The time was hot. That gave a hint at the century. This was a time where you tracked days passing by the heat and the rain, the snow and the blooming fields. Though rain was unlikely, leaving snow and blooming fields an even more unlikely occurrence. Plants scarcely sprouted from the sand and gravelly dirt of the land.
A pair of creatures stood behind the safety of a dune, the wind carrying sand over the wavy landscape and into eyes of those unfortunate enough to not
be behind a dune. They were disgruntled and grunting, communicating over how despite their luck it was irritating to sit behind an overgrown anthill and wait for less wind, while others of there kind did not have the wind and were happily hunting.
The female’s eye caught a small half buried object in the sand.
Female wasn’t the best word to use, as at this point in evolution, female was barely even able to be used in mating alone. It was a label you gave something to make it make sense that when two of the creatures went into the cave, a few tinier ones came back out with them.
So the female saw the object, and nudged the male, who gave a quiet snarl of annoyance before turning to see the thing in the distance. The dune was large enough to block out most of the sand coming to the path to the object, so the pair of creatures started to pad towards it.
Another pair of skinny creatures, different in species, were tucked in a ditch, also avoiding sand. They were having what could be considered small talk, as there was little point in being mad because the wind was carrying sand. They saw the others walking, but chose not to follow, as they were more superior than that.
The muscular pair had reached the object, which was a box, though in a world where boxes were human things, this mattered little. It was a dark blue, with gold edges, and a strange symbol on the top. It’s metal emanated heat, distorting air in the scorching sun. Had the creatures known about boxes like this, they would know that it was a coffin, albeit a strange colored one.
There was hiss as air from another time escaped the coffin, met the air of this time, and shook it’s hand before slitting its wrist.
A figure rose from it, but not in a horror movie mummy manner, with arms crossed and the body rising until the head turned to a victim. This figure shoved the lid to the ground, and stood up shakily. He laughed, staring at beings who looked like more primitive versions of himself. He raised a hand, expecting something to happen, but there was nothing. He looked surprised, before seeing the symbol on the coffin lid, which glowed green in a mocking fashion, if a symbol could actually do so. Then the figure howled, in a rage experienced only by people who have been dealt the worst hand in life, and gone all in anyway. It was the roar after losing all the chips to the idiot across the table with a hand that turned out to be good only at the end. It was an unearthly roar, and it spoke one word in pure fury: