The Pyramid of Anshenkehra

The Museum, Lossal, Tarlanor, 27th April 1655

DM Note: Only Allan and Derek this seession, a bijou gamette. I have (cries of cheese!) ruled that PCs not present have abided by their decisions, ie have also stepped onto the pentagram and will therefore be in the same location next session. It would be unworkable if I didn't! Bubbled characters are assumed to be 'kinda quiet' for the writeup's purposes.

Cautiously, Eloy and Gorfang inched their way through their respective windows and into the small, dusty room. Cautious searching, both by hand and with Bereloth's Detect Magic ability, found nothing at all except for the pentagram. softly and ominously glowing on the floor in the middle. Gorfang, not taking his eyes from it, asked around if anyone knew how items of this type were activated and controlled but nobody had any answers. He shrugged, and he and Eloy stepped onto the glowing surface. There was a flash and a lurch, and everything disappeared.

Somewhere Else, Probably 27th April 1655

First impressions: It was dark. Hot. The air was dry. The floor was harder than the aged planks of the museum's upper floor. Bereloth's glow swelled up again, providing light to see by, and more became visible.

The room they were in was a hundred feet a side and square. Each corner of the stone walls was occupied by a humanoid form, motionless; statues by the look of things in the dimness. In the centre was a dias twenty feet across, with a pentagram similar to the one they'd just stepped on etched into it. The party was standing in the centre of this pentagram, and it was not glowing. A heavy-looking stone double door pierced one wall in the centre.

Gorfang and Eloy stepped down cautiously, and began to look around. The room was pretty plain other than the statues, and it was these that they concentrated on. They were human-sized and apparently of human subjects, not attached to the walls or concealing anything of interest. Each had an assortment of peculiar small pictures carved on them in a string, and gradually it dawned on the pair that this was some form of writing.

Gorfang had used his quota of languages from the Translator's Ring, but Eloy had never used it. Slipping it onto his finger, he reeled as the columns of peculiar little pictures suddenly resolved themselves into a comprehensible language.

Each statue had a single word on it; Hektis, Gennen, Isetbashyat and Nebekheshut. Although he was totally fluent in whatever language this was, the words conveyed no meaning to Eloy; they were probably names - most likely the names of the beings depicted by the statues.

Eloy stood back and regarded them, his curiousity piqued. "Who were they?" he wondered quietly. Gorfang snorted. "Who cares?" he grunted, and turned to the doors.

More writing crested the lintel of the doors, and Eloy read off "Welcome to the Pyramid of An-shen-keh-ra". Gorfang, disinterested, pushed at the great doors, swinging them open with a resonating grinding of shifting stone. Beyond lay a corridor, made of the same blocks of pale yellow stone, running to a turn. Cautiously, the pair made their way down the corridor, around the corner, and into another chamber.

This was even larger, with a soaring ceiling far out of reach of the small pool of light cast by the magical weapon. Pillars rose into the dimness, and stone blocks were set into the floor in a regular pattern. These blocks were 4' high, 7' long and 3' wide, and ominously grooved in such a way as to carry bodily fluids away. Writings on the slabs explained their purpose; this was a hall for the embalming and preparation of the dead for burial. Gorfang shook his head; for an orc, burial was either the wreckage of the battlefield or the hot joy of the flames of a hero's pyre.

The pair split up to explore, not really expecting to find much else here. They kicked around for a while. Eloy wondered how old this place was, and looked around for dust; it was at this point that he realized that, where he'd expect dust in a building such as he was familiar with, here there was sand, pale golden sand, scattered across the floor here and there.

Almost simultaneously, both stopped suddenly. Each had spotted, lying innocuously on the floor between two slabs, a small sandstone carving... of a scorpion. They were larger than the glass ones in the museum, but the style was identical. Eloy stepped towards the one he'd found with infinite care until he came within Bereloth's detection range. Sure enough, the figurine was radiating moderately strong magic, and as he stood there he felt it begin to fluctuate! Very, very carefully, Eloy stepped backwards again until he was well away; the scorpion made no move. He sagged with a sigh of relief. And then he heard the sounds of battle from behind him...

Gorfang, once he'd heard Lynien's account of the ethereal scorpion trap, had rather regretted missing the chance to tangle with one. Presented with one now, his nature took over again and he stepped boldly up to the little carving. Sure enough, it began to move and swell as it grew towards its normal size (whatever that was!). Not inclined to wait, the orc struck immediately. To his horror, not only did it do no damage, but the edge of the black blade of the Veldrin started to ripple and warp, as if it were being drawn into the expanding shape to provide some of the matter for the transformation. He whipped it back, and the blade became solid again, though the previously immutable black iron was marked with a blemish. He didn't have time to worry about this, however, for the transformation was complete, and the monster scorpion loomed in front of him.

It wasn't translucent like the one Lynien had fled. But it was bigger. A lot bigger. Forty feet in length, with the tip of the deadly stinger flexing gently nearly eight feet from the ground, it looked a fearsome opponent and Gorfang plunged into battle with grim delight.

The Scorpion Trap - click it for larger image!

The black sword seemed unaffected by its' recent brush with dissolution, and slashed two wounds into the front of the scorpion's body. The monster retaliated, lashing out with its' giant claws to sieze the startled orc. The hard chitin of the claws tore at his flesh, and - worse - pinioned him ready to be stung by the poison-tipped tail. Frantically, Gorfang twisted and tore himself free, evading the strike but weakening his own attack. Black orc blood runneled down his body as he shifted his position ready for another pass.

Eloy had been moving through the hall with caution up to this point, trying to avoid releasing any more monsters by accident; but seeing the power of Gorfang's foe, he abandoned this and broke into a run, curving around to aim for the rear of the huge arthropod.

Gorfang struck again, putting more power into the blow and gaining grim satisfaction as the scorpion reared and rattled its legs in agony. The next moment, though, he was siezed again by the dreadful claws and the sting slammed home. Poison pumped into his body and he felt weakness flow through his veins. Despite this, he managed to tear free once more, panting. Any human warrior would have begun to feel doubts at this point. Gorfang, however, was merely angry.

Eloy, having reached his intended location behind the creature, struck out with a precisely-aimed sneak attack, aming his blows at the root of the creature's tail. Chitin cracked and hideous sticky body fluid flowed, but the tail remained functional.

Once more the claws flashed, and this time both caught Gorfang's head, closing inexorably. Blood poured across the orc's face, but the famed solid skull of his race withstood the pressure - just. His vision blurred, and he remained concious by pure bloody-mindedness as he slashed desperately with his sword, choosing to forgo saving his life by breaking free so as to do more damage to his foe before it killed him. Chunks of scorpion flew in all directions and the floor was covered in sticky integument. The sting rose once more as the claws tightened, grating across his skull. Death grinned at Gorfang... and then Eloy struck from behind.

The strike was perfectly aimed, stabbing deep into the brain-like ganglia at the rear of the scorpion's massive body. The claws released as the monster spasmed, and then the pair were scambling back as it thrashed and convulsed in its' death throes. Finally it was still, and Gorfang sat down with a crash, his life ebbing away.

Eloy rummaged in his pack, and passed his precious ointment over to the Orc. Rubbed into the wounds, the magic pink paste drew him back from the brink and healed enough of the damage to get him on his feet again. His indomitable warrior spirit rose up, and he glanced across at the other, untriggered scorpion trap. "Let's do that again!" he enthused.

Calmer counsel prevailed, and the pair examined the slabs in more detail. The writing on them was asking the blessing of Gennen on the departed on their way to the afterlife. Relating this to the statues, they tentatively concluded that the figures were those of the gods of ... wherever they were.

Moving on, they followed the only exit through another passage until they reached a high, domed, circular room dominated by another statue standing on a 5' circular dias 50' across. Twenty feet high, it looked familiar and a glance at the script on the plinth confirmed that this was another representation of Hektis.

Cautiously, the pair walked around the dias, eying the statue. It was imposing and magnificent, with sharply-defined muscles and clean lines. Whoever had sculpted this was a true genius. A couple of other points struck them as they looked over it. First, the gods of this land (and, presumably, the people who worshiped them) wore far less clothing than even orcs were used to. Secondly, they noticed that one piece of the statue's apparel was not carved into the stone, but seperate and real - a golden wristband, set with pale blue stones. It looked valuable, and Gorfang - who was beginning to grasp the rather human concept that gold could buy weapons - liked the look of it. It would be about the size of a vambrace for him, he thought.

Without hesitation, he hopped onto the dias and approached the statue of Hektis. Eloy, unsure of the wisdom of this move, stayed where he was. As Gorfang reached the centre of the dias, the statue began to move. With a grinding of stone, it turned slowly to point its' blank-eyed gaze at the orc, who stopped and stood ready.

The statue spoke, clearly addressing Gorfang. "Khaaten, iuimen ankhnemsenhet? Maaast nakhketbet sotis?" it said. An expression of faint concern crossed Gorfang's face, and he glanced at Eloy. Confidently, Eloy responded to the statue: "Tabtuttis." Hektis ignored him completely, and repeated his question to Gorfang. Eloy hissed, "He asked, 'Are you worthy?'. The answer 'yes' is Tabtuttis!" It flashed across Gorfang's mind that he only had Eloy's word for this, but the Translator's Ring at least did not make mistakes. He squared his shoulders and answered the statue with the word he'd been given.

An instant later, he was undergoing the most remarkable experience. It was like re-living experiences from his short and violent life; strong memories, dream-like but accurate, rose up in his mind without his voilition. Images flashed through his conciousness rapidly; battles, times he had fought, times he had stood his ground, times he had triumphed. It was by no means a comfortable process, and he was sweating profusely by the time the hurricane of the past had blown through his soul.

Without another word, Hektis' statue stepped back into its' place and fell silent.

Gorfang and Eloy glanced at each other in bafflement.  What was the answer? No clues were forthcoming, so Gorfang stretched up and unclasped the heavy gold wristlet, his muscles tensed, but nothing happened. Carefully, he clipped it around his left forearm with a solid click. Returning to Eloy, he had it checked with Bereloth and was unsurprised to find that it radiated magic. Somehow, he was also unsurprised to find that he could not get it off either...  He had to presume that Hektis, or the fraction of Hektis' will that had been left in this statue, wanted him to have it.

They moved on, discovering a succession of similar domed halls, each with a statue to a different deity. First discovered was Sabath, who neither of them liked the looks of; his statue depicted a personality that neither would trust an inch, even for the rather appealing golden belt adorning his statue. Further exploration took them through the other rotundas. As they went, Eloy was reading in some depth from the writings that covered the walls, and which went into some detail on the mythology of the respective deities. In the end, they explored six halls, occupied as follows:

Gorfang and Eloy considered the statue of Isetbashyat. Neither of them felt inclined to trust Sabath, but Gorfang was game to approach the King of the Gods. Stepping up on the platform, he was again confronted by the avatar of a mysterious God as Isetbashyat slowly knelt down in order to better examine the presumptuous orc.

NB: I know the room should be round and domed, but the whole thing came free as it is and not having to build the room round saved enough time to get the picture finished.... Click it for larger image!

Isetbashyat spoke, and again Eloy translated for Gorfang; this time the question was "Are you worthy to command?" Gorfang squared his shoulders and answered confidently as prompted by Eloy, reciting the phrase 'Yes, O mighty Isetbashyat' which Eloy felt better fit the flow of the language as he'd been seeing it written.

Once again, the orc found his memories flowing out of control. This time, the focus fell on times he had taken the lead, gathered people to perform actions as a team, commanded fellow warriors. Truth to tell, these were scarce. He'd led by example many times, charging forward at the vanguard and inspiring others to follow him, but this was inadvertent leadership and not what the God was looking for. As Isetbashyat delved ever deeper into his memories, Gorfang experienced a peculiar feedback in the other direction. For a moment, tiny fragments of the God's memories flickered across his own vision. He saw forests of spears, as far as the eye could see, all marching at the word of this one being; kings in their dozens gathered before a throne and bowing to the will of Isetbashyat; sworn enemies bending their will to serve Him together. Then the link was broken, and Gorfang knew without asking that he was not what Isetbashyat was seeking - though the potential was there within him.

DM Note: We left it here, so that characters sorta-present could decide whether they wanted to talk to the statuary once their players were available and before the party went upstairs.

They eyed the Sun Crown, but both knew in their hearts that it was not for them.

Attached to Nepthis' chamber was a short passage, leading to a plain square room featuring a flight of stairs disappearing upwards.

A thought occurred to Gorfang and he headed back through the maze of passages to the pentagram room where they'd arrived. To his relief, the sigil was glowing strongly, and he concluded from this that they had an escape route in case things went smelly. Comforted by this, he went back to the others and they considered what they'd learned.