Overgrown and rotten trees covered every inch of the infested forest, their thick roots suffocating the dry earth. Intricately spun webs stuck to the trunks and limbs, their silky patterns cruelly choking the wood. The air was thick and hot, sickly pervading the atmosphere. A patrol of Elves sauntered quickly on the tips of their feet, moving gracefully; careful to not emit a sound. Such was the nature of the Silvan Elves. Drawing their bows in silence they waited, their senses as sharp as a sword. The elves scarcely breathed, awaiting their beastly opponents to create the first onslaught. And they did. Abnormal, savage Spiders emerged from many angles, clacking their pincers; the hair on their long, slender limbs raised in anger. Yet the Elves were not alarmed and remained poised, as this conflict was intended. With nimble fighting skills, they managed to kill the Spiders, driving elegantly forged daggers into their skulls. Destroying a nest of egg sacks with their arrows, the patrol escaped the Spiders' wrath with miniscule scratches. With the dying arachnid's screeching and curses filling their ears, the elves disappeared from the murky forest without a trace.