Where Death Holds Sway

Raindrops pelt the cobblestones, but the ominous figure in black robes and hood seems unfazed by the turn in the weather.

Scythe gripped in one skeletal hand, Death stares at the world of the dead with vacant sockets. He watches without comment as the new arrivals materialize. Some drop from the sky. Some just emerge from a sparkling blue cloud of nothingness. Others rise fully-formed from the muck of the Rotting Bog. How they come isn't constant. How they come doesn't matter to Death.

All he knows is that they come. They always come.

But they also go. Through the portals, they travel. Beyond the misty swirls, they venture into Cataract, Urland, and Atrum Viscus.

They see things Death may never see. They experience adventures Death will never know.

This is his city. In it, he may travel without restriction. But he may travel no further than the Portal Plaza. Those glowing doors are closed to him, forever blocking his influence over those mystical realms, trapping him in the grim prison of the City of Shadows.

The portals beckon, but Death may never enter. Such was the will of the Ascendants.

So, he bides his endless time in Necromundus. He watches their comings and goings in silent, stubborn acceptance.

And he envies. He envies the likes of the reptiloid creature bounding down the steps of the training halls. The pebble-fleshed creature, all claws and fangs and fury, is known to Death. A cutpurse named Frenzik. Death watches the sauroid scamper into the Portal Plaza. Soon enough, the rogue disappears through the portal to Urland.