noodles wanted this back blame her.
MOTHERTREESupposing you've never heard this before, or supposing you like to hear it again, I'll tell you about our good Falara. The mother tree at the middle of the world, with roots throughout all the rest. Every blade of grass and berry bush and branch of kelp is part of her, and so are we, born here. Branches from the tree, buds and leaves that blossom, flourish, dry up, and wither. We'll die and go back into the earth and nourish the new ones. We're all a part of everything else, which is all a part of Falara. She makes us live, we make her beautiful.
Not everybody's happy with that setup, though. Some'd rather not live at all, nor let anyone else go on living if they want to. They dig up the roots and try to sever them and choke the land, make it die and become unliveable. That's why nobody can go near the base of the tree and hurt her. It's a forbidden garden for the eyes only of the blessed.
Beautiful and horrible things bar the way in, relentless for the destruction of tresspassers. Angry vines, poisonous thorns, a menagerie of vicious beasts...There are remedies for the immortal condition hidden in those wilds.
As you stand before the high and knotted walls of this garden, you can hear the hum of warning. Passing through there will be death or relentless suffering until you leave.
Perhaps turning around would be best, back to the open and rolling green hills with winding and scarcely-used roads. It can't possibly be worth the trouble...