This forest was immersed in a macabre terror, as flesh entwined with skeletons emerged from the soil. The impurity, which the gods could not accept, spread on a grotesquely mutating hotbed. Within the writhing chunks of corpse, bizarre plague doctors were weaving twisted life.
Huge, foul-smelling flesh tumors burst forth from the land, and the newly born Blood Nest Great Trees stood tall among the former carcasses. The surface's hexagonal honeycomb windows resembled cold, indifferent eyeballs. As the Blood Nest Great Tree began to bleed, Mr. Crimson emerged from the pool of blood. The dazzling crown atop the other's head merited him an extra glance, but his thoughts were more focused on the multiple chunks of flesh shaped by the wearer.
"A work in progress?" Knowledge from years of teaching allowed Mr. Crimson to quickly realize those creations could not move independently. They were dripping with fresh blood, their features indistinct and blurry.
