Sandcloaks
Silence drifts over the Caluan Desert at dawn—until a ripple of movement in pale dunes declares that someone is there. The Sandcloaks, cloaked in flowing fabrics dyed to match sand and storm, emerge like mirages. They are guardians of desert trade routes, eyes ever-watchful for brigands, thieves, or worse: outsiders who would exploit this land without understanding its wrath.
From barracks in many of the distant towns, they ride or walk at dusk, using sandstorms as cover, their steps memorized contours of dunes. When a caravan slows in heat and thirst, a Sandcloak appears at its flank—silent warning, or guiding hand, depending on how the hearts of travellers lean. They are as much part of the desert as wind and heat, neither wholly seen nor wholly hidden.
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