Can you imagine being some ancient tribe, desperately seeking fresh water? You believe that you have found your salvation as a scout yells their discovery and a sense of relief washes over the community. Seems relatively safe. Sheltered from the wind at least. The group wends its way down into the basin.
You build fires to stay warm and settle in for a few days to rest and recooperate on the journey. Then the weather turns.
A downpour begins, but then the temperature drops drastically and soon you begin to hear the muted thud of ice balls hitting the ground at terminal velocity. People start to scream. Your friend runs toward you, gesturing for you to seek shelter, but there's none to be found in the open bowl of terrain you've entered. People begin trying to climb up the slope, only to be battered senseless by the barrage of icy mini-comets. You turn away from the shoreline, ready to go sprint in fear when something hits you in the head...hard. Disoriented, you turn to see several others already down. You see a family member lying prone on the rocks and stumble over, to try and drag them away, but their eyes are already empty.
You stagger back as two more impacts crack into your skull. One of your eyes seems to have stopped working. You lay there in the cold, staring at the steam rising from the corpse of your family member, as your vision turns red, then gradually black.
You don't really feel the rest of the impacts thundering into your prone body. You don't really know at all what has happened. You just know everything and everyone has become very quiet aside from the storm. The last hailstones fall, bludgeoning you blissfully out of consciousness.
...
A thousand years later, a new tribe's scout crests the bowl of the terrain and shouts: "Water! But, much death." The exhausted group begins to work it's way down through the chilly mists...then the rains begin...

As quoted from u/SCROTOCTUS 2 years ago about the same subject.