Treasures That Lie Behind Closed Doors

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Liz continues her romance-novel preview of Mummy's Mask, here showing off the Character Add-On Deck and Adventure Deck 1: The Half-Dead City, which comes in the Mummy's Mask Base Set.

The land shifted from soft sand dunes to rocky hills that battered the feet of the caravaneers. With rhythmic plodding punctuated by errant grunts, the camels trudged at a lumbering pace and did not seem affected by the terrain. Though the morning breeze still held a breath of cool night air that kissed their necks, the cicadas danced in anticipation of the climbing sun.

Waving grasses sprung like soft hair from the verdant earth as the road descended toward the river. It would be hours yet before the weary travelers could rest, sponge away days of dried sweat, and luxuriate into silk cushions at the Tooth & Hookah. But now they could see the Half-City before them, darkly nestled between the legs of the Crook and Asp rivers. Morning light glistened through the linen-draped towers of the Sunburst Market, a brilliant sunrise of color, promising secrets behind the rainbow shadows cast. And carried on the wind, the chimes of the Pharasmin temple, luring treasure hunters to consign their fates to the lottery.

Spoiler: You win the lottery.

As the markets closed upon the hour of twilight, smoke from tall lamps of perfumed oil lazily swayed through the courtyard filled with an impatient throng. Travelers from every corner of Golarion jostled and joked in a dozen languages, stealing glances toward the yet-closed temple doors. Some were sun-touched and rough, apparent rogues and mercenaries experienced in the art of Osirion tomb-raiding.

The Quicksand Bunyip doesn't figure in Liz's story, but we couldn't help ourselves.

Others, such as a gracefully dressed woman—presumably a local by the fact she carried nothing but her heavy staff—seemed to be searching the crowd, seeking the fate-spark of companionship.

Her gaze landed on an unlikely target, a heavy man laden with a curiosity shop's worth of goods, his beard black as onyx. Their eyes met across the courtyard and, with a pounding of her staff, the sea of miscreants briefly parted, naturally, as if the perfect moment had been plucked from time. The conversation that followed was hushed, for the weight of the stories they carried was heavy and not easily shared. Mavaro, his name rolling with mystery of far-off places, made bold claims, but made them quietly. He promised her that he could do anything, given the right tools. This was the treasure he sought: not gold nor fame, but a wealth of memory.

Mavaro has an... interesting deck list.

He seemed so unlike her. Perhaps that is why she felt so intrigued, and caught herself licking her lips at his words. As his accoutrements were a jumble of worn hand-me-downs and stolen grave goods, deciphering the man beneath would be a challenge. "I can be anything you need—whatever you want me to be," he divulged with a low voice.

To demonstrate, he delicately untied a rusted khopesh strapped to his side. With a featherweight grace, he swung the blade, the bright steel edge glimmering with blue frost. "May I?" he gestured toward her elaborately-carved staff. His fingers brushed hers as he grasped it and the chill of the khopesh jolted up her spine. The sensation rushed upon her as if she were the sword itself, wrapped in a frigid enchantment. He glanced down and mumbled an apology.

As he held the staff, Mavaro's demeanor shifted, became aggressive. Waves of arcane power hummed from the staff as the world around them became somehow pliant to his whim. "Is it only weapons?" she chided. "A person can wield only so many." In answer, he returned her staff and pulled a scroll from a bag she hadn't noticed before beneath his coat. As the icon of Thoth unfurled, the uncertainty and fidgeting fell from his posture. His eyes grew old and cold with lifetimes of knowledge. Ahmotep could see the judgement of the dead upon his face. It reminded her of the Pharasmins.

The desert demands many different weapons.

As if called, the crowd fell silent and pressed close as the temple doors swung open, heavy with sculpted reliefs of birth and death in honor of Pharasma. The black-robed Pharasmin clerics poured out in two lines, followed by a large, simply decorated urn. The head priestess's face was a mask as she called out in a bell-like voice, "Attention. The first lottery begins now. Once all names are drawn, the gates to the necropolis will be opened." She paused for effect. "Heed well the laws, and remember how this came to pass."

There are three Laws. Don't break them.

The adventurers had found each other, and Ahmotep sensed soon there might be others. As the priest's hand descended into the urn to draw the first name, a palpable excitement buzzed between the two. Where would the will of The Lady of Graves take them? Ahmotep gritted her teeth and clenched her staff, ready to pull fate in her direction.

Liz Spain
Adventure Card Game Designer