The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Blood-drenched, ornate carvings adorn the facade of a massive, cyclopean mausoleum, as if the very stone itself had been wounded and was seeping a slow, viscous tar into the surrounding, sickly yellow mist. The air's heavy with the stench of rot and decay, like... it's seeping into my bones or something, and the stillness is oppressive, punctuated only by the slow, mournful tolling of what sounds like a massive, unseen bell. Above, the sky appears to be folding in on itself, a swirling vortex of gore-splattered, crimson stone that seems to be slowly drawing the mist upward, into its abyssal center. Uh, the bell's getting louder...