The Path of the Unwritten.
“Drakewood? Yeah, I know the place, and lemme tell you right now, you don’t wanna go there. It’s an evil place, so I tells ya. Nothing grows there, not really anyhow. They say it used to be a beautiful place, a real forest wonderland, back before the fall of the empires. ‘Course, that’s what did it in. Those damned Tieflings (not that I’d hear a word said against them now, but still…), they had a fortress thereabouts, hiden amongst the trees. Didn’t do them much good in the end though, did it? Place is one big burnt patch now. No one knows what really happened there, what with the censoring and all but I’ve heard a few things. Some people say that the Dragonborn summoned a great dragon to burn the place to the ground. Some say the Tieflings were messing with infernal powers the likes ‘o what’d turn your skin inside out just lookin’ at ‘em. All I know is that place is unnatural. Barren. Take my advice and stick to the road, you’ll live longer that way.” - Trundle Delvenhand, Dwarven bartender
Drakewood itself is a large swathe of woodland located about a days travel along the East Trade Road out of the City of Telsca. However, when anyone talks of Drakewood they are invariably referencing the most peculiar feature of the area.
Just beyond the treeline on the southwest edge of the woodland is a large clearing of burnt wood. An almost perfectly circular scar amongst the trees almost two miles across that still looks as blackened as if it was burnt yesterday. As you walk, black dust swirls up from around your feet, and as you approach the centre you may notice a perculiarity in the soil beneath your feet. Here and there in the ash lie buried chunks of glass, seemingly formed when the rocks themselves melted and cooled. In the very centre stands the strangest feature. A sunken ruin that glints in the sun, its ancient stones melted by whatever cataclysm destroyed this place.
Though few have ventured this far, some swear that there are still openings in the glassy walls that lead underground, to corridors and chambers only lightly touched by the fires. And some say that if you are lucky you can hear the clink of feet on glass floors. If you’re unlucky, the stories say, you don’t hear them…you just feel the icy grasp of death as the glass-tipped spears find their mark.