Buried in a noxious bog as the jaws of the earth tore through the city, the original name of Drown has been long forgotten. A few Kruleboyz, Sylvaneth and Gloomspite bands can be found in the bog, a few shanties sprouting from the reed and loam of the mire. Small Nurgle cults have recently moved into Drown, being chased from other areas.
Whatever this city once was, there are still some habitable buildings- former belfries and coateries and widow’s watches, of impossibly tall towers with flooded basements, giving way to the murky depths of the mire.
Bonesails, diregators and murhanna all discourage too much exploring below the reed-floor of the bog. Some have come back from the depths of Drown with trinkets and treasures from the age-old city, claiming pockets of breathable air below the surface, trapped in shuttered rooms against the swamp waters. Others come back glass eyed and wild. Maybe best to stick to the surface with the monsters we know?
