Dreamer panted as he hiked along under the shining sun that bore down on him. Not even quite midday yet, and his shirt was already damp with sweat. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a map and examined it, looking around side-to-side. Nothing but the sand that seemed to reach out for eternity, surrounded him. The scorching desert must have been getting to him, because he had begun talking to himself. "Well let's see...Oh well this good, shows here I am now no longer lost.." He said casually, then suddenly crumpled the map in his hand. "I am now completely lost!" Gritting his teeth, he shoved the now wrinkled map back down into his pocket. That bleeding map was the cause of all this really, without it he never would have been out here; part of him even wish he had never acquired it. It was supposed to have lead him to an old man's hidden stash somewhere out in the wasteland, but instead it had so far only showed him nothing but bad luck and misery. Dreamer almost suspected karma.
"The guy was dead and it's not like I'm the one who killed him! The dead don't have claim to maps. Finders keepers; livers, deaders," He assured himself, lifting up his cantene to his mouth only to be reminded that it had become empty a good ways back. He took off the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing, and fanned himself looking for some kind of relief from the stale air. The bandage covering his right eye, was itching profusely in the dry heat and he scratched irritably at its sides. He didn't dare take it off though; oh no. Showing his long time companion, Remedy, this current situation would be worse than humiliating. She had warned him before all this, of how bad an idea it was for him to go out into the desert alone, with the tell-tale signs of sandstorms brewing on the wind. He had assured her though that he would be perfectly fine, and a little bit dust wasn't enough to stop him! Only it hadn't turned out to be a little dust, it turned out to be a lot of dust. Letting her know he was lost, would be like admitting defeat. That was something he just would not do.
"Not that she would be able to help me anyway," He muttered. "She's back in Ul'Dah, and I don't know where in the blazes I am." He put his hat back on, sighing and started tredging up a steep incline in the sand in front of him. He figured he might as well keep going straight for now and cover as much distance as he could before finally dying of dehydration.
He bit his cheek immedietly at the thought, growing angry with himself. So what if she was right about there being a bleeding sandstorm that night causing him to lose his bearings? Who cared if the chocobo he had brought with him had ran off in the night, carrying with it most of his supplies including the water? He certainly didn't. He was Dreamer Milcham, the greatest treasure hunter to ever grace the world! If the world didn't quite want to admit that yet, then he'd just have to keep fighting it until it did.
"Cursed chocobo probably would have stayed if I had reminded it that too, I bet. It's getting where a person can't even trust birds!" He growled to himself. As if in response, he heard a cawing sound going on over head. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked up and saw a pack of carrion birds circling him in the sky. He bent down grabbing the nearest stone, and threw it up at them. "I'm not dead yet, so I'll ask you all kindly to keep it down until I am!" He put his hat back on, and went back to marching through the sand, determination in his eyes.
He carried on like that for what seemed like forever; his head facing down trying to hide from the sun, his shoulders drooping more and more as time went on. Suddenly, his head smacked directly into something. Hard. Grasping the top of his head in pain, he looked up and found that he was staring face-to-face with a shotty looking, mud-brick wall. Dazed, he turned his head left and right, and saw that his endless graveyard of sand, had been replaced by a small oasis town with people lazing about. Still not trusting his instincts and thinking this might be a mirage, he slowly, carefully put his finger on the wall, seeing if he could really touch it. Feeling it solid, he let the rest of his hand follow until his entire palm was resting on it. Dreamer grinned and chuckled giddily to himself as he followed the wall, leaning against it for support and turned a corner to the front of the building. Seeing that it was a tavern, he limped up to the door, slamming it open and dragged himself up to the bar. Assuming that the Miqo'te behind the bar was, in fact the bartender, he pointed a desperate finger in her direction. His clothes and hair drenched with sweat, he stood there gasping at her, "You...You, bring me wi....I need wi...." His throat was so dry he was having trouble getting the words out to convey his message...
"The guy was dead and it's not like I'm the one who killed him! The dead don't have claim to maps. Finders keepers; livers, deaders," He assured himself, lifting up his cantene to his mouth only to be reminded that it had become empty a good ways back. He took off the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing, and fanned himself looking for some kind of relief from the stale air. The bandage covering his right eye, was itching profusely in the dry heat and he scratched irritably at its sides. He didn't dare take it off though; oh no. Showing his long time companion, Remedy, this current situation would be worse than humiliating. She had warned him before all this, of how bad an idea it was for him to go out into the desert alone, with the tell-tale signs of sandstorms brewing on the wind. He had assured her though that he would be perfectly fine, and a little bit dust wasn't enough to stop him! Only it hadn't turned out to be a little dust, it turned out to be a lot of dust. Letting her know he was lost, would be like admitting defeat. That was something he just would not do.
"Not that she would be able to help me anyway," He muttered. "She's back in Ul'Dah, and I don't know where in the blazes I am." He put his hat back on, sighing and started tredging up a steep incline in the sand in front of him. He figured he might as well keep going straight for now and cover as much distance as he could before finally dying of dehydration.
He bit his cheek immedietly at the thought, growing angry with himself. So what if she was right about there being a bleeding sandstorm that night causing him to lose his bearings? Who cared if the chocobo he had brought with him had ran off in the night, carrying with it most of his supplies including the water? He certainly didn't. He was Dreamer Milcham, the greatest treasure hunter to ever grace the world! If the world didn't quite want to admit that yet, then he'd just have to keep fighting it until it did.
"Cursed chocobo probably would have stayed if I had reminded it that too, I bet. It's getting where a person can't even trust birds!" He growled to himself. As if in response, he heard a cawing sound going on over head. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked up and saw a pack of carrion birds circling him in the sky. He bent down grabbing the nearest stone, and threw it up at them. "I'm not dead yet, so I'll ask you all kindly to keep it down until I am!" He put his hat back on, and went back to marching through the sand, determination in his eyes.
He carried on like that for what seemed like forever; his head facing down trying to hide from the sun, his shoulders drooping more and more as time went on. Suddenly, his head smacked directly into something. Hard. Grasping the top of his head in pain, he looked up and found that he was staring face-to-face with a shotty looking, mud-brick wall. Dazed, he turned his head left and right, and saw that his endless graveyard of sand, had been replaced by a small oasis town with people lazing about. Still not trusting his instincts and thinking this might be a mirage, he slowly, carefully put his finger on the wall, seeing if he could really touch it. Feeling it solid, he let the rest of his hand follow until his entire palm was resting on it. Dreamer grinned and chuckled giddily to himself as he followed the wall, leaning against it for support and turned a corner to the front of the building. Seeing that it was a tavern, he limped up to the door, slamming it open and dragged himself up to the bar. Assuming that the Miqo'te behind the bar was, in fact the bartender, he pointed a desperate finger in her direction. His clothes and hair drenched with sweat, he stood there gasping at her, "You...You, bring me wi....I need wi...." His throat was so dry he was having trouble getting the words out to convey his message...