Sawtooth Spire Cliffrose

Sutekh, the pale figure repeated as a curling smile adorned his face.

God of deserts.

Sphinx thought it curious that the dark-furred wolf should come carrying the name of a god. Finding Sutekh there, away from all the familiarity of his homeland, felt like a sign. Goldwarm eyes fell on the face of the other. It would do well to keep the dark-furred wolf nearby. Even if he was no more than a man wearing the name of something greater.

I am Renatus. I journey from the desert lands – Sobek’s Maw, to be exact. Sphinx wondered if the man called Sutekh had heard of the small oasis.