Having been tossed out of the Devil's Fire Tavern in Phlan, Effrain's first thought was: Shoulda gone to The Laughing Goblin. The second thought to cross his mind was: How much longer? The thought hit him square in the chest and stopped him dead in his tracks. How much longer? The thought felt foreign- like it wasn't really his. Yet... it didn't feel like Belphegor either... It felt like truth.
How much longer?
Not much. Not much at all.
The thought kept him so preoccupied that he barely noticed that he had started walking again. Past houses, streets, neighborhoods... Past towers. And, despite his state of extreme inebriation, he never stumbled. Not once. He just kept walking forward, obsessed with how much longer and deaf, dumb, and blind to the world around him.
He never even noticed the Mists roll in...
He may have spent hours walking into the Mists. Might've been minutes... seconds. When he finally realized that he was completely engulfed in the fog, he looked around himself and said... "Well, shit..."
He tried retracing his steps and walking back the way he came, but all he found was more fog.
Fog as far as the eye can see...
He unlatched one of his flasks from his belt and took a deep swig. Guess I'll just wait here until this goddamn stuff clears then. That's when he saw the shadow.
It was the shadow of a man and it was making its way towards the warlock through the fog. Effrain called out to it, "No good, man! Just more goddamn fog this way." If the figure heard Effrain, it made no indication. It just kept closing the distance between them. As it drew nearer, Effrain started to feel uneasy. Something inside told him that the shadow was a threat. Reflexively, he prepared an Eldritch Blast.
The shadow was almost upon him, and, yet, Effrain still could not make out any details. He expected to start making out colors, features, expressions from the figure. Even with the shadow so near, he could make out nothing. It remained shadow.
When it was within ten feet of the warlock, it stopped. It stopped and faced Effrain. The warlock waited a beat, then two... then three... and finally he said, "If you're going to attack me, let's just get this over with, huh?"
The head of the shadow appeared to move up and down. It looked like it was sizing Effrain up. Then it stood motionless for another second, maybe two. After that, to Effrain's surprise, the shadow spoke. In a thick accent it said, "No... not you." Then the shadow lifted an arm and waved its hand clockwise.
Effrain was about to blast away when he realized the shadow was gone.
The fog was gone.
Effrain found himself ankle deep in mud, surrounded by reeds and the distant chirp of cicadas. He had no idea where he was, but... that would sort itself out... right? The Warlock lit a cigarette and started trudging through the mud.
In her dream, there was a fisherman. He was old... balding... a weak attempt at a patchy, wiry beard clinging to his face. He sat on the edge of a rock shelf facing a shore. He lazily clasped his fishing rod to dangle the line out into the dark waters below. He sat there, completely still, breathes so light they barely caused his chest to rise and fall. Until... he must have noticed her, felt her presence. He turned around, and... his grin... his sickly grin... it was...
The first thing Dulce Love said when she woke up from her nightmare was, "Effrain." The second was, "He's gone."
Hidden behind a big oak tree and tapping out a beat on his knees, 'Lil Bow went over the plan in his head. It was simple. First, 'Lil Whip was going to get the supply caravan to stop by pretending that he'd been robbed in the middle of the road. Then, 'Lil Bow and 'Lil Cross would sneak into the caravan wagons, take what they could, and kick rocks. If anyone dared get in 'Lil Bow's way... BLAT! BLAT! To the face with his short bow. They won't see it coming. 'Lil Bow's a cold muthaluva. Ice in the veins. 'Sides... it's not even really stealing anyway. The supplies are for the people of Phlan, and the Rotboiclique are people in Phlan. Yeah... simple plan, not really stealing... Nothing to trip about.
'Lil Bow winced as he heard the wheels of the caravan wagons popping and clacking around the bend. Time to jam. He pulled himself up, pushed his back against the tree, and tried to peer around the side.
When he took a glance toward the road, he couldn't see it. All he could see was this thick fog rolling across the road and straight at him. It rushed past the oak tree, and 'Lil Bow himself. Soon the Mists completely enveloped him. He wasn't sure why, but something about the Mists made him cover his eyes.
When he dropped his arm and opened his eyes again, there was no more oak tree. There was no more road. 'Lil Bow looked up and he couldn't even see the sun. There was a thick, dark fog in its place. 'Lil Bow blinked then said,
"-The fuck...?"