After what felt like a never-ending week of walking and contemplating life choices, Johan finally arrived at the ominous Death River. The air hung heavy with a dense fog that clung to everything, making the surroundings feel surreal and foreboding.
As he approached, he noticed the periphery was guarded by a battalion of stern-faced individuals, dressed in gear that screamed, "We mean business." They patrolled the area with military precision, casting an intimidating shadow in the eerie mist.
Johan hesitated, eyeing the guards warily. It wasn't every day you waltzed into Death River, and these folks seemed determined to make sure you had a darn good reason for doing so.
One of the guards, a no-nonsense type with a steely gaze, approached Johan. "Hold it right there. Who are you, and what business do you have in Death River?"
Johan cleared his throat, the weight of the situation sinking in. "I'm Johan. I, uh, just wanted to... experience Death River?"
