If one were to listen close enough, one could hear a sound of twisted laughter emanating from the fifteenth office in the Cairo Museum's Egyptology department. Inside the office of Professor Rafik Mrad, a recent associate of the museum who was quickly attaining a reputation for insights in the field despite suspect credentials, a withered old man was seated over an ancient bronze bowl etched with profane hieroglyphs and filled with water. The nearly skeletal horror in the office resembled the mummies placed in the museum's vaults, it's warped and wrinkled skin dancing with the names and images of the corrupted gods the creature had worshipped in life. His teeth and nails had been filed into razored points, while stringy grey hairs of great length emerged in patches scattered throughout the thing's head. In one hand he held a gnarled and rusted bronze dagger, and in the other a slowly dying cobra. The weakened but still thrashing serpent's blood was dripping into the water as the monster's trance continued, his widened eyes peering into the water. His grin was wicked and fierce in spite of, and in many ways because of, his trance. He had been monitoring his key through a scrying bowl, but what he sensed was a surprise. A vampire of all things had attempted to seduce his key. He had also sensed this undead parasite had some manner of link to others of her kind.
Naturally the corpse-man was hardly afraid of the undead parasites. Indeed, he had slain a number of them for the sake of research in his own quest for unending life. What the parasites were doing in Khem now called Egypt, the professor could not say for certain, but he had scryed the presence of a great and terrible power in these lands, and suspected that there was some sort of connection. Leeches were however, the least of the monster's worries. Now he had to worry about that fool Karim Tadros. The beggar knew nothing of what he was, or the power his condition offered. The creature knew this would make him all the easier to manipulate, but caution still seemed warranted. In time, he would bring the man marked by Anubis to him, yes. In the meantime, the creature need only avoid destruction at the hands of others.
The trance ended as smoothly as it had begun, the corpse-man returning to the senses of his ancient body. It always gave him a strange thrill to return to his unnaturally animated form. He had violated temples and tombs without number to piece together the magic Anubis and Isis used to give new life to Osiris. The people of the two lands grew to hate and fear him, even as they falsely assumed that he was but a greedy grave robber unafraid of sacrilege. In truth, he was so much more than he seemed to be, and he had skillfully kept the truth from coming to light until the very end. That time was all he needed to corrupt the divine magics into a twisted but powerful reflection. Where once the mythical rites granted life eternal, they were warped into inducing a strange and terrible form of living death. Where once it celebrated life, it was turned into a glorification of death; indeed the price the monster paid to perform the ritual was the bloody sacrifice of every last member of the cult he had gathered around himself. They offered themselves to his knife willingly, fully aware of what their lives were being spilled on the on the ground for. But they were not giving up their lives and souls simply for the fiend's life. No, they accepted the knife for the gods of Void, and died so that their mad prophet may live forever to serve and speak for those same blasphemous gods.
When the monster had completed his work, he laid his knife down and reached over towards his desk, grabbing a talisman of leopard claw. As he slide the chain over his neck, his visage began to change. Hair grew and shortened into a socially presentable length, turning a wizened shade of white, as nails and teeth shifted to resemble those of a human. The fiend's skin stretched out and took on a healthy tan. By the time the shift was complete, none would know that the gaunt middle aged man in the office was the same horror that had be there a moment before. Grinning to himself, the man known as Rafik Mrad put his tools into their hiding places, before heading out to the coffee house his charge had fled. There was a busy night ahead of him.
Naturally the corpse-man was hardly afraid of the undead parasites. Indeed, he had slain a number of them for the sake of research in his own quest for unending life. What the parasites were doing in Khem now called Egypt, the professor could not say for certain, but he had scryed the presence of a great and terrible power in these lands, and suspected that there was some sort of connection. Leeches were however, the least of the monster's worries. Now he had to worry about that fool Karim Tadros. The beggar knew nothing of what he was, or the power his condition offered. The creature knew this would make him all the easier to manipulate, but caution still seemed warranted. In time, he would bring the man marked by Anubis to him, yes. In the meantime, the creature need only avoid destruction at the hands of others.
The trance ended as smoothly as it had begun, the corpse-man returning to the senses of his ancient body. It always gave him a strange thrill to return to his unnaturally animated form. He had violated temples and tombs without number to piece together the magic Anubis and Isis used to give new life to Osiris. The people of the two lands grew to hate and fear him, even as they falsely assumed that he was but a greedy grave robber unafraid of sacrilege. In truth, he was so much more than he seemed to be, and he had skillfully kept the truth from coming to light until the very end. That time was all he needed to corrupt the divine magics into a twisted but powerful reflection. Where once the mythical rites granted life eternal, they were warped into inducing a strange and terrible form of living death. Where once it celebrated life, it was turned into a glorification of death; indeed the price the monster paid to perform the ritual was the bloody sacrifice of every last member of the cult he had gathered around himself. They offered themselves to his knife willingly, fully aware of what their lives were being spilled on the on the ground for. But they were not giving up their lives and souls simply for the fiend's life. No, they accepted the knife for the gods of Void, and died so that their mad prophet may live forever to serve and speak for those same blasphemous gods.
When the monster had completed his work, he laid his knife down and reached over towards his desk, grabbing a talisman of leopard claw. As he slide the chain over his neck, his visage began to change. Hair grew and shortened into a socially presentable length, turning a wizened shade of white, as nails and teeth shifted to resemble those of a human. The fiend's skin stretched out and took on a healthy tan. By the time the shift was complete, none would know that the gaunt middle aged man in the office was the same horror that had be there a moment before. Grinning to himself, the man known as Rafik Mrad put his tools into their hiding places, before heading out to the coffee house his charge had fled. There was a busy night ahead of him.