The hoary, twisted oak trees of the Murglewood squat jealously close to the broken Old Kings Road where its worn, heaved bricks descend all too quickly from the sun-kissed fields that surround the farms of men into foul dankness beyond. The ancient forest stands as a barrier to the west as far as the eye can see, a wall of gray, brown, and green that extends across the horizon. It divides the myriad domains of the lords of the Border Kingdoms from the charnel necropoli of Murglen, a hazard through which neither the armies of men from the east or worshipers of death from the west dare to tread.
Within its depths, strange beasts prowl; long-forgotten ruins from long-forgotten civilizations are slowly returning to the wild; secret worshipers of evil, shirking the exposing rays of the sun, perform vile, unholy acts in the unpronounceable names of their unspeakable masters…
Within its depths, strange beasts prowl; long-forgotten ruins from long-forgotten civilizations are slowly returning to the wild; secret worshipers of evil, shirking the exposing rays of the sun, perform vile, unholy acts in the unpronounceable names of their unspeakable masters…
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| Image from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, New Line Cinema |
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