get a little too rowdy settle down as Zak walks by. All of the regulars know Zak never starts a fight and it is usually not a good idea start one with him, as he will finish it. Zak lets Thorgrim check his weapons as he works the crowd.

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Ma'dut thumbs through the brittle pages of a book and listens to his companions' talk of their venture ahead. He can't help but smile. Smile for the book--it is tattered and nearly falling to pieces, left behind on a nearby table by some thoughtless patron. It details a common fairytale of northern lands, and Ma'dut almost can feel a cool breeze cut across the heavy baking of the desert that surrounds him. He imagines it whispering against his cheek, pictures a clan of large, fur-draped men bringing to earth a great tusked beast. He shivers, closes the book and returns it to the spot he found it.

 

He smiles, too, for his companions and their worry--be it political intrigue or banditry or simply the more easily-foreseen dangers of a crypt, they will face some trouble. And they may face grand success. They will face past and future, and they will be tested. All good will come in the end, he knows; there is nothing but time, and it ends in perfection. Ma'dut feels quite certain this is nothing worth saying to the others, however, nothing they would want to hear. He remains quiet, surveys the room with the flat white of his eyes, and enjoys their banter.

Edited by Marvin
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Figiting in his chair, Terjon is a significantly overweight and out of shape half elf. Wearing hot weather garb of clashing light blue and oranges.

 

 

"Thorgrimm, are you sure this scale mail is supposed to fit this way? It's binding around my middle. I thought you said you could make it fit my stature!" By that, Terjon means his significantly oversized belly. Playing with the bottom buckle, he eventually releases the buckle fully. "There, you just has it too tight Thorgrimm. Nikolas, weren't we going to feast tonight before we win all the glory in the ceremony tomorrow?"

Yelling now, "by Isis' companionship barkeep, don't you know who sits in your company? We are The Sun Jackals, the heroes of wati, we will throw open the gates to the dead city and unmask the secrets there in! "

"So tend us barkeep! Before we bless some better establishment with cleaner clients." I throw 1 gold on the bar, not looking where it lands and sit down.

 

Quietly now, "my friends, what a turn the gods have done us. We just might be the first, by The Ruby Princes," bows and does a quick blessing motion of Isis, "decree to lawfully enter the dead city tomorrow."

Edited by davor

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The Sylph is, once again glad for the concealing nature of the cloth wrapped about his face, as it masks the smirk upon his lips at his companions antics.

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You awaken early the next day to make your way to the already bustling Sunburst Market at the heart of the city. As you draw closer you can hear merchants hawking various wares. The air here seems to have taken the air of a festival as people eagerly await to receive their assignment. The public has even shown up to watch the precedings.

 

In front of the imposing edifice of the Grand Mausoleum, an immense awning has been erected between two decorated pillars in the market to provide shade for the priests. Beneath the awning, two urns sit atop a table elevated a few feet above the ground on a stage constructed for the event. The high priestess of the Grand Mausoleum, Sebti the Crocodile, sits behind a table while two acolytes confer with her at either side.

You can see the various adventuring groups scattered throughout the crowd, of many different nationalities. Many seem to be keeping to themselves quietly but you can hear the swirl of rumor from some on what they might face within the necropolis and whether they bought enough supplies.

A hush falls upon the crowd as the very young looking Sebti rises to her feet. “Silence. First we shall pray to Pharasma that she may guide our hands in the assignments this day.â€

She raises her hands and prays aloud “Grant us this day Pharasama your wisdom and guide our hands when we select the assignments for the groups. Help us ensure the fated go to the right places as shown by your will and knowledge.â€

She then lowers her hands and looks out sternly “Before we proceed with the lottery you shall hear the tale of how the necropolis came to be. That you are aware of the reason we impose the rules we have. Hear now the tale of Wati!â€

“Built originally by the decree of Pharoah Djederet II to mark the birthplace of our country’s greatest resource, the river Sphinx. It quickly became a center of commerce, but woe befell the city. Lamashtu’s followers unleashed a vile plague upon the inhabitants. The plague either killed them or drove them into murderous insanity. Many fled and eventually returned to try an rebuild, but it was a loss. An and Tephu had taken the trade, in addition they were constantly fighting outbreaks of undead due to the cities past.â€

“Finally with the approval of our then Kelestuffe Sultan a preist of Pharasma by the name of Nefru Shepses led an army of alchemists, masons, and morticians here. They raised the Grand Mausoleum and recovered all the bodies. The removed them from hasty graves and built a wall around the fallen portion of Wati. All the bodies were given formal burial rites and reinterred in the dead copy of this living city. That walled off portion serves as our necropolis today.â€

 

 

She pauses and then smirks slightly and looks like she is very pleased by something “Now for what has brought all here this day! Let the lottery begin! Although many of you requested specific sites to explore, we must leave these matters to fate. The Lady of Graves is a far better judge of destiny than we of this mortal sphere.â€

 

You can hear a rumble of displeasure as some seem very annoyed at being so publicly rebuffed in their attempts to get preferred sites. She continues on ignoring the grumbles “The gates of the necropolis will open at sunrise tomorrow. Use this evening to prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Let these rules guide you in your endeavors in this holy place: remember how this came to pass, every slave’s hut is a memorial, and honor the departed. Also do not think to explore sites not assigned. We will find out and you will be branded a grave robber. Your right to explore shall be revoked.â€

 

“You will each get 3 sites to explore. When you complete one site and bring back a thorough report we shall draw your next site.  Now for the first sites for all of you!â€

 

One acolyte each reaches into an urn and then hands the chit to Sebti. She calls out various groups and one member walks forward to collect the assignment and group symbol chit. Sebti also hands them a piece of paper.

 

Finally you hear “Sun Jackals!â€

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Thorgrim raised his Long Axe aloft shaking it in celebration.

 

"Aye!  We done it!  We be going into the necropolis!"

 

He grounds the haft of his Long Axe and give the Slyph a hearty slap on the back.

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