The Mistway

[The Forgotten God]

The trails leading from the gates of Bastion are unofficial and parties try to use random ones to prevent ambushes. The largest of these trails is preserved from the ruins of the highways that used to connect to Old Canderlin. It’s wide and easy to traverse even with random cracks and wandering patrols of monsters.

[Geoffrey Ravenhurst]

At the entrance of the largest trail, Herneiros turned to his party. "I can lead us to avoid the worst of the Mist creatures, but be wary of bandits. The type of people who roam these paths are the most desperate and savage of brigands. Don't feel obligated to mercy, but it is important that when combat comes in the Mist, you know who and what you're aiming at. So the very first rule and the most important rule I want us to follow is this... never go alone. It is very easy to lose track of your companions and the path, so don't wander. We are very fortunate to have Wrugar, so he is officially the core of the fellowship. If you ever feel like you're getting separated, look for Wrugar. Wrugar, try to stay near me. If not me, then Kjell has also been down this path and Tehol is an excellent tracker."

He paused before adding, "Try not to accidentally attack Tehol's animal companions. I'll let you know as we come close to especially dangerous creatures..."

[Demetrius]

Demetrius had never been particularly afraid of the mist, but he decided he would follow Herneiros’s lead, as he had no other way to find Lake Arawn without his help. “ by your lead,” he said, taking up his position in line.

[Geoffrey Ravenhurst]

***

Herneiros took the lead, while guiding Snowfall by his leash. Snowfall was of course carrying supplies. Every once in a while, the Wild Huntsman would point out something about the Mist that he found interesting, but the rest of civilization might find deeply horrifying. Such examples include...

"So the average life span of a cranial crustacean is actually surprisingly long. They can stay alive in a person's brain for a good month before nature starts to take its toll on your nervous system. There is some debate amongst hunters over whether the person can actually feel during this advanced stage, but my father and I agree it must still be some sort of mercy."

"You can in fact use Kraken ink as actual ink for writing, but the actual color will change depending on how long it has been outside the Kraken's body. It is actually a very lovely sunset yellow before it finally evaporates. Obviously, it has been known to drive people mad from looking at it too long due to the physic resonance, but it is still a very pretty color!"

"No one has ever really done a study on the effects of children born in the Mist. There is an old story that your infant will take on the qualities of the nearest Mist Lord, typically Dominius, if you allow it to inhale the Mist with its first breath. A popular variation on this tale is that if the pregnant mother breathes in the Mist, she will give birth to a squidlike abomination with rows and rows of teeth. Now, this actually does happen of course, but it's not actually a mutated offspring, but rather an alien parasite that enters your womb and develops to its adult size there before leaving via the birth canal. Fortunately, I happen to know a spell to remove it painlessly."

"The animals here are perfectly edible, as long as you only consume the healthy ones. Otherwise you might accidentally ingest the eggs of a womb parasite. Have I mentioned the womb parasites?"

His voice was soft and measured, never rising above a friendly, conversational tone. Herneiros rarely got to discuss his daily experiences with outsiders.

[The Forgotten God]

The party travels the first ten miles or so swiftly; the governor’s forced sweep the area frequently to ensure the city can’t be taken by surprise and as such there is some semi-permanent infrastructure here. Twice they see patrols of soldiers about a dozen strong, with a paladin or wizard among them. The groups seldom do more than tacitly acknowledge each others’ presence, as even allies in the Mist can prove dangerous, luring bigger adversaries close.

After a few miles the Mist gets thicker, until visibility is cut to about five hundred meters in any particular direction. Those who have crossed into it before feel the familiar cold ache in their bones from the blocked sun. The scouts’ accounts of war between the lords seems to be correct, as not even a stray boglop is seen as they move forward. If they go quickly they can reach Palerose before night even falls.

[Demetrius]

Demetrius listened intently when Herneiros mentioned the children born in the mist and their relation too mistlords. He also cringed at the mention of mutated offspring and alien parasites. However, he kept his questions to himself, choosing to enjoy the hallowed calm and quiet of the mist.

[Tehol Nookington]

Tehol continues to stroll along with the group, he had been adventuring the mist before but still shuddered as it enclosed around them, some things you just never get used to as he cradles Cyntheria's head as she rests in his shirt.

Korabas slithers along pleasantly beside them.

[Geoffrey Ravenhurst]

***

Herneiros grew less and less talkative as they came closer to their destination. In truth, he had only been chatting in order to mask his anxiety. He had no memories of Palerose and until recently had pictured his then nameless hometown as just another ghost town, full of long inscrutable signs of past lives long forgotten. To him, Evander Rosecroft had been as real a figure as Emperor Erastes was to most Imperial citizens. A name. A very big name to be carved on streets, but just a name. No face, no lasting impressions on the psyche. Herneiros couldn't even spell his own human name.

Perhaps that wasn't an accident. Perhaps, somehow, there are people and places that should never be immortalized. Perhaps those people are places are like nightmares... to be forgotten for a good reason.

These were the notions running through the Wild Huntsman's mind as they wandered closer to where Evander Rosecroft was probably born. To where Evander Rosecroft was, in a very practical sense, erased if not actually killed.

But Herneiros said nothing of these thoughts to his companions. He simply declared, in his usual affable tone, "We should be almost there. Keep an eye out for signs and paths."

[The Forgotten God]

The ruins seem to sneak up on them at first, the low, ruined outside walls barely more than overgrown bumps on the thin trail they traverse. Whoever had actually settled on Palerose’s site had a keen eye for land even in the nearly suffocating Mist; had they not had a map the group could have searched for weeks before finding the small old hamlet built on the north side of a cut running up a rolling hill. Even at its height of habitation the small round buildings would have been difficult to see.

The lost colony of Palerose consisted of little more on the surface than twenty or so simple structures, wild rosebushes bristling with thorns and stinging nettles covering the old grounds. There’s some evidence of recent activity though; two of the buildings yet have functioning doors. They’re assembled in a staggered pattern straight up the five hundred foot hill starting at about a hundred feet up and ending perhaps fifty feet below the rounded top. The biggest buildings are on bottom as they are easier to conceal from sight there.

Herneiros can see a small creek to the north at the bottom of the hill, fed by an even smaller stream barely a foot and a half deep flowing quickly down towards it from some spring near the summit. It’s entirely possible that stream had carried him once on its eternal course towards a bigger river towards an even bigger river, and ultimately towards the sea.

It’s somewhat fortunate they find the place when they do as Kjell’s keen senses pick up the slight shift in pressure that means rain is probably inevitable. Somehow none of the roofs have collapsed in the past decades and so the adventurers have their pick of wherever they wish to stay. Three of the buildings can even support horses if one doesn’t mind their smell indoors.

[Dr. Archimedes Steller]

"Let me guess... The giant will start with the horses." Wrugar grunted, already getting ready to lead the group's mounts into the larger building. "Guess I'll start a fire in there already."

"How long has this been abandoned, Herneiros?" He asked, studying the craftsmanship of the buildings. "Good work to have lasted this long without losing their roofs."

[Geoffrey Ravenhurst]

"Hmmm...?" Herneiros was distracted. "Oh, about twenty nine years... seven months... four days... maybe six hours... if we go off of when I was found by my parents. My elven parents. I think the Empire noticed a month or so after that, but I really don't know. It was once a very successful township until one day the next caravan arrived and found it abandoned. Bastion gossip claims there was some sort of Abyssal cult connected to Palerose but thdn people also say Nigel Thornheart is a good man. Just keep an eye out for anything peculiar."

He handed Snowfall to Wrugar, and by extension the supplies on Snowfall's back.

"I am going to scout out the river. Perhaps there's some good fishing."

[Dr. Archimedes Steller]

Wrugar tied Snowfall and the other horses to a tree nearby before taking them into the old building. With all the stealth that a 4,5m individual can manage, he popped his head inside the barn-sized construction to see if there were any inhabitants already in there. He wouldn't risk having the horses killed, leading to everyone using him as beast of burden for the remainder of the quest.

[The Forgotten God]

The gentle pattern of rain begins as he enters the old hovel, and he can see that thiugh this building is empty it has seen use in the years since its abandonment; several small holes in the walls have been patched from the inside. The horses whinny as they’re led in but they accept their temporary refuge without further complaint.

The others find the huts they take shelter in are much the same, although one of the larger buildings does have a faint trace of magic from long ago. Rain doesn’t wash away the Mist like it would ordinary fog so wet days in the wild are even more miserable than anywhere else.

[Geoffrey Ravenhurst]

Herneiros walked north through the township, bow in hand. He moved carefully, watching for possible movement or infestation by Mist creatures. He had said he was heading to the creek but wasn't certain he would actually make it there this time.

He cursed his illiteracy, but he had seen the name Rosecroft enough by now to know it. Also the words for mead, toilet, and elf. He used to think he had memorized the word for Bastion, but apparently he had actually memorized the spelling for 'bastard'. Not as hilarious as it sounds.

[The Forgotten God]

Herneiros makes it fifty yards or so across several small buildings before he sees anything truly out of place. One of the buildings, one slightly taller than the others, had some burn marks and its main door had been ripped clean off. Scavengers had stripped the door of anything metal years ago but the boards still uselessly sit in their eternal vigil. He can see bits of charcoal on the ground in small ovals about two feet apart, almost like something had burned the ground below as it walked.