OVERTURE


1290 BC, THEBES

Grains of sand, moved by the harsh evening winds, caress the faces of the inhabitants of Thebes. The mighty capitol of the New Kingdom went by another name among its people; The City of the Living was the jewel in the crown of Pharaoh Seti I. A vast display of his power and military prowess, seen on every newly erect temple, obelisk or statue, guaranteed a legacy for centuries to come.

While the Pharaoh commands the living, it is believed the High Priest of Osiris keeps the Dead. High Priest Imhotep, a man of the Gods and a dear advisor of the Pharaoh.

And, as of late, a traitor of the worst kind.

Drinking in the last rays of the setting sun over the city, Imhotep stood on the balcony of the royal palace, eyes fixed on the Pharaoh's chariot disappearing in the distance. A relieved sigh crossed his lips. They were free, for the night.

No man could ever quench the flame of love that had sparked between Imhotep and Anck-Su-Namun, the Pharaoh's mistress and future wife.

The kind of love for which one was willing to gamble with their life.

A commotion disrupts the passionate embrace of the two lovers. The doors burst open, Pharaoh Seti emerging from the dark. He eyes warily the priests of Osiris guarding the door, sensing the oddity of the situation.

Striding forward he throws open the curtains to Anck-Su-Namun's chambers, only to find the woman herself standing there, waiting, a seductive smile on her lips in hopes of subduing the Pharaoh's temper. Rage bursts from the Pharaoh's eyes as he notices the smudged paint on her arm, a proof of her infidelity.

"Who has touched you?!"

A flurry of actions- Imhotep rips Seti's sword from his scabbard. It gives Anck-Su-Namun enough time to lift her dagger and plunge it into pharaoh's back. A strangled gasp leaves the dying Pharaoh's lips, dimming light in his eyes begging the two people he cared for for an explanation.

The kind of love for which one was willing to murder their Pharaoh for.

Banging on the doors. There is no escape, they realize, and it's only a matter of time before The Mumia - the pharaoh's guards - come to condemn the culprit of the pharaoh's demise. The priests of Osiris grab Imhotep, pulling him towards exit, deaf to his protests.

"You must go. Save yourself. Only you can resurrect me." She whispers with such conviction he feels his heart tearing in two. With one last glance he lets himself be escorted by his priests. The sound of a sword piercing Anck-Su-Namun's flesh is the one that would haunt him for ages to come.

It was a fortune in misfortune that he, as a High Priest of Osiris, had the duty of cursing Anck-Su-Namun's body - a punishment reserved for murderers, promising an infernal afterlife to the condemned.

Her organs removed into the sacred canopic jars, Imhotep read the incantations from The Book of The Living which held sacred spells meant to send the evil dead on a journey into the dark underworld.

The slaves and the soldier accompanying them were slain under the watchful eye of Imhotep and the Mumia, so no unholy person may ever know the exact location of the burial site.

However, once the Mumia disappeared behind the sandy dunes of the desert, the priests of Imhotep unearthed Anck-Su-Namun's cursed body once again. Racing across the desert, Imhotep had only one location in mind.

Hamunaptra, known as The City of Dead, held a book far to dangerous for it to ever be used. The Book of the Dead contained incantations that could bring a body back to life, a most unholy thing. And just the thing Imhotep was looking for.

The kind of love for which one was willing to defy the Gods themselves.

In the unearthly temple of death, chanting priests circled the mistress's, their heads rocking back and forth in delirium. Their throaty hums combine with Imhotep's infernal incantations. A mist rises from a swirling pond, edging closer to the altar holding the body.

A heart beat sounds from one of the canopic jars. Anck-Su-Namun's eyes fly open. As the chanting reaches a crescendo, Imhotep lifts a sacrificial knife above her breast - BANG!

The Mumia burst into the chamber, startling the priests and disrupting the ritual. The panicked priests snap back from their daze, scrambling to their feet, trying to escape the scimtars of the black-robed executioners. This time, they have no mercy.

Tongues are cut out with hot pincers, burning rods used to extract the brains of living priests of Imhotep. Anguished screams of men mummified alive bounce off the walls of the embalming room. Imhotep can only watch and listen in terror.

The High Priest was condemned to the worst fate of all, the worst ever inflicted upon any man.

The Hom-Dai curse.

Once they cut out his tongue, they wrap him in linen bandages. He squirms, uselessly, as they place him in the stone sarcophagus.

Imhotep can only look up in terror as the embalmer empties a bucket over his immobilized body. Dozens of scarabs, those flesh eating beetles, scurry over his convulsing body. His silent, agonized scream only allows them to crawl into his tongueless mouth.

It was believed, by eating the sacred scarabs, he would be cursed to stay alive forever. And by eating him, they were cursed just the same.

The Mumia would never allow him to be released from his ungodly prison, for it was known he would arise a walking disease, a plague upon mankind, only to bring death and destruction upon the land.

The kind of love for which one was willing to wait for the moment of vengeance.

A vengeance so dreadful, powered with the rage of to rain hellfire on all that stood between them.

Hamunaptra vanished beneath the sands, the statues of the temple decaying under the brunt of time and the unforgiving desert.

The key to Imhotep's tomb laid forgotten, the City of Death becoming a story to scare the children with, a myth among the historians and treasure hunters alike.

That is, until it wasn't.

And that is where our story begins.