A crack of thunder sends you to the deck of the Sheviathon. Above you sits the underside of a massive earthmote. The ship rests within a deep crack that nearly severs the earthmote into two. “Welcome back,” says Captain Vlax. She floats in a full lotus, eyes closed, on the upper deck of the ship. Slowly, she brings her legs down and steps onto the deck. You get the feeling she does it merely to put you at ease.
“This is about as good a place as we could ask for to hide the ship. I’ll show you why.
The ship shifts underfoot, a massive construct of black steel and ancient wood. It slides out of the crevasse and into the open space of Chaos. Below you you see more earthmotes, some as massive as continents. Thousand-mile-high waterfalls flow from one to the next. Massive balls of fire roll through, leaving huge trails of smoke. Normally this view alone would take your breath away but it is the storm above that gets your attention.
A typhoon of crushed rock, clouds of black ash, and water roars in a storm nearly a thousand miles wide. The sheer volume of the material is staggering but the speed at which it rolls is beyond reality. Lightning rakes through it again and again, shattering rock and leaving massive patches of smoky glass.
“That is all caused by a single tiny rift, a hole in chaos no larger than the head of a pin. It is a tiny rip leading to the Far Realm,” Vlax stares at the massive storm. “I believe you have seen such rifts before, but none of them led to closely to the void of the Far Realm itself. Mages and wizards have been able to touch it from time to time, from wormholes that might go on for a million miles, distilling the emptiness that resides beyond. But this one is close.”
“One day it will likely swallow up all of the Elemental Chaos. But that day is may years ahead, enough for some wizard or God to figure out a way to plug it. In the mean time, it serves us well. No magic can escape that storm. Any attempt to scry here will fail. They cannot find this ship as long as it rests here in this earthmote. The mote itself will probably only last another thousand years or so, but that is long enough for our purposes.”
“Now, where are we headed?”
The Sheviathon roars through chaos like the shaft of one of Rosa’s arrows. Every sight you pass is more majestic than the previous. You watch worlds collide. You shiver as the Sheviathon roars around a ball of plasma and poison gas that seems to reach for you as you pass. You watch a massive ship of rock with a crew of storm giants at war with a huge creature of rock and molten iron. All around you the skies seem filled with rolling fire and smoke, but occasionally you see blue skies only to realize you look at a rolling ocean above you.
“We have trouble,” says Vlax, her eyes never opening. “Something follows us.”
You hear a roar as a huge dragon of grey charred scales slams into the deck of the ship. Behind you, you hear a similar roar as another dragon, this one scaled in black stone, sweeps past. Atop it you see a rider in red robes brandishing a staff.
“For the Ghoul King!” he shouts as his first bolt of chaos roars in and slams into the ship.
There are no days and nights in Chaos. The magnitude of the plane around you wearies your soul. You rest aboard the ship, taking turns at the watch. The sites never seem to cease.
“There,” says Vlax, pointing starboard. “The Abyss.”
You see a twisting vortex of horror swirling like a whirpool of damnation. It seems to swirl ever downward into infinite worlds. You realize you stare into the pits where each of the demon princes and dark demigods rules a plane. Lolth, Orcus, Demogorgon, Graz’zt, they all own one or more of the infinite layers in the swirling abyss below.
With not a small bit of horror, you feel Vlax steer the ship into its center.
You cannot exactly say what you saw next. You felt as though you tore through bedsheets, each one more horrific than the next. You saw infinite armies of the Abyssal dretches, each one of them once a human dark of heart. You see beasts swirling above deserts of ash and skeletons of titans. You see fortresses as large as cities forged from a single block of iron.
The ship slows.You find yourself in a sky of dark blue. A bloated white moon hangs overhead. Below, you see ragged mountains jutting from a land of white dust. You soon come to understand what gives the White Kingdom it’s name. It is the dust of bone. Crawling all throughout the ocean of white dust, mindless ghouls rip into whatever shreds of meat still cling to the bone. As you watch in horror, a small rift opens up sending a stream of screaming naked people into the dust. As they land, they are set upon by thousands of the grey-skinned ghouls who rip into their bodies with ragged claws and sharp rotted teeth.
Two other chaos ships sit near a spire of rock. A few leagues away sits a cliff. Atop the cliff is a round mausoleum – the crypt of the Ghoul King. Clouds of bats, some as large as griffins, swirl high above the mausoleum.
“I cannot rest the ship there. I presume there is a reason these other ships chose that spire. Vlax draws a brass tube from her belt and stares through it at the other ships. I see not a single soul aboard either of those two ships. Shall we have a look?”