Scoundrels of Xoth [ EDIT ]

You've journeyed far across Xoth, from the familiar Western lands of dirt and grass and mud, into the exotic and steaming jungles of the East. Traveling past the ape-worshipping city of Laksha, you've come to the spice capital, the city called Azjan.

The humid heat is heavy on you as you approach the city gates. No one hails or halts your small convoy of pack mules as you enter, following the elderly merchant Aktar Besh. This will be his last trip eastward, he swears at every evening meal; "My bones are old," he says, "and this moist weather makes them burn."

Within the high white wall, the streets are empty and the colorful buildings are silent. You look about you with an eerie feeling. But Aktar calms you newcomers: "It is the siesta," he says. "The people of the city rest out of the heat. As we should, also. There is a tavern I know that has stables for our mules."

High in the heaven, a large dark bird swoops and dodges a pair of smaller birds that repeatedly dive at it and then dart upward again.