These Polar Tigers, Man.

As Aresenn made his way through the rugged landscape, his thick fur bristled against the crisp breeze that swept down from the towering rock faces. The scent of sea salt lingered in the air, carried on the wind along with the distant roars of crashing waves. His keen amber eyes scanned the horizon with a watchful intensity as he patrolled the Polar Sound. Despite the harsh conditions of this northern region, midday bathed the valley in a soft glow, casting long shadows over the tufts of short grasses and lichens that clung to the rocky terrain. Aresenn's paws sank into the dewy earth as he traversed through patches of unexpected greenery nourished by freshwater trickles cascading down the steep faces of slate.

As Aresenn rounded a sharp bend in the narrow canyon, his keen ears pricked up at an unusual sound that echoed off the rocky walls. The distinct growl of a creature not native to these parts reached him, interrupted only by the soft rustle of the dry grass beneath his feet. Intrigued and curious, he cautiously approached the source, his heightened senses on full alert for any potential danger lurking. It was then, the source of the growl revealed itself—a ... tiger? It's sleek stripes a stark contrast against the barren surroundings. Its powerful muscles rippled under its tawny fur as it paced back and forth, its golden eyes locked onto Aresenn with an intensity he hadn't been expecting. Oh, hell no.

"Aresenn Praetor"