Later:
The Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra was finally resting from his earlier run, resting on the Northern throne, facing north, and having a little bit of a fit about it.
He was telling just about anybody who would listen, which included his two physicians, who were still, as perpetually and enduringly, lounging, about the godless ways of the northerners, which was amusing, as not only both of them were from the north, but so was the Wab/Hem-Netur Priest, who wasn't listening, per se, but was nearby purifying the ceremonial bark upon which the last part of the ceremony would take place.
"Hey Aa," said Beer.
"Hey what?" said Truth.
"Who's that? Coming over with Reder?"
Merikaye wandered over, book of the dead in hand. "Looks like Osiris."
Great Truth shook his head jovially at Two Souls and Beer. "Uh-uh." He grinned.
"Looks like Ra."
"Looks like Ra!" repeated Merikaye, realization flooding his face.
"I'm just getting all the voice-offerings today, aren't I?" Ha'enre chuckled, arriving on the scene followed humbly by his scribe.
"Hey, guys, look who I found!" Reder whispered excitedly.
"Yeah, I saw, Reder. I also saw what a great job somebody did of tearing up the beautiful linen-job I gave him."
"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that, Aa. It really WAS a great job. So great, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to get out of the ol' Flesh-Eater. I mean, if Reder here hadn't been going through about seventy strains of the voice-offering, I'd never have gotten out in time."
Pharaoh Shemanira, trundling down the stairs from the Northern throne, and about to mount the stairs to the Southern one, which he seemed, in fact, very eager to do, stopped.
"What in the name of Simmering Seth is going on here?"
"Oh," Ha'enre squared his shoulders and tried his best to look official all wrapped in dangling bandages, the Was scepter and Osiris' hook clenched in his hands, Osiris' green cap over his head, and his favorite spearing-at- fish spear strapped to his back.
"I," he proclaimed in his most Egyptian-Deity-esque voice, "Am the Lord of Poker."
Aamaat put on a cheeky little grin. "Ha'enre... you never had anything better than two pair in your life."
The Lord of the Two Lands Shemanira, son of Ra Pehettyra was finally resting from his earlier run, resting on the Northern throne, facing north, and having a little bit of a fit about it.
He was telling just about anybody who would listen, which included his two physicians, who were still, as perpetually and enduringly, lounging, about the godless ways of the northerners, which was amusing, as not only both of them were from the north, but so was the Wab/Hem-Netur Priest, who wasn't listening, per se, but was nearby purifying the ceremonial bark upon which the last part of the ceremony would take place.
"Hey Aa," said Beer.
"Hey what?" said Truth.
"Who's that? Coming over with Reder?"
Merikaye wandered over, book of the dead in hand. "Looks like Osiris."
Great Truth shook his head jovially at Two Souls and Beer. "Uh-uh." He grinned.
"Looks like Ra."
"Looks like Ra!" repeated Merikaye, realization flooding his face.
"I'm just getting all the voice-offerings today, aren't I?" Ha'enre chuckled, arriving on the scene followed humbly by his scribe.
"Hey, guys, look who I found!" Reder whispered excitedly.
"Yeah, I saw, Reder. I also saw what a great job somebody did of tearing up the beautiful linen-job I gave him."
"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that, Aa. It really WAS a great job. So great, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to get out of the ol' Flesh-Eater. I mean, if Reder here hadn't been going through about seventy strains of the voice-offering, I'd never have gotten out in time."
Pharaoh Shemanira, trundling down the stairs from the Northern throne, and about to mount the stairs to the Southern one, which he seemed, in fact, very eager to do, stopped.
"What in the name of Simmering Seth is going on here?"
"Oh," Ha'enre squared his shoulders and tried his best to look official all wrapped in dangling bandages, the Was scepter and Osiris' hook clenched in his hands, Osiris' green cap over his head, and his favorite spearing-at- fish spear strapped to his back.
"I," he proclaimed in his most Egyptian-Deity-esque voice, "Am the Lord of Poker."
Aamaat put on a cheeky little grin. "Ha'enre... you never had anything better than two pair in your life."
