"Do you recognize this place...?"
"The Ruins of Shel'geth. I have only heard of it in stories told by my mentors."
"Do you know what it is called by the el'eth dul?"
"The City of Souls."
Dahldaera stood for several moments atop a mount of rubble, icy blue eyes casting a baleful glow in the dark reaches of the fathomless abyss before her. There should have been an expression of wonder on her face, awe perhaps, but she could only manage to look upon it in disgust at this revelation.
"This is the City of Souls?" a place where exiles, dishonoreds, and lesser creatures wilted. Festering like an infected wound. Daera scowled, nose wrinkled as she shot a look of offense at her guide, "We are meeting them here?"
"Yes, it is all arranged." Eight beady, red eyes blinked back at her from the shadows of a rocky outcropping where the ghostly image of a massive dryder's form could just be made out. Long, delicate, spindle-white legs curved back at the sound of footsteps, "merely a stepping stone on our journey. We will not linger here long. My messengers assured me both contacts were on their way."
"Good." The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could leave this wretched place.