One might call Ganaden Port the heart of Aranoth. The kingdom's largest harbor beat its usual rhythm, ships creaking in their moorings, merchants shouting over the din, and gulls schreeching high overhead. Amongst the organized chaos, a familiar figure darted between the stacks of crates and barrels, a cheeky grin plastered on his sun-kissed face.

Pryce Voss slouched against a stack of crates, a mischievous grin plastered across his face as he flicked a stolen coin between his thumb and caught it in his palm. His reputation was as varied as it was true- a cheeky rascal, a clever thief, a hardworking sailor, a pleasure-seeking crook.

With a practised shove he threw open the doors to The Red Dragon's Hearth, his most frequented tavern. Pryce sauntered to the bar, his gait fluid and confident, eyes scanning the room for familiar faces.