woot

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A secluded gathering of tree trunks.
A dark mist hovers lazily above the ground, heralding a shield shrine of Nocht nearby. Splintered trees, shorn off at a height of five feet as by some furious gale, cluster by trunks uprooted whole. A mess of branches and small logs litters the ground like spilled matchsticks. New shoots sprout from those shattered trunks still left standing, the slender green switches budding with leaf. Cold draughts, the lingering remnants of some great past storm, whip dried leaves into transient cyclones. The wind's ominous whistle plays the melody to a dull rhythm, a heartbeat coming from the east, accompanied by a chill red mist. Shadows run across the surface of this dark plinth. A light wind whips slowly around Iuan, the Vernal Equinox as she gazes about herself darkly.
You see exits leading east, southwest, and west.
You take a block of shadowstone with "one" engraved on its surface from a dark plinth.
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Stark winter woods.
A dark mist hovers lazily above the ground, heralding a shield shrine of Nocht nearby. A biting wind whistles through the bare canopy, sending a few withered leaves on lazy downward swirls to pile upon the handful already littered on the ground. Hard frost glazes the roots of trees, extending chilly white tendrils up their bark. Icy patches bloom like flowers on the dark surface of the soil, frozen stiff underfoot. High above, an empty nest clings to the denuded branches, which creak woefully in the breeze. The air is oppressive, the cold paralysing, the woods here lethargic and still. Shadows run across the surface of this dark plinth. Trayn, the Winter Solstice lingers here with a cold demeanor and dark visage.
You see exits leading northeast, east, south, west, and northwest.
You take a block of shadowstone with "six" engraved on its surface from a dark plinth.
Try as you might, you just can't seem to take a block of shadowstone with "six" engraved on its surface out of a dark plinth.
You take a block of shadowstone with "five" engraved on its surface from a dark plinth.
Try as you might, you just can't seem to take a block of shadowstone with "five" engraved on its surface out of a dark plinth.
You put a block of shadowstone with "one" engraved on its surface into a dark plinth.
Takhre is enveloped in writhing shadows which soon dissipate into the air, leaving nothing behind.
Writhing shadows swirl down from the trees above you, enveloping, entangling, entwining with your limbs. With a rush they jerk downwards, dragging you with them.
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Before the Master Ravenwood Tree.
The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its shadowy centre. Tall, blackened trees surround this clearing, pressing together into an imposing barrier of rotten vegetation. Moulds and fungi are smeared across the plants, their pungent stench suffusing the forest. The branches are coated in dark slime, slick tendrils that hang downwards. Although a variety of trees might actually grow here, the black tar that coats them renders them indistinguishable. A thin black mist creeps between the trees, hanging low across the ground. The floor of the clearing itself is simply bare earth, cracked and dry. Overshadowing all is the Master Ravenwood Tree itself, jutting into the sky like a twisted fist. The sound of laughing crows echoes down from the treetops, a harsh sound for the ears below. The atmosphere vibrates with a palpable power. Brennan Stormcrow paces here, his cadaverous body twitching with sudden jerks. The Master Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, pulsing with an immeasurable yet dark power. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Covered in bone armour, a giant bat hangs here, wings folded about its body and one beady eye open. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. Covered in bone armour, a green eyelash viper is slithering about here. A crudely crafted shrine of harsh black crystal stands here, thrumming powerfully. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. Splintered from the Master Ravenwood, a massive branch lies here, spiders crawling along its rotting wood. There are 10 shadowlord widowriders here. There are 10 illithoid scourges here. There are 10 dark nighthags here. A solstice stocking has been hung here. A rowan sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here.
You see a single exit leading north.
Takhre suddenly appears in a morass of dissipating shadows.
You have completed the Keeper of the Throne of Darkness quest!
You have gained a new honour!
You just earned 7 daily credits. You can earn 1 more.
You have received Rowena Nightshade ikon as a quest reward!
The Great Spirit Crow rises up from the eaves of the Glomdoring Forest, wheeling high above the wyrden terrain ominously.
With a raucous caw, Crow slices the very skies with his own talons, causing a rent of inky blackness. Shadowstuff pours downwards into the Glomdoring Forest, which glows with an awful, purple light.
Swirling shadows consume you, enveloping you entirely. Writhing darkness entangles your limbs and draws you away, pulling, pushing, freezing you until you can no longer feel the motion, holding you aloft yet throwing you towards the ground. Eventually all succumbs to the cold, and your vision fades. Time passes, perhaps a second, perhaps longer - as your eyes open, you find yourself standing within the Shadow Realm.
This room has not been mapped.
The Realm of Shadows.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Ravenwoods and blackthorns spread out from a cleared circular area in every direction. A canopy of battling branches twist together overhead, scattering the little available light into a twilit gloom. The grass below is cool to the touch, and littered with thorny vines and sharp broken branches. Tendrils of shadow pass through and around the trees, the waves of inky blackness seeming to move like a living creature. The air warps and distorts in every direction, revealing glimpses of locations within and near the Glomdoring.
You see exits leading north, northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest, up, and down.
You have completed the Walking in the Shadows of the Wyrd quest!
You have gained a new honour!
The Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree materialises in your hands.
You just earned 1 daily credit. That's all for today.
Shadows spill and boil out of your mouth, drizzling down over your lips and chin and pooling in your hands, which you have reflexively cupped. As the blood congeals, it forms into the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree.
You have completed Brother Crow's final task!