WELCOME TO DUSKSREACH!
The village of Dusksreach lay nestled in the crook of a misty valley, where the forest hummed with life, and the air carried the mingling scents of herbs, baking bread, and damp earth. Its winding cobblestone streets were illuminated by glowing, orb-like lanterns hanging from wooden poles carved with intricate patterns of vines and stars.
Humans bustled through the market square, bartering fresh produce, leather goods, and hand-carved trinkets. Among them, the Feylin, a feline-like species with sleek, fur-covered bodies and elongated ears tipped with soft bioluminescence, wove gracefully through the crowd. A young Feylin named Kaelor paused to inspect a stand of shimmering silk scarves, his sharp, green eyes scanning for imperfections.
Life in Dusksreach was far from perfect, but its diverse inhabitants, bound by their mutual respect and shared hardships, made the village a beacon of harmony in a world that often teetered on the edge of chaos.
It was dark. Stars littered the sky and the moon provided a much needed light on the silent village. Malrik stood alone, his eyes wandering warily. He was guarding the Catacombs. All he did was guard. Of course, he had some breaks when the other Hellforged Titans took his place. But all he's good for is being a guard.
Nothing ever happened. Nobody ever stole around here. Well, the villagers didn't. Bandits and thieves did, of course. But Garruk usually handled them.
He continued to stand, his gaze strictly ahead.