He had no idea how long he had been in the Great Oubliette of Shyish, a
continent-sized underworld of dank cells and ice-cold dungeons, but here he
was. He hefted his huge enchanted choppa, Da Kutlass, on his right shoulder
and casually swung Deeptoof, his lucky broken anchor, with his left hand as he
strode down yet another stone avenue.
The eerie greenish light, that seemed to come from nowhere more specific than
"above" - it certainly wasn't a sun or a moon, cast deep green-black shadows
in the openings of the crypts that lined the winding path. He climbed a
rough-hewn stone stairway past bare, stunted trees. He crossed a cracked
courtyard surrounded by statues of hooded skull-faced angels bearing scythes.
Wisps of fog wound round his ankles as he descended a hill covered in
gravestones. A crow's call echoed through the empty streets but he couldn't
see a crow.
Adm'rul Kurgan Grimjaw, pirate orruk warlord, and one-time Prince of Sartosa,
was lost. He hated to admit it, but he had been exploring these bleak stone
avenues for longer than he could remember, but he had never seen the same
street twice. There were no familiar landmarks or vistas and no points of
reference to be marked. For a while he had tried to map the streets and
mausoleums but it was fruitless. A strange fog came over his mind whenever he
tried to match his scribbled charts to his surroundings. Nothing ever matched,
not even when he was stood on the very spot where he'd drawn them.
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