Few know the secret behind the Flying Monks of Ka-zin is not entirely due to their remarkable skill at acrobatics, but also in the colorful belts they wore.
The product of the Entwiner’s art, this net is carefully crafted with nearly invisible knots in its fine mesh. These knots speak in the language of Entwining Magic, the words of keeping and holding.
“No my lord!” cried Herithi. “Have Mercy! Take my eyes instead!” Why did I say that?! thought Herithi, shock registering through him.My eyes? Shalali protect me…
The school of Entwiners is formed around the art of creating magic with rope and knots.
The party has found the source of the strange creatures roaming the countryside. The rift in this reality glows with a silver hue, rippling with the wind but never moving. They step through and are immediately assaulted with the scent of rotting meat, some have to muster all their strength not to vomit. Strange cries similar to the beasts the party had faced before can be heard in the distance. Looking around, they see they are in a forest of grey and red rather than the normal brown and green. The trees are sticky to the touch and writhe, perhaps to get away or perhaps as a warning.
The deeper the party goes, the more the forest seems to slither and move underfoot. The cries get closer and more numerous. Creatures lurk in the shadows, all the same color of their surroundings. Whatever the party came in here for, they had better do it fast.
The forest of flesh is waking up, and it is so very hungry.