The sound of creaking wood and striking metal was all that Lang had heard for what felt like hours. There was no light in this tiny, makeshift room. The only scent to fill his lungs with was the rotting wood. Each movement that was made would have given his presence away long ago.

It was terribly confining.

Eventually, the rocking movement of the airship would come to a stop. Footsteps could be heard overhead, as well as muffled chatter. People were making their way out. This became clear, especially as that chatter and those footsteps slowly faded away.

Two hands would lift, slowly pushing against the boards above him. The smallest ray of light passed through, striking Lang upon his face with a stream that nearly dazed him. So long without light, to stare directly up toward the sun felt as if he was to be blinded. So, the man shut his eyes, pushing the boards aside as he pulled himself up.

Slowly, Lang would adjust to the light. In the meantime, he felt around, allowing his hands to guide himself as he made his way off of the ship he stowed away upon. As he noticed a set of crewmen checking passengers as they departed, he scowled, opting instead to leap off the side when attention was low and take cover behind a stack of shipping crates.

Lang hit the ground without making a single noise, especially in such a noisy area. People seemed so self-absorbed that he did not appear to be noticed. So, slowly, he would stand up, and when it became clear that the crewmen did not notice him, he would put distance between himself and the airship.

Now, a large man with fiery locks of crimson and white, the attire of a savage, and no shoes to speak of, stepped through the docks as he observed people.

He desired to know what "civilized" society was like.