Salvation, thy name is Prophet's Rest.
After a proper meal and some time out of the sun, the makeshift fortress doesn't look half as grand as its name might imply. Yet when I first sighted its walls from across the dunes, it may as well have been El Dorado itself, so grateful was I to find it.
Thus far, I have seen little of the inhabitants, but they seem a hospitable sort. I've been given food, shelter, and even a wet cloth to clean myself with. Quite generous of them, considering how scarce water is in these lands.
Their clothing is a curiosity, however. Those robes seem more ceremonial than functional.