The nightly winds flow across Sabal shaking the canvas of the tent and creating a ripple of sound from the hollow flapping of cloth. The red and gold token waves freely, tied to a pole in clear view of all who pass.

“What’s going on with your head?” Charles says, pointing to red stubs of antlers sprouting from Heri’s head, who feels gingerly around before answering.

“Just some antlers, it’s a fey thing,” Charles squints up at him and climbs onto a nearby chair. He pulls a book from his robes and begins scribbling in it as he looks back and forth between the growing antlers and his page.

“Am I interrupting?” a voice breaks the casual chatter of the tent and all turn to see Sephina and Zips at its opening. The continual snores of the sleeping Tyrvaan draws their attention and Zips picks a stick from the floor and begins to poke at him with little success.

“Dragon!” Heri screams.

“Torm smite you…,” he growls loudly, swinging a limb through the empty air and pausing to look around at all that regard him. He clears his throat awkwardly and sits up. 

“What did you find?” Sephina asks, looking between dimly lit faces of the party.

“Ve found place. It Oasis.”

“But, we looked there.”

“Undervater, right?” Charles nods vigorously.

“Yes, the vision went into the water and through a cavern.” Sephina nods and puts a finger to her lips in thought.

“Excellent work. We also found more about the crystal key. It seems it comes from the altar we saw in the vision, the one beside the gate. Then we pass into a crystal world with ‘The Guardian’.”

“Sounds easy,” Mixibis states proudly.

“Now we just need to breathe water,” Sephina mumbles, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t have the magic to do that. We need to find another way,” Charles says, peering at his friends. 

“Search the town. If you hear something let us know. Galenten's men have stepped up their search, more are arriving each day. They know we are here and want us gone.”

“Ve also met someone in jail yesterday," Misxibis notes. "Dey spoke through their minion, said sent sand cow after us.”

“Must have been Ezeheli. What did he say?”

“Said ve be useful, then died.” Sephina's eyes flicked back and forth as she considered the implication.

“We need to be prepared when we face him. It seems he has gained some powers he didn’t previously possess. I have to go now, but keep following your strand and I’ll follow mine. We’ll rendezvous at the oasis after,” with that she turned and vanished into the darkness of the night.

“Let’s rest now and explore town tomorrow.” Everyone shared a look and nodded, heading to their corner of the tent to bed down for the night.

The morning sun blares down onto the desert sands. Five figures stumble across the intervening space, beneath the huge red stack, heading for the early buzz of the bazaar. The crowd grows by the minute as the fully cloaked figures squeeze into the throng. They watch their step as they creep through side-alleys and small hidden squares, eventually coming together outside a grey walled shop with a single wooden sign above the door in the shape of a bottle. The soiled words ‘Patient Potions’ is carved into the sign and the party squeezes in through the slightly too thin door.

“Alright there, Whaddya doing ere?” the shopkeeper barks. The party looked around at the rows of shelves filled with multi-coloured liquids and dried ingredients.

“Ve’re here for a potion. Dis is potion shop, right?” Mixsibis replies tartly.

“Aye, but you’re a strange bunch, aren’t yah?”

“True, but money is money,” Charles cuts in as Tryvaan growls ‘rude’.

“That it is. That it is,” the man muttered, ignore the growls of Tyrvaan. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“Potion that helps us breathe undervater,” Misxibis answers.

“Not a lot of water around here, all the ingredients are from the sea. Not easy to get in ere.” The shopkeeper titled his head as if seeking knowledge in the library of his mind. “There’s a shipment coming in, might have what yah want. It’s a few days late though, which usually means the worst. I’ll be happy to make yah what you want if you find it and bring back what you can. Hopefully it was just diverted, but if something happened, please bring back my business partner.”

“Vhere is it coming from?” Misxibis says.

“Sab’ Narath”

“I’ve made that journey, not an easy one,” Charles sighs. “We can see.” The shopkeeper nods and pulls a map from behind his poorly varnished wooden counter, handing it over.

“This is the route he takes, good luck, and thank ye.” 

The group turns, leaving the shop without another word.

The corral buzzes with activity.

“There’s no better way to travel Sabal than by sandelk,” Charles says, gesturing widely to the animals wandering their paddock. It was attached to the government building on the side of the desert and the dunes loomed high behind them. The party approach the wooden shed manned by a gruff looking man with sand in his beard.

“Guess you’ll be wanting some elk then,” the man grumbles. “How many? And how long will you be wanting them for?”

“Zips vant your own, or ride with me?” Misxibis asking, looking down at her smaller friend. 

“With you!” she squeaks.

“Ve rent for eight days, ve get a discount?” Misxibix queries turning to the man. His eyes narrow as he looks Misxibis up and down.

“I might charge you more for that comment,” the man grumbles. “It’ll be five silver a day per elk.” Charles choked out a curse.

“Sixteen gold!” 

The man nods.

“We can split it,” Heri and Tyrvaan say simultaneously, pulling some gold from their pouches.

The man sizes up the party, pausing momentarily at Tyrvaan and arching an eyebrow, before trotting out several sandelk to suit each of their sizes. Tyrvaan’s towers over the rest and as the party exchanged gold with the man, Heri approaches the leading sandelk, waving her hand and laying an enchantment upon him.

“Hello,” Heri bows before the elk.

“Hi.” The elk replies.

“Hope you don’t mind us hitching a ride.”

“Of course not, we should be helping each other out! Us animals, that is!”

The corral master stares at the rabbit and elk as they grunt at each other and scratches his head, turning to the rest of the party who shrug in reply.

“So… do you like walking around the sand?”

“I do! I love the sand! The pen is dull, but safe! The desert’s a dangerous place!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you!” Heri says cheerfully. “What’s your name? And your friends' names?”

“I’m Greyfur.”

“That’s a nice name!”

“I know right. Bit strange since my fur is yellow, but still nice. Over there,” the elk tilts its head towards the nearest elk, “...is Elkizabeth. That’s Toby and that big one is Elkon.”

Heri turns to her friends and shares the elk’s preferred names. The man throws his hands up in the air and walks away in disgust, as Charles removes his book and writes them down.

“I got Toby!” Charles shouts.

“Elkizabeth!” Misxibis shouts, cuddling up to her elk.

The party pair off onto the different elk and mount up, preparing to venture into the desert.

The morning passes with little to acknowledge. The dunes flow like waves of the ocean. Each time one is crested another appears before them. Heri spends her time in conversation with Greyfur, while Misxibis takes the lead with the map and Zips steers the elk. Tyrvaan and Charles bring up the rear and take the opportunity to catch a mid morning nap.

Charles jumps, peering around as the gentlest of tremors disturbs his slumber.

“Stop,” he whispers and Tyrvaan’s head shoots up as he scents the air. The party grinds to a halt as they crest the closest dune and across the sand dune before them a gargantuan fin cuts through the sand, like a shark through the ocean.

“Sand-shark or sand-wyrm,” Charles whispers as it moves off to the north. “That was a close one.”

“I make sandfish illusion there and they leave,” Misxibis states proudly.

“Let’s hope it wasn’t a sand-wyrm…,”Tyrvaan mutters, “they can be deadly.” He peers around the dunes and looks up at the sky.

“We’re going the wrong way. Sun’s in the wrong place. We’re going east, not south.”

“Is right way, away from sand shark?” Misxibis asks.

“Yes, give me the map.” Tyrvaan takes it and turns Elkon south, riding out ahead of the party and away from the disappearing sand-shark.

Two days of travel, false trails and sandstorms bring them to the top of a rocky ravine marked clearly on the map, and with it the sight of a half submerged and broken carriage.

Zips leaps from Elkizabeth as they approach and squeezes between the broken side panelling of the carriage. Sealed packages wrapped in thick paper lie scattered through the interior, and Zips grabs a few to read the names scrawled upon them. Each bears a different reagent or herb, some rare, others not so much.

“It looks like everything's in here!” She calls out to the others. Tyrvaan jumps from Elkon’s back and leans to inspect the exterior of the caravan as the others mill around. Dents and cuts mar the outside of the carriage, though no blood or bodies litter the site. Tyrvaan turns and scans the ravine with his battle worn eyes.

He points at the distorted sand a few dozen paces away and Misxibis curses.

“Shit! Tlincalli,” the others leap from their sandelk that scatter past the vibrating sand and up the side of the ravine as two huge half scorpion, half human creatures pull themselves from the depths of the sand. Beside them two giant scorpions shake the sand from their shiny black carapace and charge the group.

Heri moves back, draws her bow and releases an arrow into the nearest tlincalli. The arrow slams into its thick armour cracking the chitin and driving deeply into its chest. It rears back and shrieks in pain as Zips follows it up and slashes into its exposed chest. Misxibis a step behind raises her dagger to the thrashing creature and finds her hand empty a moment later as her weapon is knocked to the sand by a stray claw.

She dives to the floor, scrambling through the sand as Charles raises his hand to the monster unleashing a searing bolt of flame that slams into the creature's face. The tlincalli roars in defiance and pain and swings wildly with its sword. Zips takes its blow across the chest and ducks back further as its huge stinger slams into the sand where she’d just stood. 

An answering roar comes from behind and the other creature tlincalli rushes Heri, legs hammering into the sand as it waves its sword and catches Heri on the shoulder. He turns with the blow as the stinger punches through the space he’s just vacated. The giant scorpions let out a chittering warble at the scent of fresh blood and advances.

One scuttles towards Charles, claws clacking. It swipes forward, its claw crashing into the sand, but the second envelops him and squeezes. Blood appears on its chitin as Charles struggles against its vice-like grip. 

The other closes on Tyrvaan swinging claws and tail savagely as the dragonkin stands his ground and swats each of its blows aside as if battling wyrmlings on the training grounds of Kaln Igni. He flicks a glance at Charles and arches an eyebrow.

“I’m okay, I got this,” he breathes. “Just kill it!”

Tyrvaan nods, raising his mace high above his head. Golden light explodes from the blunt instrument and he roars with a primal battle shout before bringing it down in an arcing explosion of holy energy. The crunch is audible across the chaotic ravine and the scorpion shrieks in pain as the holy power surges across its body and burns away its armour.

Heri uses the distraction to leap away from her opponent and sprints across the battlefield, drawing her bow as she does and letting another arrow fly into the injured tlincalli. The arrow clangs off the creature’s chitin plates, but draws its ire as Zips slips beneath its guard, jumps onto one of its scrambling legs, and leaps over its back, lashing out with her rapier and removing the top of the creatures skull, before landing lightly in the sand.

The tlincalli doesn’t scream or groan, but crashes to the ground, throwing sand up around it. The other lets out a guttural shriek. Misxibis smiles at Zips, then draws her crossbow and points it towards Tyrvaan’s opponent, sending an inspirational wink towards Charles as she turns. The bolt cracks into its armour but fails to draw blood.

Charles takes a quick breath and dissipates into the air. A stream of mist flows across the ravine and reforms behind Heri.

“Titania’s blessing!” He curses at the sudden appearance of Charles, who launches a burning orb at the raging tlincalli. It smacks into the creature’s chest and burns a hole through its armour. The tlincalli’s red glowing eyes fix on Charles and it barrels across the sand and slashes with its sword, cutting into his raised forearm. He emits a grunt of pain and a blue barrier of light appears before him as the monster’s stinger slams against the magical shield.

The giant scorpion shrieks at the loss of its prey and charges for the nearest enemy, coming up behind Tyrvaan and battering at him. Tyrvaan raises his shield and weathers the storm of blows as the two creatures claw and sting wildly at him. Most are repelled, but a few find purchase between the chinks of his armour and as they recede, Tyrvaan stands tall, blood trickling from several wounds, some burning with scorpion venom and raises his mace high once more.

It glows with holy fire as he brings it down with incredible force and an exploding ring of light crashes into the burnt scorpion, leaving it a charred, smoking ruin. Tyrvaan falls to his knee before the corpse of his dead adversary. The scorpion behind closes, sensing its weakened prey, but is intercepted by the small green form of Zips, who swipes wildly, pushing it back from Tyrvaan.

Misxibis strums her lute and magically infused energy fills Tyrvaan, closing his wounds and forcing him to his feet once more. 

Charles waves his hand and a ripple appears in the air behind the creatures. The sand begins to shift, pulling towards a point at the centre and the scorpion slides back through the sand as the increased gravity cracks and splinters its chitin. The nearby tlincalli drives his sword into the ground and slips back a few metres resisting the pull of the gravity well spell.

It draws its sword from the ground and lashes at Heri, leaving a trail of blood across his chest, but stumbles as it raises its stringer and drives it into the sand before him. The remaining scorpion thrashes at Zips as they dance back and forth trading feints and careful blows. Sick of the playing, the enraged scorpion charge, bashes Zips rapier aside, scoops her up in its claw and drives its stinger into her shoulder.

She lets out a high pitched scream as the wound hisses and burns. Tyrvaan spins at the painful cries of his friend and strides forward slamming his mace into its claw, breaking its grip on Zips who tumbles to the ground. He marches on, thunder in his eyes and raises his mace, bringing it down, again and again, screaming with primal rage, until little of the giant scorpion remains bar the greenish ichor that covers his armour and the injured Zips.

The last foe screeches as Heri ducks beneath the tlincalli’s body and cuts at its legs with his hand-axes. Green blood flows from the cuts coating its armoured legs. Charles swings his quarterstaff at the monster as it seeks to pull Heri out from beneath it and slaps into its armoured side as he continues to awkwardly spin around.

The tlincalli knocks the thrashing Heri from beneath it with a swipe of its sword and he bounces out into the hard packed sand with a groan. The creature spins, his eyes landing on Misxibis alone and charges, plunging its stinger deep into her back. Misxibis convulses, hanging on the end of its stinger and falls to the ground with a gentle thud.

“Get up,” Heri screams, pulling herself from the soft sand and waving her hand towards Misxibis. A gentle autumn breeze rolls across the sand carrying glowing leaves and flowers that fade as they pass into her body. She gulps in a lungful of air and coughs, pulling her dagger and driving it upwards into the tlincalli that stands over her.

The creature rears its head in shock and three magically charged daggers slice through its chest emitting puffs of green blood from its back. It swings towards its foe in response and Charles ducks beneath the longsword and raises his shield as the stinger comes down, crashing against the blue of his shield and driving him to his knees.

Tyrvaan, seeing another friend in peril, charges towards the tlincalli, bringing his mace around and snapping one of the back legs beneath the force of his blow. Heri joins him, swiping wildly at its other leg and the creature’s back end buckles. In another blur of movement, Zips streaks past the two and up the creatures back. Her feet find easy purchase on its smooth chitin and she screams as she forces her rapier straight through the upright chest of the last tlincalli. The rapiers’ end erupts from the creature's abdomen, mere centimetres from Charles face and the creature's legs go out from under it. It slams to the ground and Zips rolls free, landing amongst the soft sand on her back as everyone slumps to the ground.

“Let’s find the sandelk, rest here, load up and head back in the morning,” Charles mutters, as exhaustion soaks into his limbs.

“Aye,” Tyrvaan grunts, looking to Heri, who is bounding up the nearby sandy ravine after their mounts. “And, the trader?”

“He is gone,” Misxibis answers tartly, “likely taken to tlincalli colony as slave, one ve have no vay of finding.”

Zipz and Charles look despondently at the broken wagon and sigh as they take the small tent from their travelling bag and begin to raise it beneath the sheltered lip of the ravine.