Time wore on in what had become known as the 'pass to the underworld'. In the lands to the south, scouts reported undead continued to march down on those unlucky enough be living there. Last month they had lost contact with the amazonian tribe to the south east, and everywhere plague consumed the population. Yet the pass itself was untouched, the atlantains and hoburgs manning the defenses, that had months before seemed hopelessly insufficient, began to relax. The council had even dared to divert enough troops to renew campaigns against humans in the northlands. But Chulyin did not leave, he reluctantly let the honor of leading armies into battle fall to others. He was needed at the pass, the influence of the dark phoenix was strong, and wherever it touched the land whithered. He felt sure if he ever let the presence of Issukangitok falter here, doom would surely follow. So he bided his time in prayer, and teaching the hoburgs of the faces of Issukangitok.
