Water lapped against the side of the warship but otherwise, it was dead silent. They had been locked up in the brig for the better part of a day, after the ship they sought passage on had been boarded. Gren was the first to break the bitter silence. Yvessia glanced over at him, she had been repeatedly trying to incant a spell but without any success.
“I owe you both an explanation.” He said.
“Yeah, I think you do. What the hell was that up there? Who is this captain, that seems to know you so well, and who is this “she” you asked about before you headbutted him?” Locke snarled, her chest heaving from pain. She slumped back on the filthy floor and poked cautiously at the arrowhead that was still lodged in her chest from the battle, but immediately regretted doing so, when a sharp pain shot through the wound. Gren crouched down and pulled her arm away.
“You shouldn’t mess with that. Cannon Jack wants us alive, I’ll ask him to send his surgeon.”
With that, a curious smile formed on Yvessia’s elven features.
“So… what’s the story, Gren, why did they call you ‘The Seawolf’?” she asked in her lilting voice.
Gren’s hostile stare shifted to Yvessia, then calmed. He seemed to chew on her question for some time, to the point where she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer at all until finally, he grunted: “As I said, I owe you an explanation.”
– Locke The Legend
Locke the Legend is a story set in a gritty, dark fantasy setting where dragons are real, and magic is something to be feared.
In the fighting pits of the city of Agos, the boisterous reigning champion – a woman by the name of Locke Galston who fights only with her fists, is offered a hefty sum to throw the fight.
In the crowd, a dwarven bard named Flint Runaheim carefully observes, while a dangerous-looking mercenary places an unreasonably high bet on Locke. She has never once thrown a fight. But, as it stands – she is in grave debt.