100 rooms · levels 33–50
Waves of heat shimmer to the south, where a vast desert plateau stretches as far as the eye can see. The terrain is barren and dry, with only scrub grass and some thorn bushes for ground cover. Tracks on the ground mark where goats have come here to graze. To the north, towering in the distance, is a great wall of white. An ancient, black stone bridge arches over the chasm to the north. Some moisture gathers here, allowing the grasses and shrubs to leaf out somewhat.
Broken rock makes the footing on this trail uncertain, but with care it is possible to follow a trail east or west. To the north the hill becomes a cliff, falling down into a deep, swift river. A dry desert wind blows around the peak to the south, shifting unpredictably. The petrified roots of some desiccated brush are the only sign of plant life.
A dry stream bed plunges down to the north. The small arroyo was carved by the infrequent desert storms. It is dry now, and lined with boulders and dry, cracked clay ground. It drops off with a sudden cliff to the north, into the river.
This canyon is surrounded by steep slopes to the north, east, and south. A low broken wall lies to the west. It looks as if this was once used as a corral. Some tracks show animals have been here recently. Some dry bushes and scrub grass provide grazing.
The high plateau stretches for some distance. Scrub brush, thorn bushes, and desert grass dot the plateau. The bare rock pushing through in many places is sandstone, ranging in color from gold, to orange, to red. A tall peak blocks the way east.
The high, rocky mesa stretches far into the distance. Tall escarpments of weathered and twisted sandstone block the way west and south. The gritty desert winds have scoured the land nearly bare of plant growth.
A rough circle of standing stones silently crown the tor. There is no wind, and nothing moves. An eerie feeling of energy shivers through the air, and there is an odd, herbal smell in the air. A rough stone altar stands at the center of the circle.
Tangled scrub brush and dry desert grass provide forage for the hardy goats herded by the people who range this desert mesa. A hot wind blows from the south, carrying rough grit and sand. The ground goes steeply up to a rocky ridge to the south, down to a dry stream bed to the north, up to a rocky hill to the west, or continues level to the east.
Large boulders are jumbled on the bottom of this dry arroyo. The force of water rushing down to the south after the infrequent, torrential desert rain storms has rolled them and shaped them. High on the wall of the arroyo, pictograms have been scratched and dyed on the sandstone. Lower down, bits of fossilized bone protrude from the rock.
The thick brush in this area provided ample forage for the hardy desert grazers. A few succulent cacti have faded blooms atop swelling fruit. There must have been some rain in this area recently. The rocky sandstone peaks are impassable to the north and east, but there is a small cave opening to the south.
The glassy walls of this cave are blackened and smell strangely, and the stone is crumbling in places. In one corner is a low shelf the size of a bed. Near the opening is a fire pit with a few stone cooking utensils. The rest of the cavern is completely barren.
A low pass cuts into the steep ridge, which runs east and west of here. Jagged stones make the footing precarious. The sandstone bluffs shade the path, lessening the onslaught of the cruel desert heat. The desiccated corpse of a vulture hangs over the edge of one rocky outcropping, with one wing slowly swinging in the breeze.
Other than some hardy tufts of desert grass, and a bit of dry lichen, there is almost no plant life on this barren plateau. The hot desert wind blows hard, scouring everything with sharp grit. Small drifts of searing hot sand gather behind each rock, ridge, or boulder. The plateau ends suddenly to the south, in a sudden drop off. Waves of heat distort what lies below.
The roof is low and the walls are rough in this narrow crevice. The walls are dry, and slightly cool. It is very dark in here. Odd shadows high above seem to shift strangely.
To the north of this dry grassland lies a river gorge. Here, desert grass, thorn bushes, and sage brush provide grazing for the hardy desert goats. The river to the north must provide some moisture, but the dry, gritty winds from the south quickly dry the area. A great pyramid looms to the southwest.
A massive pyramid to the west overshadows this cracked and broken wasteland. Nothing grows here. The land is blasted and dead, perhaps by some ancient magic. A giant dune of sand rests against the pyramid, though the plateau is strangely devoid of sand. To the south, the rough, broken ground is obviously impassable. The cracks and ridges in the ground run parallel to the side of the pyramid. All sound is hushed, and even the wind seems timid.
To the south is a great pyramid of black stone. It dominates the landscape, radiating an eldritch aura. It seems to float slightly above the ground, but perhaps that is an illusion created by the shimmering sand that surrounds it. A frayed, ancient rope leads up the side of the pyramid. To the north is a river gorge. The plateau continues east and west.
Here, the path leads along the base of a steep slope, and curves from east to south. To the north is a deep river gorge. The ground slopes up to the west, where gray mountains loom. The path is narrow and unworked, but is deeply worn into the rock by the tread of many people over ages past. The great pyramid, to the southeast, is obscured by a shimmer in the air.
This depression is overshadowed by the mountains to the west, and the great pyramid to the east. Jumbled rocks, devoid of all plant life, are scattered in this desolate area. The trail dies out, making it difficult to determine which way to go, but it is obvious that a bluff rises to the south. The dark aura of the pyramid makes this an uncomfortable place to make camp.
A steep sandstone bluff rises to the south and west. This path is cut into the rock, a few man lengths above the jumbled rock at the base of the cliff. The large pyramid is vaguely visible to the northwest, but is somehow obscured by shimmering air. There are many fossilized shells in the sandstone of the bluff.
A great pyramid looms to the north. The ground here is cracked and barren, stripped bare of all the little life normal in a desert. A giant dune is against the side of the pyramid. Waves of heat rise from the ground, creating distorted images, and an illusion of distant water all around. A trail leads along a cliff to the west, and to the south is a valley with some sort of structure at the south end of it.
The ground in this small valley is very rocky, making for slow going. Sandstone cliffs to the east and west are riddled with small caves. Deep, wide crevices in the ground and many large boulders provide ample cover. The plant common in even arid areas is here, such as lichens, tufts of hardy grasses and desert succulents. Small creepy crawly things, such as insects, spiders, and reptiles, skitter into cracks and under rocks at the slightest provocation. It is probably a bad idea to reach in after them, as most are probably venomous. A small pyramid is to the south, at the terminus of this valley.
The small pyramid is somewhat cramped inside. The interior looks much older, somehow, than the exterior gave reason to suspect. Ancient hieroglyphics and stylized murals cover the walls. Various urns and jars full of long desiccated plant and animal matter are stacked in even rows.
A faint trail leads along the northern slope of this valley. Tumbled boulders at the bottom of the valley make walking down there impossibly difficult. In the infrequent desert rain storms, this valley must contain a sizable river. The north wall of the valley is riddled with caves, both natural and man-made, where an ancient people buried their dead. The tombs were looted, and the bodies stripped of all valuables, long ago, but treasure hunters may still come here hoping to find something worthwhile. The southern valley wall is composed of broken rock and tumbled shale, and is not suitable for tomb carving.
The north and west walls of this valley are riddled with tombs carved out of the sandstone. Small paths, no more than ledges, lead part way up the rockface to even more tomb openings. The floor of the valley is almost lush, for a desert, with thick desert grass, and even some green herbs. The wind makes strange noises, like restless spirits whispering and moaning, as it passes over the openings. Or is it the wind?
Paths diverge across the rocky bottom of this valley, so it is not clear which way to go. With careful thought, it is possible to find the right path through the valley. On the northwest side of the valley a small spring fountains out of a crack, the water vanishing into the dry desert earth nearby. Low in the center of the valley is a still pool of water.
The valley is filled with deep shadows, and the scent of death. Tall cliffs loom to the west and north. Some elaborate tombs are evenly carved along the west wall. The north wall has several parallel cracks running up it, drawing the eye up. Staring down from high on the cliff are two pits, filled with darkness. They look like the eye sockets on a skull, and are watching, malevolently.
The stench of death is very thick here, making breathing difficult, and eating a hideous thought. At first it seems the lower part of the cliffs are black, but then a slight breeze disturbs the still air. Innumerable flies rise up into the air, forming a thick black cloud, and then settle again, once again turning the reddish sandstone to black. Three deep excavated pits are irregularly placed at the southern end of the valley.
To the south, down a steep slope, a sea of sand extends to the horizon. This area of dunes is known as The Sword, perhaps due to the swords used by its nomad inhabitants, or perhaps due to its vaguely scimitar shape. The shifting dune sea shimmers and ripples, as the golden sand gives off a blinding reflected light. This is the south edge of the Plain of Standing Stones to the north, which is not a plain at all, but a rough rocky plateau.
Low rocky hills to the west and the cliff of the Plain of Standing Stones to the north give a little shade from the desert heat, and a few cacti and low shrubs manage to survive in it. To the south lie the trackless dunes. The foot of the cliff runs east toward the edge of the dune sea, and west to a lone black rock where the sand begins to shimmer strangely.
The giant dunes wash up against the sandstone cliffs to the north, like waves in some giant sea of sand. The dunes move so slowly, however, that they are almost frozen in time. The whispering desert wind slowly moves sand up the side of the dune, and over the top, as it flows up the northern cliff, towards more hospitable climes. Using the cliffs for reference, it is simple to navigate east or west. South, however, is into the heart of the trackless desert.
The sandstone cliffs to the north overhang this area, providing a bit of shade, but also the danger of occasional falling rocks knocked loose by the wind. The rocks have a long way to fall, and are small enough to be more of an annoyance than a threat. The sandstone of the cliff has some ancient pictures scratched into it. Smoke stains above suggest this was also used as a campsite, despite the absence of water.
The cliff is not so steep here, and a narrow trail cut into its face climbs it in many switchbacks: more of a hike than a climb, but still a long, hard stretch to travel. Below, the giant dunes of the dune sea stretch away to the south. The foot of the cliff runs west beneath the overhang and east toward the roar of a waterfall, and the caravan route leads away south.
A large black rock stands here, not carved but very out of place in the golden sand. Far to the west, beyond a shimmer in the air, rises the black shape of a great pyramid; but every path toward it bends back to this rock, as if some powerful enchantment of confusion guards the way. The dunes roll on in every direction. A track leads east along the foot of the cliff, and another south around a rocky hill.
The path winds around a rocky hill. To the east, down a flight of freshly carved steps, lies a beautiful oasis of date palms with a perfectly circular pool in the middle; between here and there stand poles set in the sand, bearing the bodies of dead Bedine nomads. The crumbling remains of an ancient road lead north to a black rock, and a trail runs west to the palisade of Olomaa.
The sand is ground to a fine powder here and bleached of most of its color. It shifts and blows in the wind but never gathers into dunes, and below the surface it packs as hard as stone. A white dust drifts in on the wind, tasting of powdered bone. The bone-white sands lie to the east; to the south, half buried in the dunes, rise the walls of an abandoned city.
The sand here is white, swirled with bright colors. Or is it sand? It is powdered bone, streaked with the stains of metal, and it shifts underfoot though there is hardly any wind. A white haze hangs in the air. What could grind so much bone so fine is better not imagined. The shifting sands lie back to the west.
A slight rise above the dune sea gives a good view of the Plain of Standing Stones to the north. It is not much of a plain: a rocky, rough mesa whose cliff rises straight out of the desert, and it is not clear how anyone gets up there. The caravan trail leads east and west along the cliff, and south toward the town of Addas Babar.
The oasis has three small pools, fed by a well. The bones of men and camels lie scattered across the ground among shed snake skins, and the underbrush of puncture vines, ocotillos, boojum trees and dwarf cacti is lush and ungrazed. There is a faint sound of scales on sand. The cliff path lies north, Bhaerlith Oasis west, a caravan trail east, and to the south the colored pools of a basin glitter in the sun.
This beautiful oasis is new, with clean sand and freshly planted date palms and fruit trees around a perfectly round pool of amazingly pure water. The smell of carrion wafts in from the nomad bodies staked around its edge. Steps climb west to a rocky hill, a trail leads east to another oasis, and to the south the trail enters the Scimitar Spires by the Gap of Skulls.
The caravan route runs along the foot of the cliff here, where the switchback trail comes down from the Plain of Standing Stones to the north. To the east lies the long road to the Throat and Addas Babar; to the west the trail follows the cliff past the Plain of Standing Stones.
A series of tall rocky spires rises out of the dry desert in the shape of a giant chicken's foot, pointing north toward the lake of the Throat. The rocks are cracked and full of crevices, rumored to be haunted by laertis, creatures of the Underdark. The long road to Addas Babar lies west, and to the east the open desert runs on to its eastern edge.
A huge, roaring waterfall plunges down the cliff to the north into a great sinkhole in the sand, forming a lake: the end of the River of Gems. The lake has no outlet, so the water must go somewhere underground. Vultures and water birds wheel overhead, careful to keep out of bowshot, and little grows on the shore despite the plentiful water. The foot of the cliff runs west, the lake lies east, and the long road to Addas Babar leads south.
The lake swirls in a slow whirlpool, too slow to pull anyone under. The water is fresh and pure, and something glitters in the depths below. The waterfall thunders down the cliff to the north, so loud that speech is impossible. The shore of the Throat is to the west; to the east the open desert, full of cacti, runs out to the northeastern dunes.
The water is clear, but dark and deep. Something glitters on the slope of the bank, in a crack. A school of silver fish flash as they turn to avoid you. The light takes on a greenish glint from the algae growing in the water.
Tunnels once seemed to lead out of this well-crafted cave home in every direction, but every one of them twists back on itself and ends at the water. Luminous algae grow on the walls in an artistic pattern, and something glitters in a small crack. The only way out is back up into the throat of the lake.
The way between the Throat to the north and Addas Babar, a D'tarig town at the desert's eastern edge, is long and dry. The heat of the day burns away the moisture and the cold of the night freezes away what is left, yet a few cacti and bunch grasses survive and give a little grazing. The town's market is just south; the caravan route runs west along the cliff, and the spires of Azirrhat rise to the east.
The D'tarig town of Addas Babar sprawls off to the east, its market and inn spread over a large area and laid out rather at random: the D'tarig do not seem fond of choosing where exactly a street should run. The caravan trail comes down from the north along the cliff, a trail leads west to the colored pools, and the caravan road runs south toward the bone pyramid at the foot of Mount Rahalat.
The short D'tarig dash around, buying and selling and shouting in their own throaty tongue. They look both like dwarves and like swarthy humans, so perhaps the rumors that they descend from both are true. The inn of the Jewelled Hilt is just south, the long road to the Throat leads north, the town's west edge is west, and a road leaves the desert to the east.
This inn is quite comfortable, if you are not too tall: the beams are less than six feet from the floor, which suits those who are only four feet tall. A wide fireplace keeps the building warm at night, and thick walls keep it cool during the day. Pipe smoke and the perfumes of the desert hang thick in the air. The door to the north opens on the market.
This oasis has a large pyramid of neatly stacked, well-charred camel bones; the bones at the top are quite fresh. A towering gray mountain called Rahalat, after the goddess who makes her home there, rises to the east, but the pile of bones blocks the way up. The caravan road runs north to Addas Babar and south to the oasis of El Ma'ra.
This is the goat pasture of the goddess Rahalat, high on the slope of her mountain. The smell of goat dung and unwashed goat is overwhelming, and the grass is tall and healthy, unlike almost anywhere else in the desert. Down below to the west, past the pile of bones, lies an oasis, and beyond it the dunes roll away into the distance.
This oasis is not large, but within the small green areas the plants are very healthy, and the water is plentiful. To the west is a tall flat-topped sandstone spire. To the north is a large dry lake called the Bowl of Loneliness, with the caravan trail curving around its west edge. South is sandy desert, with some flat areas covered with cacti and thorn brush. The caravan trail goes north and south.
There was once a small farming community here, but the wells went bad and it was abandoned; a few scattered foundations are all that is left. The caravan trail goes north toward El Ma'ra and the high desert, and south to the walls of Tel Badir.
The caravan route continues here, going north and south. The small walled D'tarig town of Tel Badir is to the west, but as it is held by the Zhentarium, it is not a place others should enter. The southern trail crosses a river. The river flows from the mountains to the west, into the desert to the west, until it is lost in the desert sands. A trail leads east as well, along the river.
The dry, barren expanse of the desert stretches in all directions. It is a strange desert: not totally dry, and very cold at night, though the daytime heat is all that is expected, and in winter what water there is freezes. Five hundred years ago this was fertile land. What disaster could have made this wasteland? Perhaps an act of the gods. A sign is posted here. The caravan route runs north to Tel Badir, a trail leads south out of the desert toward Port Mir, and to the west lies the edge of the Shoal of Thirst.
The caravan route runs north and south along the east side of the Scimitar Spires, a line of obelisk-like rocky spires like giant teeth or the blades of swords, barren of all life. The Road of Jackals leads west into them, the trail runs north to the Well of the Chasm and south down a plant-studded wadi, and to the east lie the frankincense hills.
The Road of Jackals, a marked path through the Scimitar Spires, twists over loose sand between towering stones, some as high as mountains, others just tall obelisks, all smooth and blasted by sandstorms. Here at its eastern end it comes out onto the caravan route along the Spires; westward it winds on between the stones.
The Road of Jackals comes out of the Scimitar Spires here, at its western end, onto low rocky hills with a little desert grass and the usual lizards and insects. The road leads back east through the Spires; trails run north to the skulls in the sand and west to the oasis of Ma'atar.
South of the Shoal of Thirst, the great salt basin stretches north for miles: a waterless, endless sand flat that sparkles white with blinding light. An ancient road leads west, the caravan trail runs east to the sign of Anauroch, and a trail goes south to the young orchards of Haunga.
The great city of Orofin lies in ruins to the west: before the desert came it was called Orolin. The Bedine will not enter it, and strange howls and echoing cries come from the broken walls. Alagh's Pass leads east toward the Shoal of Thirst, and a trail worn by the Bedine runs south around the city's edge.
A trail leads along the walls of Orofin between the city's east entrance to the north and its west side to the south. Tall watchtowers once guarded the city; now they are home only to monsters. The ruins lie close by, silent except for the howling.
The ruined city of Orofin lies to the east, a proud place once and now a hollow shell that seems to breathe evil. Strange howls and voices come from the ruins. The Bedine do not camp near it: their trail runs north around the walls toward the city's east entrance.
This high, rolling grassland is hot by day but only half arid, not desert: trees and plants grow in profusion, and a few springs water a wilderness full of grazing animals and all who prey on them. To the north the trail climbs to the foot of the Wall of Djinn, to the west lies the Lion's Eye Oasis, and to the south is nothing but the shifting sands of the Quarter of Emptiness.
This oasis is large and green, with a forested, grassy meadow full of wildflowers around a lake in its middle. A ridge nearby bears a tall rock with a hole through it, from which the oasis takes its name. Trails lead north to the edge of the hills, east to the grassland of the Saiyaddar, and south toward Lardeth.
This is a small village of clay brick huts on a rocky hill within a day's ride of the southwestern edge of Anauroch. The area is surrounded by salt flats. There is a caravan trail leading east. The area smells of death. A small house to the north is open.
The smell of death is strong, and recent repairs were made where some great fight destroyed the interior of this dwelling. Once, it was a pleasant home. Now, it is an occupied barracks.
To the west is the hillside town of Lardeth. It is one of the few permanent Bedine encampments... or was. The smell of death is strong from there, now. The caravan route runs north and east, or west into the town.
The dunes of the Quarter of Emptiness go on forever, with no sign of a trail. The sand shifts and slows every step, and it blows in the air so thickly that the sun is a pale disc. Somehow the grassland of the Saiyaddar lies north, a half-buried city east, and a hidden way west back toward Lardeth.
An abandoned city, intact but totally deserted, rises from the dunes of the Quarter of Emptiness, half of it buried under the sand. In the center of the town is a deep well that still holds pure water. The dunes lie west; to the north the sand turns pale and fine, like powdered bone.
A man-made cistern feeds the young fruit trees of this oasis, planted in straight lines on a small hill: an odd place for an oasis. The caravan trail leads north toward the Shoal of Thirst and south out of the desert.
An ancient road comes in from the east and curves away to the south. It was once paved with blocks of stone, but the heat and cold of the desert have buckled them badly, and sand has blown across it at many points. To the south the road soon becomes just a caravan trail through rough desert.
This was once an oasis, but now all is dead. It went brackish, and is unsuitable for drinking. The bones of many more than three camels litter the ground, despite the name of the oasis. The caravan trail continues north and south.
The rocky hills of the desert's edge would normally look barren, with only small weeds, insects, and reptiles to populate it. However, the desert Anauroch to the north is so barren, this looks like a paradise in comparison. It is not particularly hot in this area, it is odd that a desert is here. Tales say it appeared only five hundred years ago. Before that, this was a rich land, of powerful mages. A caravan trail leads north.
A natural spring comes out of the ground in a rocky outcropping at the foot of the Scimitar Spires, and native trees and brush grow around it, drawing animals to drink. A wishbone-shaped spire towers nearby. There are rumors of a hidden way through the Spires to the west. The caravan trail along the Spires leads north to the Gap of Skulls and south.
This large, spectacular oasis lies in an ebony basin filled with small dunes of mixed black and gold sand: on each dune the sand separates, black on the leading edge and gold on the trailing one, in a beautiful pattern. In the middle stands a cone of amber stone ringed by five curved pools, emerald, turquoise, silver, sapphire and ruby. Steam rises from the red and turquoise pools. Caravan trails lead north to the Oasis of Vipers, east to Addas Babar, west to the Gap of Skulls and south to the Hills of Scent.
A trail leads west through the Scimitar Spires and back out to the open desert to the east. The tall spires cut straight out of the sand like giant teeth, twisted and rounded by sand and wind and perhaps by ancient magic; some seem to have faces, and one glares down at the pass like a skull. Bhaerlith Oasis lies north, and the trail along the Spires runs south.
The path leads through a gap in the Scimitar Spires to the east. To the west the trail heads out into low hills, lightly forested with twisted trees that need little water.
The small sandy knolls and hills here are home to gnarled frankincense trees, whose scent sweetens the air like expensive perfume. To the north lies the Well of the Cloven Rock, to the south the Shoal of Thirst, a great salt basin, and to the west the caravan route along the Scimitar Spires.
This is a great basin stretching for miles in every direction: a waterless, deserted salt flat. The rising heat shimmers in the air like water in the distance, and blowing grit gets into everything. The Hills of Scent are north, and the flat runs on south. In the western wall of the basin, a crack hides the way into a wadi.
The southern end of the Shoal of Thirst is as waterless as the rest, the salt crust cracked into plates that ring hollow underfoot. Heat mirages hide what lies beyond. The flat runs north; Alagh's Pass leads west into the hills, and the caravan trail goes south.
This twisted, hidden chasm cuts through the Scimitar Spires. Its paths wind oddly among the sharp upthrust stones, but one of them, followed with care, leads east to the Well of the Chasm and west to the hills beyond. Deep in the center of the chasm, far below the ground, a pit leads down to an underground stream of rust-colored water.
This large wadi is studded with plants and some grass, beautiful and hospitable compared to the salt flat to the east. To the west an ancient wall crosses the canyon, breached in many places by weather and old floods. The caravan route along the Spires comes down from the north.
This ancient oasis is very isolated. This is the home of the Bedine outcasts. A ruined tower is on the north wall. On the south wall a dozen springs cascade down the cliff face. These waterfalls are the Sister of Rains. They water fig trees and a wild thicket of berry bushes. Human and animal bones are scattered about the canyon. There is a way out through a broken wall to the east.
This barren mountain pass connects the Shoal of Thirst to the east with the western desert and the ruins of Orofin to the west. The sides of the pass are cut by many canyons and fissures, and the hills are studded with saltbrush.
A row of tall grey foothills, cut by rough canyons called wadis, rises to the east here: the Wall of Fallen Djinn. Dark spots on the hills turn out, on closer look, to be acacia trees. Around it is a living desert of cacti, bunch grass and wildlife. Well-marked caravan trails lead north to Elah'zad, east to Ma'atar, south to the Saiyaddar and west to the edge of the hills.
This oasis is large, with nut trees planted in rows, and it is surrounded by a dry ditch studded with spikes; some buildings house its guards. Caravan trails lead north to Yliyl, east to the Road of Jackals, and west to the Wall of Djinn.
The desert of Anauroch stretches off to the east and south; to the west a less barren country rises. The caravan trails lead east to the Wall of Djinn and south to the Lion's Eye Oasis.
The caravan trail twists through low hills spotted with desert brush, bunch grass and cacti. A poisoned pool is surrounded by neatly piled skulls in the sand. Two caravan trails cross here, one north and south, the other east and west: east into a hidden chasm in the Spires, west to Yliyl.
This tiny, isolated oasis is just a small pool and a few palms, with the bones of those who were too weak to go on scattered about. Caravan trails lead to each point of the compass.
This oasis is like a place torn out of another land. Sandy knolls surround it, and out of them come more than a hundred springs that flow into a large lake, bordered by crimson-leaved shrubs with blue stems and twiggy trees with copper and silver sprigs. In the center of the lake is a small island, and on the island a palace; some magical force keeps outlanders from crossing the water to reach it. Trails lead out to the east and south.
A long caravan trail runs north and south between hills, dipping into a large cone-shaped pit. Another trail leads east to the Jackal Hills, and a faint track heads off west, toward a distant tower in the sands.
These low hills have enough bunch grass and brush to feed desert grazers, who in turn feed the predators, and the predators are always hungry. Flies buzz in the air. Caravan trails lead north to Olomaa, south to the skulls in the sand, west to the long path, and east into the Gap of Skulls.
This oasis has a square pool surrounded by lines of carefully tended fruit and frankincense trees, and a palisade of giant cacti inside a dry ditch. Its doors east and west stand open, and the water beckons. The caravan trail leads east to a rocky hill, west to Vuerthyl, and south into the Jackal Hills.
This oasis has neatly planted rows of fruit trees and acacias, with guard posts set around the low hills that surround it. There is a mine entrance here, but the mine has collapsed, and ruined buildings and tumbled stones make many hiding places. It seems abandoned, but many other oases have been taken by the Zhentarim, making the desert to the east even more perilous than its natural dangers. A road leaves the desert to the west, a trail runs north toward the frozen sea, and caravan trails lead east and south.
To the north is an inhospitable land of very cold sand dunes. This was once the Narrow Sea, before the disaster that created Anauroch. Dead plants dot the earthy, frozen dunes. The trail dies out to the north, but leads back to the south quite clearly.
Amid the Hills of Scent lies this large, well-known oasis: a natural valley among hills studded with frankincense trees, with grassy meadows and the Cloven Rock, a great tor split in two, out of which gushes a spring. The colored pools of a basin lie north, and the frankincense hills run south.
The hills here, at the eastern edge of the desert, support brush and small trees. The country is dry, but enough rain falls that it is odd so little grows. No road crosses it, but it is possible to travel overland to the north. Hills block the way east and south.
This rocky desert of cacti and brush is little traveled by men. The cliff of the Plain of Standing Stones blocks the way north-west and hills block the east, but the spires of Azirrhat rise to the west and the desert runs on north and south. Hummingbirds flit about, feeding on rare desert flowers.
A vague trail leads along the foot of the cliff that marks the edge of the Plain of Standing Stones. To the west the lake of the Throat glitters below its waterfall; to the east lie the dusty plains of Montserrat, and to the south rolling dunes, buffeted by a strong wind and flying sand.