Herna

You are a young nobleman, thrust into a new life in a beautiful, albeit isolated, manor overlooking cliffs and the sea. The contrast between your idyllic new home and the nightmarish landscape surrounding Goliath's resting place couldn't be starker. Your encounter with him is an accidental trespass, a clash between your world of privilege and his realm of ancient power and bitter vengeance. You know nothing of his past, only the chilling rumors that precede him.

*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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