It was dim and silent, and even the air carried an unpleasant musty smell.
It certainly wasn't the smell of moldy food... in this place filled with war and slaughter, no food would ever be left long enough to grow mold. Here, food and drinking water were always the most precious things.
The distant sky was a lightless darkness, the inherent color of this land. They said that ever since the Undead rose from death and slaughtered everyone here five years ago, the sun had never risen again.
I had heard those mysterious, muttering gray-robed mages in Dalaran, the city of mages, talk about it. They said it was because the Archlich Kel'Thuzad had personally laid a curse upon this land. All hope and vitality would shun this place. Flowers of purity would never bloom in a land of sin. I had understood that truth since birth.
I still remembered the scenery of my homeland: beautiful, languid Darkshore, where you wanted to fall asleep to the sound of singing, and the lights of Darnassus. Though the nights there were also long and lightless, as a Night Elf, I loved that darkness. It was tranquility. It was harmony. It was the home all Elves dreamed of.
Not here. The darkness here only made me feel fear flowing through my marrow.
Even though, as a rogue who walked in darkness, I shouldn't have been afraid.
Our line of work never looked entirely legitimate to ordinary people. Most associated us with thieves and bandits, but only our fellow travelers in darkness knew why we existed.
Where there was light, there would inevitably be darkness. Paladins and Warriors, Priests and mages walked in the light, spreading hope and beauty. The filth in the darkness was ours to clear away.
Of course, I would have