The hollow footsteps of Heri and Misxibis soon mix with those of Zylnan, Tyrvaan and Ballen as they come into view around a temple corridor. They peer around concern on their faces.

“Charles? Zipz?” Mixibis cracks a smile, revealing her large incisors and nods.

“Dey not feel good, went back tent, rest,” she pauses to glance at Heri, “ve know what he saw.” Zylnan nods and falls into step with them, though Tyrvaan hesitates for a moment and they pause.

“I will watch over them,” he grunts in reply and moves off towards the stairs. Ballen and Heri share a look and shrug at each other, before continuing after the others.

The main chamber opens up before them revealing Talkoris and his party. He smiles at their arrival, though halts upon seeing their diminished numbers.

“The others?” he phrases cautiously.

“Fine, just went to rest,” Zylnan adds and is answered with a sigh of relief. “Did you see something, what did you see?” 

Ravin nods, his face pale and drawn.

“I saw a stone arch built into the wall behind an Amethyst throne. It bore a keyhole shaped like a crystal. I felt a part of me being left behind as I passed through the portal, appearing in a huge temple.”

“Ve have map to keyhole. Have ve key?”

“I don’t know… What did you see?” Zylnan shares what he saw and as he finishes Heri piques up, relaying Charles’ vision.

The world shifts and Heri finds herself once more in the glade. His words stumble and halt as he glances around. A patch of blackened dust and plant stalks the only blemish upon this otherwise serene, albeit creepy, scene. 

Heri slumps back onto the floor, pushing the grass away as he falls. He pulls his knees up to his chest and looks around fervently, muttering as he does.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. I’m back in the temple. Everything is fine.” His muttering becomes even fainter, dwindling to nothing as a breeze floats through the glade, agitating the grass.

Get up.

Heri stiffens, his ears standing on end, each turning independently, seeking the source of the sound. He slowly gets to his feet and moves westward, in the direction of the blowing wind. The trees soon enshroud him and what feels like hours passes with little change in the world. Though the motes of light continue to bob through the branches and plants, there are no hints of animals or creatures. 

Heri spins at a light pressure on his shoulder, and steps back, tripping over a raised root and cracking his head against a mossy stone.

“Everything okay?” Zylnan queries,

“I don’t know… I was somewhere else… for a while… How long was I out for?”

“You ver here.”

“I was in a forest, but I don’t think it's on the material plane, but parts of it were dying.”

“Bunny, you ver here whole time.” Mixibis says, then freezes as a warm breeze begins to blow through the chamber, the first since they entered the temple. Everyone turns as one, peering down the tunnel from its source. The sand begins to shift slowly, and past everyones’ feet, collecting to form a dozen symbols on the floor, before flowing away as if they had never existed.

Heri chokes and lets out a ragged breath, her hand clutched to her chest. Then coughs the words out.

“Save her…,” The wind dwindles and vanishes and everyone turns to Heri.

“Save who?” Misxibis asks, turning to Talkoris and his companions. “Save who!” she says again. They share a look and Revin shrugs.

“It was clearly not meant for us,” everyone shares a glance and Heri mutters to himself.

“Kili’Nar Alit.” The others nod and look towards the direction the wind blew.

“A Westward wind…,” Zylnan adds, “should we follow it? Or go towards it source.”

“Follow it,” Heri answers without hesitation. Talkoris clears his throat and all heads turn to him.

“You’ve clearly got something big to deal with, but let’s not forget these visions. We must move against Ezeheli before he gives us the slip. We will do some investigating, and let you know what we find.” Talkoris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red and gold tasselled cloth, tossing it to Ballen. “If you find something, hang this outside your residence and Sephina will meet with you that night.”

“You find door, ve find key?” Misxibis says.

“Perhaps…,” he glances to Sephina and mutters and she nods stepping forward. 

“One of Ezeheli’s men was captured by the guards. Perhaps you can glean some information from him. Take this, it will get you into the guardhouse.” She pulls a rolled up document from a pouch at her hip and hands it to Misxibis.

“I think we’re wanted though,” Heri adds.

“Can you deal with this?” Talkoris asks of Sephina and she nods. He turns back to the party and smiles. “Give us a day, but the guards will not harass you, though we can do nothing about the wanted posters, so keep yourself covered. The people may still react.” She smiles at you and departs with the others, heading up the stairs.

“From my understanding, ve have list of things to do. Ve can go question guard, that is captured, but cannot do today. Ve can try to find this man, this Ezeheli? Ve can find key and keyhole, but maybe they doing that. Ve can follow wind, or can go to oasis vith Charles, and now ve have to find Kili’Nar person?”

The others nod in reply and Misxibis sighs. The group trail up the stairs into the warmth of desert twilight.

“What’s that way?” Heri pauses, looking westward.

“That vey is Crimson Canyons, or north is Sab Dubar, the Brass Citadel and Emperors seat. Beyond is Lightwatch, Shattered Shelf and Maelstrom. Dangerous places all of them. “ Misxibis answers and Heri nods, before continue into the evening.

It’s a quiet group that trail back to their tent. The silence continues through dinner and they turn in soon after, without much else said.

As the sun rises the party gathers once again, coming from their select nooks in the tent. Ballen raises an eyebrow as Heri drags herself from her rest.

“Everything okay?”

“I…I saw something else last night,” the others in the party turn, their attention piqued as they wait for him to continue. I saw a city, rising from the sand, shining in the light of the sun and a large dungeon. Within it was the most magnificent creature… A gigantic longma.” 

“Longma?” they all say at the same time.

“It’s a powerful fey being, a great scaled horse with huge golden horns and wings. This must be Kili’Nar Alit…”

The others share a glance and nod. 

“Then we know what we need to find?” Zylnan adds.

“You want to go town and check out bookshop?” Misxibis asks.

“Yes, maybe we can find something there… but maybe find the guardhouse first, and questions that man.”

“Let’s go…,” Ballen adds.

The guardhouse is a squat building that sits at the end of the main road within Sandmyst point. The scents and sounds of the crowded streets make talking all but impossible, as salesmen hawk their wares, people barter and beggars and thieves ply their trade.

The group breaks from the crowd and strides towards the building. An older guards with a large brush-like moustache and a stained uniform eyes them suspiciously before detaching from those milling around in front the building and moves to intercept the approaching characters.

“Ere, what’s this? You got something to report then?” He barks in a high pitched, uneven voice.

“Hello sir, we’ve come to talk to the prisoner?” Zylnan says.

“What makes you think you’ve got the right to just walk in then?” Misxibis hands the written document in her hand forward and Zylnan passes it to the guard.

“Ve have document,” the guard eyes her dubiously before scanning the piece of paper. As his eyes reach the bottom they widen with a start and he hurriedly rolls it up and hands it back.

“He’s in there, talk to the guard behind the desk,” he stutters, turning and walking quickly away. The group share a look and crowd around to peer at the document. It reads:

Those that bear this paper speak with my voice and my authority.
S.A.

The insignia beside the letters bears a silver shield with a purple dagger emblazoned across it. Misxibis quirks an eyebrow at the familiar symbol but shakes her head as she struggles to place it.

The group enter the plain, dilapidated room. A large wooden beam cuts across the centre of the room, separating dozens of desks and roughly uniformed officers from the chairs of the waiting room. Small barred windows let in little natural light and everything basks in the orange glow of torches placed along the wall.

Misxibis marches past those waiting to the sergeant behind the desk, waving her paper with the confidence of newly found power.

“Ve have permission. Ve speak to prisoner now. You leave for ten minutes,” the man catches sight of the flapping paper and moves around the counter to a small half door placed at its side, opening it for the party to enter, before hurrying past them to unlock a metal studded door and swinging it open. His quick movements attract the curious looks of those seated at the nearby desks, but none voice any objection.

“Send coffee,” Misxibis calls to no one as she steps through the doorway and strides down the steps into the cold dark of the stone made prison, followed by the others. A bench sits along one wall that faces four separate cells. A single torch burns at the centre of the room, casting dancing shadows through the bars and across the walls, the scent of its burning doing little to hide the scent of dirt, unwashed bodies and ill cleaned waste. 

As the party passes the first cell they spot the familiar sluggish movements of drunks. The second holds no one and the third holds an eclectic mix of seven humanoids, barely distinguishable in the darkness. A small green orc child sits at the end of the nearest bench and next to him lolls a were-rat, a lizardman and a red skinned person. Sitting opposite them are three humans, all wearing looks of distress. 

“Oh dear…,” Mixibis breathes.

“Good job sending the guards for coffee,” Zylana says.

“We’re gonna be here for more than the prisoner.” Heri adds, as the party moves past the cell and up to the bars of the last.

A sun tanned man in a black cloak, his hood thrown back to reveal his bald head sits cross-legged on the dirt covered floor, metal chains clamped around his ankles. Misxibis grabs the key from the hook half way up the opposite wall and jams it into the lock with the metallic echo of a rusted clank, before turning it and swinging the door open on creaky hinges. The man doesn’t look up, his head, instead, lolling back and forth as Zylnan and Ballen slip into the spacious darkened cell, while Heri and Misxibis wait by the door.

“We have come to take your official statement. Please, state your name and occupation,” Zylnan says. Silence stretches as the group awaits his long awaited response. His head slowly tilts back as he looks towards the group without seeing them. A dark shadow falls across his drawn and haggard face and his eyes drift about the cell.

“Go away,” he groans.

“If you don’t give your statement, how will you defend yourself against the crimes you face,” Zylnan presses. The corner of his mouth curls slowly upward, revealing several stained teeth.

“He will come for me…,” he mutters.

“Why will he come for you? And who is this he?” Zylnan asks, taking a step towards the man. “Because of what you did? Of what he made you do?”

The quiet words repeated over and over by the man echo around the cell like wisps on the wind. His head jerks up and his eyes focus on Zylnan’s lowered face.

“And he will make you pay,” the words silence the whispers echoing through the cell and Zylnan takes an unsure step back.

“Galenten?” Misxibis asks, looking for something in the man’s face and seeing nothing. “Ezeheli?” she continues, hoping for something. At the name his eyes slide from Zylnan and fix on Misxibis before slowly drifting over the faces of the others. His mouth splits into a grin that fails to touch his eyes and they become intent, flicking back and forth between the four of them.

“Yes, Yes. You did well with the minotaur,” he states, clearly and absent of the accent the man’s words had previously contained. “We’ll see what else you can deal with in due time. You may be of use to me yet.”

Zylnan and Ballen share a brief look as Mixibis and Heri look over their shoulder for a second, their eyes meeting as something cold settles between their shoulder blades, a feeling of being watched.

They both turn back to the man as a familiar cold, green light kindles in his eyes.

“Get back!” Heri shouts to the others as she remembers the light of the sand-wraiths. Ballen and Zylnan stumble back at the sudden roar of her voice in the enclosed cell and the prisoner’s head tilts back, opening to reveal another light, glowing a deep green from his throat.”

“You’ll never find him. You’ll never find what he seeks. You’ll never find…,” the words end with a choking sound and the man convulses a few times, silently retching as a green mist of light flows from his mouth and through the ceiling of the cell. The shaking body of the man falls to the ground, eyes open in what the characters recognise as the stare of a dead man.  

“We lock door and leave now quick,” Mixsibis says.

“No,no, no,” Zylnan argues, “Before we leave…,” he walks towards him and pats the man down in search of anything the guards missed. Zylnan freezes as he turns the man over and finds a fresh symbol carved into his neck. The horizontal diamond shape is framed by four quarters of a broken circle.

“That is like chain link?” Misxibis says from over his shoulder.

“Or… an eye and a chain link?” Zylnan adds.

“Maybe?” Zylnan nods, lowering the man to the floor of the cell as if he were sitting and stepping slowly away, locking the cell behind him. The group heads towards the stairs, but stops instead in front of the third cell. They move forward, stopping at the bars to stare at those within, some of whom return their stares with equal measures of concern, fear or ambiguity. 

 “Excuse me? Why you in cell?” Mixsibis asks. One of the humans jumps up and moves to the bars, gripping them until his knuckles turn white, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know! This is madness. They said we fit a description or something? But we didn’t do anything! What kind of description would we fit!” The orc child begins to sob, his words lost in the torrent of tears that follow as the lizardman nearby rolls his eyes and snaps through his lipless mouth.

“Uhss! Would you be quietss?  I hatess this placess and all the dryness. It dries out my skinss!”

“Thinking you in here by mistake,” Mixibis reassures the chattering prisoners. “Ve talk to guards, get you released.”

“Yes, please!” the man stammers, “What kind of group of mad people would look like us?”

“Hey!” Mixibis snaps, “careful now!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here. We’ll help you find your mum,” Heri says, kneeling down to meet the orc child’s eyes as Ballen passes his water skin through the bars to him. He takes it and begins to drink, calming his wails to a soft choking sob.

“Pass it round,” Ballen says as Heri steps up to the human clinging to the bars.

“I hope that your time in here has given you an opportunity to think about your life decisions and who you want to be.”

“I want to be free!” he shouts manically, tugging on the bars, “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything?” Heri rolls her eyes and walks away Ballen beside her.

“Humans,” he mumbles and she nods as they ascend the stairs back up to the waiting room. As they emerge, the guard slides a bundle of items over the desk, with a low grumble.

“Maybe these’ll be useful to you. He was accused of poisoning the oasis. We didn’t find any poison on him but can’t imagine why else he was down there.” Misxibis nods to the man and takes the items, sliding them into her bag.

“What’s down there? In the oasis I mean?” Zylnan asks. The guard raises an eyebrow at the question.

“It’s an oasis, so… water?” Mixibis fixes the man with a stiff look and wags the paper in his face. He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Um… it’s in an old quarry looking place, cut into the stone of the desert. The water’s really deep, never really sent anything down to the bottom. Why else would he head down there, other than to poison it? It’s been happening a lot since the Grey Moon showed up.” 

“Water in quarry,” Misxibis mutters a few times, ignoring the guards last comment and elbowing the daydreaming Heri.

“Oh…OH!” he exclaims causing several guards at the desks to look up and scowl at the group before returning to their work.

“Well don’t worry about dodgy man, he will be very quiet now. No need to check on him,” Mixibis says, leaning forward onto the desk with both hands to reassure the guard. Now we may also go to quarry, to investigate.” The guard shakes his head at her with a ‘why the fuck are you still talking’ look before answering.

“We check on em every half an hour. If any die it’s a mountain of paperwork for us. What… what did you do down there?”

“Okay. Vell ve did not touch him, but we have bigger fish fry,” Mixibis continues, dodging the man’s question. ”Those in other cell, what they do?” The guard splutters at the sudden change in questioning.

“They… they’re the culprits for burning down the Sandlion.”

“They did not burn down Sandlion. Ve vere in Sandlion.”

“Yeah the description was a small green child, a hairy person, dragon lizard, some humans and a red skinned man.” Heri, Ballen and Zylnan blanche at the description, turning away hurriedly as Misxibis pushes on.

“This paper says let them go! Let them go!” The guard looks around helplessly, but none of the others look up to offer assistance and he sighs.

“Leeeroy! “ he barks, “Leeroy, get down there and release that rabble in cell three, give em a stern warning, that we’re watching them, but let em go.” he says the last with a note of finality and Mixibis puffs out her chest in satisfaction.

The group waits in silence as the man called Leeroy heads down into the cell. The clanking of metal follows as does the hurried footsteps of those imprisoned approaching. The humans rush up and out the door without a word, followed by the were-rat, fire genasi, lizardman and orc child, who all bestow their thanks on the party before swearing to never return to this place. As the last door swings shut Ballen calls after.

“Can I have my water back please?” A moment passes then the door opens and a scale hand appears tossing the water skin towards him before disappearing. It hits Ballen in the chest and falls to the ground.

“Thank you!” he calls and is met with the silence that descends over the room as he scoops down to pick it up and put it away.

“Okay, well… goodbye…, see you soon.” Misxibis states walking from the room and waving over her shoulder at the guard as the others follow her out into the mid afternoon sun. “Let’s hang rope on tent and see what others found.”

The others nod in agreement as they discuss the likelihood of the place they search for being beneath the oasis.

“Let’s find that book shop first and see what we can learn of this,” Heri announces and the others nod, turning once more towards the bazaar.

The party looks up at the sign over the squat door of an orange plastered building tucked away down a back alley. It reads:

Lonian’s books and other readable things.

“Looks legit,” Misxibis mutters and they push open the door and file in. The shop stretches back further than previously thought, following down a thin corridor before opening up into a high ceilinged room adorned with rugs and dozens of mismatched chairs and benches. Each has been squeezed between the bookshelves that cover every inch of the wall and reach to the roof. Light streams from a single skylight covered in mirrors, and unlit lamps dot the various reading nooks created by the maze of stacked books.

 Two small legs dangle from high up on a particularly large shelf where a gnome holds a comically large book and pulls quickly on an intricate pipe, producing yellow smoke with an oddly sweet scent.

Zylnan stops at the desk surveying the selection of odd but inexpensive looking objects before concluding the green wood carved frog is the bell. He presses it gingerly with his finger and it bounces as if made of anything other than wood, emitting three life-like croaks. At the sound, wide round spectacles peer over the book and his eyebrows rise comically. The gnome puts the pipe through his glasses, which the party now see have no glass within and lifts them to get a better look at the assembled group. 

“Ahhhh customers! Yes!” He calls in a high pitched voice and grins. He throws his book aside, leaning over the edge and jumps off,  grabbing a loose cord of rope that lowers him, a little bit too quickly, to the desk where his cloth shoes hit with a hollow thump. “What can I help you with?”

“Hello, Mr…. bookkeeper. Do you have any books in regard to the nearby oasis?” Zylnan asks, uncertain of how to address the odd white haired gnome.

“You’ll be wanting history then! Over there,” he gestures. “Most are in the government building, but an archeologist called Krono wrote one!” Zylnan nods and moves over to the bookcase.

“Next!” The bookeeper calls and Misxibis steps up.

“Any poetry… from area?” His eyes twinkle at the question and he gestures at the back wall.

“Yes, yes, got lots of that! Though these Saballians are a boring lot! Love accounting, and limericks, not poetry so much, but got some old stuff for you! Just head on back. It’s one gold to sit and read for the day! Leave it on the desk!” he calls as Mixsibis wanders past to eagerly browse the shelves.

“Next!”

Heri steps past, towards the fantasy section, selecting a book titled, “The Planes of Ether Gods and Those Who Rule Them’. The gnome watches him go and Ballen walks to the other side, selecting a book on ‘Saballian Religions’.

The gnome nods as everyone settles down and disappears in the back room, before reappearing with a tray of tea and placing it beside each of the guests. He sighs with satisfaction and climbs back up into his reading nook, sliding his feet up and leaning against a pillow as he picks up his discarded book and dives back into it. The contents of the book reveal:

Krono’s history of Sandmyst Point

The oasis was here when the first settlers came to Sandmyst point and was the key reason for an outpost being founded. Its waters were used for swimming and drinking, though its depth has never accurately been ascertained. Reports surfaced of people vanishing within its waters, never to be found and this caused those in power to limit access for safety reasons. Any attempt in finding the missing became a pointless task as items submerged ceased to function beyond a hundred metres, 

Towards the end of the book in the most recent entry it states

With the rise of the Grey Moon, an anti-government and anti-Emperor organisation, the local council saw fit to ban all from entering for fear of espionage and damage to the natural reserve.

Ballads of the Ashborne Desert

Within the book a passage draws your eye, one of an ancient tale passed down from a time before Sabal. As you hum the tune it holds a familiarity to you.

High in the halls of those who are dead,
A chance of salvation was made.
One for the lost and one for the living,
And one who would banish the host.

For when the world, hung on the edge,
And all struggled and died,
The wizards of heaven, summoned their strength,
And bound it within Elanai.

She only wanted the might
To combat the creatures and fight,
Her hands began to burn bright
And burned the horrors of night,
With a wave she vanquished the plight
And her body sickened with blight.

They fought for their lives and all of the world,
Elenai at the fore.
The host fled before her might and all those fallen did serve.

She only wanted the might
To combat the creatures and fight,
Her hands began to burn bright
And burned the horrors of night,
With a wave she vanquished the plight
And her body sickened with blight.

Beware the gift and all that it brings,
Its power isn’t a lie.
Though the fate of those who wield its strength,
Will suffer like Elenai.

The Planes of the Ether Gods and Those Who Rule Them

The presence of the fey queens in the mortal plane in recent years is a cause for concern. Their power can bend the world and its life around them. The presence of Tiandra, Queen of the Summer Court, has been confirmed within the Elyswer and her magic is already suffusing its inhabitants. What her plans are, is not yet known, but a creature of such power here should be watched with greatest care. Though things get worse from here, for the fey pride themselves on balance, and where Tiandra walks, so too does her sister, Mab. The Queen of Air and Darkness is as beautiful as she is terrifying and her minions are ruthless. Here is the good news at least, with the planes bending as they are and Tiandra appearing in the Elyswer, Mab would appear in her element, far from Sabal. Though hints of rumours place her amongst the Frigid Peaks, I will not test that hypothesis, for I do not have a death wish.

Later in the book is written:

Kili’Nar Alit, sits high within Tiandra's court. She is the Queen of the Longma and births all of those beneath her, or at the very least must provide her blessing to those that wish to birth their own. As queen she is afforded their loyalty and their will. None of her kin may disobey, or stand against her wishes.

Saballian Religions

Worship of all prime deities is banned, though paying respects to family and family tokens is encouraged. The Emperor of Sabal is above all else, and all temples and organised religions must be of our God Emperor. No temples or shrines to other gods exist as belief in these were the cause of the cataclysm, the breaking of the world, and to worship gods again would once more bring doom to the planet.