Snagged captain’s logbook from wreck. Bit singed, but some of it survived. The ‘water’ from the fake oasis works as ink, for now.
Elves ganked the slave-hauler and left us to die in the sands. One took pity and tossed us a part-full skin of water. Most ignored us. The mul pointed us toward what she thought was water. Really, a fake oasis, with blood-sucking plants. I torched it, we collected a bit of its oil-like ‘water,’ and went back to the hauler.
Guards jumped us at the hauler, but we took ’em out. I let one go; not worth killing. Found a map. Points to an oasis and a city. Better chances there than Urik. So we go.
Found a wezzer hive. Damn things nearly killed me shaking down the ceiling but we got some meat. With that, we’ll eat tonight. But the day’s not over yet.