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The gloom of the setting salt suns illuminates the snouts of the snapjaws that gaze down at your dying body. Red gleams on the horizon, light reflecting off the walls of the rust well and the blood that now pools around you. The road from Joppa to Kyakuka was direct and relatively safe, but those who strayed from their path soon found that adventuring was a short-term occupation. You thought you were better than that. You were wrong. Yuckwheat and honey were your task - Nuntu said they may be a cure for the glotrot - but strange and wonderful things hide under the earth. As admired your trinket amongst the marshy grass, a musket ball rips through your pack, your hide, and buried itself in the dirt. Water, blood, and honey form a thick pink solution around you. Your last thoughts are a desperate hope that you pass before the snapjaws begin to scavenge a meal. This is your fate.

And all for a box of crayons.