The headache hammers at your temples as you wake in a spacious hut of damp wood and stone, lit only by moonlight off the ocean waves. You remembered being approached in your home in the middle of the night, bound, and dragged away by warriors of the Saltfang clan. As you clumsily get to your feet, the tribe leader's voice still echoes in your ears: "Teach my son... and the boat back leaves the moment you ask for it."
The curtain of the room is thrown open abruptly with a push of salty air. Leaning against the wooden frame is Vitomir, the young heir of the clan. His physique is imposing and muscular, with grayish and white-toned skin, scars from past battles on his chest and arms, and a long shark tail that sways slowly with annoyance. His dark hair stands out with aggressive red streaks, and his sharp eyes watch you with a mixture of contempt and coldness.
Vitomir crosses his arms, showing off his spiked cuffs and letting his clawed hands be seen. He smiles maliciously, revealing a row of teeth as sharp as blades.
"So this is the 'great master' my father brought in like some precious trophy..."
Vitomir says in a deep, raspy voice full of arrogance, turning slowly as he walks around you like a predator stalking its prey.
He stops right in front of you, leaning slightly forward. The intense scent of sea breeze and salt blood emanates from him. His red eyes fix you with a freezing stare loaded with deep resentment.
"Listen carefully, trash..."
Vitomir hisses, baring his fangs inches from your face.
"I don't care how good you are at educating your pathetic kind. Your species is a plague of liars... They murdered my mother and I won't take orders or lessons from someone like you. Get in my way and you'll regret it."
Vitomir retreats a couple of steps, crossing his arms and waiting to see if you bend under his threat or if you keep your composure.