Shinomen Mori

A sprawling sea of trees that stretches across the borders of five clans, the Shinomen is the largest and most ancient forest in Rokugan. It spans many ecosystems and is home to countless mysterious denizens, including numerous animal and plant species that human eyes have never beheld. It boasts some of the oldest trees in the Empire and perhaps the world, while the deepest copses are said to be the domain of Senkyō itself. Indeed, some say that anything which can be found in nature, one can find within the Shinomen. But only fools willingly enter. Tales of a haunted malicious wood that consumes anyone who enters are as ancient and well-known as the forest itself. Its tangled foggy depths have claimed so many explorers and surveyors that the Miya family cartographers long declared any attempts to map the expanse a lost cause. Loggers talk of trickster spirits and haunted ruins. At night, the wood is lit by eerie orbs of light, the flickering lost souls known as hitodama. Even shugenja, advocates for the harmonious balance of nature and humankind, leave the Shinomen well alone, except to mark the most ancient trees with blessed shimenawa ropes, so that they will be left alone. The forest defies all attempts to conquer it; it witnessed the rise and fall of ancient civilizations, and it will be here long after Rokugan has crumbled to dust.   The Shinomen defies the laws that seem to govern other forests. Trees grow larger than typical of their species. Hewn vegetation seems to regrow overnight, especially to recover blazed trails. Poplar and yew grow so thick that the canopy blocks out the sun. Those who ventured far within say there are parts so teeming with life, that the sounds of birds and insects are deafening to the ears, yet most places are quiet as the grave, not even the whistle of the wind to break the silence. There are seemingly natural pathways winding through the forest, although folklore warns never to trust them. Travelers have found themselves far deeper in the woods than they ever intended to go, as if spirited from the forest’s edge to its center. More dependable are the deer trails and the winding bank of the River of the Sky, although even these may lead hikers in circles. Indeed, the animal denizens of the Shinomen seem far more intelligent than their counterparts elsewhere and display more biological variety. For instance, Shinomen deer antlers grow in unusual shapes, and their coats display odd colors and patterns. Many of the animal denizens may actually be shapeshifting yōkai or other spirits. Locals regard hunting Shinomen game to be the surest way to invite calamity. Because the forest geography varies throughout, experienced travelers orient themselves by their surroundings. The southern Shinomen is more sparse than the northern stretches, noted for its scattered meadows and massive camphor trees. Southern border villages thrive on harvesting camphor from the younger trees along the border, while altogether ignoring the many fruit groves of wild apple, cherry, persimmon, and plum. This is due to the local belief that these trees are home to kodama nature spirits, and while the camphor is safe to harvest, any mortal who consumes the fruits of a kodama's tree becomes cursed to forever remain within the Shinomen. Against this border, the River of the Sky empties into the pristine Lake of Cherry Blossom Snow. The ground grows softer as one travels west, yielding to flood plains and stillwater ponds, culminating in swampy marsh. Tangled mangroves, ferns, and light-choking willows dominate the landscape, with lilies and pink lotus blossoms breaking through the monotonous gray. Here frogs and cranes are a common sight. North of the marshes, on higher elevation and drier ground, the forest is dominated by red leafed maples, lending the forest a bloody hue. As one moves north across the hilly ground, the terrain shifts into an evergreen broadleaf forest. The rocky terrain lends itself to hardier trees, including various species of pine and oak. A multitude of streams and pools wind through the woods, resulting in crashing cascades and rapids. In other places, the ground is cleft, leaving vast ravines carpeted with stout pines, fir, and spruce. Occasionally these streams and ravines will feature an ancient bridge, the architecture of which is vaguely familiar, but ultimately impossible to place. To the east, where the forest nears the Spine of the World Mountains, the ground is cracked and volcanic. Black stone is a foundation for hemlocks and birch. Vast patches of kudzu ivy carpet the ground, making travel especially difficult if one is unprepared. The thickness of the vegetation here lends an eternal night to the woods, and layers of decaying leaves and needles encourage the growth of enormous mushrooms and ankle-tall moss. At night, one might see glowing hitodama orbs rising from the forest floor, all that remains of the souls who were lost in the wood and could not find their way out, even after death. Those who live close enough to witness these things show the forest little fear. This is because they know the truth. The forest is not malicious. It is indifferent. It is forever beyond humankind’s influence. There is nothing mortals can do to it that would be of any real consequence.