In the days of old, when the sun still shone brightly upon the realms of Middle-earth, there existed a place of great beauty known as the Grey Havens. Nestled upon the shores of the Great Sea, it was a haven for the Elves, a sanctuary where they bid farewell to this world and sailed into the west. But time, relentless as it is, had its way with the once glorious city, and now it lay in ruins.

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In the realm of Rohan, where the grasslands stretched wide and the majestic peaks of the White Mountains pierced the sky, there stood the grand fortress of Edoras. High atop the green hill of Meduseld, the golden halls of the Rohirrim gleamed in the sunlight, for it was the dwelling place of King Théoden and his loyal subjects. As the days passed peacefully, whispers began to echo throughout the land, carried on the wind, of a fearsome dragon that had awoken from its slumber.

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In the ancient land of Rohan, nestled amidst green hills and flowing rivers, stood the majestic castles of the Eorlings. These formidable stone fortresses were a testament to the courage and valor of the Rohirrim, a proud people known for their unmatched horsemanship and unyielding loyalty. Yet, even in this realm of kings and warriors, there were tales whispered in hushed voices of a sinister threat that prowled in the night - the Werewolves.

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