Kreg's maddened charge leaves him floundering in the desert as a fish out of water
A shape approaches
And a low chant rings forth
A sun-kissed face smiles down at him and utters one word
"Unhthun"
Kreg doesn't understand
But allows the stranger to help him to his feet and lead him into a dingy tent
Where he is greeted by the scent of cooking meat
The likes of which he had never smelt before
Kreg gazes up inquiringly at his host, who laughs and utters one word
"Fugu"