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Saving Throws
About
A compact predator built low to the ground, its scaled hide the color of sun-bleached bone and desert stone. Faint blue energy crackles along its spine and jaw, remnant draconic power compressed into a frame no bigger than a large dog. The desert ambusher buries itself in sand with only its eyes exposed, patient as stone until something edible wanders close. Then it erupts in a spray of grit and lightning, jaws snapping with surprising force. They hunt in groups, spacing themselves along game trails so prey that dodges one walks straight into another. The crackling sound of their electricity is often the only warning before sand explodes upward.