Christiana Town, the ever thriving mining settlement, the last bastion of civilization located on the outskirts of the Kharakhi desert. This once little town was founded over 60 years ago by Gerard Hearst, the notorious steel magnate, when rich iron deposits were discovered in the mountains that mark the border between the arid Iridian Republic and the Kharakhi desert. He promptly bought the land, builded a settlement and named the mine and town after his first daughter, Christiana.

Over the past six decades the little settlement grew from a hundred or so souls extracting iron ore from the ground and living in shacks to a booming town with around five thousand souls in it and many businesses from saloons, hairdressers and blacksmiths to theaters, general stores and much, much more. One of such businesses was a saloon named The Wild Stallion.

The wild Stallion, a bit of a rowdy and notorious place that attracted the working man’s crowd. Miners would come in after their shift ended to drink and gamble their earnings of the day away while watching the girls of the night dance to the tunes of the piano player. If they did win at night, they might just brush the dust off and spend some time on the upper floor with a dancing girl. The ones that lose would eventually retreat drunk and penniless to the comfort of their angry wifes.

This saloon was the kind of place that would hang up a big shoddy reproduction of some famous painting in a somewhat faint attempt to appear more classy than the rundown place deserves. However the booze is cheap and the piano player half decent. So for those with not much coin to spend and looking to have a good time, The Wild Stallion was the perfect place. Needless to say that this particular saloon attracted a diverse crowd of outlaws, workers, lowlifes, scum and the occasionally lost proper gentleman. It was here that Katelyn Smith found herself sitting at a round table with just such a diverse and maybe even a bit questionable crowd.

For a moment she looked around the densely packed saloon. Behind her a group of eight very vocal and obnoxious kobolds were downing beers, playing poker, joking and complaining about the lack of Kobold women in town and the shitty pay the Hearst mining company was paying them for their hard work in the iron mine. In between their banter the occasional sexist remark would be thrown at any female that dared to come close.

The bar was packed with a group of mostly human cowboys who had just delivered fresh beef to the town’s butchery and were in a jolly good mood. Some of them could not keep their eyes off the dancing girls while others eyed the room for perhaps a cheaper catch for the night.

At one of the other tables the dim witted half-orc deputy sheriff was getting his pockets emptied while playing poker with some of the lads that were the previous night still in jail. Everyone with a keen eye could see that the dealer and one of the other players were scheming and cheating the others at the table out of their money. Fortunately for them, the deputy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed otherwise he had thrown them through the window of the saloon, halfway across town in one of the empty cells without leaving the chair he was sitting on.

The truth was that Katelyn had spent the past week pretty much every night in this poor establishment making herself familiar with the crowd and remembering their faces. Based on the knowledge she had gained, the female gunslinger determined that apart from the cowboys at the bar, everyone in the establishment were regulars. Townsfolk that had been living and working in Christiana Town for some time. None of the current patrons of the Saloon carried even remotely the hint of being from up north.

When Katelyn was satisfied with her observation that there were no specific prying eyes from up north or dangerous gunslingers that might jeopardize her undertaking she turned towards the merry band of people at her table. The group was certainly as diverse as it could get.

Katelyn poured herself another shot of tequila and downed it in one go and looked around the group sitting at the round. The people she had invited at her table weren’t randomly chosen. The female gunslinger had done her research and invited only people that matched the skill profiles she deemed necessary for the undertaking she was about to propose. For a moment she sat there comfortably in silence, building up the anticipation before finally speaking in a soft yet resolute voice. “The name is Katelyn Smith. I’m looking for people with your specific skill sets to accompany me on a trip into the desert in order to collect Hadrian Augustus' lost gold.”

The way she spoke those words made it almost sound over confident. As if it was child's play to find a treasure that people had been searching for 50 years and never found a trace of. And yet Katelyn made it almost sound like it would be an easy endeavor. As if you could just ride into the Kharakhi desert and pick it up. However this woman was 100% confident in her abilities to find this treasure.

“I am well aware that finding it won’t be a simple job. The Kharakhi desert is a very dangerous place and requires specific skills to navigate and survive. That is why I am recruiting people who were born and raised under the scorching sun. But there will be more dangers. Aggressive creatures, hostile people and competing treasure hunters for sure. Expect to be hurt, to suffer and you need to be willing to put your life on the line. it won’t be easy”

Katelyn paused a bit before continuing. “Next to the many dangers of the desert there is also the matter of actually finding the lost gold. Many have tried and none have succeeded in the past 50 years. The reason is that none of them had actual leads. They did not know where to look, where to start and basically wandered aimlessly through the desert, hoping that by chance they would stumble over a pile of gold. That won’t be the case for our little journey. Right now I am the only one in the world with leads the the whereabouts of Hadrian’s gold”

The gunslinger pulled what looked like an expensive brown leather covered notebook from one of the pockets of her vest. On the front cover was the Imperial seal of the Imperial Augustus family. It was well known that the late emperor Hadrian Augustus had a love for writing. Throughout his reign he published various novels, short stories, poetry bundles, essays of varying quality but he was most famous for the extensive diaries he wrote throughout his life. He started them the moment he could write and continued writing them throughout his entire life. Those diaries presented a very detailed look into the life of the emperor and the inner workings of the imperial court. Many of his ministers and servants vouched for the information that was written down in those works. The last known diary was found when the revolutionary republicans captured the imperial palace. The last page covers events of just a few days prior. All known diaries of the emperor were written in similar brown leather covered notebooks.

“This is a diary of the Emperor. It details the first part of his journey through the Kharakhi desert and more specifically, that there is a next volume and how to find it.”

She looked around the table with her serious and confident expression. “This is a one time offer. An equal partnership in the undertaking. Lend me your skills, in exchange we split the 2.5 million imperial gold coins equally.” It was clear from her intonation and body language that she was dead serious about finding the gold. This offer from Katelyn was non-negotiable but generous at the same time. You could even consider it an offer you can’t refuse. Afterall, would a gunslinger let you walk away with information that could lead to the legendary treasure?

"How do you know that's genuine?" Jake asked quietly. "Bit of a cottage industry is that, makin' emperor diaries."

The half-elf stared into his beer, disliking the feel of so many eyes on him. "A diary what tells you where ta start lookin' for treasure? Pure sucker-bait, them. That's the problem when you know what they all look like. Easy ta copy. Easy ta age. Besides, how many did he have tucked away, waitin' for his honor ta pick one up? It might be someone's pension there, sellin' a few here and there. All genuine notebooks, just somebody else's writin' inside."

He risked it, giving Katelyn a quick glance. "And it might be a mite cold, but you're not gonna get a lot of angry customers iffen they're all lost in a bleedin' desert. Before anyone goes 'n' risk their life, you oughta be sure. So, where did you get it? Why does it look so nice?"

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the arid Kharaki desert landscape. A lone Goliath woman emerged from the seemingly endless dunes, heading toward the city known as Christiana, after receiving a handwritten note days prior from an unknown adventurer. Treasure hunting was never the woman’s interest, however, when the note mentioned the possibility of relics from her tribe’s ancestors, a longing and curiosity surfaced that could not be ignored. Hadrian Augustus may have amassed wealth, but his acquisitions of artifacts that never belonged to him in the first place could not be ignored.

Vah'lux Ki-ao’uthal, the nearly seven foot muscular woman, was a spiritualist warrior, but one who would rather heal than hurt, as wars only brought more bloodshed over the many years existing in the deepest parts of the dune sea. She was a rugged survivor of the unforgiving desert, with skin bronzed from years under the relentless sun, and piercing emerald eyes which held wisdom and determination of a wanderer who had seen both beauty and brutality in the desolate wastelands.

With the tattered note slipped under her thick, patchwork chest armor, the tribeswoman approached the strange town for the first time, her worn leather boots kicking up a small cloud of dust with each step. The tall wooden walls of Christiana loomed before her, their rough-hewn texture a stark contrast to the smooth sands of the desert in which she hailed from. As she passed slowly through the town's entryway, unsurprisingly people stopped to stare, their curious eyes filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Vah’lux strode through the dusty streets, her steps purposeful, and her senses alert, and while she carried weapons -namely a large glaive and twin daggers- she did not want to project an aura of violence toward these new people.

While just as foreign to them as they were to her, the Goliath couldn't help but feel as though she were from another world entirely...

The old wooden doors of the Wild Stallion creaked open, and Vah’lux hesitantly walked in as she surveyed the room, noticing she was quite a striking contrast to the usual patrons. She was clad in rugged animal hides, leathers, and various metal and bone fasteners. A fur-lined rucksack which held supplies for her journey, was slung over a shoulder, framing the otherwise tall, sharp glaive along her back. The chatter and clinking of glasses fell silent for a moment as all eyes in the dimly lit establishment turned toward the massive silhouette. And as uncomfortable as the atmosphere had become, the woman stood confident, her defined muscles visibly rippling beneath her tanned and scarred skin. She hated the onlookers, but there was no going back at this point.

With a determined stride, the barbarian approached the far table which the note mentioned, the wooden floor creaking under her weight with each bulky step. What felt like the longest journey however, she had finally reached her destination and nodded toward the others who were already sitting, acknowledging the one known as “Katelyn Smith”.

“Forgive my tardiness, ma’am.” Vah’lux said in a low, raspy tone, as she removed her glaive, leaned it against the bannerster of the stairs next to the table, and took a seat on a nearby crate, which would have served better for her than the chairs provided.

After the human gunslinger spoke her peace, regaling the table with the story of Hadrian Augustus’ riches, the Goliath couldn’t help but wonder if the trek would be worth it at all. Would the artifacts still be intact? Would her ancestors be able to finally rest, knowing that a piece of their world has been restored to its rightful place?

Vah’lux sat and listened, doing her best to tune out the otherwise resounding commotion within the saloon.

Bill sat quietly at the table, lighting up another cigarette. He tried to remember how much he had smoked today but he had lost count halfway through noon. Not that it really mattered. He had shot two bison on his latest hunting trip and sold off both the hides and the meat. It meant that he had earned some dollars and bought a few additional packs of cigarettes to fuel his smoking habits.

However most of the money the hunter would earn he put aside to pay off his debt. It was not the kind of debt that people expected him to actually pay. No one would chase after him if he failed to pay. No bounty would be put on his head for others to collect. It was the kind of debt that needed to be paid for reconciliation. Bill needed to right the wrongs his younger self had done and ease the misery he caused for his tribe. This was the burden that the man was carrying ever since he was banished from his tribe. That is why he went out into the desert to hunt and sell what he would catch. However deep down inside he knew that he would never make enough money from hunting or doing the odd job in or around Christiana town. He needed something more rewarding, a gig that would pay handsomely and that is why he decided to accept the strange invitation.

Bill took his seat at the table and gave a quick nod to Vah’lux, an acquaintance who he had met on a few occasions during his travels through the Kharakhi desert. The truth was that he did not know much about her. Only that she was in a way a lost soul like him. Ripped from her home and trusted into a foreign world.

For a moment the beastman listened to Katelyn Smith, the gunslinger who had invited him here. Some of the townsfolk had spoken about her. The rumor was that she had gunned down Raging Robbert, a notorious bandit that was feared for his quickdraw and temper in a duel. They called her swift hands Kate afterwards. But apart from what others had been telling, Bill knew nothing about this mysterious gunslinger.

She explained that she was going after Hadrian’s gold. A legendary treasure that was lost in the Kharakhi desert 50 years ago. She wasn’t the first to do that and probably not the last either. The hunter had seen other idiots go into the desert and ever return. They all seemed to just go in there without much clue where to look or about the dangers of the place. Atleast Katelyn seemed to be a bit better informed, or at least aware that the Kharakhi desert is a dangerous place that is not easily traveled.

And then there is still the matter of finding it. The gunslinger seemed to have found some sort of diary that contained a lead to its whereabouts. That sounded almost too good to be true. An opinion that seemed to be shared by a male half-elf that was sitting across the table from him. However the beastman was not well versed in the Imperial history and had no way of recognizing if it was a fake or the real deal. That was well beyond his knowledge and skills.

”The man raises a fair point, Miss Smith. It’s a dangerous place out there. Is there any way to know if it is real? There is no point in risking our lives if it is some sort of fake.”

The old door to the Wild Stallion groaned its announcement as Vilhelm stepped over the threshold, removing his hat as he did so. There was the usual brief pause of activity as the patrons near the door turned their heads to ascertain the intruder. It took Vilhelm only a moment to see what the proprietress had meant by "decent folk" not belonging. The barroom was crowded with an assortment of miners, laborers, cowboys, and other roughneck types, many of whom shot Vilhelm a disapproving look as he walked by. Dressed as he was, he likely would've drawn less attention had he come in naked.

But this wasn't the first seedy taproom Vilhelm had patronized. You could even make the argument that the Wild Stallion was downright pleasant compared to some of the ramshackle cantinas he had come across in his travels. With his cane tucked under arm, Vilhelm made his way towards the large round table as directed by the letter, already occupied by a few people.

To say the assembled group was eclectic would’ve been an understatement. Seated at or by the table was a collection of people so different from each other that it was almost parodic. Though they each seemed to busy themselves with their own affairs, a slender young woman at the 'head' of the table eyed him knowingly as he approached. Vilhelm bade them a polite "Good evening" in a rich, deep voice; gingerly placing his hat and cane down as he pulled out a chair. Vilhelm removed his overcoat and, with a look that suggested he was about to do something he didn't particularly want to, draped it across the back, cringing slightly as it brushed against the barroom floor.

Finally sitting down, Vilhelm was able to take in the faces of those who had apparently also been invited to this cryptic meeting. The woman he first noticed was tall for her sex, clad in garb that suggested a life on the frontier. A wiry Half-Elf sat close by, seemingly unable to avert his gaze from the contents of his drink.
A ruddy-faced Beastman occupied himself with a cigarette. Another Half-Elf, this one a young woman, looked almost innocently out-of-place as she attended to a glass of wine. And seated on a large crate beside the table was the largest woman Vilhelm had ever seen, bearing all the trappings of the Barbarian. He assumed that the large glaive leaning against the bannister belonged to her.

Now that presumably everyone had gathered, the woman in frontier garb poured and downed a shot before speaking. Introducing herself as Katelyn Smith - no doubt the K.S. from Vilhelm's letter - the woman wasted no time in explaining why she had gathered them all here.

'A trip into the desert.' The words had left Katelyn's lips with all the casual confidence of youth. Vilhelm's expression immediately became skeptical, but he said nothing; listening politely with both hands folded over the top of his cane. He had gone on many adventures in his life: facing extreme temperatures, hazardous conditions, uneven terrain, and the threat of death lurking around every corner. But every man had his limit, the boundary line that he refused to cross, even in the throes of madness. For Vilhelm, that line was the Kharakhi Desert.

Many of the scholars in the Iridian Archaeological Association would have given their firstborn just for the chance at finding the vast store of artifacts that Hadrian had taken from the Imperial Treasury. But the Desert was a deathtrap, and many, from the cautious to the foolhardy, had entered that world never to return.

As if in response to the doubts in his mind, Katelyn acknowledged that the task would be difficult, even perilous. Reaching into her vest pocket, she removed from it a finely bound leather notebook, emblazoned with the Imperial Seal. Vilhelm immediately stiffened in his seat, all reservations temporarily erased from his mind. She was holding one of Hadrian's Diaries!

A poor emperor though he may have been, Hadrian's Diaries were vital in helping Republic scholars document not only his life, but the very workings of the Empire. Even a mediocre museum could earn much prestige just by possessing a single volume of those rare and valuable journals. Once more seeming to read his thoughts, Katelyn confirmed his suspicion, explaining that this was an even more recent volume, detailing Hadrian's flight into the Desert. Not only that, but there existed a second volume, and the secret to finding it lay within the first.

Feeling a sort-of giddiness that could only come from years spent hunting rare treasures such as these, Vilhelm was about to say something when the wiry Half-Elf spoke up in a working-class dialect, his words quick and quiet. Vilhelm struggled for a moment to follow what he was saying when the Beastman echoed the sentiment more concisely: How do we know it's real?

Clearing his throat, Vilhelm raised two fingers to speak. "I believe I may be of assistance in that regard. I've seen only a handful of these journals, but I can recognize the old Emperor's prose well enough. Would you be so kind as to let me have a look, my dear?" He aimed the question at Katelyn, meeting her eyes. If this was, indeed, one of Hadrian's Lost Diaries, well...Vilhelm might have to set a new boundary.

Perched expertly on the wobbly chair left for her, comfortably warm beneath the handwoven poncho she wore, Dylis listened attentively to Swift Hand’s pitch. She had never cared much about history. It didn’t matter much when it came to thievery. More to the point, she had always thought the stories of Hadrian’s gold to be nothing more than a fanciful myth. To hear otherwise was no small surprise. Pausing in thought, Dylis sipped contently on the glass of wine that she was nursing, relishing the gentle warmth as it coursed through her. If it was real, hunting down the lost gold would involve great risk, certainly. However, the reward that was being dangled in front of them was tantalizing. A treasure, a real treasure, two million five hundred thousand gold Imperial gold coins split six ways was still a fortune, enough to retire on, enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Enough to start again, somewhere nice. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere where she didn't need to carry a gun to be safe. Maybe she could be a proper lady. She liked the idea of that.

Dylis sighed, she was who she was. A thief, a free agent, caught between jobs. The small tasks quietly whispered to the quick fingered had dried up for the moment. The fences had grown fat off of her recent capers. Too fat. Her wallet was heavy enough, but Dylis couldn’t help but want some more cash to tide her over. Some of the others looked like they could use the money. The Shifter certainly looked rough, Dylis thought. He seemed to be the capable sort, and looked as if he had wandered in straight from the desert.

She felt the hairs on her neck rise up at the mention of danger and she resisted the familiar urge to bolt. Taking risks was not the way to enjoy a long career as a thief. Still, walking away seemed equally unlikely to be good for her health. She didn't trust Swift Hands to not resort to violence. She could see it in her eyes. There were serious faces gathered around the table and Dylis had noted no small number of weapons. Although, given the reputation of the Wild Stallion perhaps it was best that way. The presence of the glaive carrying woman had ensured that the other patrons kept their distance. Guns were one thing, but glaives taller than most people were another. Not that the well-dressed gentleman was much smaller, at least to her eyes.

Questions regarding the authenticity of the diary made sense. The other half-elf who had spoken first was right. He spoke bluntly, maybe too bluntly, and Dylis hoped Swift Hands wouldn't get mad. She knew nothing of the women, save her reputation. Dylis felt out of her depth already. She was a burglar, not a historian. She didn’t have much to say when it came to the lost diaries of some long dead emperor, and so she shrugged, "A very...um-mm...a very generous offer. However, I defer to the opinion of my esteemed colleagues. This sounds like a very fortuitous discovery. Too fortuitous perhaps..."

"However, if it's real. Then well- I would of course offer my services," she added with a slight stammer of nervousness and apologetic smile directed at Swift Hands.

.

The gunslinger wasn’t a tad bit surprised at the skepticism she encountered. Going on a dangerous journey into the Kharakhi desert wasn’t something to take lightly. It was a conscious decision to risk your life and it was only normal that everyone at the table wanted to have some assurances that it would not be for nothing. Katelyn knew the origins of this book. She knew it was the real deal but did not want to share how this diary came into her possession at this moment.

The woman looked around the table, first at Jake as he was the one who first voiced his concern that the book might not be genuine. For a moment Katelyn looked at Jake before she started to talk in a calm and assertive tone. ”I do understand your skepticism. When I gained possession of this book I doubted that it was real too. I went to the national library in the capital and compared the handwriting, writing style and word usage of several of the handwritten books from Hadrian Augustus and some known forgeries with the book in my possession and found it very likely to be real. Or it is the highest quality forgery out there.Or at least everything except the last page. That seems to be written by someone else.”

Katelyn knew that just telling a story of doing the research would not be enough to satisfy the people at the table. They were all smart people and would not be convinced by words alone. She understood that they needed to see it for themselves, have the opportunity to form their own opinions and make a conscious decision to join her undertaking.

The gunslinger turned towards the older gentleman. Vilhelm was asking if he could take a look. Katelyn had little problems with the people at the table inspecting the diary. She needed people with their skill sets and knew that the only way to convince them was letting them convince themselves. If a few of her guests realized that this book is genuine, the others would likely follow. ”Of Course you can have a look, mister Lundstrom. I do understand the desire to see it for yourself. In fact you are all free to study the book here tonight and see for yourself.” Spoke Katelyn in her confident and resolute tone while she placed the diary in front of him. ”Please make sure to give the others time to look at the book as well”

There was no doubting it: Katelyn Smith was incredibly thorough. Vilhelm looked at her approvingly as she detailed to the wiry Half-Elf the lengths she went to to verify the Diary's authenticity. This was no mere flight of fancy for the young woman, but a genuine pursuit.

As she set the Diary down before him, Vilhelm offered a word of thanks before gently picking it up, handling the book as though it would turn to dust at the first sign of rough treatment. Gliding a thumb down the leather-bound spine, Vilhelm opened the Diary with surprising delicacy for hands as large as his, marking the date on the inside cover: March 1834. He and the Diary shared not only a birth year, but a birth month as well. "It seems we've both been around awhile." He said quietly to himself, lips turned in a small, wistful smile.

Sifting through the pages, Vilhelm examined each written line carefully. True to Katelyn's words, the handwriting and style of prose matched what copies of Hadrian's writings Vilhelm had encountered. Even the foreign writing that marked the last few pages had a neat, flowing script that could only come from an educated hand.

Sufficiently reassured of his doubts, Vilhelm closed the Diary as gently as he’d opened it. ”I don’t claim to be anything more than a hobbyist,” he began, ”but as far as I can tell, this Diary is legitimate.” Though his tone remained even and composed, an especially keen observer would be able to notice the glint of excitement in his eyes.

”There remains a concern, however.” He noted, this time turning serious. ”This text contains no geographical references that I could see. Emperor Hadrian used landmarks to tell the way, and if these last pages are to be believed, then we must needs do the same if we wish to find the next volume.”

With a slight, nearly imperceptible hesitation, Vilhelm held the book out to the wiry Half-Elf. ”Would you like to take a look, my boy?” He asked politely.

A slight frown creased his mouth, but the half-elf merely nods, setting down his beer and reaching out for it.

"I would, yeah," he said, then glanced over at Katelyn. "Iffen you don't mind, miss?"

The moment the book touched his hand, Jake knew. It hadn't just captured his words - somehow, it caught a bit of the emperor's soul. He was older than his paintings, but it was still the same man, same smile as he wrote and sketched, the horror of seeing a deadly scorpion and reacting immediately by using the closest thing at hand - and then realizing he'd used his notebook. He had a vague sense of others, the ripping of pages... but that was it.

The others were watching. How long had he been lost in the recollections?

Jake brought the notebook up to his nose and sniffed deeply, picking up the sweet, pungent, musty smell. "Old paper," he smiled, just slightly. "Forgers usually darken the paper with tea, different smell. He then examines the binding. "This was made in Iridia city by the Carnegie Papermill, about 1830s. They always inserted this purple thread on either side for the Emperor's stock."

Opening the book, he started flipping through the pages.

"Handwriting and prose can be copied," Jake said, "but this, this is genuine up until this final entry."

"So," he asked, handing it back to Katelyn, "Who took this afterward? You great-grandmother?"

As intriguing as the journal seemed based on the stories and its history of being a key to Hadrian’s cache, Vah’lux didn’t care much for old manuscripts or the languages that followed them, especially with regard to human cultures. The true history of the world -at least from her own knowledge- had been passed down orally through the many centuries by the wisest of chiefs and shamans; their depictions seemed vastly different than many writings by human hands, and most seemed to revolve around gold and wealth. Such a thing, while necessary in certain circles, did not interest the tribeswoman in the least.

Within the saloon, the Goliath’s muscular frame, adorned with scars and a few tattoos of her culture and tribe, drew the occasional curious glance from the eclectic mix of patrons. Her wild, dark hair framed her rigid face, and intense emerald eyes surveyed the room with a mix of curiosity and wariness. This was a relatively new environment that she had inserted herself into all due to this expedition, and yet she couldn’t help but keep her senses on high alert. These were strangers amongst strangers, and she felt the most of any outlier, even more so than Bill, who she had given an acknowledging nod to earlier, and the beast being one of the only she knew fairly well from the Kharakhi Desert.

She knew the stares would continue regardless…

A group of card players, dressed in cowboy hats and worn leather vests, huddled around a poker table, their cigars sending thick plumes of smoke into the air. The clinking of poker chips mixed with their boisterous laughter. But, they couldn’t hide their judgemental expressions behind fanned cards. Across the room, a group of miners, their faces smeared with dirt and sweat, lifted mugs of ale in a rowdy toast to whatever it was. They sang bawdy songs, and the sound of their stomping boots reverberated through the floorboards. But once again, careless whispers seemed louder than they should be.

At the bar, a sophisticated-looking woman in a corseted dress sipped a glass of fine wine, her powdered face and delicate fan creating a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and yet she continued to stare daggers at the Goliath as though a creature such as she was never allowed in a place like the Wild Stallion.

Vah’lux's keen senses picked up snippets of conversations, words and phrases from a dozen different languages, as traders, prospectors, and wanderers from all corners of the land passed through the dusty saloon. She might be an outsider, but she knew amidst the diversity of humanity and various races of creatures, she could learn much about the world beyond her own tribal lands.

She snapped herself back to those at the table, and caught the conversation between the young man Jake, and the older explorer, Vilhelm, regarding navigating the desert in order to reach the path to Hadrian’s treasure.

“I should have no problem getting us there.” The Goliath spoke, her low, husky voice cutting through much of the ambience. “I know the Kharakhi like it were my own child. I grew up there. I live there. I hunt there. I sleep beneath the stars which blanket the dunes and rocks.”

She gestured toward the beastman. “Our friend Bill can be a great help in our quest, as he has traversed the land as I have. So, do not worry about getting to your destination…”

Her voice trailed for a moment as though she were thinking of something, and she leaned in slightly toward the others at the table. “But, do worry about the creatures you will encounter, because they are many and they are hungry.”

The Goliath leaned back up straight in her seat atop the wooden crate, crossing her arms, as she awaited further discussion and guidance from the party leader.

Dylis shivered at the mention of monsters. The Kharakhi Desert was bad enough without hungry monster lurking in the darkness.

She managed a smile. She couldn't tell much about the diary. She was no forger. Certainly not an archivist. The diary looked right though. It looked old. Seemed heavy enough. Worn enough for something written decades before her birth. She didn't want to handle it. She didn't need to touch it. Dropping or damaging it would be...unfortunate. She'd heard enough about Katelyn to suspect she'd have a temper.

Dylis sensed watchful eyes around them. Nothing untoward. Nothing violent. But more than she liked. They were a strange group, no doubt. Six strangers gathered in a tavern with no cards in hand and not so much as a dollar on the table. Still, there strange people were nothing new in the wilds. Everyone had a story. Everyone had a past they were running from or so it seemed.

"I'm not overly fond of monsters, least of all the hungry ones, I will happily avoid them all together. However, if you find me a lock, I will get you past it, whether you have the key or not," Dylis said, trying her best to sound confident.