You wrote down what you wished to become on the paper. When you put down the pen, the many-faced man in front of you seemed to stare directly through you. You were frozen, not out of fear but out of anxiety. Something was about to happen. Without any provocation, your mind became flooded with memories. While most were instantly forgotten, you were lucky enough to keep a few. A few memories of skills—techniques, rather—seemed to stick within your mind. But besides a single memory of someone else, nothing remained. By the time your regained your lucidity, you were already outside of the building. Sheathed was a newfound weapon, worn were newfound garments. Though, the garments were hastily placed over your original, wet clothes making the entire ordeal feel wrong. Behind you was the door. It was now locked, and no matter what question you may have had, it refused to open.
The days preceding had been difficult for new arrivals. Awakening in a fountain was difficult, but finding a steady source of income was more so. Besides a few pride-buckling alms, the only way for a fledgling to earn any money was if they went and hunt. Hunting was, however, unreliable. Those armed with bows often had little trouble in the way of the hunt, but they knew nothing of the land. They didn't know how to track prey. Making coin was more of a matter of luck. However, a saintly innkeeper allowed you to sleep in her small, rustic inn—at least until you had the coin. Not like anyone else was staying there, however.
The city was bustling, however. Despite the initial difficulties, hope was still high.
"Oooiii! Feck'ff if ya thin...k thas rite!" A stout, bearded drunk managed to slurred.
"Wwelll it ain't wronnng!" A less-than-attractive patron taunted.
Nadya's was always an exciting place. Nestled deep within the alleys of Rengoku's west side, Nadya's was a bar built and maintained by Anton. He spent his days behind a counter, serving both day and night. While gruff in appearance, he was more accommodating than one would expect. For those without cash (especially new arrivals), he would put a few drinks out on a tab. Pay him back whenever, he would say, or pay him with stories. But Nadya's was especially rowdy for the city. A bad habit of Anton was that he always let his customers fight it out. It was the best entertainment in this city, he would joke.
Today was no different. Two drunkards were getting rather heated in some bizarre argument. Something about a woman at a club, who was more attractive, and who deserved her. Besides the slurred yelling, only brief words could be heard from their conversation. It was apparent that a brawl was about to break out between the two and nobody seemed to have any intention to stop them.
Old aunt Dinah, if you don't care
I'll leave my liquor jug sittin' right there
if it's not there when I get back
I'll raise hell in the Cumberland Gap
Cumberland Gap, Cumberland Gap.
Way down yonder in Cumberland Gap.
I'll leave my liquor jug sittin' right there
if it's not there when I get back
I'll raise hell in the Cumberland Gap
Cumberland Gap, Cumberland Gap.
Way down yonder in Cumberland Gap.
That man played in the town square. With high-quality fantasy-like clothes, a feathered panama, and a sheathed ornate sword at his hip, he was rather out of place in this city. He also seemed to be considerably older than any other resident, with a wrinkled face and grey hair and beard. While not traditionally attractive, his boxy face accentuated with a deep scar from ear to ear. seemed to be more interesting that most. His arrangement of the song felt a bit off, as if he himself didn't quite know what he was playing. His guitar playing was sluggish and felt incorrect and his singing felt slower than it was supposed to be. After a few verses of the song, he gave up and placed his guitar on the ground, only if to briefly rest. He was, by all accounts, a visitor to this city, but why was he here?
"Help!"
A young woman was screaming bloody murder. Dressed in bloodstained white garbs, she tried to restrain dead-looking man. She did a poor job at it, though. Her lithe, 5'1" frame was nothing compared to the 6'4" bear of a man she was trying to drag back. She was being dragged across town, her shoes mangled from the rough stones. The man appeared to be rather sick—in a mental sense at least—and was trying to leave the city. He was soaked in sweat and drooling. His eyes were glazed over, but a brief flicker of his fully-dilated pupil could be seen occasionally. His right hand was injured, with the thumb dislocated and his wrist covered in severe friction burns. It was a strange sight, but one that most people in the city chose to ignore. Despite the pleas of the young woman, nobody seemed to pay any attention to her.
"You know, that place is probably filled with treasure," A lanky man with long hair said.
"Not really worth my life, though," replied a large woman wearing a cloth tabard.
"You folks are always so safe, what's the point in living if there's no excitement?"
The two of them talked as they walked through the market. Their conversation was often repeated, with pleas of the lanky man to adventure and the rebuking of the large woman at the idea of danger. While they didn't explicitly say exactly what they were talking about, you could tell they meant the old castle ruins south of the city.
"It's just a few skeletons! You can hit them once and they just collapse!"
"They won't 'just collapse'. How'd you think they're able move?"
Their argument seemed to grow more and more heated until the lanky man finally had enough.
"If you won't go, then I'll just head there myself!"
"Good. At least then, I won't have to deal with you anymore."
The lanky man instantly became flustered. In a fit of embarrassment and anger, he stormed off south. The woman, however, paid no mind and just continued her rounds around the market, occasionally stopping to talk to someone who owned a stall.
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