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"Ahh, look! How lovely! The black clouds of twilight are so fetching today..."

"Flying through Borg space is like practicing yoga in a prison shower: It's just an invitation to get roundly screwed."

"Come on guys, we have a nice settlement, why didn't you stick around? Was it the ashen wasteland? The bloodstained gates? Was it the screams of madmen or the stench of death? We've got awful nice engravings of some fucking cheese here, come the fuck on in!"
Cross Quantum, describing Boatmurdered

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"through many a dark and drearie Vaile
They pass'd, and many a Region dolorous,
O're many a Frozen, many a Fierie Alpe,
Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens, and shades of death,
A Universe of death, which God by curse
Created evil, for evil only good,
Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds,
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
Abominable, inutterable, and worse"

"My boy, we're pilgrims in an unholy land."
Dr. Henry Jones, Sr., Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, on Nazi Germany.

Marty McFly: I don't get it, Doc. I mean, how can all this be happening? It's like we're in Hell or something.
Doc Brown: No, it's Hill Valley. Although I can't imagine Hell being much worse!

The only true city is Mingol Zharr-Naggrund (literally "The Great City of Fire and Desolation"), which lies to the north of the dark empire in the heavily-mined Plain of Zharr. Surrounded by a constant miasma of black smoke and poison fumes, this colossal obsidian ziggurat is a monument to industrialization gone mad. It sits astride the River Ruin, a waterway that the Chaos Dwarfs have extended as a great canal beyond the Falls of Doom, giving the city naval access to the Sea of Chaos. The frigid waters of this river are harnessed to power massive steam-driven engines and cool the cities forges, which work day and night; finally, they are discharged from Zharr Nagrund's south gate, carrying the toxic effluent of all this industry to the Sea of Dread. Millennia of mining, smelting and industrial experimentation have transformed the Darklands from a barren but innocuous wasteland into a poisonous desolation, habitable only by degenerate mutants and the grisly minions of the Undead.
The World Of Warhammer

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Malfeas is a surrealist's nightmare, a twisted combination of a continent-sized insane asylum, toxic landfills, deteriorated factories and the European Dark Ages. It is a twisted maze of tunnels, hidden chambers, stone cells and iron bars, so many that even the lords of the realm do not know them all. Some say there are portals that have been forgotten, and that some of these portals go to entire realms that the Wyrm has forgotten in its madness; the truth of such stories will never be known. Screams and maniacal laughter echo off the spiked battlements and jagged, naked girders of the Realm, and skip across the stagnant ponds of slime and toxin. Here, the population is Banes, fomori, the occasional Black Spiral Dancer, and a disquieting number of mortal slaves who fell to the Wyrm in life and were carried off to Malfeas before their deaths.
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And for all this, Malfeas is constantly in a state of slow change. New areas manifest as new realms are corrupted, and other areas atrophy, disappear, or become hidden in the Realm's layers. Sadly enough, the change is always growth, never shrinkage - such is the state of the World of Darkness that Malfeas has never gone hungry.
Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Book of the Wyrm (second edition)

There are stories of those who have travelled to the Realm of Chaos and returned. These tales speak of a land immersed in perpetual darkness lit only by monumental pillars of flame that soar high into the sky. A place where time has lost its meaning and great champions from the past, present and future fight on, trapped in a world of eternal battle.
Here, nature itself is cast down, and the very landscape is moulded by the uncaring Gods of Chaos. It is home for monstrous creatures of all kinds, mindless beasts that crave the blood of the living. Here, even the earth rebels against what it has become: trees moan in eldritch voices, and the rocks scream their hatred to the skies. Daemons walk freely upon the land, nourished by the magical energy seeping from the great, broken warp gate. This is indeed a hell on earth.
Warhammer: Realm Of Chaos Armies Book

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