[color=00aeef]The surge of humidity that reached boiling point during day has seeped over into the evening, threatening to suffocate the citizens of Bastion. Packed are the narrow city streets with desprate sweaty bodies. Many beeline for the nearest Tavern, aching for a cool drink. Others spill out of open doors and pool around the threshold finding it too hot in already crowded establishments. Stumbling along towards the [i]Inn at the Edge of the World[/i] is a young foreigner by the name of Charles Dunn. 

Dunn rode in with a caravan of vagabonds. Upon request, the young traveller was led to an unpeopled cart brimming with cargo. He peered in anxiously and found no people. He also found there were no seats. Just a thick rug that ran from wall to wall. As the caravan set off, Charles settled himself in a far corner and began to doze. When he woke, he found the cart now held passengers among the miscellany. Clutching his belongings protectively he eyed the strangers accusingly, judging them for crimes they have yet to commit. 

As they neared the city, one passenger began to tell tales of their time in Bastion. They spoke at length about the hubs and taverns that were frequented by some of the greatest Captains to ever sail the seas. Charles gathered that these 'Captains' were not the kind one might find within the ranks of the Royal Guard. Taking a steadying breath, Charles inquired where these hubs might be found. The man sized him up through narrowed eyes.[/color]

[color=a36209]"Why? Be ye interested wit' th' affairs 'o th' lawless?"[/color][color=00aeef]He asked in a voice of steel.

Charles froze. He'd assumed that question would be quite harmless. The other travelers did seem like the kind to partake in illicit activities. He felt his mouth open and close twice but only heard a small squeak on his part. This resulted in uproarious laughter from his fellow passengers.[/color]

[color=a36209]"He's a shivery one, innit? Like a wee rabbit, this one is."[/color] [color=00aeef]The man said through disjointed chuckles. 

Charles tried to seem put out by this response, but snickered despite himself. The man knotted a folded scarf around his own head so that it pushed his unruly black hair away from his face before settling against his belognings. For the first time Charles could really study the strangers features. Rich brown skin and a group of shallow scars along one side of his face. This strange storyteller couldn't be much older than himself. The storyteller lit his pipe and took a long drag.[/color]

[color=a36209]"If it's pirates ye want, then just head to th' Edge of th' world"[/color] [color=00aeef]Smoke curled towards his lips as he spoke. Flowing out to surround his face like a hypnotic shroud. Flustered, Charles averted his gaze before speaking again.[/color]

[color=1a7b30]"How will I know that I have found the right place? Should I look for you?"[/color] [color=00aeef]His new friend snorted dismissively, but Charles could tell he was the slightest bit flattered.[/color] [color=1a7b30]"You seem like a decent fellow is all. I would like to know there is at least one familiar face I can look out for."[/color] [color=00aeef]His voice was soft and even despite his nerves.

The starnger seemed ready to respond when the Caravan came to a halt. The doors were thrust open and all passeners for Bastion were told to exit now. The storyteller seemed to mull it over as they all gathered their belongings. Once everyone had exited onto the busy cobbled street, he settled a hat atop his head and motioned for Charles to follow.[/color]

[color=a36209]"What's yer name, Rabbit?"[/color] [color=00aeef]He asked, speaking around his pipe. Charles found his pace hard to match what with the packed streets, uneven cobblestones and a heavy bag.[/color] 


[color=1a7b30]"Ch-Charles. Charles Dunn." [/color]

[color=a36209]"Well Chuckie, when ya get to the end of the world, just ask for Mr. Cask. You'll be taken care of." [/color]

[color=00aeef]With that he flashed a devilish grin and rounded a corner. Charles stopped abruptly to search for him among the crowd but the storyteller was gone.
[center]~[/center]
That was this morning. By now the lad was horribly tired and his memory of the storyteller's instructions was foggy. He asked around desperately but many disregarded his plea of 'Where is the end of the world?' as the cries of a madman. Some street urchins swindled Charles out of most of his funds and belongings before giving him the (incorrect) directions.  Finally an older fellow took pity on him and offered directions to an Inn that had a similar name. The journey left him with the clothes on his back and one piece of eight. Forlorn and hungry, he swallowed back any lingering fear and walked right into the [i]Inn at the Edge of the World[/i].[/color]