ladeceit steps into the Wood shrouded in both mist and danger.
  If it wasnât the pesky faeries of the inner forests that tormented anything living and conscious enough to wander too far into its domain, it would be the trolls that attempted to snack on you or the fierce giant spectreâs that patrolled the outer edges of the Forest Shrine. Beasts of varying sizes and types made the glimmering emerald groves their home, as did poisonous plants, swamps, demons and supernatural entities both natural and man-made.Â
  Yet despite the dangers of this forest the curious soul continued on, his feet pulled him with an unknown force of longing. Most mortals of any gender, size or shape befell to the Intoners song; one that protected the forest but also devoured the mind of the weaker-willed. Eyes--both round and sharp--watched this strange man stumble through bush, mud and clumps of grass that tangled on his heels and fine shoes. But they did not frighten him, not enough to force him to turn tail and run for safety. Bold-headed and lost in the otherworldly conjuring of this forests strange guardian he continued on; heart stronger than any man in tin and his nerves of hot iron. Just when it looked as if this man could walk no further he was rewarded by some unholy gods above with the sight of the giant tree, thick fog and strange large statues of large doll-like creatures with haunting smiles and purple bellies. What hellish place was this?Â
        Snick, snickÂ
           Clip, clip          Snicksnicksnick
  What a horrendous sound! And it wasnât as if it were so loud it shattered the ear-drums or scratchy like fingers against board or a wooden table. It was the repetitive clipping of scissors that sounded in rapid succession and then slowed to an almost agonizingly slow pace. Whoever was doing it seemed to be doing it deliberately and not because they were trimming someoneâs head ( or even their own if that were possible ). Their faintness grew in volume, and what followed were the soft steps of another, grass crunching beneath heel and the horrible âsmuckâ of something being lifted out of mud.
  Just âround the corner revealed a woman bent just at the waist, arms dangling on either side with scissors held tightly between gloved palms of metal. Not once did she look up to see where she was headed, nor did it look as if she cared. If this stranger was not careful sheâd walk right into him!
    â ...mmmm.         Iâm so tired... â  Hummed the strange woman, lazily continuing her pass through mud, grass and dirt in heels with little struggle ( save for the popping of her shoes. The very heels being pulled from her foot only to snap back in place when she pulled the leg forward ).Â
