A curse lies upon this town, and to lift it I must retrace the steps of one who has long fallen.  As I move from building to building, every path is littered with remnants of the towns former inhabitants, every corpse rises to oppose me, whilst wraiths dart and shift all about… Westtry is now a town of the dead.

As I fight on, I try to avoid meeting the horror of their cold dead eyes, but it is the sickly-sweet stench of rot and decay that threatens to overwhelm me.  I regret having come here.  It feels strange, foreign, and I am afflicted with constant unease, like the feeling I’ve lost something of import, yet can’t recall what it is.

S.K