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 the Obsidian Void slither through the mortal realm, their melodies a corruption to theheart. Each tone is a shriek from the depths, calling beings to their destruction. Seekers of these power strive into its void, hoping to harness its horrific force. But heed| The Few who attend to those hymns fully understand their meaning,