Salt beneath your aching feet. Restless, perspired, and exhausted; you press on. The sun, an auburn blaze piercing your eyes like daggers, looms west of you. To your east, a druid merchant. His arms are coated in blackened shimmers and his fingernails are all but existent. As you approach him, he gazes at you with pale silver eyes. 'Hail Traveler.' He mutters to you, with a deep moan resembling the sound of gravel. As you wipe the sweat off your brow, you procure his mysterious trinkets. Gold and silver mechanical tubing you can't quite recognize strikes your eyes. As you purchase a book from him that only has a small handful of words enscribed to it's sand-colored pages, you pay him with a small satchel of oil, two flashbangs and a rusted iron dagger. Seeing your exhaustion, the merchant takes pity on you and invites you to camp with him for the night. You rest your crystalline bones to the floor, dropping yourself like a boulder. As the oppressive sun sets, and the two moons rise, You gaze at the open sky; turning from a pale, viscous yellow to a shimmering mix of blue and purple. You roast fennel seed, a bullet casing, vulture feathers and watered down honey in a pot and stir. The merchant eagerly shares in your delightful meal and you prepare a water ritual between the two of you. 'Live and Drink, Friend.'