In grasping the binding, the metal seals creak from age and open without much finesse. Aged vellum crafted of some otherworldly creature's hide fill the bindings to brim, and a majority of the ink has smeared upon page. Scanning through a few unreadable pages, the closest one that remains legible seems written in some poetic fashion.
- "In shadow I find myself,
melancholy threatens overwhelm.
Arose from the mires of T'lindeth,
iblith my former house and home.
purchased by noble name,
bound to a cause more righteous than my own.
Why then am I forsaken?
Savior, I have been returned to squalor.
Is naut your way superior,
and yet I am to suffer at the hands of false gods.
In the face of evil,
I will seek your ways.
From new pain,
Strength."