:: Random Location—Haf, Desert Settlement ::

The desert offers you nowhere to hide; the sun pounds down upon you without mercy. From a good many miles away, atop a tall mesa, you see the ruins of Haf’s signature henge, marking the burial grounds of the settlement’s most notable leaders. The desert’s dry, brown desert brush began to all look the same to you when suddenly it turns lush, green, and vibrant. Only now do you realize that—besides being terribly hot—the air has now grown steamy. Your mount kicks up less dust as you get closer, and the trail signs are noticeably cleaner.

The path dips downward into a delve that guides you further into the settlement. Just before you lose sight of the horizon, you feel a cool rush of wet air rise up to meet you. Only as you enter the settlement do you begin to hear the roaring waterfall that you were told would be waiting for you inside the rock formation—a cool, welcoming, subterranean oasis. A certain calm settles over you as you ride between the rounded adobe domes, half of which are built into the side of the mesa. Curious owlfolk peek out from their curtained windows—it is not yet night, and your entry is disturbing their sleep.

Long ago, an owlfolk named Tafari laid her first clutch of five eggs. Her sister, Nahuel, helped her roost while her mate was away. But one day, while Tafari was sleeping, the nest was raided by draconian nomads looking for breakfast. Before she could react, she had been slashed across one eye, and four of her eggs stolen. Fighting off their attackers, Nahuel gave Tafari just enough time to escape with her last, and now only, child.

Tafari flew high and far, never looking behind her until she found a mesa to roost on and take rest. When she looked back the way she had come and saw the sky was empty, she feared the worst. She hid behind a tall stone pillar, in the shade, and allowed fitful sleep to take her.

That night, she awoke to Nahuel’s cries of joy. The sisters embraced, and Nahuel told her of how her mate was fine, and would join them soon, but that they needed to find water and shelter or the egg would have no chance of survival. In little time they discovered that they needn’t have looked far, for inside the mesa was a great waterfall, and a shaded cavern that offered precisely what they needed.

It was inside that cavern that Tafari’s egg was hatched, and she called him Haf, for the summer that entered her heart when she knew he—and they all—would be just fine. Soon after, Tafari’s mate joined them, and the place has been a refuge in the desert ever since.

That was a long time ago, now. Tafari had a second clutch, and her sister followed with a clutch of her own. Their growing family never strayed far, and in time the refuge became a haven, attracting all sorts to join its citizens in peace and prosperity. Today, the pains of the past have been forgotten, and there is even an up-and-coming draconian mason named Chetan helping to build the stone-and-clay domed houses preferred by the locals.