| Orlathae |
| "Land of Trees" |
| Orlathae is a continent completely covered by a dense forest. If one were to fly above the continent, they would see what simply looked like a large mass of nothing but trees. Thick, dense green; very few and far between are patches of brown seen. This is where parts of the forest has started to die; but only minutely so. Very rarely have I known of light to actually penetrate through the treetops, it is that dense. Of course, there are patches . . . possibly.
Orlathae is inhabited by several races. Though, they are not all known. Those who have traveled there and returned (for some have not), have returned with stories and tales ranging from the serenely beautiful to the terrifyingly nightmarish. Some stories have concerned a race of beautiful Faeriefolk, some of whom may even be able to control the weather. Some of them are said to be healers; clerics of a serene nature. Yet, other stories of these Faeries pertain to the fact that some of them may be tricksters, funsters. The stories that concern the nightmares, the deepest fears of our souls, have made anyone who has heard them shudder. Some people have fainted upon hearing such stories. One tale I know of, for it was told to me personally, concerned a young man from the Kingdom of Vanyanin Aran'dor who sailed on a ship to Orlathae. Upon arriving, he immediately searched for a place to make camp. He was at ease, unworried, fearless at the approaching darkness. He lit a fire with which to warm himself, for the night had started to become cold. As he sat near the fire, strumming his lute, there was a skittering sound in the wood that distracted him. He put his lute down and gazed into the darkness from where the sound traveled. Then, he heard an inhuman screech that made his blood run cold. Immediately, he began to gather up his gear. With a last glance at the fire, he decided to let it burn . . . just in case. As he turned to leave the campsite, he was attacked from behind, and dragged off into the forest, wailing at the top of his lungs. The rest of the ship's crew immediately sent out a search party. For days, no sign of the young man was found. Then, one evening, just as the sun began to sink below the horizon, the search party found him. Or at least what was left of him. It was as if he had been ripped to shreds, and his bones gnawed upon. Without another hesitation, the search party left, and never returned. No one knows what attacked him, or why. But, that is sometimes the way it is. All in all, more stories have told of its beauty, of the feeling of serenity and goodness one finds within. And for those who have found such, these stories are never told in detail, for they seem to hold a very special place inside each individual, reminiscent of a mother's touch. But, if you do decide to travel there . . . proceed with caution. |