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There were rumors of a water spirit that haunted the docks at night. A harmless beggar, bearing merely a tattered cloak and bladeless sword handle, would warn passersby of the watery threat, shouting "Beware the moonlit tides! The ruthless spirit of the deep claims all lives!" It seemed to keep to the old section of the city, and for the most part only attracted fools looking to tempt fate.

It was a thriving city, though, with many fools to spare.

Those who sought the spirit out would find it easily enough. It would float just beneath the water's surface—its dark form looking all the more phantasmal through the rumbling tide. Those who saw it, peering over the dock's edge, were met with a swift and piercing stream of brine before they were pulled down into the unforgiving drink.

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