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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Old One" data-source="post: 2402434" data-attributes="member: 83">Session 27 (Part Five)The Green, Green Fog of HomeThe ranger sensed it…crouching above him like a great forest panther, waiting to pounce.  The Old Man’s sword whispered from its sheath as he forced his aching body upright and turned toward the threat in one semi-fluid motion.  Green vapors - like magician-tinged fog – were flowing over the lip of the arroyo and cascading toward the tattered band.A pugio of panic knifed into Rowan’s brain, threatening to unman him and send him fleeing, as his first thought was of the horrible, acidic green slime.  Discipline and rationale suppressed his fear as the mist filtered through the moonlight.  The color was a deep, verdant green…many shades darker than the sickly muck.  It was almost…calming.He shook himself from a momentary stupor and booted Cragen in the torso.“Up and to arms!  Some sorcery is at work here.”The dwarf might as well have been stone, save that he rolled from one side to the other before continuing his deep snores.  Cursing like a sailor from the Oar docks, Rowan had better luck with Rosë.  The young Brigante was already rolling to a crouch when the ranger reached him.“We are under some kind of magical attack, I think…get Sextus and get him out of this draw.”The barbarian reached down and effortlessly slung the badly injured bard over his shoulder.  The flowing emerald fog, now ankle-deep in the arroyo, washed over his bare hands as he did.  A curious lethargy immediately began to overwhelm Rosë’s senses.  He took one step out of the small canyon, followed by another, much slower step.  There was not a third.  A heartbeat later, the Brigante warrior stood immobile, Sextus forgotten in his arms, mesmerized by the swirling vapors.The level of the fog was rapidly rising and Cragen was almost completely inundated by the time Rowan managed to rouse him.  The dwarf struggled to his feet.  Rowan was gesturing at him…mouthing words and moving his hands in wide, slow arcs.“M…u…s…t…g…e…t…o…u…t…”The ranger stopped in mid-sentence, conquered by the encroaching fog and stood, slack-jawed and silent.Cragen could feel the mist pulling on him…whispering…calling…‘Just give in…surrender…let go,’ it whispered in his head.He gritted his teeth and shook his head, sweeping the cobwebs aside.  Thinking quickly, he held his breath and ripped a length of stout rope from his pack.  He looped it around Rowan, clamped his teeth around the other end, turned and charged toward the steep side of the arroyo.He hit the wall and exploded upwards, stubby fingers digging into the hard-packed dirt and rocks.  Handfuls of sod and fingernails flew off with wild abandon as he desperately clawed his way upwards.  One bloody hand and then another emerged from the crevice, seeking purchase on the rocky ground.Below him, a thickening column of deep green mist swirled upward and corkscrewed around his legs and then his torso, gently pulling him back.  He called on aeons of dwarven fortitude and willed his body higher.  One elbow dug in, and then another.  He gritted his teeth and nearly bit through his tongue.“Just another pace…just one more pace and I am clear,” he growled, spitting blood and foam past the teeth-clenched hemp.  A tendril of mist wafted up and encircled his head like a translucent green crown.‘There is no need to fight…just let go…and find peace.’This time the tug was less gentle…more insistent…more demanding.  Cragen refused.He continued to drag himself upwards…onwards.He sensed the mist’s amused disapproval and felt it tighten its grip.  He heaved one more time, attempting to serge over the top.  Instead, he found himself being dragged inexorably back into the ravine…the emerald fog filled ravine.He screamed silently as his clawed hands left deep furrows in the earth, along with ten minute trails of dwarven blood.  The mist smiled.To Be Continued…Next: Session 27 (Part Six) – Rude Awakenings~ OO</blockquote>

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