Think of a place where age is not a factor,
Where hills and lakes can be made in the blink of an eye,
Where wonderful and unique creatures live
And then, amongst the real-time hustle and bustle,
A seed of magic starts to grow.
Cross the lake via bridge,
Follow the flock of pollen seeds to find
An oaken stairway leading down.
Trail the stairway and find yourself in the sun’s warm embrace.
A soft musical voice greets you.
You look down to see a Tinklekraff,
A small child-like creature staring at you,
You follow her and there your adventure begins.
Travel to the West,
Where the Lily Maidens roam and
Dance to the Moon’s rhythm.
Travel to the East,
There you’ll meet the Snow Giants,
Whose snow is where laughter is made from.
The North and South make way to forests,
Sprawling metropolises of secret passageways and dense undergrowth.
Here, day and night merge into one being and
Creatures of unconceivable imagination teem the lush forest floor,
Bull-Men bray out laughter while squirrel-people duck and weave through crowds of
Tree women and talking animals.
A place such as this knows no illness, famine is no issue and a tangible air of freedom can be
Felt.
The tree is grown and the world is complete.
Take as long as you want,
For in Belscaria, anything is possible.
