Infidel

There’s an old Egyptian fable that tells how a sacrilegious camel once dined on a high priest’s pocket watch, only to awake in the morning with a bellyful of ticks. The moral, needless to say, is that one should never bite off more than one can stomach.

Evidently, you failed to heed this wisdom — else why would you, a small-time explorer, dare to brave the smouldering heart of the Egyptian desert in search of a great lost pyramid? Now, too late, you suspect that your boldness has been your undoing, for at this very moment you find yourself marooned by your followers, pursued by the vultures of death, and sustained only by the faint hope that you can somehow survive to reach the pyramid — where the skullduggery, pitfalls and cliffhanging adventures will really begin.

What indomitable inner resource is it that drives you ever onward against such desperate odds? Pride? Unflinching devotion to the cause of archaeological science? Or could it possibly be the prospect that the treasures concealed within the tomb are worth enough on the open market to keep you rolling in filthy lucre for the rest of your born days? We leave the question open, with this footnote: Your quest transcends mere fortune. Here, amid the shifting sands of eternity, dignity and self-esteem are at stake. For you are branded INFIDEL.