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A Dream of Jackals in the Sand,
by Tame Locke

It is the opinion of this columnist, ignorant though I may be on matters of cosmological and historical significance, that the Kharidian desert is the finest example we have of mortal perseverance in the face of immortal belligerence.

Walking the bazaars of Al Kharid, and taking in the gilded minarets and sandstone mega-structures wrought by ancient hands, a northern visitor might get a sense that the best is yet to come. Al Kharid is the gateway to the world beyond as we all know; and though we know that about 95% of the landmass beyond is nought but desert, we expect the remainder to be of such splendour and grandeur that Al Kharid is put to shame.

The explorers among us know this is not the case. Pollnivneach is a criminal's paradise, rife with thievery and seemingly home to half of the rest of Gielinor's most wanted. Nardah, proclaimed the world over as a major spiritual hub, is little more than a few shacks around a fountain. Sophanem is a disease-ridden relic with an attitude problem. The ruins are impressive, no question, but they're shut up tighter than a miser's purse.

But all have one thing in common: despite the best efforts of gods and sycophants, they have not just survived, but thrived. Even today, Nardah has to fend off threats from the outside world but does so stoically, and without violence. Pollnivneach is bustling and busy with laughter and (mostly) legitimate commerce. Sophanem is on the mend, carefully administered and tentatively putting out feelers to the outside world.

The strength of the Kharid lies in its spirit. Legends say it was once bountiful and fertile, before being ravaged to fend off invaders. That beauty and strength is found now in the hearts of the Kharidians themselves. Its dunes and corners may hide all manner of wonders; but there is no greater wonder than the Kharidians themselves. For in them, we see the true quality of mortals: perseverance.