There were plenty of oddities in this realm that concerned Black Knight. The lack of color seemed to accompany a somewhat dreary atmosphere. The pathways of the Valley’s villages seemed all the more better compared to this lackluster area--or areas, to be in fact.

Nearly everywhere he’s walked it seemed like the streets were more dead than alive. People shoved, shouted, or stepped aside and ignored the shorter Knight’s pressing questions. All this change... This new and flashy environment he’d been forced into... It was beginning to unsettle him greatly.

Seven times he’s tried to find his way to the local food mart. Four to try and ask what currency was being used--and if gems could still be salvaged by the dirt mounds, along with queries of where castles were or thick forests to find shelter in. Seven times--and by the time he’d laid eyes on his eight stranger to pester, he hadn’t paid attention to the roads.

A loud honking horn causes him to squawk and stop abruptly mid running. The lack of it’s flying sends the armored being rolling over the top. A worried crowd gathers and--he gets up, ignoring the sea of people and pain causing his body to tense. He was STRONG. RESILIENT. HE WAS BLACK KNIGHT and would more than likely feel all that pain in the dead of night to sulk over later. Carrying on with rushing little steps towards the red head he’d seen across the street, a hand raises what seemed to be a crudely drawn map with red circles littered about the page.