The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense fog banks cling to crumbling, ornate bridges spanning a seemingly endless series of water-filled canals. Uh, a heavy stillness weighs down the mist-shrouded air, punctuated only by the soft lapping of dark water against stone foundations. Above, impossible constellations - patterned after the elder signs of the Necronomicon - pulse with a dim, eerie light that seems to seep from the very fabric of the sky itself. The scent of damp earth and decaying wood hangs heavy in the air, like... a perpetual reminder of slow, unstoppable decay.