(sounds like a video game, but I'll play along)


The Mists encroached ever close as they days went by. It had reached such a level of peril, that no one would leave the village by night. For fear of those .. things. Monsters, mutated animals ... no one knew for sure. One thing they all agreed on, however ... if something was not done soon, their world would end.

And so, it was all of this that brought him to the fringe of mist that had pervaded their farming land. Even now, he could feel the cold tendrils creeping toward his ankles. Far off, he could hear faint whispers and a thrashing in the trees, as if by the passing of a large form.

He surpressed a shiver of fear and gripped the sword strapped to his waist. A gift from his father long ago, it had seen no violence save that involved in chasing stray wolves from the village. Now he would put it to the test, along with his own courage. He pulled the sword from its sheath and stepped into the Mist along with a quiet proclamation.

"Marus the hero ... doesn't have quite the same ring to it as I would have hoped..." A nervous chuckle then, followed by a grim silence as the Mists welcomed their newest guest...