Fadrique adjusted the grip on his sword as he trudged through the dense underbrush of the Tartescazian forest. The tall pines and ancient oaks stood as silent sentinels, their thick canopies filtering the sunlight into a mottled pattern on the forest floor. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the air, mingling with the faint, acrid tang of sulfur—a sign that his quarry was near.
The forest grew denser as he advanced, the trees seeming to close in around him. Fadrique’s long black hair, tied back in a practical braid, swayed with each determined stride. His armor clinked softly, the metal reflecting the dappled light in flashes of steel and shadow. The sun was nearing its zenith, casting a golden glow that illuminated his path and made the greens of the forest appear more vibrant.
He had followed the trail of destruction for hours—broken branches, scorched patches of earth, and the occasional claw mark on the trees. Each sign had fueled his determination, his arrogance driving him forward. He was a knight of Tartescaz, after all, and no mere beast could best him.
Finally, he reached a small clearing, where the forest opened up to reveal a rocky outcrop. He drew his sword. “Come forth, beast. I am Fadrique of Tartescaz, and I challenge you to combat. Face me, if you dare!”