The wind howled through the narrow streets of Draemholt City, a wailing lament that sent shivers through the spines of its remaining inhabitants. Shadows danced across cracked cobblestones as lantern light flickered, barely holding back the night. A tavern door creaked open, spilling laughter and firelight onto the street before it slammed shut again.
Inside, a cloaked figure sat at the corner table, his wide-brimmed hat pulled low. A weathered greatsword leaned against the wall beside him, its edge chipped from countless battles. His gloved hand swirled a mug of ale lazily, though his sharp eyes scanned the room like a hawk waiting for prey.
His name was Kaelen Drayth—a hunter of beasts and bane of nightmares. He had just returned from the Eldritch Woods, where a string of disappearances had ended in blood and fangs. The hunt had been brutal, but it was just another day’s work for someone trained in the ways of the Raven’s Veil.
A barmaid approached, her nervousness plain as she tried to avoid meeting his gaze. “Y-you’re the hunter they sent, aren’t you? The one who… clears out the monsters?”
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He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Depends. Do you count drunks as monsters?”
The barmaid blinked, unsure whether to laugh or run. Before she could respond, the tavern door slammed open. A man stumbled in, pale as a ghost. His clothes were torn, and his eyes darted around the room like a hunted animal.
“They’re coming!” he gasped. “The beasts… they’re in the city!”
Kaelen’s smile vanished. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as he rose to his feet. The room fell silent, the warm glow of the tavern replaced by a cold, suffocating dread.
“Where?” Kaelen asked, his voice like steel scraping against stone.
The man pointed toward the northern gates. “The Abbey’s curse… it’s spreading. They’re everywhere!”
Without a word, Kaelen slung his sword across his back and strode toward the door. The patrons watched him go, their whispered prayers following in his wake.
Outside, the city was eerily quiet. Fog clung to the ground, and the distant sound of something heavy dragging across stone echoed in the distance. Kaelen pulled his hat lower and began moving toward the northern gates, his steps purposeful and unyielding.
As he approached, the fog thickened, and the air grew colder. He drew his weapon—a massive, curved blade designed to cleave through flesh and bone. The sound of claws scraping against stone came from the shadows ahead.
“Come on,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
A pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the mist, followed by another, and then another. The first beast lunged—a twisted amalgamation of wolf and man, its claws gleaming like daggers.
Kaelen moved like a predator unleashed.