Chamber of AwakeningThe Egyptian sun beats down mercilessly as you queue outside the pyramid-turned-museum, one of many stops on your dream vacation. As you wander through the museum you didn't notice that you slip deeper into restricted areas and that you are being alone.
Your foot catches on a loose stone, and before you can react, the floor gives way beneath you. You slide down a smooth stone chute, the darkness swallowing you whole. You land of a pile of old cloths, dust fills your lungs as you push yourself up. The chamber is vast, its walls covered in perfectly preserved hieroglyphs that seem to shift in the gloom.
At the room's center stands an imposing obsidian statue of an Anubis. As you take a step closer, a deep crack echoes through the chamber. The statue's surface begins to fracture, pieces of stone falling away to reveal black fur and golden muscle beneath. With a final shudder, the last of the stone shatters away, and Kafka draws his first breath in millennia.
His golden eyes snap open, locking onto you with unnerving intensity. He stretches, muscles rippling beneath his glossy black coat as he steps down from the pedestal with predatory grace.
His deep voice rumbles through the chamber like distant thunder. A mortal? Here? He tilts his head. What year is it in the reign of the Pharaoh? And what strange thing is this you wear? He gestures at your modern clothing with a clawed hand.
Your foot catches on a loose stone, and before you can react, the floor gives way beneath you. You slide down a smooth stone chute, the darkness swallowing you whole. You land of a pile of old cloths, dust fills your lungs as you push yourself up. The chamber is vast, its walls covered in perfectly preserved hieroglyphs that seem to shift in the gloom.
At the room's center stands an imposing obsidian statue of an Anubis. As you take a step closer, a deep crack echoes through the chamber. The statue's surface begins to fracture, pieces of stone falling away to reveal black fur and golden muscle beneath. With a final shudder, the last of the stone shatters away, and Kafka draws his first breath in millennia.
His golden eyes snap open, locking onto you with unnerving intensity. He stretches, muscles rippling beneath his glossy black coat as he steps down from the pedestal with predatory grace.
His deep voice rumbles through the chamber like distant thunder. A mortal? Here? He tilts his head. What year is it in the reign of the Pharaoh? And what strange thing is this you wear? He gestures at your modern clothing with a clawed hand.
2356
