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You travel west across the Thylegirt Desert, and seeing the mighty Malka river that splits it in two.
Along the way, you see countless skeletons aimless wandering around, some of them being herded by armed skeletons toward the north-west, where you are headed as well.
Travelling along the flocks of skeletons, ruins start popping up occasionally, and increasing in number the further you go, until eventually you stand before ancient architecture the likes of which neither you, nor anyone else has ever seen.
Buildings made of shining white stone, glistening in the sunlight and reflecting one's image back at them just as distorted and broken as the ruins themselves.
Eventually a skeleton, who appears too well-decorated to be a mere soldier, finds and escorts you to the center of this ancient and alien city, where a throne stands amidst the remnants of a once mighty lighthouse, adorned with ancient, barely visible icons of what is clearly a sun god, but is not Garx, a peculiar detail...
Shortly upon your arrival, a skeleton, slightly shorter than the others, lumbers toward this throne, covered from head to toe in a blue armor, carrying a longsword, a scimitar, a shield and a javelin.
It pays neither you, nor the skeleton beside you, any mind as it seats itself lethargically on the throne.
With big metallic clank, the skeleton now sits before you, his empty eye sockets focused squarely on you.
<span class="mu-s">"I am he who they call the Ghost King. Seeing your kind here is a surprise, but not unexpected. Pray tell, mortal, how can I help you?"</span>
the undead's unnaturally deep voice booms with a terrifying dread, but in his tone there is the gentleness of a wise king.
State your business...
