Lord Revan stood at the front of his airship, looking at the horizon. There was nothing but an endless sea of sand and the clear blue sky. It was scorching hot, but the entire ship was cooled by his magic.
He was about 40 years old, with black hair and a short beard. He was around 180 cm tall. His eyes were the color of deep turquise. He wore a black chestplate, trousers and a shirt made out of silk, in the same color. He also had a turquise cape a a rapier in a sheath tied to his belt.
There were already numerous expeditions into the desert, none returning. But they didn’t have magic or airships, imported from Rocova. Out there, there was something capable of creating an entire desert and killing over a hundred expeditions. And Revan wanted it.
That’s when he saw it. A river on the horizon. And a settlement next to it.