"He does not shuffle. He was never given the chance to slow down."
Embalmed in liquid gold, volcanic resin, and cursed linens so the frost would never take him.
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Tens of thousands of years ago, before the northern realm of Korone was buried beneath miles of impenetrable glacial ice, it was a fertile, sun-baked cradle of empire. The Mummy was its supreme warlord and sovereign, an unconquered martial emperor whose legions crushed all rival civilizations. When tectonic cataclysms and the deep freeze threatened his domain, his priesthood embalmed him in liquid gold, volcanic resin, and cursed linens, preserving his supreme martial discipline.
Transported south to the suffocating rainforests of Pyth, his sarcophagus was sealed inside a towering, vine-entangled step temple, locked away behind the freezing mechanism of the Adamantine Ice Key Mold. Unlike brittle, shuffling mummies of common lore, this warlord moves with horrifying speed and unmatched swordmaster precision. He wields an ancient greatsword made of pre-glacial sun-steel and commands the dread rot of the primordial dynasty.
Bound behind a single lock, so long as it stays lost.