The ground radiated searing heat into the air around it, saturated with flames until it shimmered like oil in a heated frying pan. To touch it without protection would be to deep fry your hand in that rough ocean of gravel. The gaps beetween the rocks stared out malevolently at those few who traveled past, promising respite in there shade only to rip it away with a seared palm. myriad senic montains kindly mocked those in the boiling pot of a desert vally below. The distorted air made there chilled peaks look impossibly close, beckoning with there Icey waters but too far to ever get to before heatstroke set in. The vultures that came down from the montains emboiled every value of the desert; death, decay, desication. There bodys looked as though they would be rotting were it not for the shear heat of the deset steraliseing them of decomposers. Small shrubs "grew" here and there but they too apeared to be all but dead, ripped from there green context by some mad god in a attempt to green the desert they were soon indistiuishable from the piles of dead twigs and dry bones that littered the ground The air was mercilessly still, leaving the currents of this particular part of the ocean of sand neglected for now. In the distance a sandstorm spun, blessing that part of the desert with shade; while shreding it with tiny bullets of silicon. The sun weilded the air; a slashing sword of searing stillness. Here was the god of this world; rays like zues lightening bolts ready to strike down threats to its rule.