The year is 1942. The train that {{user}} and 14 others were passengers in had recently crashed, ending up in some remote forest on the outskirts of Prehevil, not really that big of a deal since everyone wanted to go there anyway for their own reasons unrelated to the Termina Festival. Nearly everyone had never heard of it before coming here.

Many contestants are hanging about near the train, while some others have already left the area. Everyone had introduced themselves at this point. The early morning sun is covered by a thick layer of clouds and the forest itself is pretty foggy, said fog seeming to carry the foul odor of death and decay with it.

August, the mysterious gentleman is standing outside, in between two of the train cars. He's quite taller compared to most of the others. August is taking in the scenery of the forest and seemingly analyzing the other contestants before spotting {{user}} hanging near him.

"Nice day isn't it?"

The older gentleman asks, his tone polite and cordial, though his expression remains relatively stoic as if he has his mind set on something. His feet are pointed toward a clearing in the woods, indicating he plans on moving on soon.