Here the noise is soft, in this forest the sun glows warm. In its warmth the leaves sway in the breeze and time seems to stand still. In this here forest Autumn stays longer that expected. It smells of old wood and sweetness in the air. The trees bustle with life and the leaves scurry from wisps of magic that blow through the trees arms making songful tunes.
Long ago this was a place unlike what it has become today. In a distant time war ravaged these great plains and stretched from the Courtlands in the North to the desert in the east. In this war death came for so many. What war you ask? The war that started it all. The great calamity, the destroyer of hope and alliances. A war that would curse the world for all time. In this forest, deep in its shadowy glades the noises of death can be heard. Only the strong can tune out their cries. The locals steer far from this mystic forest. No roads, no paths, just untamed wilderlands.
The source of the sounds, the prison of souls is watched over by the trees. They restore the mortar and they keep it presentable. The prison I speak of is an old fortress, once proud now stands as a cosmic tether to souls lost in the war. The walls seem to appear from nothing creeping around behind the old trees. The trees conceal the obsidian fortress as best they can. However they have lived a long and great many lifetimes. The tree guardians still bare the scars of blade and axe from the war they so wish to leave behind. In a sense they want it gone but know that its relevance and power are of great importance. Not only so the world will never forget the tragedy that occurred here but because the secret the fortress holds.
This time I will tell you a somewhat happier story, when the war was in full outbreak. The King and his men came to this land to defend and old city, a city that has long since eroded away that stood next to the fortress. The city was that of Old Endroscia, the land and city of the Centaurs. The war had put a massive toll not only on the Centaurs but the entire world. The Old city was the last milestone in the fall of the west. However the High King and his royal army marched to the Centaur Kingdom to save it from darkness. From that bloody battle on Mankind and the Centaurs would always live under a treaty of peace and love. For the High King carried the Centaur King to victory on the backs of angels. And forever the white gates of New Endroscia were hidden in the realm boundaries in this very forest using the fortress as and anchor to the mortal plane.
Every now and again the locals from cities around say they see the bright lights of the Centaur city opening once again. The radiance pours out of the forest and reaches across the plains. Some fear it, and some find comport in it. Nonetheless they live strong and have built a mystical city deep in the recesses of realms. A shining light for all to see, a place of knowledge and forever peace. A testimate to friendship.