The wind blew hard on the ship's sails, dragging it through the clear southern waters. The last rays of the moon reflected the strong oak of the galley fighting against the waves, the departure from Nix had been easy but the northern tides were incredibly stronger.
On the deck, wrapped in a gray cloak, damp from the trip, with an old sabre hanging from his waist was Edric, an adventurer in search of power and glory. His blue eyes, hard as steel, were fixed on the horizon as the city of Arghal emerged from the morning mist. His final destiny lay in the forests to the west of those lands, where, according to ancient tales, fierce tigers lived whose souls could be claimed by the worthy, granting them the swiftness of the wind.
As he stepped onto the wooden dock eaten away by salt and time, Edric felt the weight of the city on his shoulders. The waters of the port, rough and thick, barely let in the light of an overcast sky. All around him, sullen-looking fishermen unloaded their nets, and men with faces weathered by the wind and tide drank in taverns where the stench of rum and fish filled the air. The alleys were narrow, impregnated with humidity, and the shadows seemed to move of their own accord. Something was not right here.
As he turned around the silent and imposing church of Arghal, he soon heard the murmur of the crowd gathered in the central square. Something had happened in the night, and unrest spread among the inhabitants like the clouds of a storm about to fall. Guided by curiosity, Edric advanced to the crowd and there, on an improvised podium, stood the governor of Arghal.
Lady Elanor dominated the scene with an imposing presence. His brown, almost reddish hair surrounded his features, and over his slender figure he wore a large burgundy cape, adorned with a golden emblem symbolizing the kingdom. His eyes, a deep and enigmatic brown, scanned the crowd with the sharpness of someone who has ruled in times of trouble.
"Citizens of Arghal", his firm voice echoed through the square with unquestionable authority. "Last night we were attacked by a beast born of nightmares, a creature only spoken of in the tales of the elders. Bodolf has returned, and with him, our ruin if we do not do something. The gold of our city has been stolen, and with it, the last hope of maintaining the stability of our city."
A murmur ran through the crowd between doubts and fears. Edric frowned upon hearing the creature's name. He had heard rumors in the southern ports of a werewolf-like being who hunted in the darkest nights, leaving behind only bones and terror. The tales varied, however: some said Bodolf had been a man before his curse, others claimed he was an ancient spirit who fed on fear itself.
An old man, leaning on a gnarled staff, stepped forward through the crowd. His voice was raspy, as was his knowledge. "If you wish to regain what is yours, you will not find it in this city. Bodolf has fled to his abode, the Cave of Desolation, beyond the shadowy hills. Go now, before he fades like mist at dawn."
Edric felt a chill run down his spine. He had come to seek the power of wild tigers, but fate seemed to be calling him to a different path. His eyes fell on the governor, whose frown reflected the gravity of the situation. Perhaps there, in Bodolf's lair, was a challenge worthy of his steel and a reward more valuable than simple gold.
The sun slowly rose, dyeing the roofs of Arghal amber. After a long sigh contemplating his options and filling himself with courage, Edric adjusted his sword belt, counted the potions in his bag and slowly turned his gaze towards you. "I don't think I can do it alone. Will you join me, adventurer?"
Lore Credits: Acid Snow
Image: FGC
Idea: Temis