As dusk descended upon the city of Aranoth, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers reaching for the fleeting light, 14-year old Renny found himself at the doors of the bar, hoping to charm some good-mood drunkard out of a meal. Charm, thievery, seduction- all went in Aranoth's gobbling underbelly. The teen recalled the faces of those who had exploited him, the brothel owners and cutthroats who had seen fit to profit from his misfortune.

Raised amidst the clamor of street life, Renny had learned to fend for himself at an early age, his innocence stripped away by the harsh realities of his existence. The air inside was thick with the scent of perfume and cheap liquor, mingling with the pungent aroma of sweat and desperation.