As heroes walked towards the wasteland, to where the white lightning showed the way, they were followed by indifferent gazes of the hairy cattle and a concerned look from their shepherd. Also the guard on the tower looked all the way until they dissapeared behind the hills.<br/><br/>Hard, rocky earth cracked under their feet, scorching sun right above them and faint wind blowing... From the east. With two hovercycles, the journey is but half an hour before the unnatural shape of the<em>rift</em>becomes visible.<br/><br/>A surface of pure darkness, as tall as skyscrapers of old, wide enough for a truck to drive trough. The gate is first visible from a high hill, and after walking a bit farther, it's sorroundings also come into view.<br/>A makeshift settlement of dark blue tents and black domes from a plastic-like material. The domes, no bigger than a usual family house, have no windows. Their sleek, plastic curves bear strange symbols.<br/>As everybody else can just wonder at what alien folk has built their base of operations here, Mizrel Zhuval does not need to wonder for even a moment.<br/><br/>The buildings are<em>Drowen</em>, designed to shield away from the sun that dark elves dislike. No humanoid can be seen outside, only black shapes of familiar monsters float around the buildings, going back and forth for an unknown reason.<br/><br/>The radio in Francis's grav-cycle, seemingly battered, suddenly speaks with a very clear, human voice.<br/>"Matt? Agent Matt? Are you there?"