Death is not the end. It never was, and never will be.
However mangled their bodies may have been, our brave group of escapades wakes himself in a strange world.
Three suns circling lazily in the intensely blue sky, and ocre clouds coursing trough it, under which an endless waste of fine sands spreads in all directions.
Finding themselves dressed in plain linen tunic, they interrogate themself about the nature of the place they’ve been unwilling send.
Their conjectures fruitless, they decide to search for someone, or something, that can exaplain what exactly has happened to them.
Scanning the desert, the only thing they can see is in the distance the glint of the three sun’s reflected light on metallic constructions.
As they decide to investigate it, a curious happening is upon them: from the sands of the desert, a man emerges, choking and spitting the fine dust.
The surprise is mutual, as they learn that the newcomer, whose name he claims if Frizz Walters, has been killed just moments ago, and seems as clueless as them on the nature of this place.
With a new adddiction to their ranks, they continue the march for the sparkling city.