That was when I first saw them, the dark cultists, arrayed in a circle. Instead, I sought out a well-hidden vantage point from which I could look upon the frigid clearing that seemed violently torn from the depths of the forest. I thank whatever gods blessed me with the presence of mind to stop short of entering that unholy place whence the sound originated. So horrendous was this feeling that I thought to turn away until the sound of chanting reached my ears and drew me onward. As I approached, however, something even darker than the unlit forest crept over me. Thus, when I saw the distant light of fire while making my way through the thick Tristram forest, I welcomed the company of fellow travelers. There is an absolute and oppressive darkness to be found only in the deep wilderness at night. I have spent months trying to ease the fevered imaginings that have tormented me since that encounter a scant few months past, but to no avail. I knew the cultists had found me when I saw the bloody, curved knife stabbed violently into my door this morning.
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