[@DocRock] [@Pyromaniacwolf] [hr][h3]Chapter I[/h3]"Flipping through the pages of the strange pale book, you discover that a certain pattern of symbology emerges throughout it, almost as though the author was keen on developing a certain set of core ideas and philosophies to be repeated through their penmanship. Perhaps mantras, mudras, or something of similar nature likely, a trope of many beliefs. Puzzling on them, your mind wanders from this island again and traverses other thoughts that pervade you such as the place of the inky black that sought to consume you. Yet this time thinking upon it, you view it within the mind's eye with an objective experience, dazed by the passing thought that it all could have been more symbolic than factual. However, your introspection is interrupted as you recall you have more worldly concerns to be busied with."

"Returning to them, you snap the book shut and secure its latch, depositing it into the sack you have carried with you throughout the green growth. Now back to fumbling with stones, it is plausible some of these might be useful cutting instruments, namely the stones you believe to be obsidian glass. With some basic effort, you manage to fragment the stone down into crude edges and flay the wood just enough to act as spears."