Eventually, the mountains give way to sand and dunes. The scorching summer heat is nearly unbearable here in the desert, as if the sun itself is somehow offended by their presence and is trying to drive them away. Locky and Jerrard aren't so bad off, in their white robes, but the others build up quite a sweat. All of them wind up with sand in all sorts of unpleasant places, and must spend each night at camp just trying to get it all out.
It is the morning of the 20th of Holmswelt that they finally arrive in the small town of Ak-Tubal. Although small, it is well-defended. Ak-Tubal is protected by a stone wall that completely encircles it. There are also quite a few guards, men with scimitars wearing loose clothing and turbans. The merchant the party is escorting here, a silver-tongued half-elf named Faendal, easily convinces the guards to let the party pass (thanks in large part to the small bag of steel he bribes them with). Although hesitant, especially with a kender, the guards let them pass.
The people of the town are not like any the party has encountered before. Most of the people they see are human, although there are a handful of ogres and other races running around. However, the humans all have deeply tanned skin and wear loose-fitting clothes of light tones. The women keep their bodies completely covered, save their eyes and hands. Their faces are largely masked by veils.
They don't seem particularly friendly, either. More than a few glare darkly at the party. A couple even spat at the ground as they pass by.
Faendal tells them he has business at the palace of the Khan, the leader of this town. He points out an inn to them, a rustic looking place called the Severed Ear. "There's no need to wait for me," he says. "I can easily find transportation back home when the time comes. Thank you for escorting me, though. You were excellent guards, and even better company." He bows politely, then heads off.
The inn doesn't seem any friendlier, unfortunately. It is dark, but stuffy, despite the fact that one of the window panes has been broken. It kind of looks like someone may have been thrown through the pane at some point, judging by the dried blood around the jagged edges of the glass. The inn is also rather smoky, due to a few Khurs sitting around a large hookah, smoking. A draconian, a kapak from the looks of him, sits at the bar alone, nursing a drink. He glances over his shoulder at the party as they enter, but seems uninterested and goes back to staring at the bottom of his glass.
The innkeeper, a scraggly looking fellow with shifty eyes, stares unblinking at the party as they enter. A large knife sits near him, embedded into the bar. He offers no greeting, only watches them as a serpent might watch its prey just before striking.
Thuskar murmurs. "I've seen goblin lairs more inviting," he comments quietly.
