Titanic trees scrape the sky and blot out the sky, casting dappled shadows on the thriving world below the canopy. Each tree, a world of its own. The spaces between them, a perilous sea of lesser flora and fauna.
In the deep reaches, the lush jungle closes in around you and is saturated with dangers. One can barely take a step without tripping over something hungry, horny, or both.
Out here along the southern coast, vast twisting roots suspend nearly a mile of further jungle above the languid waves of the Blue, any conceivable beach lost to legend and underbrush. The ocean here is the only landmark, for in every other direction the lush green canopy fades into the horizon.