[ Are You Out There ]
My name is Collen Durril. And I'm writing this to whoever might be able to find it. I'm in Eastglade as I write this, heading North. My father and I have been on the run for three weeks. We are in need of immediate assistance.
Something happened in Sovscell, and nobody knows what it was just yet. All we know is that we were nearly killed, and that we've not been back since the start of our journey.
I've written multiple letters to whoever might find them at this point, and I have no idea if any of them have been found.
If you find this, you must listen carefully. Don't go to the city. Come find us. I can guarantee we need each other's help.
We are good hunters, we can provide for you and teach you our skills.
Good luck, Godspeed, and don't give out hope just yet.

[ The Ancient City - Part I ]
When I first saw the sprawling mass of reanimated souls that was laid out so plainly before me, I had no idea if I was even awake.
Just for extra assurance, I pinched myself. Five times.
And at last, when I came to my senses and decided that I would do something even if it was a dream, I couldn't do anything but look away.
Behind me, he stood, his eyes still locked on to the cathedral he was born in. My father didn't know what to say or do either.
His eyes were dry and still, a golden fiery sheen glazing them from the evening sunlight. His lips were the only thing about him that made it evident that he was even still alive.
Trembling.
My breathing grew heavy. My head grew light in spite. I could not stand for another two seconds, and collapsed to the ground, my back turned away from the civilization of undead.

[ The Ancient City - Part II ]
Wind carelessly swished through the air around us, wafting up the inconceivably wretched odor that no doubt glazed the entire town in unbearable, invisible smog.
The undead and rotting below couldn't have cared less for the stench, groaning and droning on like a chorus of sleepless animals. I dared not look back at them.
The one face I took any notice of had instantaneously burned a nightmarish image into my mind. Black biomass bubbled on her face, etching her left cheek and hair in thick fleshy tar, turning the bare skin around the mass into a crimson and green stretch of death. The cyan specks of bioluminescent light inside the dark growth only outlined what her face used to look like in a more terrifying way.
I had known her from middle school. Not well, but I knew her. And to see someone I knew in this state nearly drove me to puke. But sitting down was the only thing that kept me from doing so.
My father only got a better look at everything else. Calling for his attention only made his eye twitch slightly, aside from this he was still practically a statue.
Outraged, I slammed my fist into the grass below. A lot. More than a lot. Enough to where the grass began ripping and shredding out from its roots, revealing the dusty dirt underneath. My fist shook when I stopped, and had caught a rock at some point, making it bleed a small amount. I threw off my backpack and tried to drink some water out of the bottle I had held, spilling some onto my shirt due to my hands shaking so much.

[ The Ancient City - Part III ]
Four days later we built up the courage to enter the city. We already knew that the Sculk growth reacted to sound, and the brainwashed residents within the walls groaned to try to sense differences in the way their voices echoed.
They were blind. But their ears grew sharper than blades.
We managed to get in unscathed, but after our reconnaisance mission we soon found out that something beyond our people was here.
Vibration-sensing tendrils waved softly in the still, gloomy air nearly everywhere. They'd move at even the slightest shuffle we made, but evidently our softened footsteps weren't enough to anger the anomaly.
At our home, we tried to gather materials. But a set of tendrils hung from the ceiling that we hadn't seen.
They heard us as we moved more frantically, trying our best to get out as fast as possible. The tendrils became agitated and hissed a soft cyan glow.
Rumbling from beneath the ground began permeating through the walls of the building, freezing us in place as we tried to understand what was going on.
The rumbling grew more violent as time passed. We decided to make our escape after a minute.
As we stepped outside again, the rumbling stopped, replaced by the sound of frantic digging and inhuman groans.
We didn't bother to see what it might've been.

[ The Ancient City - Part IV ]
Escaping was the only thing on our mind as we sprinted back toward our campsite. The path to where we had come in from was mostly clear, but the few shambling bodies that stood in our way were enough to keep us more than busy.
Eventually the digging sound, now distant and muffled by the many buildings between, fell silent, and thundering thuds filled the air. As we fought off the last of the sculk-infested undead, the thudding grew almost unbearably loud.
We made it out, but not without our fair share of bruises and cuts. My father took the worst of it, holding his shoulder as his shirt grew more stained with his blood at every passing moment.
We tended to our wounds the best we could.
We didn't know what to do after that. Laugh because we made it, cry because of what was in the city, scream in terror at what might've been about to reach us...
Silence was all we could manage.

[ The Ancient Crypt ]
The Crypts are where people living in the Ancient Cities would have taken their loved ones who had passed to be cremated. Since the Sculk infestation, these crypts have become a hotspot for undead to roam and guard whatever was left behind by the families, up above in a chest. Raiders may have already come by to steal much of what was there. Even with the risks of raiders and the Sculk, I decided I would have to cremate my father in much the same way. I left a valuable treasure within the chest. I just hope that somebody finds it who is more worthy of it than I am. After all, my father died at my hand. I can't bear to wield this blade any more.

[ The Necrosculker ]
- The Necrosculker's face only ever reminded me of the heinous scene at the city years ago. I could never stop blaming myself for what happened. To my city, to my father, to everyone I thought I knew. The Sculk, whatever it was and wherever it came from, was nature incarnate. Unthinking and unfeeling aside from its own survival, it would consume all that came in its way. It was almost as dangerous as it was hideous. Since I first saw it, I wondered if I was staring in a reflection. Is this my punishment? Is this my nature, too?