The Vanguard

Atticus followed the cloaked figure through the narrow passage, the stench of damp earth and mildew filling his nostrils. The tunnel was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, its rough-hewn walls scraping against his back. It twisted and turned for what felt like an eternity, the only light a faint, flickering glow emanating from a source unknown.

Finally, the passage opened into a small, cavernous chamber. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows across the room. Atticus's eyes adjusted slowly, revealing a motley crew of figures huddled around a makeshift table fashioned from a crudely hewn plank of wood and upturned barrels.

He saw a hulking demon, his crimson skin etched with intricate black tattoos, his single, cyclopean eye fixed on him with a piercing gaze. Next to him sat a wiry orc demon, his green skin and tusked jaw contrasting with the flowing robes of a human woman whose silver hair gleamed in the lantern light. A wizened gnome, his bear
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