They follow the cliffs to the west until they reach the river. The ground is rocky and bare, with thin sandy dirt. Occasionally, succulents sprout from the ground or cling to boulders – large barrel cacti, small shrubs with rubbery fleshy leaves. Rarely, small flowers bloom but none are like the ink sketch they have been given by the Cult.
Afternoon stage.
Travel roll: 1d6 encounter: 4. No encounter.
2 rations of water.
Save vs fatigue for midday heat:
Jes: 1d10 = 8 (pass)
Theo: 1d10+1 = 4 (fail).
He marks off his extra fatigue slot for being a Mard in hot environment.
Read about checks & saves
The river is only a couple of metres across and shallow. Dry, cracked mud on either side shows that sometimes the river swells. Now, the water is clear and sparkling. After a careful look for danger, Jes gratefully wades in and splashes her face and shoulders. Theo refills their waterskins.
A chill wind occasionally blows from where the river emerges. It brings with it strange sounds, almost like voices. Jes and Theo head cautiously closer to the narrow crevasse.
Listening to the crevasse table 1d6: 1, A whining voice whispers a warning.
A thin warbling voice that seems on the point of crying or laughing whispers, “Beware the wolf in fine clothing…”
They look at each other. “Who are you?” Jes demands. But the voice merely trails off into a cacophony of wild laughter that goes on for some time, ignoring her further questions. At some point they realize that the laughter is now indistinguishable from normal wind, and it’s hard to tell when that happened. They back away from the crevasse, back into the hot sunshine, but they are left with an uneasy feeling that, hidden within the normal wind of the desert, a mad laughter still lurks.