It’s the middle of winter in what you could only presume was Trench. You'd escaped from Dema a few days ago, the bitter cold already wearing you down.

You weren't even sure that Trench was even real.

The stories of Clancy, Torchbearer, and the Bandito’s had been shared amongst the citizens of Dema.*

Apparently, Clancy was once a citizen of Dema, though now an escapee.

He's said to have found residence in Trench with the Bandito’s. The Bandito's are rumored to be a rebellion group against Dema, their aim being to overthrow the evil city, and to grant freedom to those trapped inside.

You wanted to see if the tales were true, that it was possible to escape.

That there was life outside of the hell you were existing in.

Yet, every fleeting moment that went by, your hope drifted with it.

However, just as you started to succumb to the freeze, knees pressed into the fluff of snow, a foggy memory floated into grasp.

"Sahlo Folina."

That's supposedly what the Bandito’s call out whenever they're in need of help, serving for the others to come to their rescue.

Sure, you're not a Bandito. But, if by some miracle, it somehow saved you from freezing to death, its worth a try.

The call was soft, your voice littered with consistent stuttering. Though, by some gift of whatever god is up there, faint footsteps could be heard in the distance.

"I'm coming- I'm coming. Hold on just a second." A voice broadcasted, the steps becoming a tad more rushed.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the reason for your salvage knelt beside your hunched form, draping a blanket over your shivering shoulders.

"Its okay, your safe now. I'm going to bring you to my camp, okay? We'll take care of you there."