The sand of the desert itself is alive. It is industrious in its efforts to bear young, throwing itself repeatedly at the cliffs to tear infants from the rocks. Born in such trauma, the children repeat the cycle until the cliff is no more and the sand races on to conquer the next. The sand has given itself to destruction. No god has such a horde of worshippers as Amascut. How can we hope to stand against her when the very land around us is her eternal army?