Visualspice
The "village" of Akher, as it were, was sparsely populated compared to the labyrinthine ruins of the once-powerful City of Ten Oases. Most of the city was buried beneath the sands, but the bulk of the remaining Akheri populace gathered at the only remaining oasis: The one that the southernmost part of the city was build around. Architecturally, the city-state of Akher was built in concentric circles, with five "inner city" oases and five "outer city" oases, each feeding into one-another in a grand network of river traffic.
This grand oasis was the last, but given its size and the number of people able to peacefully live off of its waters and surrounding land... The other nine must have been wondrous sights to behold.
The Akheri people divvied one-another up into clans. Most of the clans were simply families of farmers or shepherds, but occasionally some families from a clan will take to the desert and the rocks, retracing the steps of their nomadic ancestors and carving out a name for themselves. After all, the Oasis can only support so many; so many Clans have nomadic members who travel to the Serha plains to trade with the Dujhari, or to Essyrn and surrounding settlements around the Moraki. But each time they return home, they return with supplies or other usable, sought-after goods. Dyes, teas, spices... The Akheri had no concept of "money," and to them gold, silver, and copper were only considered useful as architectural decoration.
Amalin's arrival to Akher had not gone unnoticed. Most of the locals didn't speak Essyrni, and what's more is that they were not pleased with plunderers coming to steal from their holy sites. But seeing that Lord Amalin was not causing trouble or shouting at shepherd children, the locals treated him with respect if he approached; despite the language barrier.
Saber-Five and Trenzalor
It was a right pain and the neck actually reaching the half-buried pyramid. The local Akheri were unkind to looters, and virtually none of them spoke Essyrni beyond words like "hello" or "goodbye." Those who did speak Essyrni were people such as trader clanfolk who travelled between Essyrn and the Moraki, or perhaps a clan's Head or Elders. In a funny twist of irony, it was more likely to find an Akheri traveller who spoke Dujharic, the language family spoken by the Dujhari nomads of the Serha. The Akher were a people who fiercely held to their own culture and language, and so those who did not travel to the city of Essyrn had no reason nor motivation to learn their tongue.
The pyramid itself was massive. It was a humbling reminder of the Moraki desert's might, that even a structure as large as this one could simply disappear beneath an ocean of sand. The fact that only the top half of it was showing presented a unique problem... How to get inside? Luckily, the structure was built more like a temple than a tomb, with balconies and windows that shone light into grand chambers for religious ceremonies or to conduct trainings of Akheri's Artificers and mage-priests.
Some groups were already assembled around the structure; small bands of less than a dozen adventurers each. Word around the camp was that Akheri would raid or attack the camps at night, and even during the day some goatherd or passing shepherd would shout insults in their native tongue or try to ward people away. For hardened looters and adventurers; getting ambushed by teenagers and shepherds armed with sticks and rocks has proved thus far to be quite a nuisance, but nothing more.
Speaking of the locals...
Saber-Five
There was a sudden rush of air, like that of an arrow or the cracking of a whip, and a stone whizzed by Meeta's shoulder; a rock aimed for her head had gone wide of its mark and buried itself from its impact with the sand.
A passing band of goatherds' children had seen her approach. This unruly (albeit small) mob was comprised of nothing more than hot-blooded Akheri teenagers; a half-dozen boys and girls all between thirteen and sixteen. Meeta had approached their holy site alone; perhaps this ragtag group of kids thought they could run off a foreign trespasser if they banded together. One of the girls swung her sling and loosed another stone at Meeta, this shot landing short of the mark and burying itself in the space between their groups. The youths brandished their shepherding crooks or their cudgels and placed shot into their slings.
"Hupaɾ ɾi:naksi taʔ wa'ab!" Foreigner, be gone!
"ɾi:naksi taʔ! ɾi:naksi taʔ!" Be gone! Be gone!
They shouted with venom and vitriol in their native tongue, waving their bludgeons and throwing stones in an attempt to run off at least one person from an ancient holy site.
Trenzalor
Baron had been played like a hand of cards. Akheri traders had no use for gold coins; and soft shiny metals only served to be used as decoration for one's house or for trade with the Essyrni. The "map" that had been "sold" to him was nothing more than scribbles on parchment, and the Akheri he "bought" the parchment from found themselves in hushed giggles as Baron moved out of earshot. If the half-buried structure was not simply visible from miles around, he might have even found himself wandering about the sand in circles for hours. A visibly armed-and-armored adventurer comes striding in, knowing nothing of the local customs, nor a word of their language, and with nothing to trade? And what's more this one carried with him the nonchalant air of an adventurer, or a mercenary. Clearly, the Akheri folk deduced, this outsider was a foreign looter. The sooner he left, the better; and with hope the Moraki would claim him before he could make off with any of their ancestors' history.
What Baron saw upon reaching the outskirts surrounding the giant, half-buried structure, was one Meeta Neferatri being accosted by Akheri youths as they shouted for her to get gone.
Ravenbraid
It took some doing, but Ragya found herself sitting in the home of one of the Akheri Clan Heads. The first merchant she approached was no traveler and spoke no Essyrni, but he became much more receptive to try and help once Ragya made it clear that her intentions were that of barter. He had led her to a Kaadir-riding merchant, who led her to his wife, who introduced him to her grandfather, the Clan Head. And finally someone who was able to carry a conversation with Ragya.
She was led into a hall, well-ventilated and shielded from the sun. The elderly Akheri man gestured for her to sit down on the rug across from him as he ran a hand over his gray beard. It was not until Ragya sat down that the man spoke.
"Hut nefer-et taʔ, foreigner," said the old man, "My granddaughter has told me that you have come with wares, and also... Questions?"
Behind the old man was a tall statue depicting a lithe humanoid. Two blades crossed over its chest, and rather than a Humanoid head on its shoulders was that of a canine skull, empty eyesockets forever faced forward. The statue's obsidian body almost seemed... Alive, in its own way, as if the ten-foot guardian could come to life. At the base of the statue laid carefully-arranged offerings; incense gently burned as passing members of the household smiled and wished it a kind word or two, as if the statue was a living, breathing person and a member of the family.
