The Vipul desert—known to be the most unstable desert in the world—but not just because it is a coastal desert, but because of the rich magical power that flourishes within the wildlife here. As if the climate wasn’t unstable enough, some of the wildlife have the ability to bend what’s around them: heat, wind, sand, or even water can be controlled. And with so many creatures having such a power at their disposal, there’s no wonder why the stability has gotten worse over the years. But of the four forces, the one with the most potential to be devastating—wind. The winds in any desert can shift the sand floor and change the very face of the land, as well as conjure up monstrous storms, known as a black blizzard or… a sandstorm.
Here in the Vipul desert, winds can reach a staggering 160 kilometers per hour during a storm. During which, the surface is no safe haven for most life. Luckily for now, the winds are relatively calm. Only a gentle but hot breeze skirts along the floor, kicking up few unnoticeable bits of sand. Some fly into Nellie’s open mouth as she breathes. Keeping your mouth closed is essential knowledge if you are to survive the arid temperature. But it isn’t in the young Azalian’s nature.
Overheating from the short distance traveled, Nellie’s thirst grows, and she slows down. Her feet drag in the sand until she finally stops and hunches over, hands on her knees and panting. “Wait… mate, wait.” After a few exhausted breaths, she wipes her damp forehead. “I don’t know if I can do this.” Nellie swallows what little spit she can produce, then looks at the little Guide. “Can’t ya go on ahead and find someone and send for help? You’re the speedy one.”
The Guide shakes its head, then writes. You won’t survive without me.
While fanning herself, Nellie sighs. “True that, I guess. It’s just so hot… How are you okay wearing a bloody knitted hood?” She begins taking off her shirt, but the Guide immediately stops her by yanking the shirt down. “What are ya doing?” she shouted, resisting the pull. “Let me—” She smacks away the Guide’s tail and continues lifting the shirt. In a swift move, the Guide grabs her leg and pulls it out from her, causing her to fall back. “What the hell!” she yelled furiously, dragging her hand into the sand and intending to hit the Guide. But she stops and quickly shakes her hand. The sand is too hot, and the energy spent isn’t worth it.
Keep skin covered! The Guide writes beside her. Avoid dehydration. Control body heat.
“Next time, how about writing first before ya grab me like some pissy kid at the market, yeah?” Nellie stands and dusts herself off. “And speaking of hydration, can I have some of that snow ya make? Tastes like I ate a sand pop.”
The Guide brings Nellie’s hands close, then circles its tail in her palms. The end of the Guide’s tail is a soft, almost like a feather, and Nellie giggles at the sensation. “Kinda tickles.” Within her hand, snow begins to pile, pouring out from the tail. The cool, refreshing snow hits the spot for the young Azalian. “Ah, I cannot tell ya how wonderful that feels, sausage cat. Do you even feel heat? Nah, of course you don’t,” she answered before the Guide could. “Thanks anyway.” She raises her hands to her mouth, then stops as an alarming thought enters her mind. “Wait, this isn’t like, your pee or anything?”
The Guide bobbles its head.
Nellie mimics the head movement, ungracefully jerking her head side to side, mocking the Guide. “The hell does that even mean? That a yes or no?”
The Guide shrugs its shoulders, then suddenly squints. “Pwi,” It blurted, showing amusement.
“Oh yay, are we having fun? Is my confusion entertaining? Or is it my desperate dehydrated state that’s comedy gold?” Nellie brings the snow to her mouth, but the Guide smacks it out of her hands. Nellie’s eyes widen as she watches the snow melt on the hot sand. Frustrated and parched, Nellie pinches her eyebrows before strongly gesturing with her hands. “Right, so mate, I appreciate your help and everything, but you’re making it really hard not to punch you in your eyeholes.” Nellie rolls her eyes as the Guide begins writing in front of her. “What did I just say? Write first, ya bloody runt. What is it now?”
The Guide ignores her and continues. Let snow melt before drinking. Safer for you. The Guide nods.
Nellie rubs her face, and a tiny smile shows on upon hearing the rings on the Guide’s ears clink. She cannot deny the cuteness of it. Then she finally reads the message. “Of course it is. For sure isn’t you getting off on torturing the people you supposedly are saving—” The Guide slides its tail down her face and closes her mouth with the pronged tip of the tail.
Then the Guide points to another message written on her other side. Talk less. Safer.
Nellie tilts her head and lazily reads it, then lets out a small chuff. “Giving ya a big earbashing, am I?”
The Guide nods repeatedly before circling its tail in front of her, offering more snow. Nellie sighs again, then cups her hands to be filled.
“Oughta write a damn book of tips since ya know so much,” she groaned.
The Guide’s ears rise before it digs into its satchel, then pulls out an old-looking scroll. The Guide rolls out the scroll, and it extends quite a distance before it eventually stops. The length is at least three times the size of Nellie’s height. The paper is well preserved, the border decorations are the same as the ones on the Guide’s cloak, and the written text has the Guide’s fancy writing style. The scroll could’ve very been written a millennia ago.
“Surviving the Vipul desert?” Nellie read aloud. “So ya did that already, ay?”
The creature nods. No one enjoys reading in desert.
The snow fully melts in Nellie’s hands, and she finally gets to drink it. Down the hatch it goes. Water never tasted so delicious to her. “Ah…” She leans her head back and closes her eyes as she silently revels for a moment. Barraging her forehead, the sun’s heat quickly takes her out of her enjoyment, and she groans, then sluggishly responds. “But reading is the only way to understand you.”
The Guide tosses the scroll back inside the satchel, and every inch of the scroll is promptly sucked inside as if it fell off a cliff. One, two, the Guide pokes Nellie’s belly button to get her to open her eyes.
“Yeah?” she answered, jumping slightly before looking down.
Walk, melt, and drink.
After placing another pile of snow in Nellie’s hands, the Guide begins to move again. Waiting for her handful of snow to melt, Nellie slowly follows.
To Nellie, everything is beginning to feel a little bit heavier. Even the heat which blazes upon her seems to have a weight to it, causing her head to dip slightly. Her pace is slower than before. And other than her body weakening, there is another aiding to sabotage her: the desert wind. It’s starting to pick up.
Staring at the mythid’s back, Nellie begins to question its clothing. The hell are those spiral designs for? And are they moving? Why is this thing wearing socks? And why are there stars on them? Why is it even wearing clothes? What is this thing? she thought. She had to know.
“Oi… hey, what are ya anyway?” Nellie asked. “Do ya have a name?”
The Guide moves farther ahead, slides in a circle, and writes within it. Guide. Then the Guide continues ahead without interruption.
“Guide? That’s not your name, come on. You can’t be the Guide. I saw your damn map, this desert is freakin’ huge. You can’t cover all of it alone.”
The Guide nods.
“Do you just roam around looking for lost people?”
The Guide nods.
“That sounds unbelievably boring. A bit sad too—” Nellie coughs. “You uh, ya don’t get lonely doing this, sausage cat?”
The Guide’s ears dip briefly before it nods once more.
Nellie quiets herself for a moment—a rare event. The quick honesty of the creature has touched her. “Is being a guide your way of dealing with the loneliness?”
The Guide softly bobbles its head.
“Hm.” Nellie looks down at the sand rolling over her feet. “Ya sure… you’re the only one though? Maybe there’s another one of you… walking—gliding across the desert, thinking the same. Ya never know really.”
The Guide shakes its head sharply.
Nellie picks up her pace, and her voice heightens. “I’m serious. Have ya ever been to other deserts?”
Upon hearing her approach closer, the Guide hastens its movement.
“Hey, ya know what? Now that I think about it—yeah, some guy in a pub once told me about some short thing he saw back home. Said it had a black face and ears like you, but an orange cape though. Maybe to blend in with the sand there. Unlike you and your look-at-me-blue.” Nellie shrugs nonchalantly before drinking the meltwater, but it splashes to the ground as she bumps into the Guide, who’s standing still. “Ah, bloody fantastic.” She gazes down at the creature.
Its ears pointed to the sand floor, the Guide remains stiff as a board.
“What’s the matter?” Nellie asked, pulling her shirt out, hoping to catch some air. “Ah, dammit, little guy, can I get another hit of that snow to throw down my shirt? Nips feel like they’re melting off.” A small folded piece of paper drops out of her shirt and is promptly swept up by a gust of wind.
Part of the paper unfolds as it passes in front of the Guide, who snaps out of its trance upon noticing the glyph markings on the open fold. At full speed, the Guide lunges forward to chase after the paper, kicking up a wave of sand in the process. The paper is small but has a slight weight to it, so it stays close to the sand floor and is carried by the wind, which resides there. The Guide tries to keep up as best as it can, but few can match the speed of wind as well as its trickery. The paper follows a snaking path until it reaches the edge of a dune, flies off, and unfolds even more, allowing it to elegantly glide in the air. The Guide jumps after the paper and off the cliff. On the face of the paper—yellow and white colored writing formed in a circle—a summoning glyph. The Guide extends its tail out far to grab it. It misses. Drat. So close.
But the Guide hasn’t given up just yet. The mythid emits snow from its tail to propel itself further for a second chance. But the wind sweeps the paper in the opposite direction as the Guide nears. Again, nearly had it, but the wind is a dastardly mistress, especially here in the Vipul.
The Guide points its tail toward its landing zone and sprays a flurry of snow to cushion the landing. Unharmed, the Guide rolls in the snow, then pops up and shakes the snow off. Still not succumbing to failure, the Guide then watches the paper’s flight path and follows, unaware of the bent ribbed antenna tip sticking out of the snow. The little mythid’s fluffy ears perk up before its movement suddenly comes to a full stop. It can hear and feel the sand tremble beneath him. Something is stirring. Not good. Hastily, the Guide slides back up the dunes, away from the paper. It isn’t worth it.
Back up the dunes, Nellie continues to drag her feet toward the cliff, but she stops as the Guide pops up over the horizon and speeds past her.
The Guide looks back and hops several times. “Pwi!” the Guide loudly cried, its voice like a siren.
Completely confused, Nellie squints at eye at the piercing cry. “Geh, dammit. What’s happened? What was on that paper?” She turns around upon seeing the Guide point its tail, but she doesn’t see anything worthy of note. Nellie walks toward the little Guide, then she stumbles upon feeling the sand vibrate at her feet. “Damn hell was that?”
The Guide’s tail wraps around Nellie’s arm before it yanks her away, bolting off as fast as it can with the added weight.
Disarrayed as she is dragged on her side, Nellie swats the Guide’s tail. “Wait, what the hell is going on?”
The sand behind her erupts in a great pillar, then falls in multiple plumes. A towering beast rises. With its sheer height, the beast blocks out the sun. A Vipulian hemogiant centipede—or known locally as… an osahzar. Underneath its exoskeleton flaps are juvenile larvae comfortably snugged, and on its lower body is its smaller brood clutched within her many legs to form a makeshift cage that holds them in. The terrible beast’s body is dark brown, and its antenna is a shimmering green, the glyphic color code for air. Its undercarriage is a sort of blue with orange hollow circles, which are to appear as eyes to ward off predators looking to steal its young. The many legs on the beast flex and they seem almost transparent, as it takes to the color of its background to disguise the path it intends to move—a perfect ambush predator in this desert.
The osahzar whirls its one working antenna around as its massive body curls down to the sand floor. With its antenna dipped into the sand, the beast can sense Nellie being dragged by the Guide. Easily, the beast pulls its entire body out of the sand, lifts its clutched eggs into the air so they aren’t dragged, then enters pursuit. Its hiss is frightening and as loud as war drums, sounding off like an orchestra of snakes. The osahzar… is angered.
Magoch 