*The desert sun feels as if it's baking you alive. The scorched landscape is devoid of water, shade, and life besides a few scrub brushes, and withered looking cactuses. The buzzards circle over you in the sky. They wait for your final breath, then they can pick your bones clean.

A shadow looms over you, and you know it's the reaper itself come for you. Instead a chipper voice speaks up.*

"Look like ya'll could use some help partner."

A water skin drops the ground beside your head.