The journey to the west takes almost three days, traveling as much in the morning and evening as possible, and trying to keep out of the punishing sun during the day.  The last of the water is running out just as you top one more dune to find a glimmering river a handful of miles before you, bordered by lush vegetation for a mile or so on either side.  Farms are interspersed with squat, square structures here and there, and you can see people and livestock moving about in the distance.

There is no sign of major habitation anywhere, but there does look to be a strange boat with greatly curved bow and stern docked at the limit of your vision to the north, on this north-south running river.

Voran took to his new role as goatherd pretty calmly, guiding his charges patiently up the winding path. When the party breaks out into the open, he beams openly, singing a short song to the sun.



Voran smiles and wanders over to Hamburg. "Welcome to the rest of the world, my good man. Welcome to the rest of the world."

He then drives his goats forward!

Roak is first one out of the door and whoops when he sees the desert. He does a handstand and a little shimmying dance. He even hugs a goat. "Let's go, guys! Back to civilization!"



By this point, Roak's enthusiasm has worn off and he's back to his normal gruff self. At the sight of the river, he perks up. He points to the closest part of the river. "Let's go there, well away from the boat, to water the goats. We can see how the locals react to us from there."

Elboc helps to herd the goats, keeping a close eye on the villagers and not wanting any goat to run away with a king's fortune strapped to it.

"Perhaps we should send someone to talk to the villagers. And find out who's on that boat. I don't want them stealing our ill-gotten goods."

Some half an hour later the party have made their way down to the river.  The bank is steep here, but the drop to the water is only about five feet, and several paths can be found to have been cut, allowing easy access for livestock to the water.  It is notable just how wide the river actually is here.  It is even wider than a long bow shot.  This is a huge river.

Obvious notice of our heroes is taken, with people running and pointing, but none approach immediately.

The elf waves at them, indicating we mean no harm.

Roak doesn't reply much to these, mostly focusing on keeping the goats from bolting. He's begun getting attached to the goats; he's even named them all. He seems particularly fond of the goat he's named "Dopey."

Voran, meanwhile, smiles without showing his teeth and waves at the natives. He doesn't lose track of the goats and the others, but he does pay more attention to these local people and will move slowly to meet them if some begin to engage.

Elboc keeps a wary eye on the boat, but he'll join Voran in moving to meet the locals.

Hamburg's steps had been faltering and his shoddy robes were soaked through with sweat. The thrill of this new world had nearly worn off with the strenuous trek. But all of that was about to change when he beheld the river and the village! His voice cracked terribly as he tried to rasp out something intelligible. Finally, he strode directly into the water, scooping it with one hand and lifting his mask slightly with the other in order to drink greedily. Finally, satisfied, he looked around and took in the new scenery once more.

"We've made it to your city? Is this from whence you all hail?" These seemed to be the questions he was most able to form amongst quite a lot of gibberish. It could be that the odd wizard was simply dehydrated, but in fact, that was only part of his ills...

...he'd consumed the last crumbs of his mushrooms a day ago, and the combination of chemical withdrawal and clear-headedness was a situation he was not handling very well.

"D-do any of you have anything to eat?" he asked desperately, meaning of course the psychedelic fungi he'd eaten daily since a child.

"Maybe those people have some..." he surmised, lunging from the water and heading toward the village.

"This? No. My homeland is far far away. Much more shade and not nearly as hot."

"Who are you?" comes the cautious call as a small group of the locals some within shouting distance.  They are dressed in heavily-worn and fairly minimal clothing, none of it very clean, and they look nervous.  Only men have approached you, all of them with skin of a deep brown shade, likely as much due to much hard work outside as their own natural coloring.  Two of the four look to be carrying wooden hoes, and the other two have short wooden spears in their hands, without metal heads.

"We were with a caravan but got lost," says Elboc. "What is this place. Is there a city nearby?"

Voran nods and adds an introduction to each member of the party. "We seek a city to rest in," he adds.

Approaching the armed men, dripping with water, the odd wizard made a gesture of greeting, or whatever approximation thereof he thought appropriate. From what he'd read, this could be dangerous, as often something simple as an upturned hand could have many very different meanings amongst several cultures.

"Hail! I am..." he paused. "I am..." The masked face cocked to one side in confusion. He began again another time or two, but wasn't able to express his identity for some reason. It was quite curious to be sure, as if there were more than one personality vying to the fore.

His head felt leaden and light at the same time.

"Ham...burg, yes, Hamburg."

The bedraggled-looking stuffed raven on his shoulder seemed to be just as confused as the mage.

"F-food, mushrooms! Have you any?"

"Xeriops is that way," one of the men says, gesturing upriver, toward where the boat is.

"It will be your best bet for accommodation, for you and your..." another starts, then blanches when seeing the exceedingly heavy packs on the goats, "your livestock."

"We definitely can't help you here," another says in an overly-harsh tone, then he's elbowed hard by another of his companions who is holding his hoe overly-tightly and looks fairly frightened.

A fourth looks confused, then asks Hamburg, "What are mush-rooms?"

Voran nods sagely but frowns slightly. "Are you folks having some kind of trouble here?" he asks off-handedly.

The odd wizard paused, surely blinking behind his mask, "Mushrooms. You know... Food. Not meats. They, they're grown and harvested for eating, or sometimes for smoking, occasionally for making shampoo and perfume... or for stuffing mattresses even."

He seemed to be at a loss that anyone would not know what a mushroom was. It was such a staple part of the Cynidicean lifestyle that he could scarcely fathom the man's question.

"What's your word for mushrooms?" he asked his companions, thinking that perhaps this poor fellow just didn't understand the nomenclature.

The sand seemed to be shifting beneath his feet, making him feel queasy as if he might tip over.

"Perhaps he meant fungus. It seems he'd like to eat some fungus. On the other hand, if you have some meats and wines, I think that would be more to my tastes."

"Please forgive my companions here," the first speaker explains, visibly relaxing a bit, "but no one comes out of the desert from the direction which you came.  They are unnerved, and a bit frightened by stories they heard while still in their cradles.  My name is Nemeter, and this is the village of Artenofre.  Our homes are meager, and you truly will be able to find better accommodation in Xeriops.  The barge is being loaded with the early harvest now, and I suspect that the captain would be glad of even what little coin he could extort from you."  The man's face forms into a half-smile at this last pronouncement.

Voran bows. "Thank you, Nemeter; well-met. Is this barge headed for Xeriops down this river?"

"Indeed it is, and it is due to put off in the next hour," he explains.  "It will take a bit less than half of that to get to it, if you intend to travel with the good captain."

Voran nods and quickly turns to his companions. "I propose we seek passage. The worst he can say is no."

Elboc agrees, and strikes a goat or two to get them moving in the direction of the boat.

Cajoling the goats to travel toward the boat proves to be more difficult than originally anticipated.  They want to stop and eat some of everything, and it is only with the assistance of the locals that the party makes their appointment with the captain before he shoves off.

Passage upriver is shortly obtained, at the exorbitant sum of three pieces of gold for the group and their livestock, and they are crowded into the boat, along with a large amount of local vegetables and a couple of other passengers.

The boat might be called a barge only in euphemism.  It measures a mere fifteen feet from side to side at its widest point, and perhaps fifty feet from curving stern to curving prow.  With the exception of an exceedingly small cabin in the prow, the whole of the inside is open, and all parts of the vessel show signs of long use, but good repair.