Rooms

  Gray trunks covered at the base in fog climb steadily towards the canopy

where a mesh of branches and leaves block out the outside world.  The fog

around you slowly creeps south, further into the forest, while the sounds of

the river to your east overwhelm all other noises in the forest.  

  The ring of battle from the north is clear here.  Far off to the north

you can see two figures locked in battle, dancing between the trees with the

fluid movement of trained warriors.  They dance back and forth locked in

battle with their spears, eventually sparring out of your sight.  

  From here you can spot the banks of the river to your east and a large

clearing to your northwest that doesn't seem to be affected by the fog.  A

building of some sort can be seen to the north, but you cannot find a way

into it.  

  The canopy overhead offers the slight chirping of small forest birds as a

change to the normal battle screams and raging forest.  The birds sing a

soft mating song and fly about one another playfully.  Their actions in the

canopy cause a slight ruffle in the branches, sending a shower of leaves in

your direction.  

  A gentle, fog-free clearing lies off to your east, filled with lush green

grass and a small stone building tucked away in the northeast.  The canopy

overhead reaches out to the open sky, apparently relieved to be able to

stretch its branches towards the heavens.  

  The canopy overhead remains silent and empty of life.  Shadows rest

thickly in the air, clouding the color of the leaves, giving them the

impression of being cold and lifeless.  The fog rests about 2 feet up from

the forest floor to the trunks of the trees, appearing like a sea of thick

gray.  

  Fog rises so high here that it reaches where the canopy would have been. 

Enveloped in the emptiness that has been pouring in from the mountains to

the north, a gentle breeze passes over you, coming from the east, probably

the river breeze you have felt while in the forest.  

  The fog stops to the north and east of here, where the forest clearing

begins.  The canopy here ends in an uncommon flourish of color as the

branches and leaves burst out into the open air, stretching towards the sky.

  The deep black ravine to your west continues to grow wider and wider as

it continues on to the north.  A gentle breeze blows from your east and on

down to the ravine.  There is virtually no sound in the forest at the

moment, only the gentle rustle of the leaves under your feet.  

  The soft fog collects silently about your feet, shrouding the ground in a

slate gray.  Off to the northwest, a simple clearing can be seen that is

unaffected by the fog.  The sounds of the river can be heard to the east as

it flows downstream near the beginning of the forest.  

  A light fog, about 2 feet tall, rests silently on the ground, blanketing

the forest floor in velvet gray.  The soft fog seems to be rolling in from

the north, while a wet mist collects on your neck from the east.  The trees

suit the fog well, giving the whole forest a more ominous atmosphere.  

  A gentle mist carried by an easterly wind covers everything in the forest

with a silver shine.  Figures move about to your south, cloaked in shadow,

and armed with spears, making an advance on some unsuspecting people.  The

river is louder here, and continually so as you move eastwards.  

  Gray trees scarred with arrows and spears rise before you, the massive

monuments of nature.  The forest leaves lie gently on the ground, covered in

dried blood where a combatant must have fallen.  The river rages loudly and

can be heard this far into the forest.  

  The limbs of the scarred trees droop, near-lifeless.  The trunks of the

trees remain scarred with arrows and spears, bark hangs limply at the entry

points of the weapons.  The smell of rotting flesh fills the air, only

amplified by the ever-present breeze from the east.  

  Twisted gray trunks, scarred by many battles, rest silently here.  The

mist coming off the river drifts strongly by carried by a strong breeze from

the east.  The faded leaves collect in a myriad of dulled colors, a gentle

reminder to all those who have died in the forest.  

  Signs of desolation plague the trees and the leaves below.  Blood drips

thick scarlet strands from branch to branch, sticking to the leaves.  The

stench here is near unbearable as flies devour a rancid piece of meat at

your feet.  Careful not to step on it, you maneuver around it with great

care.  

  Compared to the rest of the inner forest, this area is relatively

peaceful.  A small forest bird rests gently atop a branch on one of the many

scarred trees.  Freshly fallen leaves line the forest floor, allowing a soft

place to rest.  Soft, yes, safe, no.  

  The quiet of the forest is broken intermittently by a shallow scream that

echoes from tree to tree.  The soft leaves at your feet remain visible as

fog closes in from the north, obscuring everything from the floor of the

forest to about two feet up the trees.  

  The gentle gray fog slowly circulates around you and the trees here.  The

gray bark and the gray fog barely differ in color, the bark darker than the

fog is.  The dark and shadowed canopy above you remains solid and strong, as

the strong smell of wet leaves and mold hangs in the air.  

  The shaft of an arrow has landed itself in one of the many trees nearby. 

On the tail of the arrow, green feathers shine brightly and flutter with the

passing wind.  Sap pours slowly from the wound, indicating the recency of

this arrow's landing.