The expedition begins as planned: a gathering in the weather gardens before first light, then heading south for some hours before angling away from the riverbed and toward the foothills south and east. The former flood plain gives way to dried up scrub with the occasionally stunted prickle-tree managing to thrive in scattered patches along the way.
In those days, the land of Saleska had no king. History left sparse records of previously notable conquerors and rulers, but these records weren't to be found sequestered in libraries and collections of scrolls. They were recorded as features in the land itself; cairns, tombs, old buildings, and such like, left to stand as silent witnesses to ages and civilizations gone by, now reclaimed by the dust of the Earth.
Kel-Berran's tomb now stands as one such monument, and probably the closest to the town of Finn's Crossing. It's carved into the recessed side of a canyon between two of the larger hills. Twin stone pillars frame the large double doors barring the passage into the ancient king's resting place; above them a large mural is cut from the red and white marbled sandstone of the cliff itself. It presumably once depicted the king in all his majestic glory, but time -- and possibly vandals -- has taken its toll. The figure in the deep-cut and larger-than-life mural has been missing its head and one arm since before anyone can remember.
Magnus, however, has other things on his mind as he pulls up his horse and signals the expedition to dismount. The shadows are growing long, but the light of day hasn't yet abandoned our trio to the night and its assorted dangers, leaving the huge doors clearly visible. Magnus is staring at them.
"Uh, guys? Remember that bit I told ye about the tomb being sealed up for ages because I didn't figure anyone besides us would be dumb enough to open it?" He gestures toward the two stone doors.
One of them is ajar.
The tomb of Kel-Berran is no longer sealed.