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Two days past the Teeth, we have passed through the hills and entered
what is known as the Great Desert. Before the fall of the
Naptaan empire much of this was supposedly fertile farmland. Now
there is nothing but windblown sand - the curse of the gods, or so the
legend says. I have my own theories - the Naptaan civil war was a bitter
one, and the poisoning of water sources was a well-established weapon
of war even in those ancient times.
This evening, we came upon an area that Abdullah and his guides begged
us to avoid. When I pressed him as to why, he claimed it was the site
of a forgotten battlefield, haunted by the spirits of the dead. Sure
enough, a cursory investigation turned up a great number of human
bones and even corroded weapons buried only a few inches beneath
the sand. You can imagine my excitement - we must return this way
with more camels!
Allowing for Abdullah’s nerves, I have allowed the camp to be pitched
on a nearby ridge, despite the fact that the old battlefield was much
better sheltered from the wind. A sandstorm is blowing in from the
southwest, and I fear we are all going to have to endure a sleepless
night to indulge the superstitions of our guides.
3rd of Blühenzeit, 962 A.S.
Someone is playing practical jokes in the camp. When Gunther and
his men finally managed to clear the sand that half-buried us during
the night, they unearthed several skeletons taken from the battlefield,
posed as if crawling towards my tent! Abdullah and his men deny
it was them. I have told them in no uncertain terms that unless the
culprit is produced I will be docking their pay.
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