The room is roughly square, perhaps twenty feet on a side. The walls and floor are covered in ceramic tiles glazed in warm earth tones. Despite the hardness of the surroundings, it is comfortably warm, perhaps due to a hypocaust. Odd angular frameworks of brass and ebony are suspended from the walls and ceiling. Cloth is stretched over some parts, making them into serviceable, but uncomfortable, chairs. The ceiling is very high and seems shrouded in mist. Warm yellow light emanates from frosted glass wall fixtures.
It is an evergreen forest appropriate to a continental microthermal climate, mostly pine and fir. The temperature is slightly chilly, and feels even more so because of the high humidity. It is dimly lit. Visibility is limited by mist.
The path is unmarked, merely a well-trodden rut covered in damp pine needles which prick at my bare feet. It is unobstructed but circuitous, about as wide as my arms can reach.
It is a canal lined in weathered slabs of limestone, carefully fitted. It is only about six feet across and flows slowly from left to right. The water is very cold and clear, but a layer of murky sediment covers the canal's floor. In places, branches and stones have fallen into the canal, making miniature rapids where the water burbles and splashes.
A battered pewter flagon, crudely fashioned. It is decorated with a cast relief of a cornucopia of fruits and grains. The whole thing looks vaguely Norse.
It is a shiny gold churchward key about six inches long, with a wide oval loop at the top. A beam of sunlight pierces the mist and glints off it. The wards look a little like the superimposed letters "M" and "H". It looks like it probably unlocks a big, heavy door, probably of iron-bound oak.