The group emerged topside, cresting a ring of grey stone which marked the entryway downwards into the ship. These portals dotted the landscape, every few miles- some small, for the circulation of light and vital gasses (both purified by internal workings of the ship, thanks Attendant!), while some were large, much like the loading bays, for heavy duty use. Omniscript chiselled into the ring of stone denoted this one's location: an hour or two South of Surtr's encampment. These details were almost certainly submerged to the sheer amount of visual data brought on by the view.
The Worldship's axis was skewed, obviously, as whatever fault the anomaly caused had prevented it from fully righting itself. Morning was breaking, to the right, at a jaunty angle. There was snow, spreading out to the horizon, which was washed in the colors and the light of day: something that would not have been possible in all of the aeons the old world had existed. But to the North West, some miles to the left of Surtr's domain, was something odd- something that had all the appearance of being a second rise of dawn.