The shape you landed in the shadow of: a stopped, colossal form rising out of the desert floor, taller than seems possible, wide enough that its base alone could swallow a town. Whatever it is, it isn't moving — hasn't, by the look of the sand piled against it. Something is built along its ridge far above, a skyline of its own. You didn't get a name for it until the one in charge of the second group said it out loud, arresting you: Dumara.
Session 3 addition — from Mera Chevale's briefing at The Watch Post: Dumara stopped three weeks ago, tilted ten degrees off level. Its water pumps are down. Refugee paperwork is backed up. The corridor east has been cut off for a hundred years. The city runs on an uneasy split between the ruling guard, the architects, The Water Board, the traveling camp and Walker Shrine, and a group known as the Listeners. Mera's own theory: "If I had to wager a guess, I think something's gotten into Dumara — I don't know what, I don't know how."