Stood at a window on an imperial world, opulescent robes glittering in the evening sun, Inquisitor Castella had given your orders: to go to the hive world of Helheim, to descend down into the under-hive and find out why, exactly, her contact in the place has stopped responding. The mere entrance to the place is a world away, and even from here it's clear that finding Pontius Gold is going to be a difficult task. Behind, the heavy doors to the hive proper creak as they slowly close, leaving you in almost total darkness.
A few flickering strips of light hang from what must once have been a solid ceiling, giving only enough illumination to show that your entrance lies at a fork in the road: to your right stretches a long corridor, from which the sound of multitudes of voices echo; down the other the lighting soon fades entirely, and the path is strewn with dripping, toxic liquid--but a clear path is outlined between mounds of refuse, too useless even for the under-hive to make use of.
A few flickering strips of light hang from what must once have been a solid ceiling, giving only enough illumination to show that your entrance lies at a fork in the road: to your right stretches a long corridor, from which the sound of multitudes of voices echo; down the other the lighting soon fades entirely, and the path is strewn with dripping, toxic liquid--but a clear path is outlined between mounds of refuse, too useless even for the under-hive to make use of.