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Web-Covered Journal

"As you inspect the shrouded caverns of the Pit, covered in webs and echoing with distant skitters - or are they closer now? You come across a leather-bound notebook, dangling from the man-sized webs. Do you approach it, or do you leave it be?"
Reach for the journal, freeing it from the webs
13th of Filisk, 706 ET
We're moving! I am quite excited to finally have the old band back together. It is rare to find like-minded individuals especially in Kir Vallen who would agree on the historical value of the Ancient Empire of Phorexia and not be superstitious about "dark yuan-ti gods" or other machinations. Our first day of travel has gone smoothly and we should arrive to the Craving Farms as expected tomorrow, where we will wave a goodbye to civilization before moving deeper into the desert.
Our first exploration party is rather small, consisting of only three researchers in addition to me and with a couple of Scaleslayer Guards from the Raptors. Beromi is an anthropologist from the Conclave of the Serpent, specialized in yuan-ti cultures and cultural habits, while Alba and Thiago are from the Academy of Cauldron's History. Each have been hand-picked for this assignment based on my earlier work experience with them (and for the fact that I know them to be open-minded individuals, which cannot be said for most folk of the Empire).
Our destination: al shirrazdi, or when translated from Twistedtongue; The Pit. Multiple records seem to indicate to this facility somewhere in the Parched Highlands. Akin to a prison, or an execution platform it seems to have been implied to be a place for misbehaving slaves and those in need for extremely dire punishments. However, it seems like the yuan-ti rarely mentioned this place in any of the examined records and only made sidenotes and quick mentions of it. Beromi seems worried and skeptical if we find anything of historical importance because of the roaming centaur clans - They might as well have contaminated and picked the place clean a long time ago. We must only hope that the brutes left the "not-shiny" objects behind that might prove of some value.

15th of Filisk, 706 ET
Only our first day in the Highlands and my legs are killing me, the constant drudge of moving uphill and downhill and having to force your way through heaps of sand must not be healthy for the body. I do hope that we return with enough proof to form a larger team next time, maybe with some camels or hadrosauruses to aid with the long travel. We have seen some distant torchlight, most certainly centaur scouts or hunters from the farms. Alba and Beromi are getting along well, comparing their studies and conversing about interesting theories and thesies conserning the Pit.
[Some of the pages are torn and unreadable due to moisture] expertly-covered tunnels to spy on us, with only their little, brown, beady eyes revealing from the desert sands. Simply ingenious! One of our Guards is slightly wounded, and they are considering on cutting the trip off, especially after seeing the vastness and the void-like darkness of the Pit. With the silky strands, I believe there are more of those creatures down there. I'll attempt to illustrate one of these beings here later on. I think it will require the combined effort of me, Beromi, Alba and Thiago all together to convince the Scaleslayers to continue our expedition. We can't leave now that we're so close!

To whoever finds this, the Pit was a mistake. I can't leave anymore. The creatures are everywhere, and their thin limbs are monitoring my every move. I have avoided the webs, but I still know that they are watching and waiting - For what? I do not know... Maybe a more advantageous position to feed on me? I saw what they did to Thiago... Thiago's boiling innards reminded me of the stew my mother used to make. Oh mother...
I only hope you're sent by Beromi or some other researcher worried for my well-being, for I did not find Beromi's body. Alba was struck with venom teeth to her neck, while our guards were trapped by webs. They seemed only small, hapless flies stuck and waiting to be killed by the great spiders.
One is here
It approaches
It knows I ca

[Rest of the pages are empty]
Journal, Personal

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