August 26th, 761, 2:36 PM; Day 162 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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It was a week out of the Dread City of Kamarn-Quse that you came upon Muhar. The largest concentration of people in the Amber Wastes, until one reached Pharazia, it was a lonely little village on the banks of a nameless stream, a trickle of water that came from the cliffs to the north and stretching a dozen miles before disappearing altogether into the sands. It was the size of Ravnika in Barovia, if that large, a cluster of mud-brick houses arranged around central square.
In the distance, the cliffs of Har'Akir rose up, the tangle network of cliffs and canyons where the ancient kings and pharoahs of Har'Akir had hidden their burial chambers. It was here that the Tomb of Menetnashte was found, and there that you would find Beherith... and Maleagant's rival expedition. The Tomb's namesake walked with you, a slender Akiri woman in black, looking almost normal without her eerie jackal-mask. She gazed towards the cliffs, face calm and impassive.
"We'll need to restock in Muhar, if possible." Professor Carter said, looking out across the dunes towards the dusty little village. "And see if they know where Maleagant and his crew are."
"Would be too much to expect them to have died in the desert, I suppose." Professor Marchand-Renier said, though without his usual venom. "Quiet place."
The Richemuloise academic was correct. The village of Muhar was still in the afternoon light. No children played in the streets, no women gossiped from their windows. Every door was closed, and many of the windows were shuttered, as if against a sand storm, or perhaps something worse. The village wasn't abandoned, certainly, as you saw a few figures in white-yellow tunics scurry through the streets. But for all that, Muhar was very... quiet.
Near the farms to the east, a number of figures on horseback turned towards you and began to move to you at a swift canter.
