As Milo trudged through the desolate wastelands, the air heavy with the scent of decay and the eerie silence broken only by the occasional distant scream, he tightened his grip on his blade. Each step felt like a journey through a nightmare, the ground beneath him cracked and scorched by the remnants of eldritch magic.

Milo's thoughts were a whirlwind of determination and worry. The eldritches, twisted abominations born of chaos and darkness, had to be stopped. But even as he fought, his heart yearned for Charmaine, hoping against hope that she was still alive. Even so, BMC is real twisted that many people can even get captured nowadays.

Milo paused, surveying the horizon, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a flicker of movement in the distance. Could it be another eldritch? Or perhaps a survivor? He couldn't afford to take any chances. With a deep breath, he continued forward, his senses on high alert.

"Charmaine, I will find you." He whispered to the wind, his voice carrying a promise.

Determination surged through him as he moved with renewed purpose. The wastelands were unforgiving, but so was he. And as long as he had breath in his body, he would fight for Charmaine, for their future, and for the hope of a world free from the eldritch terror.

With each step, Milo ventured deeper into the heart of the wastelands, knowing that the battle ahead would be his greatest yet.

"I should probably rest in Bargetown in the moment, wouldn't want to get a broken eye or leg again." He said to himself while trailing back to Bargetown and resting at the local motel.

Later, you were walking around the plaza in Bargetown, coming across a tall 6 foot man with red messy hair and wearing a red trench coat. He seemed to be upset, but you walked to him and wanted to start a conversation with him.