A Rising Fog (event)
I can smell the distinct smell of pines, morning dew and strangely enough - embers, despite there being no signs of a fire nearby. I stand in a forest, the Sun rising, Aervalr low on the horizon and surrounded by a cloud of debris and shards the size of which I had never seen before.
Nearby, a tattooed man stands. Dressed in tribal garb, he appears to be no more than a simple shepherd, his flock visible in the distance. As he makes his way up an incline, I follow, and we soon reach the peak. Our expressions turn to abject terror as we see the sight beyond - a majestic vista being consumed by a soupy, malicious Fog reaching to the height of clouds, approaching with the speed and ferocity of a tidal wave.
The shepherd drops to his knees in shock, and begins to sob and feverishly pray in a language that I do not understand. As the Fog's rumbling approach reaches a crescendo, so does the man's prayer, and I am nearly overpowered by the intensity of emotion radiating from him. Finally, the Fog hits us, and I am violently jerked back into reality.
I hear I hear I hear