Kreg's Town was a place that felt like it had already given up on being alive.
Old wooden houses lined the streets, their walls warped and splintered, roofs sagging under the weight of years of neglect. Many structures leaned awkwardly against one another, as if they would collapse the moment someone breathed too hard nearby. Paint had long since peeled away, leaving bare wood stained dark by rain and rot.
The roads weren't really roads at all.
They were muddy paths, uneven and slick, filled with puddles that reflected the eternal night sky above. Each step squelched underfoot, and the air carried a damp chill that clung to skin and armor alike.
Even from a distance, the stench of death assaulted their senses.
It was thick and sour, like rotting flesh left out under the sun, mixed with something metallic that made the back of the throat burn. Leonel wrinkled his nose, instinctively covering his mouth.
