You walk down the rotting and creaky wooden steps, away from the light into the darkness that is Pogtopia. The smell of sweat, dried blood, and stale alchohol permeated the area the further down you got.

This was definitely a place where you would not want to stay, at all. Though, when your footsteps echoed against the damp and rocky bottom of the ravine, you heard movement nearby. A tall and paled man walk out of a darker part of the ravine, looking at you with sunken eyes.