This process has been a slow one taking place over several months. If the reagents were not hard enough to come by, then learning the skills and perfecting them have been just as challenging.
I have learned to sand planks, harvested from Maldraz, to fit has the cover. The paper was crafted from the wood pulp of Felwood trees and the linen bindings of Ethereals. The needle to sew these damned pages together was filed and shaped from the finger bone of a succubus. My string is a combination of spider silk and the gut of a felhunter.
The most grotesque part of the process has been learning how to tan and cure a hide, particularly in a place with so much rain. One cannot simply carry flayed Eredar flesh about to a better location, so I have made due.
Within the privacy of my home, I bound this accursed grimoire together. Succubus hooves were processed into the glue and fel iron bindings provided reinforcement.
Note: stretching cured skin over wooden planks is not for the faint of heart or stomach. Particularly when it�s from a fel corrupted creature.
This tome is sturdy, but even in its inert state it emits a feeling of unease. With every page that I turn, brief whispering, nearly inaudible and otherworldly, brush past my ears. Touching the flesh bound cover gives the smallest feeling of dread, and upon first contact, I had to fight away the shivers that ran up my spine.
While I am not so bothered, those of weaker hearts and will are likely to avoid the grimoire at all costs.
This is necessary, I remind myself, as I wrapped the grimoire up in black silk and stow it within my satchel. By transferring the knowledge we have and what we gain, we will not only create our legacy but write the Legion�s demise in an artifact built from the Legion.
The chalk, ink, and instruments of the ritual are prepared. All that awaits is the altar of storms.
(( This is the prologue to an event. ))