Salim al-Kupar - c. 1000 A.D.
Curious what one can find amongst the sands of time. If I had not taken that journey to Egypt, I would never have found the scrolls of Slytunkhamen. And if I had never found these scrolls, I would never have become a master thief. And if I had never become a master thief, well, I wouldn't be writing in this book! So listen here, you young generations! I will now tell you of the legacy of the al-Kupar Clan.
I was but twenty when I was working with my father selling fruit on a merchant cart. One day, while I was watching over the cart alone, I decided to take an afternoon's rest on the cart full of melons. Even then my sense of sloth had betrayed me and I awoke to find myself being wheeled off by bandits who had walked away with our camel and cart. Recklessly I attacked the thief driving the camel, throwing him off, and took control of the beast. The gaggle of moronic bandits ran livid as my camel and I galloped away with my precious melons in tow.
Unfortunately my sense of direction was even worse than my diligence. Thinking I was on my way back home, I aimlessly wandered the desert for days upon that camel, with no signs of civilization to be found. If it were not for the cart full of melons, I would not have survived the harsh ordeal. But eventually my food supply was no more; my appetite was more insatiable than the camel's.
By this point I was certain I was no longer in Arabian territory. My camel and I were on the verge of collapse when I found a stone facade almost entirely buried in the sand. Squeezing my way inside, I came to realize that this was an Egyptian tomb judging from the language on the walls. I approached the sarcophagas and read the name "Slytunkhamen I" emblazoned upon it. Before the ancient coffin lay the skeletal remains of some poor fool who had also found his way in there. The grizzly fracture wounds upon them told me that this man had been murdered.
But what caught my eye at last were the scrolls of papyrus clutched beneath the skeleton. These were the teachings and stories of the three generations to carry the name Slytunkhamen, the fabled master thief dynasty of Egypt. My father had always said that we were descended from Egyptian raccoons, but I was skeptical to believe that any of these three were my ancestors. From the evidence before me, I gathered that the bones belonged to Slytunkhamen III, who must have taken refuge inside his grandfather's tomb to die from his wounds. Pity, the young thief was barely in his twenties according to his writings.
Still, I admired the compelling inscriptions and kept them to pawn off later. I also took Slytunkhamen's preserved dried fruit and wine; he would not be needing them. Replenished, I found my way to the flourishing city of Cairo, seeking transport back to Arabia. I implored an Arabian ship captain who was on his way back to my home, but he refused to offer me passage after stating a ludicrous price which I could not pay. At that moment, I felt the urge to simply abscond with his vessel, leaving the fat, drunken oaf stranded in Egypt. That is when I began to see a strange blue aura appearing along the riggings of the ship. The papyrus I had read told of auras like these representing thieving opportunities. Could this mean that I was descended from Slytunkhamen after all?
Without further consideration, I waited for the drunken captain to fall limp on the dock and hopped aboard his ship, casting loose the lines and unfurling the sail. Before long, I was sailing toward the Nile Delta feeling like an invincible lord. But it was only moments later when I found that I was not alone aboard it.
Searching below the deck, I came upon forty men and women confined to shackles and wearing only rags. They told me that they were slaves bound for servitude under a powerful Arabian lord and I offered to break them from their restraints. An epiphone came upon me then; I would not have freed those slaves from bondage if I had not trusted the word of Slytunkhamen and stolen that ship. In my view, it had to be fate; thieving was in my blood.
And so, thinking up a quick fib, I told the slaves that I was a master thief who had studied under the ancient writings of Slytunkhamen. They felt indebted to me after freeing them, and sensing another opportunity, I asked them to join me as a gang of thieves, targeting only bloated slave owners in Arabia. They heartily agreed when I added that vast riches would be in their future and together we navigated the vessel back to Arabia.
And thus began my illustrious career as the leader of the Forty Thieves. From the banks of the Mediterranean to the Persian Gulf, my band of rogues and I accrued enough wealth from greedy tyrants to buy out every piece of land in this vast oasis of riches. With so many thieves at the ready, we were able to pull off multiple robberies at once, often leaving law enforcement in utter confusion. Among my favorite compatriots was Behnam, whose supreme intellect and expertise in explosive powders made him a keystone in many a complex heist. And of course Murad, the strongest thief, who could vanquish an entire army of guards in mere seconds.
It must be said that none of my success with the Forty Thieves would have been possible without what I had learned from the Slytunkhamen Scrolls. In my youth I learned to scale buildings, pick coins without a trace, and even become one with the shadows. I also perfected my own thieving techniques, particularly climbing ropes and poles faster than a cobra in the trees. These skills allowed me to walk away with the numerous riches my team had helped me acquire throughout the decades. Of course we split the wealth amongst ourselves evenly...for the most part. In fact, much of it we buried away with the notorious thief Sinbad. I could tell you where exactly I have stashed it, but what kind of thief would I be?!
But as the years passed and our bodies aged, more and more of my crew began to put the thieving life behind them and retire to a more stable lifestyle. Even now in my old age, I am still not willing to quit while I am ahead. However, I respected my comrades' wishes and let them slip away into hiding to live as fat and happy lords. It would not be long before I too would find myself of that description.
As I write my own entries in this fantastic tome, I feel that retirement is soon to come, with only three members of the Forty Thieves still active. And yet, I still feel as if I pale in comparison to the legends of Slytunkhamen, his son and his grandson. I had been so wrapped up in my thieving career that I had forgotten about my own father; I am sure he would not accept a criminal as a son. But this was the life I chose, and so this is my contribution to the great thieving legacy which I hope to revive.
I have no children of my own, but fortunately a distant nephew of mine has recently surfaced and begun learning of my endeavors. Though not a skilled thief in any respect, he has promised to preserve my writings and Slytunkhamen's after I am long gone. With this in mind, I urgently hope that any future descendants of mine will learn from these words, develop their own techniques and chronicle their own adventures of thieving mastery. For now, I am more content to simply lounge on the banks of the river, eating dates with chutney and drinking wine until I can move no longer. After all, who says a thief must live like a peasant?