Monitoring your surroundings beforehand, you scuttle out of your hiding spot, a dark, narrow alleyway, continuing your way down the desolate streets of Center Ring. The apocalypse had truly destroyed the city, buildings abandoned and the streets messy. Any apartment you went to had blood stained on its walls, and it was safe to say that most had died, and the survivors you'd met weren't exactly trusting of others.

Just as you walk into an abandoned parking lot, the chain-link gate open just enough for you to slip inside, a loud voice rings out from above you. When you look up, you see a demonic bestial object sitting on a make-shift throne, one made out of random stuff you'd see in a junkyard. Dragonscale stands up onto her hooves, purple eyes narrowing down at you.

"Hey! You know, you can't just waltz right in here!" She points a finger down at you accusingly, her spear gripped tightly in her other hand.