The temporary adventurer camp named "Black Tide" is always bustling with activity.
Some people come from afar and use this as a springboard to enter that chaotic land full of crises and opportunities.
Others return, weary from the original Black Water Town area, bringing back varying amounts of supplies and personnel. Of course, not only the living returned but also bodies shrouded in burial cloths.
When adventurers who have not yet set out catch sight of the piled corpses at the back of the flatbed truck, their once eager expressions sharply retract, as if seeing their own fate.
This is the cruel part of adventuring, where people die quietly and unnoticed every day.
People only sing praises for those celebrated adventurers' great stories, while these bodies do not even have the privilege of being mentioned by bards in a couple of strokes.
