Codex text
Barely legible writing on crumbling parchment:
It is now winter.
Lusacan's disciples continue their feud with the priests of Urthemiel over the plans. Now, instead of a shield for the city created to the god of beauty's specifications, the priests of Night demand that the skybound fortress be transformed to deliver overwhelming force. "Why defend against Those Across the Sea, when we may destroy them instead?" And Beauty's devotees, gentle souls oft chosen for their wit and creativity, quailed before Lusacan's might and gave ground.
Thus we builders find ourselves scouring the depths of the ancient catacombs in search of lost elven magic, to satisfy the demands of Night.
Gods have mercy, will this enterprise never end?