An ancient forest covering Mikisapi Island, the landmass at the center of Deadloop. Unlike the hostile Dragonsong forests to the east, Mikisapi is inhabited—but on the forest's terms.
Geography
Mikisapi Island is roughly thirty miles long and fifteen miles wide, entirely covered by old-growth forest except for the city of Tenches at its heart. The coastline is rocky and difficult to land on; most visitors arrive at one of three maintained harbors that connect to roads leading inland.
The forest floor is surprisingly navigable in most areas—the canopy blocks enough light that undergrowth stays sparse. But the paths shift. Trails that were clear last season may be overgrown this season, while new routes open through previously impassable sections. Locals claim the forest guides travelers toward Tenches if they're peaceful, and away from it if they're not.
Character
Mikisapi is old, but not malevolent. The trees grow tall and close together, their canopy forming a continuous roof that turns daylight into perpetual green twilight below. Sound carries strangely—conversations seem muffled while distant birdsong rings clear. The air smells of loam, moss, and something faintly sweet that no one has ever identified.
The forest tolerates habitation. Woodcutters work its edges, hunters range through its depths, and hermits build cabins in isolated clearings. But tolerance isn't welcome. People who take too much find their luck turning—tools break, game vanishes, paths lead in circles. People who give back—planting seedlings, clearing deadfall, leaving offerings at the old stones—find the forest generous in return.
The Inhabitants
Tenches occupies the forest's heart, built around a clearing the trees have never reclaimed. The city-state has existed for centuries, maintaining a careful balance with the forest around it.
Beyond Tenches, the forest holds:
- Woodcutters and hunters who've learned to read the forest's moods
- Hermits and exiles seeking solitude or hiding from something
- Spirits and fae that never come to the city—older presences that tolerate Tenches but don't acknowledge it
- Things without names in the deepest groves, neither hostile nor friendly, simply ancient
Resources
Mikisapi timber is prized throughout Aboyinzu. The wood is dense, rot-resistant, and takes enchantment unusually well—shipbuilders, wandmakers, and artificers pay premium prices for quality cuts. Tenches controls all timber exports through the Grove Council, and cutting without permission is punished by exile at best.
The forest also yields medicinal herbs, rare fungi, and occasionally stranger things—artifacts from older times, exposed by shifting roots or revealed in storm-toppled trees.
What It Looks Like
Massive trunks rising like columns in a cathedral, their bark rough and dark, hung with pale lichen. The canopy above is so thick that rain arrives as a delayed drizzle, filtered through layers of leaves. The ground is carpeted with fallen needles and decomposing leaves, soft underfoot and nearly silent to walk on.
Shafts of green-gold light break through gaps in the canopy, illuminating clearings where wildflowers grow in brief, brilliant displays. Streams wind between the trees, their water cold and clear. Birdsong is constant but distant, as if the birds are always somewhere else.
At night, the forest is utterly dark. No moonlight penetrates the canopy. Travelers without light don't travel at all—they stop, wait for dawn, and hope nothing finds them.