*Dente stood at the port of the boat looking outwards to the expanding port. Mylania was a distant land that rarely anyone from the Wolfheart Clan had come from. In a way, this was both an honor and yet a trivial task. To Dente, he felt that relations with other people were pointless if one had to lie to another just to gain favor.*
"Tch... What a waste of time."
*He said to himself, crossing his across his chest. His attire consisted of a black t-shirt that had many of his tribal markings throughout, with khaki pants, the black boots that belonged to his sealed power, the gauntlets of his sealed power, a black coat parted at the legs and chest to show off the clothing underneath and gray pauldrons with embedded stones. A layer of his hair was tied into a ponytail while the rest is left free, his heavy gaze on the path before him twinkled dully in the sun's light.
Without another wasted moment, the boat had docked onto Mylania. He stepped off quite quickly.*
"You be careful out there ya hear, Dente? Ma and Pa want you to return alive, you betta' make good on their wishes!"
"Yeah, yeah. I read you loud and clear old man. I'll see you when my journey is at its close."
*Dente said calmly, walking off and waving to the old seafaring man who brought him to this fabled land. To start with, Dente only had his fists and the clothes on his back. The test is for him to work his way from the very bottom and get himself situated. For one to get situated, however, there must be interactions with other people. His parents do not want the bare minimum, nor do they want him to go above and beyond. Their true intentions still left a mystery, he decided that he'd find some way to get his journey on less shaky road.*
"Directions. I'll have to ask for some damn directions I suppose."
*His rough voice reverberated at the notion. One little spot in his mind did tell him that things may not be as bad as me might think. Though, with how cynical and skeptical he was, he'd quickly dismiss that small notion in mind.*