Gameplay

Robert had been hit by the falling debris too, but his injury was not life-threatening. Upon exiting the tomb and finally coming out, he walked towards Thomas and Clara, eyeing Eugen's injured body, wondering what will happen to the archaeologist. "This looks bad. Will he be alright?"

As she holds the smelling salts under Eugen's nose, she sees Robert arrive, looking quite injured as well!

"Wh-Dr. Whittaker, you are injured as well! We need a doctor over here, NOW!"

Skill and sanity increase. Worst possible rolls ever! Yay!

For a moment, Eugen cuts through the unconciousness and opens his eyes a little. Pain. Everywhere. From the bright light. From his aching body. From the memories.

With dry and chapped lips he whispers:
"Did we all make it?"

Then falls into the blessing of sleep again.

After making sure medical help was coming for Eugen, Thomas interrogates the remaining workmen. He gathers as much information about the workmen who buried him alive as he's able. He goes to Lady Bishop in the next couple of days, asking for his payment. Thomas is accustomed to people trying to kill him. But he makes sure they only get to try once. One cold desert night soon after he stalks the streets of Cairo. He's been following one of the workmen who might be one of these Children of the Sphinx.

That's right, he thinks. If you're going to laugh at Tommy Ackerman's demise, you better make sure he's dead. Thomas melts into the shadows, and follows the man, who is stumbling from drink through a lonely alley. Thomas's hand falls to the hilt of his knife, worn smooth with years of use.
You better make damn sure.

In the dim light of the halogen bulb of his study room, Robert wrote a report in his journal. He absentmindedly nursed his wound on the left shoulder where he sustained the injury from falling debris. Beside his journal lay an elaborate report of his findings on the Pharaoh's tomb they had recently discovered. Graphite pencils and dusted rubber bits lay scattered across the tabletop, making it more dirty than it needed to be. He had painstakingly drawn the hieroglyphs of the tomb walls; his efforts, if published, would contribute more to this elusive iconographic language and hopefully acknowledge his name and solidify his position in linguistics. Beside the report, a letter was kept addressing the University of London, the ultimate destination of his findings. However, the legality of the situation of the tomb was murky. By the books, the founder was Lady Clara Bishop, and before he sent out his report, he needed to consult her for any kind of censorship and ownership she claimed. Hence, there was another letter kept beside the report lodged under the weight of an irregular fist-sized rock, taking the role of a makeshift paperweight. Was Lady Bishop really the founder of the tomb? The momentary thought suddenly brought the image of the dead corpse of the previous explorer whose dynamite saved their lives and helped them escape the tomb and...the unliving pharaoh. A flash of pain surged through his temple as Robert grimaced and touched it while hauntingly the halogen bulb blinked, emitting a buzzing sound until it took almost a minute to steady itself.

The Pharaoh was alive because its heart was alive. Some creature that defied normalcy and laws of reality that current medical science will be unable to apprehend or even provide a plausible solution. He continued to rub his temple before starting to recall the incident in his journal. The undying pharaoh and his curse and the cult of Children of the Sphinx. Was this really another side of this fascinating civilization, which is supposed to be so advanced for its time? Could they really have devised a way to escape the finality of death itself, and how many of these undying lords are kept buried in the cold sands of these desolate lands? Will it be even ethical to search for them? Are the old cults using the modern naive historians to bring their undead lords back to life to usher in their rule? Somewhere a lightning crack jolted Robert out of his pondering. Rain started to hit the glass window panes as he looked back at his half-written journal page, his hands shaking uncontrollably when suddenly the halogen light went out, immersing the room in complete darkness.

Lady Bishop frowns deeply as the remaining workers explain what happened and of these cultists, The Children of the Sphinx. She narrows her eyes at the idea of so many traitorous people working among them, but quickly replaces it with good British stoicism.

"Well, I am certainly glad to hear the rest of you stayed and we are bringing Dr. Whittaker and Mr. Chornyi the medical help they require."

Despite her displeasure at their attempts to use them to reanimate the corpse inside, she also secretly smiles. These cultists were exactly who she was looking for. Their secret would be hers, one way or another.

---

She completes a final flourish on the checks with large bonuses for Thomas, Robert, and Eugen as Mr. Ackerman enters the tent to accept his. He seems quite determined to strike out on his own, but reminds him she will happily reward good information about these cultists if he finds anything. She is rather sure he will find them, but time will tell if he shares anything with her.

Dr. Whittaker is so enthralled with his reports and publications, she is sure she will have to deliver his check. She will also remind him she will keep a generous retainer check if he agrees to being a reference for whatever she finds in the future. She does not mean to keep him here after this horrible incident and his injuries, but she is sure his expertise and this brush with the unknown will be a valuable asset in the future.

Finally, she visits Eugen at his tent, barely discharged from the medical tent after this unfortunate incident. Not only his body, but his mind seemed to be injured from their time in the tomb. His archaeology expertise has been invaluable, but she cannot be sure if he would be of right mind to continue. The bonus should be enough to ensure safe passage and medical care once he returns. However, should he decide to stay, he would probably understand the most of what they were searching for in this tomb. If there was anything to find after the explosion.

---

After rewarding and learning of the future paths of her recent companions, she sits out on the makeshift porch of her tent to watch the sunset. She takes a long drag of a cigarette as she looks at the last remnant of her lover, the cigarette case. She shuts it quickly and puts it away, dreaming of being one step closer to understanding the unknown.