in my hands neatly bound in runic trapping, a spellbook carefully procured after years of searching. within it the encantations neccesary for me to summon the master himself.
only he can help me now.
what waits for me underground in these catacomb will mean either life or death. i've been dreaming about them nightly without cease. ever since the day i confirmed the small entrance hidden beyond the far side of the eastern bluff. tucked behind overgrown vines nested inconspicuously beneath the macabre structures clinging to its surface and stretching out towards the dawn.
that odd man at the pub told me it would be here. i had not gone far down the winding stairway the first time before hastily turning back. frightened would be an understatement. something about the echoes of my footsteps on the cold stone floor, and the odd sounds emanating from inside. was it breathing? this ritual is not for neophytes. it is a true death ritual, either my wish is granted or i will die down here. im almost ready.