You are given fine clothes and an honour guard of the greatest warriors of the village. You all carry torches and baskets full of food and flowers and ornaments. Of oil and wine and glass. You set off into the mist. You walk for hours until you reach a suitable place to build a shrine. You pray and dance and sing sacred songs to whatever spirit controlled the mist. You burn your offerings, and a young girl that you brought from the village as sacrifice but the mist remains thick. For three days and three nights you pray while your honour guard stare into the mist with troubled expressions. The on the fourth day, you wake up to find yourself alone. The campground is littered with bones. You are quite alone, although you think you can hear the sounds of your honour guard out in the fog. Have they left you? Have they gone hunting? Will they return? If that had left you surely they would have left in one direction. Where did these bones come from? How were they stripped of flesh and gnawed upon? Why do your honour guard call for you to join them? Why don’t the shapes you glimpse in the mist look human?
Do you
Go to the voices.
Offer yourself as sacrifice. As that the creature of the mist leaves your village alone.
Fight.
Do you
Go to the voices.
Offer yourself as sacrifice. As that the creature of the mist leaves your village alone.
Fight.