"...enemy come scrambling over the rail, screaming and howling like a pack of demons. One of their number singles you out. He strides forward, his black blade swinging viciously as he attempts to cleave your skull in two."
"...but you have taken less than a dozen steps when a line of creatures begins to emerge from a doorway to your right. They growl menacingly, their feral eyes aglow with bloodlust."
"It slopes down to the shores of a wide inlet--the Gulf of Helenag--where a line of Darkland ironclads are steaming northwards on their way to join the blockade. From where you are, they appear no larger than tiny black specks dotting the steel-grey sea, but the clouds of yellow smoke that pour from their funnels clearly identify them as enemy ships."
"The Slavemaster takes a strange mask from a nearby table and offers it to you. It is made of a green, glass-like mineral and is shaped into a hideous visage."