Lincoln Stone, Link to his friends, (Yes, they made those kinds of really bad jokes) stood outside his tent, overlooking the excavation site, the sun beaming through crystal blue skies, pounding down upon the sand and dust. The digging plot lay clearly before him. Already they had made some, if only very slight, progress in finding little bits and bobs beneath the desert sands, alluding to human habitation and activity and after all they had only been out here for six weeks. It looked like this was going to be a very promising dig indeed. Lincoln was a language expert of note in archaeological circles and when the Brittish Institute of Archaeology accepted his pitch and granted funding for his request for a dig in Egypt, a few miles west of the Valley of the Kings, he was extatic. He got together the best team he could find and set out post haste to see if there was indeed a tomb or temple or some other kind of marvelous structure out there beneath the scorching sands of the mysterious Egypt. Lincoln was relatively young for an expert in his field being no older than twenty-six. He trod carefully down the slope, avoiding any loose dirt or especially pointy rocks or abandoned tools and made his way down to the excavation level where his team were digging or brushing or cleaning up bits of old bricks or pottery or household tools of the time. "Anything to report?" he asked the team in general, hoping vainly for some kind of important, ground breaking discovery.