(or) A lone figure walked along the trail that weaved its way through the dark and dismal forests of Tirisfal. All around was a haunting emptiness, a land of death and despair. Sickly, blighted trees reached up into the perpetual eerie green twilight of the skies, the only sighs that there was anything alive in the dank land. The night was silent, save for an occasional metallic whine from the decaying mills, carried on the wind. However, this was Tirisfal; while there was very little that lived, there was plenty that moved. Strange, twisted forms moved through the darkness, occasionally glancing around for any signs of prey.