Flying low, well below the occasional clouds dotting the sky of this sunny afternoon, Smaug made his way west from the outer ring of Amkhez Vaz. Below him, a small and peculiar ship accompanied on the journey. Built by the elves to be oceanworthy and fast, and reinforced by magical runes to guard against sea monsters and storms, the vessel carried an especially valuable cargo. Three of Smaug's Warrior-Workers, reequipped to work in the harsh desert lands of Ankharash, the mythical lands of the Gods.
The once fertile lands of Ankharash were lost to the desert long before even the existence of Dragons. Calamity overtook a civilization of which even Smaug knew nothing about, to say nothing of the elves and the current generations of humans. Only the dwarves may have records dating back to the mythical age, but they were hardly in the mood to share their secrets with anyone. Especially not with a dragon. Still, the rarest of all materials was found hidden within the ancient pyramids and tombs, where the corpses of ancient gods and rulers were recycled into the magical Pyronite, supported by the power of their magical emblems.
No one in the world supported an operation in Ankharash as large as Smaug's. The three new arrivals would bring the total of Smaug's workers in this part of the world to a hundred, much more than any other known industrialist. The sacred Pyronite was being used to create pieces of equipment to outfit the next generation of Warrior-Workers that would come to extract more emblems and create more pyronite. The desert would be combed, if not cleared, and soon the world would learn the secrets of Ankharash, just as it would one day finish learning the secrets of Amkhez Vaz and its fate...