Lucian brushed the last of the sand from the canister, revealing the inscription in all its clarity. It wasn't just an inscription though, but a detailed etching depicting a magnificent pyramid, seemingly floating amidst a swirling vortex of sand. The lines pulsed with a faint luminescence, as if imbued with some kind of dormant magic.

A collective gasp escaped their lips. This was more than they could have ever hoped for. Not only had they survived the sandworm's fury, but they now clutched a potential key to unlocking the secrets of the Sunken Temple.

"What do you think it is?" Rory rumbled, his voice still shaky.

Lucian traced the intricate lines of the pyramid with a calloused finger. "It could be a map," he mused.

Kainith knelt beside him, his gaze sharp. "Or it could be a warning," he countered, his voice low. "A final test before we reach the temple itself."

Rance, who had been unusually quiet throughout the sandworm encounter, finally spoke up, a glint in his eye. "Or," he said with a sly grin, "it could be a treasure map, leading to riches beyond our wildest dreams!"

Kainith chuckled, a dry sound in the vast emptiness. "Perhaps a bit of all three, my friend. But for now, we need to decide what to do next."

He surveyed the landscape. The monstrous sandworm laid dead, leaving pools of a thick green slimy blood. The distant mountains, their rugged peaks now bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, beckoned them forward.

"We could rest here for the night," Lucian suggested, his voice firm. "Regroup, assess our supplies, and then decide how to proceed."

The others murmured in agreement. The ordeal with the sandworm had taken its toll, both physically and mentally. But as they settled down for a tense but hopeful night under the desert stars, the strange canister pulsed with a faint bluish glow.

Nightfall painted the desert canvas in shades of inky black and bruised purple. A welcome chill settled over the sand as they huddled around a crackling fire, its meager flames casting flickering shadows on their weary faces. The metallic canister, the prize from their harrowing encounter, sat prominently on a nearby rock, bathed in the firelight's glow.

Rory was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was a right fine welcome to the Desolation, wouldn't you say?" he rumbled, poking the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks dancing upwards.

Lucian chuckled, a dry rasp escaping his lips. "A baptism by sandworm, indeed. But we came out the other side, didn't we?"

Kainith, his cloak draped around his shoulders like a shroud, nodded curtly. The desert wind strummed a mournful melody on the strings of his lute, left unattended by his side.

Rance eyed the canister with a glint in his eye. "Speaking of coming out the other side," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence, "did anyone catch what that blasted worm coughed up? Looked like a rather fancy metal… whatsit."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a reward for our troubles," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

The fire crackled, and for a moment, the only sound was the wind whispering secrets through the dunes. Then, Kainith spoke, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"There are stories," he began, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames, "tales whispered by bards all over Archanella.  They speak of guardians, monstrous creatures sworn to protect the secrets buried beneath the sands." Kainith looked at the group lips now curling into a smile. “I of course thought that was all a lie until about 2 hours ago.”

A shiver ran down Rory's spine. "Guardians, huh? Sounds like we just met one of those lovelies."

A comfortable silence settled once more, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire. Then, Rance spoke, a sly grin playing on his lips.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, "enough with the doom and gloom. Let's hear some proper stories!  Maybe a tale to ward off any other sandworm encounters we might have in store."

Rory chuckled. "Aye, that's the spirit, Rance! Hit us with your best one."

Rance sat more upright now. “Well before I met you guys I worked at a small shop in the grand city of Port Ocena. It is quite far south of here and even further south of Kernston. While working at the store selling relics from all over Archanella I saw a person getting mugged outside through the window. I ran outside to protect the person who I assumed was an innocent bystander and by the time I got outside the attacker had already started running off.”

Rory, entranced by the story, leaned forward. “Who was it? What did the mugger steal?”

Rance, ignoring the question, continued.” I helped the man up and he wouldn’t tell me his name, but he did ask if I wanted to get out of Port Ocena and stop selling trinkets to tourists. I had ambitions to explore all over Archanella and beyond after spending time talking to the explorers guild and this seemed like my way out. I said yes and I just followed him to a small house and never looked back. He sent me on grand adventures all over the southern shores retrieving relics for his storage. I didn't ask what the relics did because he paid well. Then one day after returning from retrieving a small purple metal statue I saw his house had a hole in the wall. It looked like a magical light had cut the hole into the man's vault. The man was laying on the floor dead and all of his relics were gone. I was worried they were still around and maybe knew who I was so I dropped the small statue and sprinted to the docs where there was a boat that took me to Bryonton that’s where I met Rory.” Rance smiled. I haven't been back since.

“Well who was the man? Who attacked him?” Rory questioned.

“I never asked who the attackers were. Didn’t seem important to me at the time and the man never told me his name. In fact, he refused. I was told to just call him sir.” Rance said.

“Okay Rory, you tell us a story now.” Lucian smiled. 

“Oh do I have one for you!” Rory exclaimed. “Have you heard of the Sand Yeti?”

Kainth scowled, “There is no such thing Rory.”

“Oh yeah now, listen up close, lads, 'cause I'm about to tell you a tale of grit, guts, and a sand yeti with a serious case of bad breath! Not your average desert critter, this one. Stood taller than a date palm with arms like petrified tree trunks and a temper hotter than a scorpion on a sunburn!” Rory said while mimicking the form to look imposing.

“It all happened on a scorcher of a day, just like this one, only a couple of sandblasted years ago. Me, a younger, slightly less handsome Rory, was trekking across this desert called The Great Expanse, searching for a rumored lost oasis filled with bottomless kegs of grog. Now, mirages are a dime a dozen out here, but this one, oh this one, shimmered with a clarity that made a man thirsty just lookin' at it.”

“Endless kegs of Grog huh?” Rance questioned. “I think the last thing you need is endless grog.”

Rory stuck his tongue out at Rance before continuing.

“So, I stumble towards this oasis, vision swimming, tongue drier than a mummy's sock, ready to dive headfirst into a vat of the sweetest nectar imaginable. Suddenly, the ground trembles like a herd of stampeding sand lizards, and a booming voice, like a rockslide in a canyon, bellows, "HALT, FOUL INTRUDER!"

There, rising from the supposed oasis, was this colossal sand yeti! Made entirely of the finest desert sand, mind you, with glowing gemstone eyes and a grin that could curdle camel milk. Not exactly the welcoming committee I was hoping for.

Now, some folks might run screaming at the sight of a giant sand monster, but not Rory Strongarm! I squared my shoulders, hefted my trusty axe, and roared back, "Who in the nine hells are you supposed to be, interrupting a thirsty man's quest for refreshment?!"

The sand yeti blinked its gemstone eyes, a shower of sand cascading down its sandy beard. "I am Groth, Guardian of the Mirages," it boomed, its voice echoing across the dunes. ‘No mortal shall exploit my illusions!’”

“Groth, Guardian of Mirages huh?” Lucian mused. “Not even in the nine hells have we heard of him.” Lucian said with a laugh.

Rory glared at Lucian. “Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes, sorry Rory. Please continue.” Lucian said apologetically.

Rory continued where he left off.

“Well, that just tickled me pink! This overgrown sandcastle was trying to control my thirst? Not on my watch!  "Illusions, you say?" I bellowed. "More like a cruel tease for a parched adventurer!"

Before Groth could reply, I charged, a whirlwind of leather and steel. My axe whistled through the air, cleaving a chunk off the yeti's sandy shoulder, sending a miniature sandstorm in my direction. Groth roared in surprise, spouting sand expletives that would make a sailor blush.

The battle raged! I dodged sand-laden swipes, hacked away at its sandy limbs (turns out, sand yeti aren't exactly lightweight), all the while dodging showers of the coarsest grit imaginable. My lungs felt like bellows, my arms ached like they were being pummeled by cacti, but I wouldn't give up!

Finally, with a burst of inspiration, I remembered a dusty old desert wives' tale about sand yetis. Apparently, they can't stand the sound of…well, I won't sully your ears with the details, let's just say it involves a particularly unpleasant bodily function and a rather unfortunate desert rodent.”

Kainith trying to suppress a childish laugh snorted.

Rory continued with a smile.

“Taking a deep breath, I uncorked a repertoire of the most ear-splitting, stomach-churning noises I could muster. The sand yeti, its gemstone eyes wide with horror, faltered. Its sandy form shuddered, then ripple, as if its very essence was being offended.

With a final, earth-shaking groan, Groth dissolved into a swirling sandstorm, leaving behind only a single, sparkling gemstone, maybe a leftover from one of its unfortunate encounters with a desert rodent, who knows?

There I stood, victor, surrounded by a shimmering mirage that finally offered the cool, refreshing taste of actual water. It wasn't grog, but after battling a sand yeti on a scorching desert day, a man appreciates the simple things in life.”

Rory stood up and took a bow.

“Okay then you big oaf. Where is the gem you looted?” Rance questioned with a smile.

“Right here.” Rory pulled a slightly polished rock out of his pouch.

Kainith just smiled. “Okay you two calm down. Lucian, I think it’s your turn now.”

Lucian gazed at the inscription on the canister sitting next the the party, its faint luminescence a beacon in the night.

"I once heard a tale," he began, his voice low and steady, "of a hidden citadel, a place of immense power, guarded by trials and forgotten magic.It is a large crimson monument built to some great evil." Lucian smiled. “That’s hell after all.” Kainith laid back listening. Lucian continued. “There is the story of something called the red wave in hell. It's a murderous death cult that worships a demon lord. They use forbidden magic to hoard knowledge from the people of hell. It’s all some old lava eel fisherman's tale. It's not true as far as I know.” Lucian glazed upwards at the sky. Then, with a wry smile, he added, "Sounds familiar, doesn't it? A hidden temple, guardians, forbidden magic."