Heart of Stone

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Designer Liz Spain continues her sun-scorched preview of the Pathfinder Adventure Card Game Mummy's Mask set, here bathing in the mystery of Adventure Deck 5: The Slave Trenches of Hakotep. To the dunes!

Tef-Naju stirred within the walls of his great marble prison. It was day, not that it mattered in this subterranean place, but he could feel the element of fire heating the sands above. He did not sleep, not in the way that human men had described the pastime as such. But his mind had been wandering, dreamlike, through eon-old memories of the plane of earth and other shaitan he had once known. He reached out to rouse Aiveria, but the stone maiden was not beside him. She was practicing the motions of her kata. Over a thousand years it had become a dance of strength and deadly grace that had once made him weep to see. So, he waited and listened.

Movement sixteen—the swoosh of her sword cutting the air, then the soft tinkling of the coins that dangled from her hem as she placed her foot for the swift, jaw-smashing kick. She had come to his bastion to save the once-legendary shaitan from his eternal servitude and, finding the task impossible, chose to stay. In many ways, she had saved him. He had found peace and companionship with her. Their routine had become timeless, and the anger he once felt toward his captor had chipped away to a tiny flint in his heart.

Yes, you can lose to Tef-Naju and still be rewarded with his trove. Keep that in mind.

Above, the sands skittered with the rhythmic marching of feet. Not animals. These moved with the cadence of creatures of hurried purpose. Not shaitan or oread, either. The footsteps were too light, too fast. Humans, then. His suspicions were confirmed as the Elemental Trenches above crackled to life. Suddenly, the vast tunnels below the trenches hummed anew—arteries carrying vast elemental power, technology of the lost Shory people built to be turned against them. Built by a pharaoh who thought himself a god. A pharaoh who enslaved countless elementals and guarded his works with their corpses. The genie had thought the pharaoh would die like other men. This way, Tef-Naju assumed the contract would wither. And yet, still he had to protect this place. A genie could no more break a contract than a cricket could pull down the sun.

And so Tef-Naju whispered through the sandstone floor to awaken the hanshepsu nearest the entrance. Aiveria had taken it upon herself to repaint the guardian constructs a century or two ago. The iridescent black-beetle wings of their heads glimmered with a realism that would surely please Khepri, the craftsman god they honored. Moreover, the hanshepsu were tough. With a little luck, the uninvited guests would be stopped and he could join Aiveria on the balcony for conversation and sculpting, as they so often spent their pleasant days.

The Trenches can empty your hand and make you happy about it.

But alas, the shaitan groaned as he felt a sand elemental, not one of his own, envelop the hanshepsu, immobilizing it.

The smaller of the interlopers set a chest upon the ground and drew a weapon—an artifact of an ancient war between gods and elementals. The large stone rod animated and, unhinging its massive jaw, swallowed the hanshepsu whole. The stone maiden who had worked so lovingly to paint it would be unhappy. He would have to tell her later.

The largest of the guests, an orc-blooded that wore the crest of the tax-collector god walked through the massive doors to the tunnels and gathered power around himself. Locks and traps would not stop a Gatekeeper, the shaitan thought, his slate forehead cracking as it furrowed. He would have to slip by Aiveria to take care of them himself. Surrounded by tombs of his master's many other victims, Tef-Naju had lost the taste for death. And surely his lovely consort would rage upon discovering a favorite sculpture lost.

Pro tip: Nothing says you can't have multiple cards on the Chest, or that you ever need to draw them.

The spell coalesced around the half-orc cleric, its power released to quickly race through the tunnels. But it was a clumsy spell, the vision cracking a delicate seal upon one of the nastier curses stored amongst canopic jars. The cleric clutched his eyes, screamed, and sank his teeth into his armor, attempting to tear pieces away as his teeth chipped then broke.

The smaller guest fumbled with her mighty rod, startled as Tef-Naju rose from the floor.

"You are not welcome in the machines of Hakotep. I am sworn to protect this place until such time that Hakotep's wish is fulfilled," boomed the genie, crossing his arms in an intimidating gesture.

Be very, very careful with that spell.

"And what if we kill the Forgotten Pharaoh? What then?" The staff-wielder was clever, it seemed.

"Then I would be free," Tef-Naju replied. The word felt hard on his tongue. "But I am obliged to thwart you. I cannot let you pass."

She set her jaw as they willed power around themselves. Another magus, the genie thought. He had crushed a thousand elemental magi in his training a hundred lifetimes ago. He would have to be careful. Flesh was so weak compared to stone. He dodged and struck, the hard lines of the contract stopping him from pulling back too much. Nevertheless, she persisted. The law was satisfied and he could relent.

"I have no tea or water," he said, helping her panting form up from the painted stone floor. "But I can show you a lovely view of the sand waterfall and I'm sure my companion would be pleased to have someone else to discuss her sculptures. Come to my trove. I have a gift for you, such that your soft flesh might not tear when you stand before the pharaoh Hakotep."

Four is not a small number of boons. But it's worth it.

Bewildered at the sudden turn of hospitality, Ahmotep stood as best she could and braced herself for an afternoon of congenial company.

Liz Spain
Adventure Card Game Designer