Talk:Anubis/@comment-44238526-20200205184239

(so I ran out of BS facts I could make up so short stories I could think of would do)

She watches, stalks the human between the unlit chambers, the human, stalks the chambers, seeking an unoccupied sarcophagus. The Tomb Priests didn't mind him for war and vengence made him exhaust from combat. He carried a urn of cinnabar, strong smelling to those with an acute sense of smell. She merely follows close behind him, for the moment he layed the urn down, she snatched the urn and replace it with a urn of red flour, this human not noticing, nor caring, merely opens an empty sarcophagus. The human coats the inside with the red flour, murs words and phrases unknown to the sand doge, yet she knows despair loomed over him. He though, undressed, laid his weapons onto a shelf, he climbs inside, closing, consumed by darkness. The Anubite though, waited, for a minute, she herself undressed into nothing, opening the sarcohpagus, climbing inside and closing, letting darkness consume both, that tomb, sealed and never to be opened for centuaries to come.