While attempting to discover the secrets of Savrishti's warehouse, the party is pulled through a gate into a strange place. Later they realize that they are in a book.
First was the sensation of disorientation, of tumbling and the fear that accompanies falling.
You fell only briefly, perhaps only a few seconds really, but there was this sideways acceleration towards the end, and then - wap. Each of you enmeshed and tangled in a nest of thick, dry vinous foliage. The vines curve and recurve in serpentine fashion, connecting with themselves and others, forming a pattern or a grid of individual cables as thick as a man's wrist. The color is a uniform drab, faded green, relieved here and there by small blobs of perfectly oval leaves, which have fruit nestled onto them. Softball sized, pink globes that are arrayed occasionally here and there. In terms of three dimensional space, imagine that you have all wandered out under a box girder bridge, and are on one of the horizontal arms. The vines form the upper and lower limits, and the interstices. The construct which embraces you is a mere six feet or so high, and the nether ends cannot be seen, as they fade into the mist. The vines aren't invulnerable, in fact one of them broke when Alain and Moreau contrived to land together. The vine is quite homogenous, there are no rings, bark, xylem, phloem or core, just a thick woody green. The break is a ragged one. The vine does seem strong though.
There is no horizontal or vertical plane, just the sight of grey misty vastness.
The small pot fell at least forty feet before it faded into the mist, and you never did hear it hit anything. It fell "down" and seemed to fall slowly. The peacock was seen at a distance above and to the right of the planar grid you are on. It was seen as it faded into view and out of view. The light does not change in any direction. Occasionally there are snatches of music, heard through the fog.
Sometimes there is a sound like distant hissing, muffled. There are throbs and taps that can be felt in the vines.
The page where we came in. | 
We were not fortunate enough to see the goats, favored by the Bookworm. |
The hunters and dogs were food for the hornets, but the boar remained. | |
The birds watched us climb by. |
Paper salamanders in a paper fire. |