[Stagger Lee]

A single thud.

Some have likened it to the sound of a prize 400lb tuna slipping out of a net and dropping 20 feet onto a concrete pier.

That is the sound of revelry in Agartha. No bells ring out, nobody dances in the street, but when the enemies of Agartha are dead or running away, at the end of the day, all agarthans raise a huge, meaty hand and in unison strike at the only thing they know they have a good chance of actually hitting - the rock outcrop above the cycloptic eye that most species call a "forehead". And for a night, they will be less morose, for Agartha is free and the pretty knights in black are dead, or gone, it matters not which. Tomorrow, the melancholy will return. Will Ulm?