Harland and the Chakram on the Shore

Part human, part shark, Harland is a fearsome fighter for whom the smallest scent of blood triggers a rage frenzy that multiplies his strength, speed, and agility many-fold.

This blind fury can be found nowhere in the eyes of this gentle warrior when he is away from the fight, and he spends most of his days in solitude, daydreaming about the salt air and sound of waves from his childhood.

Hailing from Calista’s Citadel on the southern tip of the peninsula, Harland was not born a fighter. His family raised him in a modest stone house in a fishing village just outside of Calista’s city walls, where he and his father, Kodrik, wove fishing nets, fashioned spears, and sharpened the chakram blade belonging to his mother, Mora, who was known throughout Rune Country for her legendary fishing abilities.

Hardly a day went by that she didn’t return from her expeditions to a crowd of people waiting for her on shore: Mongers, eager to secure the largest or most exotic sea creatures; gamblers who had wagered on quantity, sizes, and types of fish; and those who had come simply out of curiosity or habit.

Harland longed to join his mother on her daily expeditions, but whenever he raised the prospect to his parents, they nipped the conversation before it could even begin, often exchanging a knowing, dark look between them. He knew it had nothing to do with his water-faring skills—he was second only to his mother in his swimming ability, and could hold his breath under water for nearly ten minutes.

The only hint Harland had received about why this was so came from his uncle Rowan, who, after a night at the tavern, drunkenly made mention of the family’s ties to the Ahti, goddess of sea creatures. He would have let more slip had Mora not emptied a pitcher of cold water on his head mid-sentence.

Then one day, his mother didn’t return home from her daily catch. The crowd assembled for her return gradually thinned, first the casual onlookers, then the mongers, and finally the gamblers, upset that their wagers could not be resolved, until the only people left were Harland and father, silently staring at the rough Brine Sea under a half moon.

“Let’s wait at home,” Kodrik instructed, then turned toward the village. But just as Harland was about to follow, something washed onto shore: Harland got closer to the object, and as he approached he recognized it to be Mora’s chakram blade. It was a cherished heirloom in her family and essential to her daily hunt and she would never let it leave her side.

Kodrik turned to see young Harland kneeling on the sand, chakram in hand glistening in the moonlight, and before he could call out to his son, Harland had removed his boots and dove into the water, moving effortlessly under the heaving waves, past the silhouettes of jutting rocks off shore, and towards the depths where Mora might be still be alive. It would be over a decade until Kodrik saw his son again.

Entered by: 0xF90c…fA5b and preserved on chain (see transaction)