The mystery, most scholars agree, is not so much about how the Airspear’s ‘safe distance’ was determined. Rather, the truly intriguing question is one of risk. How many valuables have been lost along the Airspear’s borders, and is it worth venturing into or beyond the safety zones in order to try and recover them?
See, in order to treasure hunt along the ‘shores’ of the Airspear, one must bring along specialized (read: valuable) equipment. Warding stones, cycle chargers, surge alert systems, and the like. Failed attempts result in more ‘treasure’ to be found, in addition to all the oddities and rarities that the Airspear tends to produce on its own.
A bit of history, for those unacquainted with this rather unnatural yet now deeply indelible piece of Artwork. When the Massese Independence Wars were near a crescendo, their armies threatened to cross the ranges that lead into the great Iskiss desert. The desolate wastes are usually defense enough, but the Iskonn capital of Dustdancer finds itself placed precariously near the Massus border. Spurned by recent victories and relishing their momentum, it seemed a decent possibility that the Massese force could overtake the city.
To make it completely unappetizing, and to demonstrate the might of Artwork harnessed by the rulers of Iskiss, the Airspear was devised.
From the oceans south of Dustdancer, a massive expanse of air is gathered. It is funneled into a horizontal column and forced northward along a huge stretch of desert, until it reaches the area south of the capital. From there it is released, spread out, and manipulated into a swirl, creating a permanent cyclone of sandstorm around and throughout the city’s lower levels.
How Dustdancer adapted and capitalized off of this in later years is a tale in its own right. However, the current curiosity is around what goes on along that long, deadly column of air between ocean and city.
Artwork, of course, binds most of the destructive force and prevents mass erosion. But the Airspear is a huge piece of contained weather, and it will quite frequently break those bonds, seemingly on its own schedule.
Hence the formation of several committees and task forces (official and unofficial) to determine a ‘safe’ distance.
Being within two hundred paces of the Airspear is suicide. A slight wobble in the Artwork, common as a ripple on a lake, will sweep you into it with blinding speed. That, or a clump of sand, dirt, rock, or bone may tear through you with equally fatal enthusiasm.
A thousand paces back isn’t much better. Here the sand blows and swirls constantly, often concealing anything below waist height. Flying objects are still a danger. And if the Artwork has a ‘big’ wobble, well, see above. Big wobbles in this range have been recorded as frequent as daily by survivors.
Five thousand paces, roughly, is where the sand stops moving. In the early days, this was the generally accepted threshold: if you could see the sand moving, you were too close. That said, fatal storms have been recorded as far out as six and seven thousand paces.
But the moving sand felt like a good rule. It was ‘common sense.’ This rule was widely adopted, then eagerly bent by those seeking to hide things…or themselves.
The earliest recount of a sizable and verified Airspear bounty came about 37 years after its inception. The wars had eased, and the tides of resources and bounties had shifted. Old factions crumbled, new ones were born. Hoards of wartime wealth—much of it misappropriated—found new hiding holes.
One such hoard was traced by authorities to the region of the Airspear. Adventurers, sellswords and mercenaries all volunteered to retrieve the goods, assumed to be stashed well past the five-thousand pace mark.
And by all accounts, these assumptions proved true. Many treasure seekers lost their lives in this quest, snapped up by the Airspear’s mood swings or blinded to death by its frequent freak squalls. But one party eventually did recover most of the stash, and lived long and famed lives thereafter.
As one can imagine, this singular tale inspired a complete cycle of hiding and finding. More tales—some true, some fiction—sprung up. And why not: the Airspear is too large and remote to be properly policed. Yet it is widely accessible if one is willing to venture across the desert plains.
An escalating ‘arms race’ of sorts has been documented, with hiders of valuables becoming more sophisticated in their techniques, thereby prompting finders to match and exceed. The Airspear still claims lives on a regular clip, and those lost souls leave behind their specialized equipment—and if they were the hiding type… their treasure as well.
Of course, the authorities in Dustdancer do little to quell this behaviour. After all, a significant mess of objects ends up in the filtering and distribution structures. And the tourism draw is significant. In recent times however, a new safe zone—at 10,000 paces—has been set up and demarcated by large grey stones.
Iskonn officials claim to patrol these lines, but a cursory examination of this practice will reveal that this is something of a ceremonial gesture versus any kind of serious attempt to prevent trespassing.
Then of course, we come to the ‘natural’ phenomenon.
The museums of Dustdancer are filled with smooth sandcrystals, uniquely petrified organics, and extraordinarily rare salts and powders. All detritus captured by their filters, or quietly purchased from surviving treasure hunters.
The Artwork energy powering the Airspear is so massive and constant that it creates substances and artifacts that can be found in no other place on Heirbrosse. The items that come from the filters are typically in poor repair, having been flung long distances and smashed into countless other things. Hence a huge draw to the Airspear area nearest its origin point on the ocean shore: the place to perhaps find the most pristine and fresh fare.
Finally, there’s the ocean entrance itself. Though erosion systems were put into place, the Airspear has inevitably altered the coastline, albeit very slowly. A delta has formed, cut right out of the desert itself. There is an archipelago said to be inside, made up of the parts of the earth more resistant to the constant pull of the wind and water.
It is said to be there, as this area is as hostile as the desert borders: massive currents flow toward the mouth of the Airspear, and the area is almost constantly shrouded in fog as local clouds slip into the vortex and condense. In recent centuries, there has been ample evidence of creatures and Aspectral folk living in this mess—likely outcasts, criminals or worse. The data suggest much more goes in to the delta than out.
Our world is full of hidden treasure and bounty. But you’ve come to Dustdancer because the lure of the Airspear is simple—everyone knows for a fact that you can find valuables. They are there, likely in their thousands.
But you will play a game with this enormity of wind and Artwork. Many have tried to detect a pattern in its surges. No one to date has modeled it well. The black market equipment I'm sure you’ve been perusing can only get you so far.
So the question to you, young adventurer, is this: How many paces will you take?
