Dragoncrest Cliffs around here, it's just another saturday night.

Desperation had driven Atshen to a new level of stupidity; the former Dark Master marched boldly towards the well-tended boarders of Drageda with only one thing in mind: food. It had been long since Atshen had had a proper meal. Weeks prior, he had been a healthy and supple wolf; a wolf that could rise to any challenge that crossed his path. But now? Atshen was fatigued continuously, his ribs jutted unattractive from his side, and his pelt had dulled considerably. Despite the fact that he looked like the walking dead, there was still some will in him, and that will drove him to the nearest cache. 

Had Atshen been paying any mind to his surroundings, he would have caught the scent of the nearby Hompleia.