Amidst the somber expanse of a desolate wasteland, a woman with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes trudges through the ashen landscape. Her gaunt frame, highlighted by sunken eyes, speaks of countless days spent in a dark, unforgiving dungeon. Dust and soil cling to her skin, her jagged clothing nothing more than tattered rags fluttering in the wailing wind. Around her, others wander, similarly clad in ragged vestments, their faces etched with the same stories of hardship and survival. These are remnants of the ancient Hillmen, the proud Dunlendings of lore, now reduced to specters in a land bereft of hope. With each step, her spirit whispers tales of resilience and quiet defiance, echoing through the grey veils that shroud this forlorn realm.