This forest, at the very edge of the packlands, is odd indeed. It covers the Eastern and Southern borders of teh land. Always there is a low, thick mist that moves through the titanic trees. As one draws nearer to the packlands though, the mists begin to fade away. Tall pillars of obsidion line the inner fringe of the forest. Great monoliths that warn foes to turn around, and welcome friends to enter. All sorts of trees govern this great forest. Great pines and all manner of deciduous trees. Great Oaks looming over one's head, and all different sizes.
