He woke up with a jerk, the sticky sweet fungus juice still slick in his mouth. Groggily he looked around to get his bearings. It was a cave, that much he was certain. It didn’t smell like it did back home, instead it didn’t smell at all which was weird. But the juice always took him to weird places in his visions so he wasn’t too worried. The cave was pale and white as if it was built of ash. Hailing from Aqshy the shaman was very familiar with the grey powder that gathered everywhere there.

He could see the large hoof prints the bloodthirster had left in the deep white ash that covered the floor. His eyes followed the trail as it exited the cave. He stepped down from the large stone that he had been lying on. The ash burnt his feet but not from its heat. Puzzled, he sat on his haunches and grabbed a fist full of the white powder. It felt like nothing he had ever felt. It was wet and turned into water as he held it in his hand.

He had no more time to reflect upon the strange place he had arrived in as he heard a roar of pain and surprise from the outside. The shaman hurried to the exit and stopped dead in his tracks. Outside was a white plain with no discerning marks stretching as far as his eyes could see. Only a few hundred yards away he could see the huge daemon fighting against an unseen enemy. The wet ash boiled around his legs. It was as if the ground itself tried to swallow the bloodthirster who had sunk to his waist and lost his flaming axe. 

In an angry and defiant roar that shook the ground, the red beast disappeared from sight leaving nothing but a smoldering axe behind and a water-filled pit so deep that Toofsplitta couldn't see the bottom. The Shaman smiled a tooth-filled grin.

”Wait til’ the Boyz hear ’bout dis!” 

He again woke with a jerk, sulphur filling his nostrils. Gorkamorka had shown him how they would slay the daemon. Now all they needed to do was to find this white place.