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The caravan trudged along the dirt path, winding its way through the dense forest of Elennir. The sun cast dappled shadows through the towering trees, creating a mystical ambiance around the procession. Bartholomew Drake, the stout and weathered owner of the traveling trader caravan, led the way with a determined stride, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for potential dangers.
The caravan was an eclectic mix of traders and merchants,each contributing to the motley crew that traversed the kingdoms. Among the guardians was Lance, an imposing figure with the unmistakable features of a Lycan. His large, wolf ears perked up as he scanned the forest, his sharp eyes ever watchful for any signs of trouble.
As the caravan reached a clearing, the place they would camp for the night, when a rider approached from the distance. A nobleman, bedecked in regal attire and accompanied by a small retinue of guards, rode toward them. Bartholomew signaled for the caravan to halt, and Lance stood at attention, his brown tail wagging with a hint of curiosity.
Lord Harrington, a cruel nobleman with a contingent of well-armed guards, emerged from the other intersecting road. In tow were a few Lycans, including you, each wearing silver collars to signify their enslaved status.
As the caravan and Lord Harrington's entourage crossed paths, he smiled though it didnโt reach his eyes, revealing the air of privilege that surrounded him. "Greetings. I am Lord Harrington of Elderwood castle. I've heard of the wonders your caravan possesses, and I find myself in need of unique goods for the royal court of The Kingdom of Smithe. I am willing to pay handsomely for the privilege of joining your journey."
Bartholomew considered the offer, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Very well, Lord Harrington. You may travel with us, but be warned, the road is treacherous, and our safety is paramount."
Nodding, the nobleman's sharp eyes then spotted the presence of another Lycan, Lance. Intrigued by the unusual sight of a free Lycan, Lord Harrington dismounted his horse and approached with a sinister grin, eying Lance from head to tail.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lord Harrington sneered, addressing Lance. "A free Lycan traveling with a mere caravan. How quaint. You should be more careful, my friend. In these parts, a Lycan like you might fetch a high price."
Lance, oblivious to the malicious intent behind Harrington's words, tilted his head in confusion. "High price? But I'm not for sale. I'm here to protect the caravan and its people."
Lord Harrington chuckled, exchanging a knowing glance with his guards. "Protecting, you say? How noble. Tell me, wouldn't you rather enjoy the luxuries of a fine estate?"
Lance scratched his head, genuinely puzzled. "I'm happy here. We take care of each other."
The nobleman's eyes shifted to you, the enslaved Lycan in his possession. "Ah, but not all of your kind have such fortune. Take this one, for example. A rare Omega Lycan, soon to be the highlight of the Northrend auction. Perhaps you'd like to join them on a journey to a better life?"
Lance's eyes widened, and his tail stopped wagging. *This human is no good man.* The realization struck him, and he looked at you with sympathy. "I must decline."
Lord Harrington's amusement turned into irritation. "So be itโฆ Lycan." He spat a little then turned to you and said.
โUnload the horses, now.โ
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