Chapter 2: The Indomitable Fire Forest of Innenotdar
The last of your horses trot off towards Gate Pass, saddlebags filled with mundane gear too heavy or cumbersome to come along on your journey into the inferno. The sounds of their heavy hooves soon fade to nothing and you're left alone with your thoughts and the constant crackling of flames.
You walk across the old bridge, each step bringing you closer and closer to the edge of Innenotdar forest. The clouds above you are heavy with signs of snowfall, but that will likely not be any of your concern given the intense heat that even now threatens to scald you.
Following Torrent's lead, you drink the first of your stand the heat potions and inch closer to the fire. The heat fades noticeably and Torrent speaks a prayer to Istishia as she creeps up to the edge. Without protection her clothing would have burst into flame and her skin would sizzle like bacon in a pan. However, the potions appear to work and like a child jumping into a cold pool, she plunges into the flames. Looking hesitantly at eachother, you follow even though every rational part of you is screaming for you to run away. One by one you cross the curtain of fire and stand on the Old Elf Road.
Though magic protects your skin against burn, you can still feel the intense, withering heat carried in terrible blasts from the trees, and you smell the acrid smoke as you enter and it envelops you, arms of black and orange embracing your party. The thick banks of smoke mean that you can’t often see more than an arm’s length in front of you, but the fierce, dry wind often blows these banks away. Powered by backdrafts and dramatic valley winds, the gusts snatch at loose pieces of clothing. During the lulls in the wind, as the massive lungs of the forest take breath, fingers of flame reach out from the smoldering undergrowth, pawing and caressing the hems of clothing and the ropes and backpacks, always threatening to grab hold and ignite an inescapable inferno. In front of you, the only thing that distinguishes the Elf Road from the surrounding territory is its relative lack of undergrowth, exposing the blackened char-rock where once the elves of Innenotdar carried their families.
Your eyes tear, your nostrils burn, your hands draw back instinctively, as if touching a boiling pot. As if diving into a dragon’s fiery maw, you have entered the Fire Forest of Innenotdar.
"Let us not stray from the roads," Torrent says nervously, "for as I told you, these potions protect us only from the heat, not the flames."
The last of your horses trot off towards Gate Pass, saddlebags filled with mundane gear too heavy or cumbersome to come along on your journey into the inferno. The sounds of their heavy hooves soon fade to nothing and you're left alone with your thoughts and the constant crackling of flames.
You walk across the old bridge, each step bringing you closer and closer to the edge of Innenotdar forest. The clouds above you are heavy with signs of snowfall, but that will likely not be any of your concern given the intense heat that even now threatens to scald you.
Following Torrent's lead, you drink the first of your stand the heat potions and inch closer to the fire. The heat fades noticeably and Torrent speaks a prayer to Istishia as she creeps up to the edge. Without protection her clothing would have burst into flame and her skin would sizzle like bacon in a pan. However, the potions appear to work and like a child jumping into a cold pool, she plunges into the flames. Looking hesitantly at eachother, you follow even though every rational part of you is screaming for you to run away. One by one you cross the curtain of fire and stand on the Old Elf Road.
Though magic protects your skin against burn, you can still feel the intense, withering heat carried in terrible blasts from the trees, and you smell the acrid smoke as you enter and it envelops you, arms of black and orange embracing your party. The thick banks of smoke mean that you can’t often see more than an arm’s length in front of you, but the fierce, dry wind often blows these banks away. Powered by backdrafts and dramatic valley winds, the gusts snatch at loose pieces of clothing. During the lulls in the wind, as the massive lungs of the forest take breath, fingers of flame reach out from the smoldering undergrowth, pawing and caressing the hems of clothing and the ropes and backpacks, always threatening to grab hold and ignite an inescapable inferno. In front of you, the only thing that distinguishes the Elf Road from the surrounding territory is its relative lack of undergrowth, exposing the blackened char-rock where once the elves of Innenotdar carried their families.
Your eyes tear, your nostrils burn, your hands draw back instinctively, as if touching a boiling pot. As if diving into a dragon’s fiery maw, you have entered the Fire Forest of Innenotdar.
"Let us not stray from the roads," Torrent says nervously, "for as I told you, these potions protect us only from the heat, not the flames."
