Within the cracked and broken ruins of the great pyramid, something stirs.
It takes a great deal to attract the attention of Geb, mightiest necromancer ever to ascend through his own power, who did not become a god because gods have rules; who invented fully a quarter of modern necromancy, who named a nation after himself, who shattered a hundred miles of land so thoroughly magic itself failed there, and who, unlike the Whispering Tyrant his equal in many arts, did all this without cheating.
And who, when his sole great rival decided that he had better things to do than fight wars with Geb, returned to his fortress of the dark arts, and founded demiplanes, and built weapons, and invented new and deadly spells, and did not, at any point, encounter anything that would have possibly given him the slightest bit of an interesting challenge. Once or twice he was roused from the slumber of four thousand years to crush some insignificant intruder, but never did any threaten his skills.
He did not, in fact, notice when he died. And as his foot coalesces on the doorstep of the Cinerarium, the Great Pyramid of Mechitar, he does not notice that he lives again. On his head is the Crown of Geb and on his feet are the Boots of Geb and around his waist is the Belt of Geb and beneath it is the Robe of Geb and in his hand is the Staff of Geb and circling his head are six ioun stones and circling his body further out, the four Orbs of Geb.