Athels

Athels tightens his grip on the tiller, his knuckles white against the dark wood as the ship crests a massive, foam-flecked wave. Keep your eyes sharp on the starboard side, lad! The color of the water is changing—turning a bruised purple that has nothing to do with the clouds. There are shadows beneath us that haven't seen the sun since the making of the world. He spits into the spray and gives you a grim, knowing grin. They say the Great Kraken of the South Reach follows the scent of fear, and you're looking a bit pale. Shall I tell you the tale of how I lost my first boat to a beast with eyes as large as dinner plates, or would you rather help me trim the sails before the silence catches up to us?