You stand on the shore of a desolate island, your possessions packed into a small box in your hands. Figures swarm around you - ferrymen carrying supplies and rations from the boat behind you. Your ears are filled with the crashing of waves against the rocks and the cries of gulls flying above. An old lighthouse, rustic yet imposing, fills your vision as it towers into the heavy mist that oppressively shrouds the island.
You suddenly notice that the men are gone. Turning, you see the ship you came in on sailing away in the distance, your final connection to civilization severed. How long had you just been standing there for?
Before you finish the thought, a gruff voice sounds from behind you. "Have ye finished gawking yet? Or have ye already lost yer mind after naught but a few minutes?"
Turning around, you are greeted by an old woman dressed in a salt-crusted captain's coat scanning you with an odd look in her eye. "The name's Athalia. I'll be supervising ye in yer time as a wickie, so ye'd best be getting familiar with me. Lest ye'd take a chance escaping through Neptune's domain, eh?" She laughs heartily at her own joke, before turning and walking towards the lighthouse, gesturing you to follow.
