After a long, arduous journey across land and sea and land again, Vix arrived in the Jub Desert on the recommendation of his good friend, Athis Seemo. He’d had to cross the entire known world to do it, but the view of the barren wasteland made it all worth it. Vix could actually feel his skin sizzling in the sun, which may not have been a good sign to a more intelligent half-elf, but Vix was not that. No, he thought it was the feeling of accomplishment, something that was entirely foreign to him.

He found himself on the top of a sand dune overlooking the desert. There was nothing around him but flat sand interrupted by the occasional pile of stone ruins, none of them taller than an ordinary geebo³.

Resigning himself to some sort of decision, Vix picked a direction at random and slid down the dune. He walked for many miles and didn’t see a single soul. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he was going in circles. Of course, he didn’t but he wasn’t. Still, it would have been a strange sight indeed to see how he made his way through the desert, that seemingly inescapable hell, as if he were going on an early morning stroll before breakfast. But the odds were clear: if Vix was to get out of the Jub Desert alive, it would take a miracle.

Eventually, in the fourteenth hour, he saw something odd only a few hundred feet ahead. He continued leisurely on his way. It was a sort of hatch in the ground made of packed sandstone that would blend in perfectly with the rest of the desert if it hadn’t already been opened. There was a steady track of footprints leading away through the sand to the left of his own. Hm, guess they left, he thought, neck straining under the weight of his incredible mind.

Vix peered through the open hatch and saw a rickety old ladder leading down to a dimly lit sandstone room. Light shone from a doorway in the opposite wall.

He climbed down the cobwebbed ladder with soleless shoes and faced the opening within. It led to a hallway lined with torches that lit a path to another chamber, though he couldn’t make out much of it. His footsteps echoed as he made his way down the hall, and between them crept another sound. Past the far exit was a clamor, as if multiple potion bottles were being continuously smashed on the ground just beyond the wall. Vix didn’t pay much attention to this and instead lingered on the various engravings on the wall. They were easier to see near the torches, so he leaned in close to the flame as he passed each one. At the fifth set of torches, he made the decision to simply lift one out of its socket and carry it to the engravings between. Miraculously, there was no trap mechanism on it.

The noise at the end of the hall grew only louder as he walked, coming to the crescendo which even Vix couldn’t ignore. He made a beeline to the end of the hallway at the blistering speed of walking a little bit faster than normal, got to it, and saw the room that lay beyond.

Before him was the burial chamber of some forgotten leader of the Jubian people, cast in torchlight that made the gold of its pillars and tomb glitter beautifully. Shadows danced on the walls from the flickering light moving around the three figures there. These three were the very last things Vix noticed. They were as follows:

And one (1) short, red headed creature fighting desperately for his life.

They kicked large clouds of dust and fine sand into the musty air as they danced around each other. The red headed one, drenched in sweat and panting, wore a cape made for someone twice his size, making him look even more like a child than he already did.

“Hiya! Who are you?” Vix asked, walking calmly over to the short one.

“Could you help, maybe?” the short one said, dodging a mace hit that shook the ground and loosed dust from the various surfaces around them.

“Oh, I’m not made for that kind of thing,” Vix said.

“What?” the halfling yelled, doing a sick somersault to avoid being skewered by a spear. “Come on! Do something!” Vix was examining the engravings on the walls. They were even better than the ones in the hallway.

One of them, near the bottom of the wall, portrayed a great mage blasting away his foes with a… light beam!

“Oh yeah!” Vix said, springing to his feet. He turned around to see that the short man was dead.

Ha, just kidding, he was still dodging around for his life.

Vix summoned all the energy in his heart and balled it into his hands. They started sparkling a deep purple as a warm, yellow light pooled in the palms.

In one swift motion, Vix thrusted his hands out, palms forward and spread as far from each other as he could stretch. He felt the energy leave him and blast from his open hands in a spectacular ray of light, destroying the armored creatures forevermore.

The short one stood in disbelief. He looked behind and around Vix, trying to find the source of the Super Duper Light Beam, but didn’t see anything or anyone else.

“You?” he asked. He sat on the dusty ground. Vix joined him

They stayed there for a while, not talking much. Eventually, Vix broke the silence.

“What’s your name?”

“Dylk Willum. Of the Wood.”

“Which one?”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.” Silence again.

“What’s yours?” Dylk asked.

“Vix the Fallen,” Vix the Fallen said. He smiled and performed a sitting bow.

“Fallen?” Dylk asked, raising an eyebrow. “Fallen from what?”

“From the temple of Ithia I got sent out of. My good friend Athis Seemo gave it to me. It’s my exile title.”

“Oh,” Dylk said, confused. “What did you come here for?”

“Seemo said the people of the Jub Desert would welcome you with open arms,” he said, making quote marks with his fingers

“Oh!” Dylk said, the flame of realization in his eyes. “This Seemo guy, he’s your friend?”

“Yup!”

“Hm… was everyone at the temple your friend?”

“That’s right!”

“Then why did they… why did they kick you out?”

“Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess-” Vix was cut off by a crash off in a side room.

Out of its entrance came three more of the sandstone creatures, each one more menacing than the last. One of them had lost its helmet, revealing the decaying features of its ancient face. The eyes glowed red.

“I’ll take care of them, Dylk!” Vix said, rising to his feet.

“No, no, Vix! I think that might be a bad idea,” Dylk said, looking over to the crumbling opposite wall and the about-to-be-caved-in ceiling.

“Nonsense!” Vix said, focusing his energy again.

“No, wait!” Dylk screamed, jumping up too slowly to tackle him.

But just as Vix was about to resign them all to a terrible doom, one of the three guardians gave out a frightening screech that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It stopped shambling toward them and fell face first to the ground. Planted between its shoulder blades, through armor, was an arrow.

A second arrow shot through the hallway entrance and felled another. Dylk, apparently wanting to milk the opportunity for all it was worth, dashed to the last of the three while it was distracted and climbed up its back. With a pair of quick jabs from his twin rapiers, it too fell, throwing dust into the air.

By the time it had settled, a third figure walked through the entrance, clad in animal hide and withdrawing his bow to his back. It was a dwarf, brown bearded and stout.

“Hello, friends!” he said, looking around the crypt.

“Another one?” Dylk said, this time with both eyebrows raised.

“Well, what’s your name?” Vix asked, pointing to the new arrival.

“My name is Salman, outlander of Urkhar, son of none, ranger of the forest.”

“I’m Dylk Willum of the Wood, son of Dako and Bami, hero of my people, I guess.”

“I’m Vix!” He stretched out a hand to Salman, who took it.

“Good to meet friendly faces in this barren place,” Salman said. “What is your business here?” Dylk was again the first to speak:

“I’ve spent the last few weeks freeing my people with my own flavor of justice! Made my family rich, too! But now that that’s over with, there was no reason left for me to stay there.” He looked longingly into the ceiling. “So, I’m out in the world trying to use my abilities to benefit myself for once. If you two hadn’t shown up, it would’ve ended pretty quickly.” He chuckled to himself.

“No shame in the valiant seeking their own fortunes,” Salman said. “Tell me, master Willum, how did you help your people?” Dylk rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh so, I… I broke into the prince’s castle and took gold from his gold pile and stuff, and I gave it to the halflings in the Wood who needed it most.” Salman stared at him without expression. Even Vix could feel the tension in the air.

“I see,” Salman said, finally. “You, Vix.” He turned to Vix, still expressionless. “What brings you here?”

“Just a suggestion from a friend,” he said. Salman looked to Dylk in subtle confusion. Dylk shrugged.

“Well, it’s as good a reason as any,” Salman said, which made Vix feel justified in his actions once again. “But what will become of our lucky alliance? Will it break so soon?”

Both Dylk and Vix shook their heads.

“No!” Vix yelled, desperately. “We should stick together! Like gobobirds of a feather!”

“Y’know,” Dylk said, “he actually has a point. I don’t know what a gobobird is but we might as well stay in a pack. I mean, that desert out there is atrocious! And at least a couple of us seem to have our heads screwed on right.” The two of them looked at Vix, who smiled back at them.

“Yeah,” he said, “you guys are pretty good but you won’t survive two seconds without a leader. Luckily, you just ran into the most capable ithurge on Earth! With your knife slinging contraption,” he said, looking at Salman, “and your rat-like agility,” he said to Dylk, “we can conquer the world!” Both of them looked at him with great concern.

“Uh, Vix?”

“What’s up, Dylk?” The crypt grew ominously warm.

“Your head,” Dylk said.

“What about it?”

“It’s on fire.” Vix was still holding the remnants of the torch in his hand. It had somehow survived the Super Duper Light Beam and Vix, in his excitement, had flung it too close to his hair.

“Uhoh,” he said, standing perfectly still. The flame raged on.

Salman tackled Vix to the ground and began beating his head with Dylk’s long cape. Soon, both the fire and the cape were gone. It was over before Vix could really gather what was happening. So, knowing a job well done, he laid on the floor next to the charred remains of the cape and relaxed for a while.

He heard his two companions walk away into one of the side rooms.

“You had to use my cape?”

“Oh, I’m sorry for stealing your cape, master Willum.”

There were sounds of rummaging, coins clinking and latches unlatching. It sounded like it was going well.

“I don’t appreciate the looting, three-quarterling,” Salman said.

“Huh?” Dylk said. There were more rummaging noises.

After a particularly loud crash came the telltale sound of another guardian emerging from its resting place. Vix sat up to see what was happening. Through the doorway of one of the siderooms, he could see Dylk engaged again in combat, tucking and rolling across the room. He disappeared into the room along with the creature. The floor there shone with a thick layer of golden trinkets and coins. Vix heard Dylk’s frantic footsteps move the coins; the sound was like music to his ears.

Suddenly, Dylk stopped and Vix heard a new voice come from the room.

“Hail, young master halfling! I am here to help!” It was shrill and quick, almost tripping over its own words. Vix then heard Dylk yelp in surprise at its presence. Soon, the sounds of fighting stopped.

“What the hell are you?” Dylk asked. Vix couldn’t see it.

“I am the spirit that protects this place. I am also the guardian and executor of the will.”

“Whose will?” Dylk asked.

“The king’s, of course! He left very specific instructions to me for the giving of his possessions. One of the clauses clearly states that anyone who can defeat the royal guard will be allowed their pick of the riches and a piece of advice from me!” By this point, Salman had walked into the sideroom.

“Why did you help Willum, then?” he asked the spirit.

“‘Cause I’m tired of waiting, that’s why! No one had found this place in 1600 years! If you all died, no one would ever fulfill the will! Now, for your advice.”

“Uh huh?” Dylk asked.

“This place is crawling with gold and jewels worth more than you can imagine. But all of it is nothing compared to what lies within-”

“Is it friendship?” Vix asked. He was just starting to stand but quickly gave up.

“No, it isn’t friendship, fool! As I was saying,” it said, clearing its throat, “all of it is nothing compared to what lies within that pile of coins, beneath the gold. It is something lost which is begging to be found. The great treasure of the kingdom of-”

“Alright, alright,” Dylk said. More metallic footsteps. Then, the sound of thousands of coins being tossed aside. Then, a gasp of pure shock.

“It’s so heavy! It must be five pounds!” Dylk said. “How’s that possible?”

“Now is my time to go,” the spirit said. “I must finally depart the mortal plane for Oth. Farewell, and good luck.” Then there was silence.

Dylk and Salman came out of the room with nothing of great size on their persons besides the bulging golden pockets of Dylk. They came right up to Vix, still sitting on the ground, with looks of astonishment across their very different faces.

“Vix,” Dylk said, “take a look.”

In his hand was a small piece, a pebble, really, of some silvery metal. He held it out for Vix to take and he did. It had weight beyond its size, so much so that it dug into his palm.

“What is it?” he asked. Dylk and Salman exchanged confused glances.

“I’ve never seen such a metal before,” Salman said. “Some authority is required to identify it.”

“Where should we go?” Dylk asked.

“It pains my heart greatly to say,” Salman said, “but we must go where the wilderness does not reach. We must go to Rattwater. Their council will grant us either information or access to their mages’ tower. Yes, the mages of Rattwater will know, for they are wise and worldly. The journey will be long. Take only what you need.” Dylk reluctantly turned out (most of) his pockets under the supervision of Salman.

“Welp,” Vix said, “Rattwater or bust!”