The mists rolled in a great
number of years ago. Over the seas it came never seeming to change no matter
what the weather chose to do. Several people of the land of Haylock murmured to
each other at times that it was an ill mist, coming in from another world
entirely. Most who heard them speaking that way merely laughed but no-one could
fathom what brought it in, and kept it there.
Over the years since the
beginnings of it, it had become the norm to be inside before dark fell. Those
caught outside after that point were never seen again or were found dead in a
curious manner; strung up on a tree or some other pillar like object with a
ghostly pallor and jaw marks stretching the tops of their necks. The people in
the land closed their curtains and locked their doors, not wanting to set eyes
on whatever roamed the night.Mist, agent of the Shadow, found in People of the Light.
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