The basilisk's six broad, padded paws kept them from sinking into the Southern desert sands. Crossing the dunes was like being on a rollercoaster, the basilisk sprinted up the face of a sand dune, throwing up plumes of sand behind, then came the descent, jumping and sliding down the opposite side. Rinse and repeat, over and over.
Dave's armor was scorching hot to touch, the desert sun wasn't hot enough to cause [Overheating] but it sure did feel like it was. It felt like his already dessicated draugr skin was going to become brittle and crumble to dust. Maybe he'd evolve into a Mummified Draugr.
They were halfway to Mt. Glory when the weather changed. Dave noticed the sky was less bright and the wind had picked up, he looked around and then behind. Rushing toward them was what looked like a wall of roiling reddish-yellow chaos, the phenomenon stretched across the horizon and towered high into the atmosphere.
"Sandstorm! Run, Grumps, runnnnnn!" Dave shouted.
