Year 137 of the Fifth Age:

His whispers have turned to voices, and I am close to Him now. I am but a few years from the end; yet, I fear the progress will be slow. So much of my power is spent defensively, propping up the floors that threaten to crash down upon me. The floors above are warped, out of control and dangerously unstable. I have trouble containing them, so, instead, I have chose to protect just myself. That being said, what followers I left behind are now lost to corruption, and I fear that a foe will rise that even I could not deal with. Still, I move on alone; if I make it a little deeper, this area will serve as a challenge for anyone who tries to reach me.

Zamorak guide me!

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