You descended further into the bowels of the hive city Necromunda than you ever dared to before. The lumen have become ever dimmer and more prone to disfunction and the air has gotten ever thicker and more noxious. Thick drips of sweat drop down your rebreather from the sweltering heat. Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder... and a knife at your throat. Are we lost, cogboy? Gak, it's a bit deep for a fething routine inspection, no? Did your ninker of a techpriest not warn you not to wander too deep into House Escher territory? Oh my, oh my... She shuckles with a mischievious and slightly sinister complexion.