[Tunnel of Sorrow]
Decaying trees form a thick, leprous canopy overhead. Moss-laden branches intertwine like the gnarled fingers of an ancient crone while dead leaves flutter down like dry rain. The air is full of the scent of rotting vegetation overlaid with the acrid rank of thick clots of a dark-gray algae that clumps along the muddy banks. Oily streaks swirl here and there on the dull surface of the water as unseen things move beneath the surface.
Obvious exits: none.