Ferns and vines wrapped one like swaddling clothes only a few hundred meters in, impassable but for the few cavernous holes cut through the vegetation. Dafid had wandered into one of these, curiosity getting the better of him. He had spent a full day in the Forest of Caves before being rescued, when a rope ladder fell in front of him, long after he thought himself lost for good. A concerned but chipper crowd had lifted him up onto the planks of Tisatop where he had blinked for minutes before becoming accustomed to the light. Many hundreds of years before, this had been a wood of a sort most ordinary.
Legends tell of a dryad who had fumbled in the spell book of a wizard passing through.
In joy she found a spell of fertility for the land. The wizard, perhaps, could have told her that the power of such spells sprung from both the caster and the land itself. Such was the dryad's affinity with the soil that it brought forth not just new saplings and bushes of berries as she hoped, but instead, all plants of the wood grew to her call. Underbrush became almost solid in an instant, trees towered taller and stronger than ever, forming a massive canopy so dense, eventually one could walk from tree to tree without fear of falling to the ground. One could almost build a town on it.