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From the travel journal of Ohvar Callumn; wandering Orcish philosopher, seeker of The Lost Relics of the Hrakket Empire, Soothsayer to Emir Plox:
I'd wandered the Shimmering Dunes for many ten-day hoping for signs of the Buried Monastery. It is said that Carano Vell was the last to see the Mirror of Lady Hrakke. This is not, however, an account of how I recovered one of the Six Relics; this is an account of a shining jewel languishing at the base of the western mountain ranges. I had made to scale the eastern slopes of the far range, hoping against hope that a forgotten spire might peak from beneath the shifting sands. I felt invigorated despite the punishing heat, and somehow knew today would bring a stunning discovery. I reached a satisfying height and looked out over the sprawling desert. With a touch of disappointment I noted that there didn't seem to be a lost library struggling to reveal itself to me. The sun was setting, and I decided to camp on the mountain, where the steady breeze kept the air slightly cooler. As I rounded the mountain, looking for a spot to set up camp, I noticed something seemed to have caught the setting sun and was glittering brilliantly in the light. I attempted to look more closely but the reflected brightness obscured its source. Camp forgotten, the reflected light seem to draw me in, appealing to the academic in me. It took longer than I would have guessed but I was beginning to feel the excitement only fellow adventurers can relate to.
Then I saw it.
It was a great city of glass; twisting spires seemed to grow directly out of the sandy soil, huge domes appeared as bubbles that had formed in a heat of unimaginable source. Wisps of color, interior fractures, and shimmering sands worked into the walls of the crystalline structures provided privacy for the residents of the reflective city. As I was wondering who could have built this, a pair of red Dragonborn emerged onto a beautiful porch, shaded by vines and trellises. They spoken in a hissing language the likes of which I have never heard, and seemed to be enjoying an evening meal of roasted fowl. Lights were starting to crop up as the sun dipped still farther behind the mountains, giving the city an even more mystical look. The familiar sight of faerie fire ringed the mouth of a large cave “Probably some sort of religious hall,” I muttered as I picked my way down the slope and closer to the city.
As the words fell onto the deaf stones of the mountainside two gargantuan red dragons emerged from that same cave and took to the skies, diving and nipping at one another, clearly at play. The couple I could still see on their porch watched the two huge creatures, an appreciative smile on their faces. More dragons took to the sky, all reds of varying sizes and ages, stretching their wings and enjoying the cooling twilight. The collected wyrms landed in the large festival square - a glimmering plaza of large glass flagstones of red and orange - an homage to the Reds, I knew now. Townsfolk, all scaled in crimson emerged from their homes and from what must have been some sort of storehouse several large smoked animals were wheeled before the dragons, who conversed easily in the same sibilant tongue as the townsfolk, smoke curling from her nostrils as one chuckled to a murmured joke or anecdote.
I couldn't see much more from here, not without the lenses that the rogue Parniss stole from me in Merschelmerre. I had no desire to be seen as an intruder so I stole away before the wind took my scent to one of those great lizards. I've marked the location of the shining city; I'm hoping some enterprising adventuring group will accompany me back to that place...this time with a spell to comprehend their tongue.