Flion Aviary

This is a strange area you're in now, you think to yourself. The trees are wide and tall, the leaves high above your head in a thin canopy, but they are far enough apart to leave the ground covered with soft wonderful grasses. It seems to you like a perfect place for resting your tired body, and you look around for the best tree to lean up against. The path winds slowly through the quiet meadow forest, in and around the sleepy trees, leading you back into the deeper, thicker parts of the aviary.

As you continue to search for a good resting spot, your ears pick up a low and melodious humming. It's almost hypnotic in its sweetness, like it's reaching inside your head and lulling you to it. You wonder suddenly if sirens can live on land as well as at sea, and your thought is met with a jolly laughing at the other end of the clearing. "Silly traveler," you hear it saying, "I'm no siren! But I suppose it's easy for one unfamiliar with flions to think that." With that, you see an enormous black and green figure swoop down from one of the many trees and make its way toward you.