He found them, just not the way he thought he would. He remembers the prisoners and the experiments and his endless search for doorways into other realms. "Where am I? What is this place?" He's in a half-remembered laboratory. He can't take the rush of hot air and the feeling of his organs rising into his mouth. Endlessly he falls through the remnants of lost and forgotten realms. He rushes towards it as the ground beneath his feet shatters. Stem and petals disintegrate before his touch. He shambles through the ruins and extends his hand into a blurring image. In the vast desert of rubble and crumbling columns he sees a flower, a single flower. Memories & Logs Talbot Grimes: Doors Unknown Memory 1752 The cold claws of death are drawing near. I need to find him… I picture the scene, etching a canvas of wild lines in my mind, focusing on the moon and I know-something is off. I shouted his name with no concern for the monsters lurking about. I am stuck in this infernal place with no serum and nowhere to hide. I filled a syringe with the last drops of serum and injected it into my arm. 10 - At Lastīased on Vigo's calculations, tonight is my last chance. I could only extract droplets from a few frail flowers. Pustulas, once lush with nectar, were withering away at the roots of cankerous trees. I limited my rest to only a few minutes here and there-I cannot afford wasting time. I have no strength left to be patient, and my distress fosters brutal methods. The acute throbbing in my wound sent me on a restless, agitated drowse. Soon, there will be no more putrid nectar to extract. According to Vigo's Journal, this rapid spread is a sign that the blight is at its peak. Pustula flowers are now blooming on the path leading to the laboratory. I should have foreseen his escape, given the potent dosage I administered him, but I needed to see results. My assailant, now chained in the cellar, must be getting restless. I now know that there is truth to Vigo's methods. The power I felt then… there are no words for it. And some moment later when I kicked him, sending him crashing into a brick wall. Most of our fight was a blur, but I can recall red tears trickling down his gruesome cheeks as I clawed at his face. Tainted with the foul serum, my wound had swollen with lymph, at which point my assailant returned. Through the vile ordeal, I started to recollect what had happened. I awoke to a terrible cry booming from the cellar and a violent bout of nausea. I stopped the bleeding, but I fear the damage is done. I tried to restrain it, but the creature bit into my arm, ripping my wound open. I injected the serum into a dead rodent, whose pupils dilated, and its body shook. When I returned to the laboratory, I started experimenting with the putrid nectar and distilled it into a foul serum. All I have is a journal filled with obscure promises of escape. I have no options left these monsters find me no matter where I go. I barely escaped with my life-and wounded my arm in the process. Last night, a disfigured man barged into the laboratory with a gruesome, mechanical mouth and shred the walls into splinters. I'm desperate to erase the distressful images engraved in my mind. The last pages of the journal mention a serum distilled from the nectar, but the pages detailing its effects and preparation were torn out. According to Vigo, cankers bloom into “Pustulas”, a type of flower that spurts putrid nectar-the thick fluid I saw oozing from the trees. During this period, The Entity is infested with blight. Most entries mention a powerful force, The Entity, which undergoes a purge that occurs once a year. His work is elegant but erratic, drawing obscure conclusions from disjointed fields. I have been obsessively deciphering Vigo's Journal. I also noted a few drawings of the growing cankers I've seen on trees. Its pages are filled with notes on an ancient force that controls the nature of this place-that shapes it. I observed shelves of alkaloids, crates of silver syringes, piles of protective clothes and a journal signed “Vigo”. I discovered a hidden laboratory while running away from a monster. Keeping a record is all I can do to make sense of it. I know not how to reach those poor souls, nor do I want to. I awoke to dreadful screams in this endless night, at the feet an old tree that leaked foul-smelling fluids. All I remember is the opaque, milky fumes of opium in the murky den hazing a sweet, welcoming abyss. I can no longer recall how I have come to this place. death and misery, in every shape of terror, rule this place. It is impossible to describe the horrifying scenes I have witnessed. 03 July 2016 Journal Entries and Recollection The Hallowed Blight This is the same Lore that was featured during the 2018 The Hallowed Blight Event.
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