Wild to the touch, the ever growing soil of Verastale wood took to it's branches like a lost, but amble bredrin. It smelled just awful and yet coy. But as time fell alone and silent, there could be heard a murmur. The shuddering shadow of a Mog? No it can't be Efasco, can it? Efasco the Mog god of silent woods was just a mere seldom thought, which prayed upon the feeble minds of Underwood trolls and Ferrykins, childer. But it was there in their minds at least. So is this to why, it became so and stood so, aloft our broken heaving blood strewn bodies?
