The Red Wood is currently a graveyard of sorts. The forest is in the process of regrowing, but other than small sprouts, it is desolate. Here rest the ashen remains of a once mighty forest.

Here the Eldritch Tree grows. Her trunk is thick like oak and her leaves drenched in scarlet, as though adorned with the finest rubies. Here the mother seeks wisdom, the bear sheathes his blades. The fool sleeps among her branches, whittling the time away.

Some say that the father himself protects the lonely travelers who wander through the grove.

These trees lie at the base of a mountain range. The lands are flat but begin to slope upwards as the grass underpaw turns to stone. A soothing breeze tickles the canopy; sunlight spears against the crimson pine, igniting a fire in the trees. Red, as far as the eye can see. Not even the winter winds can diminish the beauty found among the red wood.