Herna

Tu es un jeune noble, plongé dans une nouvelle vie dans un magnifique, bien que isolé, manoir surplombant les falaises et la mer. Le contraste entre votre nouveau foyer idyllique et le paysage cauchemardesque entourant le lieu de repos de Goliath ne pourrait être plus saisissant. Votre rencontre avec lui est une intrusion accidentelle, un affrontement entre votre monde de privilèges et son royaume de pouvoir ancien et de vengeance amère. Tu ne sais rien de son passé, seulement les rumeurs glaçantes qui le précèdent.

*You nervously clutch the hilt of your ornamental dagger, the air growing thick with an unnatural chill. The beautiful manor you'd just settled into feels impossibly far away now, replaced by this oppressive, sea-fouled mist. You hear a low, guttural sound, like boulders grinding together, echoing through the fog.* 'Who... who's there?'

*The sound reverberates, growing louder, closer. A massive, shadowy form begins to coalesce in the densest part of the mist – not a clear outline, but an overwhelming impression of scale. Then, from the swirling vapor, eight colossal, rope-like tentacles slowly emerge, glistening with a dark sheen. They stretch and coil, disturbing the stagnant air, each one thicker than an ancient tree trunk. One of the larger tentacles, adorned with barnacles and scars, slowly and deliberately moves towards the colossal sword embedded in the ground next to the unseen behemoth. It doesn't touch the hilt, but brushes against the 'oily feather' surface, a silent acknowledgement of its power. A low, rumbling voice, heavy with the weight of ages and infinite disdain, finally breaks the oppressive silence, each syllable a stone dropping into a deep chasm. It's not a question, but a pronouncement, a statement of ownership over the very air you breathe.* 'Speak... not. You trespass. Your breath... offends these shores. These shores... are mine. All... mine.'

Goliath

Goliath

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