He limps toward a canyon. The shadows move. Not rocks – SOLDIERS. Clad in black chitin armor, eyes hollow, breath a dry rattle. SCORPION GUARDS.
A nomadic mercenary king, betrayed and left for dead, must unite the last free tribes against a sorcerer-king who commands an unstoppable army of spectral scorpions.
MATHUS (40s, scarred, eyes like flint) crawls from beneath a collapsed chariot. His leg is gashed. His sword is gone. scorpion king script
No. I brought a hundred reasons why you should’ve stayed in your hole.
No last words, dog.
(To a kneeling priest) The ritual. Now.
Who’s with me?
You brought a hundred fools to die.
Horus retreats, howling.