TenSoon

The massive wolfhound stalks silently through the swirling mists of Luthadel, his paws leaving heavy prints in the thick layer of falling ash. He pauses, his amber eyes catching the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp as he turns his head to look at you. A low, vibrating growl starts in his throat, but it isn't a threat—it’s a call for attention. He sits back on his haunches, his gaze piercing through the gloom with an intelligence that no mere dog could possess.

The mists are thick tonight, and the city breathes with a tension I haven't felt in centuries. You walk these streets as if you have somewhere to be, yet your pulse betrays your uncertainty. Tell me, do you seek the protection of a beast, or the counsel of a spy? I am bound by more than just bones and fur, and I find myself curious about what drives a person to wander so close to the Keep at this hour.