The mummy lord unleased

The air in Urik grew thick with the scent of decay as the mummy lord, free from its ancient prison, let out a withering roar that echoed through the noble district. A dark curse seeped into the streets, twisting the bodies of the dead into shambling horrors. The massacre of House Lueber had already sent shockwaves through the city, but now, an even greater terror unfolded. The guards who arrived to investigate the noble family's slaughter found themselves overwhelmed as undead servants clawed their way from the grave, their once-lifeless eyes burning with unnatural malice. Word spread swiftly to the palace, where King Hamanu, still seething over the catastrophic defeat of his legion, received the news with cold fury. The city had already been weakened by the loss of five thousand warriors, and now this insult—this defilement—threatened to unravel what order remained. Without hesitation, he dispatched his fiercest templars, their obsidian medallions glowing with the Lion King's power, to confront the rising threat. As the templars moved through the city, they found horror at every turn. Citizens fell screaming as the curse spread like a plague, their bodies withering into skeletal husks or rising moments after death, bound to the mummy lord’s will. Lesser nobles barricaded themselves in their estates, praying for mercy that would never come. Merchants and beggars alike fled toward the city gates, only to find them shut under Hamanu’s decree—no one would escape until the threat was purged. Meanwhile, in the shadows of the upheaval, criminals and rebels saw opportunity. With templars distracted and chaos ruling the night, assassins struck at rivals, thieves plundered abandoned estates, and whispers of open defiance against Hamanu grew bolder. Some even sought the mummy lord itself, hoping to bargain for power or revenge, unaware that they would only become its puppets. Yet Hamanu was no ordinary king. As dawn approached, he strode forth himself, golden-skinned and radiating a power older than the city’s stones. With a single command, the air crackled with psionic force, and his templars unleashed fire and lightning upon the undead. The mummy lord, though mighty, had been entombed for centuries, and against the Sorcerer-King of Urik, its chances of survival dwindled. But before its destruction, it left a mark upon the city that could not be erased. The noble district lay in ruin, its wealth stripped, its families shattered. Fear gripped even the strongest hearts, for if such a thing could happen once, it could happen again. And though Hamanu’s wrath would be terrible, the cracks in Urik’s foundation had deepened. The city would never be the same.