A heavy silence hung over the massive, dimly lit chamber. Shadows flickered across jagged walls, cast by eerie blue flames that burned in the braziers lining the hall. At the center stood Varzok the Devourer, a towering figure with six muscular arms, his crimson eyes burning with grief and fury. His obsidian-black skin shimmered under the cold firelight, his massive frame radiating an oppressive aura that made even the strongest warriors in the room feel like insects.
Before him stood the elite of the Abyssborn Ravagers—some with four arms, others with six like Varzok, and a rare few with only two. The ones with two arms were the most terrifying, their mere presence warping the very air around them. They were the strongest of their kind, legends even among the Abyssborn.
Varzok clenched his fists, his six arms trembling with rage. His voice, deep and raw, cut through the silence like a blade.
