Devariegation by HTN

As mutated branches unfolded in front of his path, he sat down to rest in the dark foliage he was sure must have been poisonous. A wave of bliss couldn’t be that far he thought, while inspecting the rusted scimitar now covered with a dark and thick paste that helped him cut his way through. A distant knocking could be heard in the distance, as if someone or something was hitting a gong of rotten wood. This spine-chilling sound conveyed to the shuddering dark foliage, as if the sound of the wind became corrupted, while the uncertainty remained ; was the quest about finding the gong or escaping it ?

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