Robbers of the Lost Tomb

The flames of Andrea’s torch sputtered and snapped about wildly in the gust of musty air, as weirdly shaped shadows danced across the ornately inscribed wall, giving the hieroglyphics an eerie semblance of life. Strange and ancient animal-headed gods seemed to watch the explorers from statuary niches.

Jacob Stacheldhorf appeared to be unconcerned about the deities that loomed over his Expedition and watched the intruders with detached omnificence. His keen eyes were focused solely on the massive sandstone block that served as a daunting obstacle to what he knew must lay within: the mummified body of Prince Rahektep, lost beneath the sands of time. Stacheldhorf was no fool though. Having lost half his men to insidious and artful traps, he was not going to be bested this close to his goal.

In a small recess, he found the release mechanism for another hidden but lethal device. Jacob gestured to those still with him to stay close to the ground. Shooting Andrea a roguish smile, he depressed the latch. There was a click and then nothing. No trap to liberate his head from his shoulders. No poison gas or spiked pit. Nothing. Jacob sighed and pushed heavily upon the massive door - it ground against the floor and loose sand. The dark chamber belched forth a blast of stale air - air that had been trapped since the Nehekharan Prince was interred. Then, in the oppressive silence, Jacob heard an unmistakable sound: not the sharp metallic ping of another deadly trap but the rasp of many fleshless feet…

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