As they draw closer the pathway leads through entangling trunks that reek of foreboding shadows. The still air is dank, with the meldew of forgotten things. As the party of seven reluctenly enter, one by one they find themselves weaving beneath draped, moss covered vines. Whispering voices grow louder into mornful cries, and welling.
The party's sparce converstations fall silent. An errieness befalls them all, as bows are drawn, and swords unsheathed..."
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