R O N I N
This new world was filled with as many wonders as it was horrors, Ronin was beginning to discover. He had seen the lights and had assumed, at first, that they might be a sign of danger - especially given how close to the outskirts of this place they were - but when he approached (dressed in his old Storm Guard gear and ready for a fight, no less) he instead found... a celebration, it seemed. Or a festival, or both. A firepit crackled merrily at the centre of the festivities, and lanterns bright and quirky glowed upon stakes driven into the ground.
It seemed too organised, too purposeful for it to be random, and given that he and the other Outlanders (as he had heard them called once or twice) had only been here for all of five minutes, this seemed the work of the natives. Slowing his steps to a stroll, intent on taking everything in, Ronin began to make his way towards the firepit to see if he could find out more.
Before he got close, however, he was caught by a song.
Bewitching in its melody, yet puzzling in its words, Ronin found his steps changing to direct him to the sound of the voice. There he found
"That was beautiful," he said, his voice soft so as not to startle her (hopefully). "But what does it mean?" He didn't just mean the song, Ronin gesturing at the glow of all the lights around them.
