The last Faceless, a short woman with a limp, looks up to you with thanks.

A booming drum sounds as the northside portcullis opens to reveal a hunched, bipedal creature no greater than a hound. Thick tusks arc from beneath a twisted lip, its patchy hide a mottled brown, covered in fresh and old wounds.

Your hand tightens around your weapon - Thrace has a cache of Deepwood monsters!

The arena roars with bloodlust.