The kingdom was a small one, and located on a massive continent which spanned a large portion of the planet. Within the kingdom both strife and peace existed, although the former was more dominent during the prsent times. Nearby the western fringe of the kingdom a minute village could be found. Marus, a teenager who had been raised by his uncle, was always found within that village. He tended to run about, helping with the various odd chores that nobody cared to do, although they helped to build both his character and his physical body. Marus tended to wear a light brown outfit, with pants that reached his ankles and covered the small boots partially. His shirt was usually open during the hot days, and he wore a bandanna around his forehead that contained a symbol upon it.

It wasn't until his fifteenth birthday that the real problem began...when they came. It was, at first, a belief that the mist was nothing more than an unimportant aspect of the weather, yet when the wall of mist arrived around the city, and the sounds of people screaming in pain filled the area, everyone feared it.

(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...

If there were ever anything that Marus would have found regret in doing before he had entered the Mists, it would be overshadowed by his newest venture into these odd clouds of doom. At first, there was nothing...then there was everything. It was like a flood of sound, smells, visions, and the total absence of feeling. It seemed strange to Marus that there would be no real feeling to accompany all of the sensations that had been aroused by his entering the Mists.

The sounds were odd. Like talking through a waterfall, but without the sound of the water actually falling. There was a bit of an echo but other sounds were found within each echo. Marus watched as iamges of people, beasts, and things of which he could never recognize flowed before him. Trees were growing and then dying within seconds. Birds leaving, then returning. People building things, destroying things, and then building again. Marus was watching history, with sounds and smells included. He saw his village become what it was. Then there came the Mists, followed by absolute distruction.

Marus tried to move, he tried to change what he was seeing. He was met with such pain that he cried out in agony, but what came out of his mouth was a drowned out, rusty version of his voice. Then Marus saw the Mists receding and decaying bodies surrounded him. There was an unpleasant stench to it all. Then the images reversed and Marus saw his village going from ruin back to normal.

Although a deep pain slowed him, Marus attempted to claw his way through the mist. Pure white light blinded his vision and his legs started to go numb. Marus kept pulling himself in any direction that he could, although the Mists seemed to hold no direction, and no destination. Marus saw the Mists completely recede from him, and he followed.

The Mists flew over mountains and yet Marus remained right behind. Then the Mists flew into some cave and Marus continued to fly. He seemed to be slowing, but he saw that he was heading towards water and fast. There was no stopping and he braced for the impact. The water felt like the earth, solid and heavy, as the air was knocked from his lungs. Marus was then knocked unconscious, but his hand remained in a deathgrip of the sword.