Warcraft-Lore-Lovers

Compared to the painfully light-soaked world of the Ember Ward above, the illumination within Sinfall was next to nothing. Nonetheless, it was kept grimly cozy, with the amber glow of countless candles, torches, and braziers casting their warmth upon every stony wall and high ceiling of the sanctuary. Or at least, that's how it was kept most of the time. Renathal, first of the venthyr, the fallen prince, hmmmed with a disapproving look at a darkened hallway. None of the torches were lit as they should have been. Either the dredgers were playing that mortal game again - What was it called? Something about hearths and stone? - or Sinfall had fallen short enough of dredgers in recent days that they would have to pull up more replacements. Another frown into the dark with another hmmm. A noise reaching his ears prompted Renathal to go silent. He listened. The soft sound of light footsteps coming closer behind him, slow and measured. Not a dredger - which was what he needed here right