The caravan from Tyr to Urik had been a painful one, the journey slow and fractious, the various merchants arguing with one another, the kanks loud, smelly, and feisty, the food poor and the water brackish.
Which was why, still in the Wastes, Klau-Doth was able to convince the others that they were better served striking out on their own in search of a legendary treasure, one whispered about amongst even the caravan guards. After all, they had enough supplies to traverse the desert wastes for some time, and with an undead mekillot as a riding beast, they need not fear their mount would pass away.
While not entirely convinced by his arguments (after all, if it was that well known a legendary treasure, why had no one found it yet?), Kythor and Urax agreed that even the stifling heat and loneliness of the Wastes was better than trudging along in a unending stream of kank crap. And so the three of them set out atop the mekillot, letting its howdah shade them as they trundled into the burning sands.
Instinct guided them, maps of the area being inconclusive, until they stood atop the edge of a great sandy bowl, heat pummelling down upon them. But below, in the sunken vastness, stood not only the vast bulks of sandstone mesas, but also, far in the distance, the unmistakeable visual of a temple, cut deep into a sandstone cliff. Perhaps the legends were true, after all.
Between them and their goal lay a vast expanse of baking sand, perhaps nine miles in distance. Nearest to the temple, it glowed and glittered, almost blinding even from a distance, but looking like a fiery ring of gold. Perhaps it signalled the treasures that were to come… or perhaps a burning heat, one that would exhaust them all.
