From the Dust

Much to account for in the stretch of so little time.
 
We continued on from the fort where we stayed the night, out into the Shifting Sands. Toomi initiated what turned out to be fruitful discussion in the beginning of our journey; she told me what her Orcish means, as well as her purpose her, and I told her of mine. Apparently, she fancies me a coward and a cur, and herself a grim reaper. About what I anticipated. It was entertaining humoring her a bit--no sense in making a long ride longer in antagonism. Recognition seemed to flash in her eyes when I mentioned I'd had my fortune read; apparently she knows Old Man Atuum. A web of secrets worthy of Llolth from the old stories. And I didn't even see it until I became trapped at its center.
 
The rearmost cart breaking down was a chore, but it was an opportunity to pull my tools out again where I hadn't for awhile. Fetching the materials from the wagon, I was tempted to see just what cargo lay inside the boxes, but it wasn't the right time. No sense in prying their shipments open when they're expecting me. Besides, it looked to be no more than a rack of rifles, anyhow. I fixed the cart in minutes. I almost demanded they pay me--I restored that wheel and axle better than they had been.
 
It wasn't long before a sandstorm swept over us. I had attuned my senses to the first cart earlier so as to not lose it, and it was good I had; the winds cast a raging darkness upon us, a darkness which begat misfortune. Something fell upon us, blowing the first cart away and scattering our convoy. Toomi rode beside me, her face more shocking than the assault--a look of pure dread had come over it. Wyverns dropped from the sky and seemed to burst from the ground, nasty little assault creatures. I might've taken that moment to flee, but I easily could've been consumed by the storm and the conflict--and the half-orc and her companions had almost endeared themselves to me. At least, the sense of momentum I felt from being in their company had. Credit to this crude mercenary--she insisted we rescue her friends instead of fleeing ourselves. I cannot help but find myself intrigued by these folk. Selflessness was the last thing I anticipated.
 
The sensation is not entirely lost on me. We went to find Oswald and the other one, and I put my new firearm to the use as a wyvern dove towards me. Buckshot really does work wonders against flying targets.
 
By the time Toomi and I had found Oswald and company and dug them from the wreckage, the battle had subsided--and our caravan was gone, along with our assailants. Disappeared into the sands.
 
I have lived many decades in a world of magic. I understand wonders as inevitabilities, as opposed to impossibilities. Still... there was something uncanny about this disappearance. Something about its abruptness, its subtlety. Credit to Oswald, though--he still insisted on taking everything we could still find and hauling it with us. An old temple lies abandoned before us, some unearthly presence within. He want us to stay there for the night, of all places. I will be sleeping outside. I don't know what would be worse--that he feels the presence as I do and wishes to delve in anyway... or that it is a voice which speaks only to me.
 
As if I need another.
 
And we're at war. Inevitabilities, not impossibilities. Still... what Oswald said was right. If the Imperium is attacking now, continuing to Port Nigh could be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Time will tell. I've no desire to stick around--once I reach our destination, I'm collecting my gold and continuing on to this "carcass of titans." Whether that will take me closer to Asa, or ensnare me in yet another web... there's no way to know.