Gnarling teeth bite at you in the process of rugged ascension. Demon seed laugh at you from the pit below, hands can barely clasp the ladder in a desperate attempt at progression. Slippery slopes and tricky illusionary rungs. Thorns pierce thine hands, Saturnine leaves float gracefully toward an unfathomably deep abyss, They greet you with the dismay of confusion in their gentle overpowering flutter of concrete-weighted descent. Endless miles back to Ketheres, shining beacon - so distant, determination waning, mechanical motion propels you forward - You must be careful not to fall again on this long journey upward to a distant memory of home.