The noise of the camp had diminished appreciably after one or two twists of the dry river bed. Then little had been heard except the crunch of camel hoof on dry gravel and stone. Leeham had remained silent as he rode with Malthus. When the sun finally appeared in the east, Kris had to speak.

"I know we want to put as much of this damned land between us and the army, but we shouldn't kill out mounts and the Hin in the attempt!"

"I agree," said Cronwyn. His bruised ribs were also disagreeing with him, but he knew that Ark had been wounded far worse and wasn't complaining, so he said nothing. He was also glad to see that Mazjlin had been brought along without comment, at least for the time being. Perhaps that had been Ghitu's idea from the start?

Ghitu nodded, "Fine, just a few more hours until it gets too hot. It is impossible to travel here during the heat."

The Sindian's traveling spell had worn off now, so it was possible to travel close to each other and start talking. "How is the halfling anyway, Malthus??"

"Hmmm. He was wounded quite badly, but he is safe for now. But this traveling isn't helping him," said the cleric. "I'm afraid it will be some time before he is up and running."

"By the Seven Craftsmen!" Cronwyn bellowed, suddenly drawing attention to himself and almost falling off his camel. "I left it behind!" The party turned in his direction.

"My dagger, my silver throwing dagger. I must have left it in the camp where Leeham was bound - did you pick it up Turadyl?"

The elf shook his head, "I used my sword to cut Leeham's bonds. I didn't see it there or I would have taken it."

The fighter held his head in his hand. "I can't believe I'm so foolish. If it is found it could bring disaster on the whole journey."

"Relax," said Kris. "Obviously it is different from what the nomads usually use, but they must have some loot from our homeland already."

Cronwyn shook his head, "Not like this. You see it had the Toney Merchant House coat of arm on it! It will pin-point who rescued Leeham and killed Gholkhus as well as a calling card would have!"

"Then that is very bad," Turadyl muttered. "It could even be used to scry for us..."

"But there is nothing we can do," said Kris. "Just get as far away from them as we can. There is no way we can go back for it!"

Cronwyn nods, "I suppose you are right Kris, it's too late now. I must be more careful from now on. If I have alerted the White Lady to our presence... I still can't believe I forgot it."

Ark gave a snort, "Think on this human. There are quite obviously at war with Darokin and right about now they will be discovering one very dead Giant. I think their first suspicion was always going to be republic forces. I don't feel that your indiscretion will have given too much away."

The Hin was still unconscious and Malthus had too keep one hand on him as they walked along, else the swaying trot of the camels would have sent him tumbling to the desert floor. As they travel he seemed to sometime mutter something to himself but was still not aware of his surroundings. After several more minutes, Cronwyn recovered enough to guide his camel over next to Mazjlin and start asking the nomad some questions.

"Mazjlin, I must ask, who is this Master that the nomads are following?"

The nomad screwed his eyes up and looked into the sun, as though bring that force to mind was painful. "He is called Lord of Hule, King beyond the Black Mountains, Devourer of Enemies, Death of Unbelievers..."

"Err yes, thanks Mazjlin, I get the idea," said Cronwyn.

"He is a very powerful Sorcerer. He brings his own creatures back from the dead to serve him. They are deadly fell things that suck a man's mind dry and leave him a wasted shell..." The nomad grimaced, "Others you never see... Your body is found int he morning with your guts eaten and your throat ripped out."

"Thank you!" said Cronwyn, happy that the speech had finally ended. On this topic at least the austere nomad had a lot to say. "How did you contact your tribe?"

"I do not know," shrugged the barbarian. "I first heard of him through Azardi, our Rackman." Mazjlin looked sad again for a second.

"So why are you following him?"

"The chief said that the Huleans would give us the power to reap the riches of Sind. And so far he has been right! But the cost to the tribe has been staggering."

"Where does the Master come from?

beyond the Black Mountains I presume...

 What can you tell me about the country to
the north of the black mountains?

I know nothing - none have even tried in my tribes' memory since it is
suicide to try to cross the Black Mountains, as they are impenetrable.

Is this his homeland?

who knows? <shrugs his shoulders>

What is it called?"

Hule is the name he has called it by.

"How many nomad tribes are following him?

Mine, the Muhadi and several others that believed his promises. Some did
not believe, like the the Dagahli... they were killed - man, woman and
child after attacking one of the Master's supply trains.

From how far away in the Sind desert is the Master drawing his followers?"

Like fish in the ocean, the Urduk come from everywhere in the Waste.

"Who is the White Lady? What is her relationship with the main army?"

She is the General's Mistress. She is feared throughout the camp and has
ordered many executions to wrong thinkers. She can be found slinking
about at all hours. Its said that she knows everything that happens in
camp, and is from the East originally. She is bewitchingly beautiful. If
she were not such a scorpion I would relish having her myself.

"Who is the general of the army that you were with?

Some Hulean chief. He stays in his rolling fortress with the Fountain
That Everflows - now that is a magic that my people could put to great
use.

Where does he come from?"

Beyond the Black Mountains I SAID!

"Where are the deviners from and what do they do?"

They're religious zealots, some sort of independent force within the
army. The generals won't order anything without their approval. All of
the Hulean army are committed, organized fanatics, which causes the
Muhadi trouble - we do not like to be told what to do and how to think
by one of our own, let alone foreign barbarians.

"What news do you have of how the war is going?"

The Master's forces have laid waste to all opposition. We have smashed the
soft wetlanders army - the Sindian army was destroyed weeks ago. Now we march to
destroy Gola Keep and Gunga Keep. After that we go east...

"What do you know about the land to the north of here where we are heading?"

The arroyos and canyons become more and more difficult. My people stay
out of this part of the Waste if they can help it. It is said that
water, and death, can be found in the caves and sinkholes that dot this
area.

"How can we defeat the Master?"

The Muhadi say that the greatest warrior is no mightier than the
smallest scorpion that stings him.

Pulling Cronwyn aside for a moment, Malthus adds silently, "The White
Lady seemed to have a great deal of power. Perhaps Mazjlin may know
more about her abilities."

"She can read minds and perfor great socery. It is said that no man can resist her
and few can survive her."

"Cronwyn," Malthus interrupts. The long questioning period has taken
it's toll on everyone. "A moment, if you please." Malthus waits for
the desert man to stop and come over. "One last one, while I don't
think that mazjlin will know specifics, perhaps he knows more of the
direction that this force is heading to, beyond their immediate target?
I mean, is there a specific goal that they are after? An artifact,
perhaps, or something equally obscure?"

"If they are, they have not told us - all they talk to us about is
RIGHT THINKING, which of course means think their way or suffer extreme
punishment! Oh... and do this and do that and go here and go there...
you get the idea I'm sure."

[GM: Go ahead and interject. I'm going to assume that these questions are
being asked and answered sometime in the early daylight hours. The spell has
worn off, and you all rode your mounts rather hard in the dark to open up as
much distance as possible. Taking your cues from Cronwyn, Turadyl, and
Mazjlin (who all have desert experiece) you have been dismounting and walking
along side your beasts for short spans to rest them, and stretch aching legs.
These questions for the Muhadi come in the first daylight "walk" period
where you can actually see who your talking to. ]

"So.. now it is my turn!", Mazjlin exclaims.

Cronwyn chuckles out loud. "Fair enough!", he replies.

What do you care what the master does? Where in the seven hells are
you trying to go? We have spent many
hours traveling in this direction - what is at the end of the trail?

Cronwyn hesitates noticeably and the grin slightly recedes from his face. He
knows that the next few moments are vital in deciding wether Mazjlin will be
able to stay with the party. He suspects that most people in the party would
be more than happy to thank Mazjlin and then turn him loose into the desert.
But for some reason the old merchant senses that this desertman could be
useful - no vital to the journey's success. Cronwyn has heard a lot about
the desert nomads, although this is the first time he has ever met one. The
Sind natives called them barbarous and warlike, but they were always
regarded as honourable. Cronwyn thinks Mazjliin can be trusted.

The second that has past gives little hint of what was going on in the
trader's head. "We seek to end the war", he answers simply. Not giving
anything away. He looks around carefully to study Turadyl's reaction, he
knows that the elf is going to provide the greatest amount of resistance to
Mazjlin helping them.

"It is obvious that some of you have never been in the desert before -
is this not so? How do you expect to survive if you do not plan better
than this?"

"Yes, well...", answers Cronwyn looking pointedly at Kris. "Some of us have
been finding the desert a little more different than others. As to finding
water, we may be able to call on magical means if need be", the merchant
bluffs, "And perhaps find a little along the way to make up the balance."

Kris doesn't answer, even if his uneasiness in this climate is obvious.
Sweat and skin burning have tormented him as far that now his nature seems
changed too, The sun and the desert have made him more silent and thought,
without his usual humor and love for fun and adventures ... a transitory
state, he hopes.

"I tell you that we are headed for a very dry time unless the gods take
pity on us."

Malthus interjects at this point. "Halav be willing at this point, I
can create water as need be. It is a powerful spell and drains me
somewhat, but I can cast it once per day. I will need to pray for it,
as I have asked the Great One for a different spell." Malthus shrugs.
"The gods are strict in their ways. Once cast though, it should create
enough water to last for a few days."

[Dana: I don't have the exact description of "Create Water". I have
only played AD&D and so the spell is quite different. I believe it is 1
cu. ft. per level. Also, to memorize a spell, what length of time is
required before i can cast it, say for a 4th level spell.]

Turadyl remains silent during the questioning, and since he's still
invisible, it's very difficult for the others to gauge his reaction. He
catches himself in the realization that Mazjlin may be a more valuable ally
than some of the others in their small group. He's still not certain the
desert man can be trusted, but his knowledge of the local terrain and
climate could save all their lives. His years spent in the desert country
of Ylaruam taught him much about desert survival, yet he's not arrogant
enough to think that this land is identical. Having a local resident
advising them could easily mean the difference between life and death. The
elf is of the opinion that the man should be kept as an ally if at all
possible, at least until they get out of this horrid scorched land. Then...
well, by then his actions will have proven whether or not he can be
trusted further.

Ark listens quietly to the exchanges between Mazjlin and the others.
A grim smile appearing under dust layered on his face. While he is still
unsure about trusting the parties new member he does feel that Mazjlins
expertise could be invaluable.
Looking at the brightening of the sky in the east he speaks up." I
agree it probably is time for us to find shade. Although my bruised ribs
give me a slightly biased outlook." Arks mood seems to have lightened a
considerably with the groups reunification with Treeshadow.

[Jason: Is there still someone playing Treeshadows character or is he
an NPC again?]

Cronwyn smiles at Ark's comment, showing that he is also feeling a little
better now that the Hin is with them. "I agree Ark, perhaps we can take
temporary shelter under the eve of a gully wall and move with the shadows".
Cronwyn leads the party with Ghitu's guidance to a likely looking spot.

Cronwyn takes the opportunity to have a quiet game of dice with Kris, while
waiting for the sun to lesson. It has been some time since their first game,
but the old trader has not forgotten the beating that he suffered last time.
Cronwyn's luck is poor at the start, and he thinks he may be in for a repeat
deal, but after an hour or so he manages to claw some copper coins back. By
the time the heat forces the pair to call it quits, the merchant is very
slightly ahead. "Ah ha!", exclaims Cronywn. "I told you that my luck would
change further inside the desert! With this drier air to help my rolling,
there's no stopping me now!"

"There is no fun winning every time, and you are really improving. I think
tomorrow we'll play again, but I'm going to rise our bet. Maybe ten times
this poor one". Kris check in his poket if he still has his 'special' dice
and make a laaarge smile while he pays the merchant

Ghitu gasps out as he is passing an all-too-small ration of water to group
during this dawn march: "Friends, soon the sun will be high enough in the sky
to cook us, and forward progress in such conditions is hard on both mount and
rider alike. We will need to decide if we press on or find a shady spot to
seek shelter from the worst the day has to offer us."

[GM: Note: the ground has become more badlandish and full of black rock
outcroppings as you push west, so for part of the morning you can go from
light to shadow to light again as you weave round these bluffs and gullies.
The soil is rockier than the sand of previous days, and you occasionally
cross exposed tops of huge, underground stone formations for yards at a time.]

After checking on Treeshadow, and seeing him in the clerics capable
hands Ark unfastens his mandolin from its secure place on the camel. A
slightly wistful look crosses his face as he considers striking up a tune,
however the consideration is shortlived and Ark simply check the instrument
for damage and broken strings.

'Ghitu' makes a last pass of water from the rapidly emptying skins to
everyone. You consumed a bit in pushing the pace the way you did, and the
animals even look tired.

"These durable beasts will also need water, and a good deal of it, soon. We
cannot take their endurance for granted ...tsk tsk . ", he softly says as he
patiently checks their hooves and legs for damage, while forcing them to
crouch down in their ungainly (to horsemen) manner.

Wearily, the Sindian finally takes a place in the shade against the rock.
With a resigned sigh, he crosses his legs and closes his eyes. Resting his
back against the warm surface, from time to time he scratches at several
vermin he picked up from his 'borrowed' disguise. He absently pinches one
out of his beard, and opens one eye to inspect his 'guest.' He groggily
murmurs, "I'm too tired to catalog the local fauna at present," and squishes
it between his fingernails.

[GM: In the light of dawn, you all notice that the ponies are missing. Some
of their packs are distributed among the desert-beasts.]

[John: What do you mean "the ponies are missing"?]

Cronwyn looks surprised at the disappearance of the ponies. "Ghitu", he
accuses, "Were did the ponies go during the night?"

Cracking open one bloodshot eye, the Sindian looks over to where the halfling
lies senseless. Since the hin is not listening, he confides in his
aristocratic Darokin: "They are food for jackals, I'm afraid. Those poor
beasts would not have been able to keep up, and would have consumed more
water than we can spare in this inhospitable place. I know Treeshadow was
attached to them, but I did what I felt would best ensure our survival, don't
you know. I left their carcasses on the waste heap."

As his eyes close again, he concludes: "It was quicker than dying of thirst,
I assure you."

Ark nods approvingly. "It is always difficult to separate brutal
necessity from unecessary brutality. In this case i agree with Ghitu. I too
think a pause til sunset is in order"

Kris listens for the sindian explanation, wandering how strong his muscle
are and his ride condition ... if he ever couldn't be able to carry his
water rations ... should they kill him?
Probably is this heat that puts these strange thoughts in his mind ... it's
time to rest.

Cronwyn says nothing, but doubts whether the brutality was necessary.

Malthus gives Cronwyn a sidelong glance. His eyes tell the priest that
he, too, feels it might have been better with the animals.

Turadyl notices all this from the concealment of his invisibility, and
silently agrees with these two that the loss of those animals may have been
needless. True, they would require much water, but Malthus has indicated
that Halav could be relied upon to provide it in great quantities. They
would have been useful upon reaching the mountains, too, he thinks to
himself. He pushes these thoughts from him mind, deciding that it's not
worth arguing over now that the deed was done. In a harsh environment like
this they couldn't afford to disagree over something that couldn't be
changed. They must all cooperate.

Kris is sleeping, othewise he would comments that the disappeared ponies
could have given us enought meat ... but he's sleeping :)

[GM: Let me know how "accelerated" you want events to transpire at this
point. Thanks.]

[John: Pretty quick thanks, nobody has really had anything to say for a
while now. We want to move towards the Black Mountains, as shown on our map.
Resting between about noon and 3pm, and travelling well into the night.]

Cronwyn roams his eyes around the group, taking in the tiredness of the
party and their mounts. "I don't want to press on until the sun is weaker",
he announces. "I suggest we hide ourselves as best as possible in one of the
crevices in the wadi wall. We can post guards on the lip of the gully, two
at a time. By the way, does anybody know about scrying? Do you think there
is a chance our enemy could use magic to find us?". The fighter hesitates
after this, hoping that the enemy won't ever notice that they are gone.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but this old man is tired. The
journey in the heat of the day won't be easy." Malthus looks to the
rest of the group.

Sitting the slowly shrinking shadow of the boulder the group and the animals
catch a few hours much needed rest. Judging by the maps from The Nagpa lair
and Guilliam's original one, you need to continue pressing on into
West/Northwest. From the stars last night and Mazjlin's own knowledge of the
Waste, you are fairly certain of the direction you must proceed. But the
escape was during the coolest temperatures of the day, and things will only
get hotter. Those not asleep with exhaustion can watch the edge of the shade
slowly approach your feet as the sun creeps to it's apex.

[GM: Will you rest? Pause to get spells? Press on while you have some lead
on possible pursuit? Look for a good ambush spot? Hunt for water/food?]

"Turadyl, if you are still here, we'd like your advice as well,"
Malthus says wiping the sweat from his brow.

[Dana: My mind is a seive, and I've deleted most of my posts from the
past. Does everyone know that Turadyl is invisible? If so, then
Malthus adds.]

[Kevin: Yes, Turadyl is still invisible, since it's permanent until dispelled.
If the rest of the party is really uncomfortable with this, he can become
visible again, but in his opinion that would be wasting the effect of a
perfectly good spell. He'll remain invisible unless and until somebody
objects.]

[John: He still is?! Surely Turadyl can't stay that way for ever?]

[GM: spell says until dispelled by attacking or spellcasting. . . . .]

"I would like to pray for a few hours to get some spells back. Perhaps
then I can heal Treeshadow further."

[GM: You will need to sleep to prepare your mind for the right receptiveness
to the divine power of Halav. Right now you are strung out/sleepless since
yesterday afternoon. A good eight hours of uninterupted rest are required for
full spell recovery.]

"My friends," Malthus intones, "I am afraid that I must sleep more. I
was more tired than I thought. I do not like to burden the rest of you,
but I must sleep a night's rest before Halav will bestow more of his
gift. I will try to sleep now, but I do not know how long it will be
before nightfall and we must move again."

And with that, Malthus moves off to find a good, shady spot to rest his
weary bones.

Seemingly from the air, Turadyl's voice speaks up, "Yes, we should rest. It
would be good to get farther from the enemy, but killing ourselves in the
process would be pointless. Some of us are badly hurt, and there is the
matter of spells. We should get what sleep we can, but a guard must be
posted. I shall take first watch, since I was not hurt in the fight with
the giant." The elf leaves it to the others to decide amongst themselves
who is fit for watch duty, and moves to the best vantage point he can find
outside the direct sunlight.

[Kevin: Question for DM - does invisibility offer any protection from the
intense sunlight, since it's effectively passing right through the
character?]

[Kevin: Other players note - though Turadyl is still invisible, you may recall
that he daily casts a "Predict Weather" spell so we won't be surprised by
something like a sandstorm. As soon as we get back into a normal routine
and he has his full complement of spells, he will resume this. At that time
(or sooner if there's any fighting), he will become visible.]

"You can count on me for the second watch, I'm tired but not wounded (just
Mazjilin's hits). I'm going to rest, please Turadyl, wake me up when will
be time". Krys looks for the best place to rest, and prepare to get some
relief from next hours.

Mazjlin's face is expressionless as he closes his eyes, lays back, and
goes to sleep...

The group is able, by rigging some tent cloth and using the boulder's shade
as it travels around the rock, to survive the worst of the day. They use the
rest of their water to keep themselves and the animals alive and it is only
through the intervention of Halav by providing water at Malthus's fervent
prayers that you come to see the long shadows of afternoon. You all drink
greedily from the spring which bursts forth from the boulder's side, and fill
water skins as the camels lap for minutes at the flowing water. After its
initial surprise at the springs sudden appearance, even Ghitu's monkey plays
in the runoff. The camp rests, hot but satiated for the first time in days.
(Food, however, will soon be a problem . . .)

[GM: I'm assuming from the last posts that that is what you will use for that
spell slot, Malthus. Tell me how much water you wished to create. All other
Spell casters should let me know what they have chosen after the rest period.
Turadyl, the invisibility protects you from sunburn and some of the worst of
exposure, but the heat of the air and what radiates off the ground/boulder
still feels like a slow roast in a dwarven forge.]

The halfling seems to have several severe internal injuries and broken bones,
and the healing administered last night did little to overcome their full
extent. Ghitu applies an ointment which magically mends some of his worst
remaining cuts, but the brave hin's overall condition remains poor. He does
drink some water during his brief periods of consciousness, which is a good
sign according to Malthus.

As the heat starts to fall off, the group can begin to head towards the range
of hills which are a purple-grey smear on the horizon, days away through this
broken land of arroyos and mesas.

[GM: Any special travel precautions? Or shall we press on across the worst
of the Plain of Fire? Plain is a misnomer as it is quite rocky and broken,
up and down, littered with the black rock everywhere.]

"Well" says Mazlin, "Do we stay on this path and hope to lose any
pursuit or do we go around on a fsster/easier route? You must tell me if you want
my best advice!"

"Is there actually an easier route?" Turadyl asks. "Or would we simply end
up taking longer to escape from this heat? If we know of an easier route,
we should take it, assuming we'd still get there before the war is over.
But if it would mean wasting valuable time looking for an easier path that
does not exist, we'd be better off pressing forward." The elf listens to
what Mazjlin and Ghitu have to say, presuming that their knowledge of this
wretched area is better than anyone else's

[Kevin: the water should be enough to fill everyone's containers, water
the animals, and still be enough to have baths. I believe it's about 28
gallons of water, if the spell goes by the AD&D rules.]

[Dana: Malthus memorizes the following spells:

1st: Purify food and water, cure light wounds x 2
2nd: Silence 15' Radius, Hold person, Know Alignment
3rd: Continual Light, Speak with Dead
4th: Create Water    ]

Mazjlin's usually bland face becomes a bit grim as he says:
"Well.... if we stay on this path, all of us may not arrive at the
other side. The Sind do not travel this land under normal circumstances. Too many
unexplained deaths you see. It can be done... but you may not like the cost!"

"True," replies Turadyl, "but would the cost be any less in the long run
were we to look for another way to reach the same destination

Mazjlin shakes his head slightly and says in a slightly exasperated
tone: "Yes, since most or even all of us should live to get there. On this
path, it is more likely that most or all us will die!
Which path will you choose now my friend?"

Ghitu speaks up at this point with a calming gesture to the tribesman:

"Now just a moment, my friend. The enemy we just left seems to have come
from this direction. And now that the good Brahmin can provide us with water
from the bounty of the Immortals, our biggest problem seems to become a
concern for yesterday. We will have to look to supplement our food reserves
with hunting, if we can, but now that we have a reasonable expectation of not
dying of thirst, we should be able to reach those distant hills in a few days
time. We may be hungry, or hungrier as the case may be," he adds patting his
own gaunt, naked torso" but I think we should press on.

According to the map we found in the hydra's lair, "here he looks to the
others" we should continue on to the Northwest to find the pass though the
mountains, which is our key to the lands beyond."

Mazjlin whirls towards Ghitu - the calming words seeming to inflame
him! He clenches his teeth and, in an intense measured tone, grinds
out his response:

"If it were not for my friend here I would leave you to your fate -
for only the desperate and foolish continue on a path that leads
to death. You appear to be neither... so why this insistence that
can only lead to our deaths?"

Kris interjects, "If we are pursued, they will hopefully think that our flight was to the
East. We are so close . . . a few days more and we will climb out of these
conditions. And then it is on to the enemies homeland, before his forces can
bring more harm to ALL our peoples.

Tell me, Mazjlin, have you ever hunted in the foothills of the Black
Mountains? I expect the game would be much the same here to the north of the
lands you know?"

Mazjlin's mouth twists in a wry smirk as his eyebrows arch up at the
obvious change of subject!
"Here... we are the game - and we'd better stay as sharp as a Occam's
Razor if we want to live to tell the tale."
With a shake of his head, he turns and looks out over the forbidding
landscape, ending his share of the conversation.

Under his breath, you barely hear him murmer the words
"and yes I have hunted there.."

When the sun begins its long decent to the horizon off to your left, the
group begins its trek again. The water skins are full and the camels seem
sated. The whole group has drunk their bellies full before leaving the
rapidly evaporating water that Malthus' spell created. Even so, after a few
minutes in the saddle, everyone longs for another drink.

[GM: those in any armor heavier than quilted nomad armor are really feeling
these effects.]

The long shadows cast by rock mesas and plateaus give you irregular respite
from the blazing sun as it makes its slow journey across the sky. Your route
winds as directly as possible around these formations in your path; some as
low as boulders, others as massive as a small mountain. Occasionally off to
the side, you see crevasses, sinkholes, and jagged cave mouths. While they
look inviting, you all wish to keep going while you can . . . and Mazjlin's
stories about underground dangers in the Plain keep you moving despite the
weariness that quickly sets in the heat. You see little stirring on this
harsh landscape save insect life and the occasional small bird or rodent that
helps the widely scattered thorn bushes to spread their seeds. The black
stones are everywhere, scattered as pebbles, piled in slag heaps, or gleaming
in the sunlight from outcroppings.

[GM: think Gobi desert meets Delicate Arches National Park, Utah.  ]

'Ghitu' continues to act as a water monitor for the group, though he has
produced a shawl-like wrap from somewhere to protect his naked chest and
limbs from the brutal sun. The monkey sleeps all afternoon, sprawled out on
the saddlebags behind him

As the sun sets, the magically warm night begins

Ark briefly considers removing his Scale mail as the heat begins to
heat the metal and finally succumbs. Packing the mail into place on the
camel he quietly grumbles to himself.

[Jason: Ark is maintaining his current spell list ie.

1st: Longstride, Magic Missile
2nd: Detect danger, Entangle
3rd Fireball, Curelight wounds  ]

After securing the load on his camel Ark picks up his pace
alittle so as to pull alongside Mazjlin and asks, "How hot does the night
remain in this area?, By Ilsundal i hope it cools a little"

Mazlin tilts his head slightly as he replies to Ark:

"There will no relief to speak of until we leave this land. Night or
day, both are much the same. In the day you have the sun. At night,
the ground will heat you much the same.... I _did_ try to warn you!"

The sun has set.

Shayam has kept quiet for a long while, still worried about what they left
behind, and kind of unsure about what the future will be.

Mazlin says right, he thinks. This path straight through the Land of Fire
seems to be a deadly one. But if Ghitu has confidence, we'll probably get
where we want...

Not being able to help much with Treeshadow, he still keeps an eyes on the
hin, and, well, as an old memory comes back suddenly, he addresses a short
and silent prayer to this beautiful goddess he saw a long time ago, in a
lost temple somewhere in the northlands. This unnatural beauty can only mean
good to her worshippers, he had always thought.

If she would forgive the few things I took away from her, then she probably
can do something for the little thing...

Just as he thinks about her, he feels a nice breeze surrounding him. For
just a second, the night is not hot anymore. It feels more like a spring
wind coming down from the snowy peeks of those forgotten mountains...

Shayam shudders at the idea that it could be ...... Her ??? He turns to the
others, but no one seems to have felt anything.

With a huge smile on his face, he looks up at the stars, and contemplates
the marvels of the night sky... Then he turns to Mazlin. "You may be right,
desert man, danger is everywhere on this land of pain."

"But tonight, the gods are with us !"

Not waiting for Mazlin's answer, he stares back at the sky and still
smilling, but in a lower voice that hardly anybody hears :

"Yeah, they're with us, for sure..."