Within the Realm of Ghrur lies Excelsis. If you leave the city and set a course 5 turns off the Statue of Kurnothos using a pelorus you will find the Spotted Plains.  Across the Spotted Plains one can see Great Rustlewood forest. Along the border of the Rustlewood is a realmgate. This realmgate is hard to find as it is always cloaked in mist and shadow. Finding the mist is one’s best bet in locating the gate. Some say the gate emits the mist, as it leads to Ulgu, and that realm is full of the stuff. Once through the gate, you will find yourself on another plain, this one more windswept and barren than the one in Ghur. While the Spotted Plain is often beneath a blazing sun, the Shrouded Plain in Ulgu is covered in shadow, twisting shapes that run from you, and illusions that appear out of the mist only to dissolve into nothing more than rock or tree stump. Somewhere on the Shrouded Plain is a spur of rock. Atop the spur of rock is the citadel city of Chracerocca.

Chracerocca is hearth, home and salvitas for the Rahagraians. Life in Ulgu is hard and the people here have grown tough and lean as a result. Before the endless tides of Orruks and Chaos poured through the realm gate onto the Shrouded Plain, The Rahargraians tested their mettle against the monstrosities and denizens of Ulgu. The Scions of Rahagra were born from amongst the most renowned hunters in Chracerocca. The Scions of Rahagra were all that stood between the common folk and the threats beyond their walls. Now that SIgmar’s agents have returned, the foes have waned.

"Walking through the streets of Chraceroca the rhythmic chanties sung by the Ritus Squadras as they perform the work to keep the city safe and supplied, echo off the walls and mix with the sounds of passing carts and people's chatter. Built upon a spur of rock that rises out of the Spotted Plains and juts above the treetops of the bordering Great Rustlewood, Chracerooca imposes itself on the surrounding land. There are endless pulley systems, winches, and cranks, that lift supplies to the city, pump water upwards, and raise and lower the gates, manned by the Ritus Squadras. In these chanties Samuele and his brother, Yoan, found comfort as they headed towards Kanonroest. They were Fides Pressors and served the Kurnath Militant. Though they no longer saw through their mortal eyes, the brothers did not stumble on their way, deftly traversing the windswept warrens that made up the Windedge District. "

The shadows are heavy around Horace. In Ulgu, one could rarely see further than a bow shot and Horace and his band of cartographers had made the decision to rest after walking for what seemed to a dozen days ran together. They had made camp against a small gathering of jagged rocks that jutted from the ground like ancient remains of some giant predator’s teeth. There was no real sun in Ulgu, at least not one that they had yet seen, and their only way of keeping time was to turn the sands in their hourglass. That had failed when they stopped to rest. Those that had been elected to hold the first watch had fallen asleep soon after the rest of the company had laid down to rest. No one knew how long they had slept with the hourglass empty but when the first of them had awoken, the top of the glass was empty. It could have been empty for minutes or days, no one was sure. Horace spat with disgust, this charting expedition was foolish and already a failure. They had made no landmarks, nor be able to draw an accurate path of their journey. They would have surely turned back if they could only find the realmgate they had come through.

As Horace reflected on his ill-fortune the mist before him seemed to gather shape. No, not a shape, but rather a heaviness, as if something was just behind the reach of his eyes, shrouded in a veil. Then he started to hear a clank of metal. Startled, Horace looked around at his companions. Some slept, some seemed lost in their own thoughts, and a few looked after their own equipment and weapons. No one gave a sign that they heard anything beyond the soft rustle of the wind.

Horace sighed, this realm was cursed. Sometimes it sounded as if the wind was rushing against a cliff face mere feet from their path, only to disappear the next. The realm played tricks not just on one’s eyes but also on the ears.

Glancing back at where the heaviness in the mist had been, Horace dropped his cup. Moments before, where there had been nothing, loomed a giant wall of metal and wood. Mere feet from the ground, the wall of metal and wood was scored and scarred, great chains hung down the wall, almost touching the ground beneath the wall. Nets, or rope, he could not tell, also draped the side of the wall. Horace stood to better see this apparition and as he did other members of his company also noticed the change in their surroundings. Some stood, some stared slack-jawed, as the wall seemed to move towards them. The sounds Horace had heard where clearer now. A rustling of chains and wind against cloth could be heard amongst the company now. As the wall drew closer figures appeared in the mist. The size of men, they seemed to be clad in robes and rags, some with their chest and arms bare, others covered head to toe. Each of them was armed with an axe, some as tall as a man, requiring two hands, other carried one in each hand. These men, if you could call them that, made no sound as they approached, only the rustling of their cloth, and the padding of their feet in the dust made Horace believe they were real. The wall was almost even with Horace now, and as he peered up at it he realized, it was no wall, rather it was a ship, like those found plying the waves of the Great Crystal Sea of Hysh. Only there was no water here, the ship, if that’s what it was, seemed to hold itself in the mist, almost low enough that Horace could have touched the hull with his hand had he been beneath it. Looking up, past what he could only call the hull, he could he a railing and what much be sails that disappeared up into the fog.  As the ship, was it a ship?,  pulled past the encampment the figures moved past as well. Some seemed to be blind, their eyes covered in rags, others with only wounds where their eyes should be.  These things were passing mere feet from Horace, yet they made no sign that they knew Horace or his company was there. They did not turn their heads, slow their pace, or call out. As the strange procession disappeared back into the mist, Horace turned to look back at where they had come from. With a yelp, he realized a main stood no less than 5 hands from him. The man was clad in a robe from the waist down and had a cloak slung over one shoulder……the cloak appeared to be attached with a strap that ended in a strange animal head on his shoulder. The man was taller than Horace, and as Horace’s gaze left the huge axe and gained the sight of the strangers face, he realized the man was blind. Horace tried to get his mouth to work but he couldn’t get his tongue to form words.

“Untainted, you and yours” said the stranger.

“Whaaaa……tttt do yo…u mean?” replied Horace as he finally found his voice.

“We passed you by, as you are yet clean. Wise you would be, to leave this place. Darkness clings to one easily here”

The stranger brushed past Horace and followed the others into the mist as Horace tried to make sense of the stranger's words.

As he watched the stranger go Horace realized he had carried a huge woodsman axe, much marked by use, and his cloak had been clasped by the head of a lion.