In the First Chronicles
In the Second Chronicles
The nucleus of the Search, accompanied by Linden, Covenant and a mishmash of Landish...Landers (would it have required a grand heave of imagination to give the estrade of the plot a more...inventive name? It does not have to be an obstreperous orgy of Nordic letters and hyphens á là Müs’tiqdrä-gönRëål’møfm’Agïc, as some authors perceive it, but Land? To wit, talk about Homish Homers…) enter the city three millennia after its demise, spurred by enthusiasm to visit the place after Covenant’s tale of the massacre. Salt rimes the sepulchral passages in swirls, and beyond one sealed door, the troupe stumbles upon a decerebrated mummy. Later, upon gloaming, a ghostly re-enactment of the ancient butchery begins within the city: a flickering phantom of Kinslaughterer makes spectral skulls explode with an elusive Illearth shard. It is possible that this macabre macro has repeated itself every night after the genocide, and has become such a humdrum phenomenon for the local seagulls and other shorelife that they regard it but as an inherent aspect of the landscape. Watch the same horror movie a thousand times, and it will turn tepid.
However, the Search beholds the ghastness for the first time, and it appals them. Some pyromaniac whim of the moment inspires Covenant to order the building of a pyre. While the living Giants barbeque themselves in agony, the Unbeliever hops into the heart of the kokko, transforms the sea of flames into pure argence, and draws the haunted spirits of the Unhomed into his embrace. Gradually the freakshow ends, and the delivered souls drift on into the great unknown. Unless they drown into the lake of tears the First and Linden shed together...
After a night during which Pitchwife probably comforts his über-emotional War Goddess somewhere in the bushes, Starfare’s Gem anchors itself into the remaining pier, and the rest of the Search crew can frolic around the ruins for a wee while.
In the Third Chronicles
The author exercises frugality regarding his inventions, so naturally the reader hears about Coercri again. No, wait, frugal? What happened to the sticky substance the name of which sounds akin to a He-Man villain? Clingor? Noooo, oblivion has gobbled Clingor!
Anyhow, Dire’s Vessel finds its perch by the same Giantish pier another three thousand years later, as Rime Coldspray’s Swordmainnir land into the Lan...good gods this is getting pestilential. The rest of the crew remains ashore, and perhaps go seeking for the skulls of some great-grandfathers out of which they might quaff some Diamondraught.