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Subject: Raiders of the lost tomb: 6 monthes in Egypt rss

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Gender: pot*ato. My opinion is an opinion.
Along with 3 colleagues (archeologists, NOT grave robbers), we start to dig holes under just every dune in sight (no one dares to enter those pyramids yet).
I am eager to show some relics to the circle of gentlemen (and women) who could fund my further expeditions, yet I keep a low profile and do not fight for the three purple artefacts like my colleague do; soon they curse each other (cursing in egypt archeology camps is not a good idea I've heard). I manage to get a good share of the other relics and yet I spared some of my strength for the following month.
Now, the grave robbers seem to be wary of me, and their sentiment is soon reinforced since my new patron help some of my friends to get hold on some excellent positions in the British Museum.
I concentrate my remaining collaborator on seizing the artifacts my sponsor likes so much, and manage to grab a key to some pyramid I'll use later on.
My last month of digging does not goes so well, each new digging campaign I start is sabotaged by envious concurrents.
Soon comes the exhibition of our amassed collections. What I lack in variety, I largely compensate in numbers, and I am applauded much more than these bandits.

They coax me into a new challenge and soon we start all over.
However, since I arrived in Cairo, I get the impression that someone is after me.
Soon, I realize I was wrong; in fact, all those scoundrels are after me.
They soon convince somehow my former sponsor to help them instead, and I have the worst difficulties to get janitor jobs in the museum for my friends; this is by far my worst month in egypt, I tought to give up archeology entirely, dreaming of buiding castles, harvesting tobacco and raising pandas.
In the second month, the fight for brown and purple artifacts is terrible. I decide to specialise in tomb robb exploration, and try to get in touch with a knowledgable patron.
By the end of the month, I get a friend to accept a tea making job for the museum, not that I find tea making that interesting, but just to deprive one of my worst concurrent of any tea. I gloat over it. He writes me a formal protest, saying that I just should keep drinking lemonade.
In the last month, the fight for the last brown artefact is horrendous; I just ignore it, grab what I can grab.
The exhibition is much less of a success, but thanks to an assorted collection and my newfound, pyramid expert mentor, I finish a close second with a shrewd, satisfied smile.
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