Wall of the Faithless
At the core of the Fugue Plane's barren ash-gray wasteland stands the City of Judgement with its Crystal Spire jutting above the streets and the influx of souls. These are godly folk seeing the verdict of those ruling Fugue, their faces hopeful or sullen, their boot heels caked in the mud of peridition. Yet for those who claimed no godly patronage in life, there is only the wall. The wall erected by Myrkul, Lord of Bones, to keep those of insubstantial faith from any possible form of peace. See it gored and clawed-at by the desperate, clung with fingernails, flecked with smashed skulls. How Myrkul enjoys his petty torments.