The hunting party had tracked a giant boar, and the notoriously aggressive beast had already made a charge and narrowly missed Galli. With spear in hand, the group pushed the animal towards the treeline, where the forest meets the sands, and forced it into the desert. This was a common tactic, once the boar was in the desert it would lose its footing and tire quickly. As they continued to push the animal towards the dunes, Galli spotted a figure that appeared in the distance, emerging from the desert. His eyes narrow, uncertain that this was not a trick of the light. By now the rest of the hunting party had gathered, watching the silhouette emerge. The Endless Sands were certain death, it was believed that nothing lay beyond it. To see a person come from here was like watching one wake from death. The form began to take shape. He was clad in tattered white rags that no longer concealed him as if they had withstood months of weathering, yet his deeply tanned skin was unharmed. His physique was broad and wiry, each muscle thin and coiled with power like a drawn bow. Long hair and beard were unruly and bone white like the mane of a silver lion. The only mark on this body appeared to be a tattoo, a spiral of jet-black ruins that wrapped around his forearm. He had only one item with him, strapped to his waist- a pitch-black dagger.