This Faltering Light Still Burns

There may be hope.

Our party has been reformed, our grim task never more clear: recover the key, and seal the warrens tight. We must--we will!--bring light into this artifact grave, filled with traps, wards, locks, and rot. We will unravel each device, enable each generator, knock each door, and return to death the unliving.

The dark house has become emboldened, directly assaulting us in the warrens themselves. Sir Lucious redeemed his honor in his valiant charges, tearing to pieces their forces. And thus does our light draw life back into the warrens, foot by foot, wound by wound, death by death.

Even as I slip into the darkness, I cannot abandon hope.