Silver Scarab Walker

The old veterans of the Scarabs who spend their days begging or drinkings in the memory of their old district.   In the crumbling lanes of Silvermound’s Ashen Quarter, you might catch sight of a figure hunched beneath the moonlight—a Silver Scarab Walker. Not a warrior moving with purpose, but a relic: once a stalwart Scarab, now an old veteran whose armor is dented memory, whose stories echo in the empty square like wind through broken masonry.   The Scarab Walkers were the last to march from the Silver Scarab Barracks, now quiet halls where the Veilanx hold sway.   After the Great Blaze of 187 5E, when Swarmstill burned to cinder, the Ashen Quarter shifted from stronghold to shadow, and these walkers turned from sentinels to silhouettes     Some spend their nights pawing through the embers by the Veteran’s Hospice, where tales of triumph and regret curl in the air like incense.   Others shuffle past the crumbling homes of Silver Scarab Housing, where descendants cling to deeds and fading honor among soot-stained walls.     These walkers don’t beg for pity—they root for continuity. They exist as moving monuments to a legacy fractured by flame and time, each step a reminder that even ashes shimmer if you know where to look.