The stillness was suffocating, not even a whisper of a breeze to relieve the boiling heat. Despite the shade it offered, the confines of the massive, creaking argossy were even more oppressive. Packed with passengers, trade goods and fodder for the outriders' crodlu, the fortress-sized trade coach stunk worse than the slums of Tyr. It was preferable outdoors, even with no wind and sand as hot as a baker's oven.
Flying under the banner of House Sysra, the caravan had set out from Balic three weeks ago. Andris, the leader of the beleaguered trading house, had poured what wealth remained in its coffers in one final expedition, filling the argossy's hold with goods he planned to sell to allies in House Wavir, which had recently established a new outpost near the the Ringing Mountains between its existing Outpost 10 and the fortified gold mines of Walis. From there, the expedition would continue northwest into the uncharted highlands, littered with ruins and rumors of cannibal tribes and other loathsome creatures. What Andris plans to find or do there he has shared with no one, only hinting at great wealth to be had for anyone who agrees to journey on from the Wavir outpost.
In line with such secrecy, Andris has taken great pains to avoid the attention of rival houses and other old enemies. The most straightforward route would have been to take the caravan from Balic north to Altaruk, then southwest along the so-called Gold Road to Walis. That would have meant passing through Fort Adros, whose masters in House Inika have long preyed on House Sysra's caravans. Instead, Andris had charted a course west, along the ancient trade road to Celik, before forging north across the badlands to Wavir's Fort Thetis to resupply. From there, the caravan had traveled north across the scrub plains — steering well clear of the ruined city-state of Kalidnay, rumored to be filled with ghosts and the malevolent spirit of its fallen sorcerer-king — to the Gold Road and the dunes beyond. In another day or two, the sandy wastes would give way to badlands and stony barrens. The mountains, just a smudge on the horizon now, lie another five days or so beyond that.
Eyes slitted against the sun, you stir from your reverie and scan the surrounding dunes. Ahead, through heat waves that render the horizon a blur, you spot a listless, dun-colored flag flying above the ruins of an old waystation. Andris had mentioned the landmark when you set out that morning, but said there was no reason to stop with the well long dry and the argossy's hold full of House Wavir water.
Above, a lone kes'trek'el circles lazily, gliding on the thermals ... until suddenly it is no longer gliding but plummeting to the ground, seemingly struck dead in the empty sky.
Your stomach lurches as the dune beneath you seems to jump, almost vibrating for a breathless second before sand explodes around you in a whirling cloud. The sudden sirocco casts the world into darkness — later, one of your companions swears it was some winged shadow that blocked out the sun — as a deafening roar fills your ears. You catch a final glimpse of the argossy before it is torn to splinters, then the scathing wind picks you up, tumbling through sand and sky before the ground inevitably claims you once again.
Dazed, with sand coating your throat and stinging your eyes, you pick yourself up from where you landed. Bruised but not broken, you collect your possessions from where they landed, even managing to find your kanks, equally battered. The sandstorm that struck the caravan — if a sandstorm it was — continues, though without the sudden fury of before. Even so, you find yourself dodging flying debris as you stumble forward in the haze, the vague glow of the sun in the west a guide as you make your way north toward the dubious shelter of the abandoned waystation.
You find yourself in the middle of the wastes, your sight almost completely obscured by sand and dust, with a vague notion of which way to go to reach the waystation. Your possessions are mostly intact: Barrels or large ceramic containers will have been smashed, and large tents and other items are likely damaged but useable. You have managed to keep track of your weapons, mounts and other items, however. Regardless of how many waterskins you may be carrying, you each have half a day's water ration (so, 1 quart for a halfling, half a gallon for humans/dwarves and 2 gallons per a half-giant) since Andris had been doling out water from the caravan's stores each morning.
As you make your way toward the waystation, each character needs to make an Agility check to avoid dangerous flying debris and other hazards left in the wake of the storm. On a failure, you suffer 1 wound (you can use a Benny to soak as normal); with a success, you suffer a level of Fatigue from Bumps & Bruises; with a raise, you emerge unscathed.
As you navigate through the storm, you come across remnants of the caravan, some of which may be salvageable. With an appropriate skill check (Notice or Survival, most likely, but I'm open to others if they make sense) you find an object of value. You may try for a second item, but your skill check and your Agility check to avoid damage are made with a -2 penalty.
