A chill/stifling/piercing wind whips through the ancient/crumbling/weathered oaks as I embark/venture/descend upon this treacherous/sacred/forbidden path. The moon, a pale orb/gleaming disc/silver sliver, casts long shadows that dance and writhe like spectres/phantoms/ghosts. Each rustling leaf/crunching footstep/sighing bough whispers tales of for

The abyssal hymns of a Obsidian Void slither through the fleshy realm, their songs a disease to theheart. All sound is a cry from the depths, tempting mortals to our end. Devotees of such power dare into that void, searching to command its devastating force. But heed| The Few who hear to those hymns ever understand their meaning, and they are ofte