Sundown.

Dusky in its backdrop, a prodigious expanse of the annals of the sands glistened under the dusk, swathed in ambiance, and the immense heat of the lands subsided transitorily. For as long as the nighttime would without doubt come within an hour or two. Dunes with reflections of golden roads coated everything, some taller and some shorter, and their peaks up and brushed against the setting stars; the two stars this world orbited around that were bleeding into the horizon were the prominent examples.

Dying, those stars were magnificent visions indisputably with illimitably expansive, zephyrous colors of purple, pink, and gold as the radiance of the omnipotent skybox.

A sum of eleven anthropomorphic hyena-men were present in the sands, exiting the areas of the villages they had visited and caravans they had taken from, cackling with somber humor in the air and unserious infighting betwixt them. Their leader, Aya, was a man of high bounty, known for every weapon, his daggers, gauntlets, and scythe, all being envenomed as to make even one successful strike certain death.

Aya had a red and white jacket hidden by a long auburn cloak and red scarf that hid his entire body and white, baggy pants as his sandaled feet trekked these sands familiar to him; his rite. Bandages of white hue wrapped around his unseen forearms, and his metal-implanted gauntlets were always on. His fur was light, mostly desaturated in color with two pallets of brown and white, unkempt hair shaggy and to his back.

Aya always smoked, and he was adorned with two facial scars vertically across his left eye in dance with his other, both in red-hued sclera and crimson gaze and ponderous bags of blackness under them, and his yeen ear, along with two chips of it gone for the left. His signature grin was present, his scythe in his arms as the posse noticed something not too far away, helpless: a new one.

"Heheh...snack time, boys," he coldly jested, ambulating with his men in a lackadaisical approach. No doubt in his maw.