"You finally relax. You feel the magical energies recede back into your core and the magical flames in your fists die down into a smoulder. The blue rocks of the cave are painted red with the blood of those foolish mages and their acolytes, which you slew by the dozen. NOTHING will stop you from your prize. Your snake-like eyes spot it in the darkness: a lone dias, heavily eroded by the sands of time, and an ancient codex upon it. Contrasting with the ruined but dignified dias, the tome was a savage work. You know from your research that it contained the insane scribblings of a mad man, a blind hermit who wrote on pages bound with his own flayed skin with ink made of his own blood. As you took hold of the moldering book, almost as if by an invisible interloper, the pages flung open with a suddeness that startled even you. You feel as if you were possessed by a demon. Even though every part of your being tried to avert your eyes, you could not help but devour the dread and incomprehensible letters within. Finally, as you feel the hot talons of madness sink deeply into your mind, the understanding flashes for a moment into your subconscious: Efficiency Master Pither, 45-50 Grandville."