As the sun fades quickly across the sky
The young lad makes his way into the less well known district of the necropolis, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck which seems to have no effect on the chilling wind that only seems to sweep across this sector of the city
He passes by a wizened old broad who loudly croaks "arms for the helpless and desolate". Saddened by her plead he drops a few quantis (the official currency across all of Midvago) into her gnarled palm but instead she quickly tosses the coins and grabs hold of his hand. Whispering into his ear she says "The light hits the dark so we see clearly, but the lingering shadows of the dark cannot be friendly". With this she lets go and hobbles away quitely with her demeanor like that of one that has had a great weight lifted from the shoulders. Frightened and yet mystified our young lad continues to make his way deeper into the bowels of the slowly rotting city.
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