A great canyon between Kanvane and Ragnivan spanning several hundreds of miles across, the Trench has been around as long as cartographers have survived the visit to the locale.

These old map-makers weren’t just hopping into the chasm without regard, of course, rather there is a nation of insects that actively defend it as their nest. These “Trenchlings” are intelligent, speaking creatures and are many in variety, as if they are in fact multiple terrible races banded together to protect their king, who apparently boasts some high-power psychic link to his subjects; the natural outcome of such well-organized and focused solders would be that the Trench is considered a no-man’s land for any other than the approved insect races that call it home.

They’re a weird bunch and not the sort you’d want for tea.

The innards of Trench sport a pleasantly-cool, if dreary atmosphere, what thin slivers of light peering inside bearing life to the sparse evergreen forests within. There’s a lot of room down there; it would be a fine place to put something, especially if it were evil, and you wanted it unwittingly protected by a giant swarm-army of insect people.

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