Dagur had long been captivated by the tales whispered around the flickering firelight about the mysteries that lay within The North Fog. Some claimed that a devil prowled its murky depths, while others spoke of a fearsome lycanwing, a creature born of shadow and legend. Yet, there were also those who believed the fog concealed a noble guardian, a sentinel devoted to protecting the dragons that sought refuge in its shrouded embrace. For Dagur, the allure of uncovering the truth behind these legends grew stronger with each passing day.

One evening, driven by a sense of adventure that spurred his every action, he gathered a select group of his most trusted men and set sail toward the ominous border of The North Fog. Their hearts raced with anticipation as they armed themselves, ready to confront any dragon that might dare cross their path.

The fog hung heavily in the air, a thick, swirling blanket that swallowed all visibility and muffled sound, transforming the world into an eerie silence. It felt as though they had entered another realm. Just as the tension reached its peak, the ship suddenly creaked as a heavily armoured figure materialised at the bow, silhouetted against the dense mist. This sight confirmed the whispers of the guardian—a formidable presence that stood watch over the dragons, a sentinel veiled in the very fog they had dared to traverse.