Dark forests blocked the sky, hindering all light. All sorts of twisted branches lay on the ground, the dried out old bark black as if they were the arms of devils and demons. It caused the forest to seem sinister and frightening.
This was a famous area in the north, the Moonwood. After the orcish empire was established, the Blackblood Tribe took this place over. All intruders were killed upon entry.
However, a black-robed wizard was now walking indifferently through the forest, and the werecreatures and mutated beasts didn’t even seem to see him as they walked straight past him.
“Moonwood, Blackblood Tribe… It’s been a long time.” Leylin observed the familiar terrain as scenes of his time at Silverymoon appeared vividly in his mind. Still, it was but a tiny section of his long life, and he regained his indifference once more.