What a twisted web

Waking up in a strange place with no memory of how you got to where you are is disconcerting. Waking up in the Demonweb, well, that’s downright terrifying.
 
Somehow, I am connected to this place. Mother’s rituals must have created a disharmony in me that is tuned to this godsaweful place. I know that planar travel requires being in tune with the desired plane, but from the notes and ritual book, it seems that in dreams those with the special frequency can sleep in one plane and wake in this miserable place.
 
As horrible as it all is, I am at least not alone. My friends have been a beacon of hope and I wish to get them to safety, maybe freeing them is more important than my own liberation, but I yearn for the light of day, the warmth of sunshine and food other than the foul meets from the small crawling horrors we are able to hunt.
 
I have managed to gather the materials needed for the ritual that should be our homecoming trip, except the blood of a demon, that will be the tricky part. I cannot do it alone, but failure will mean death.
 
I have learned hard lessons in this place. Although my academic pursuits and learning the magical arts of safeguarding the tribe have certainly fallen off, the hardscrabble nature of this place has sharpened me. I have managed to cultivate some edible spores and raise them just like dad explained. The zerkwood like substances we harvest and flammable minerals we can unearth have provided fires when needed. Other minerals have proven useful in preserving the game flesh from our hunts. I think that if I needed to, I could likely survive by living off the land above or below ground.
 
Soon, we will need to decide how to obtain the fresh blood of a demon to repaint the circle, then the ritual can be complete.