Chapter Three - Return to the Mournland

Loaded with the water, Famul hitches the wagon to the cart. As 37 climbs aboard, Tryne lights it up. The small automaton waves energetically, wishing the troupe well. Tryne carefully steers the cart back toward the railway, then follows the road toward the edge of town. Several townsfolk take a moment to admire the machine, as the half elf keeps it relatively straight. He feels the elemental resisting him sometimes, either in the throttle, the steering, or both. Nevertheless, the ride is smooth for the occupants.

Passing the rail shed and the Salvation Times, the group leaves the east edge of town. The elemental cart crackles along the former turnpike. The remnants of the abandoned lightning rail tracks sit to the cart’s left. They continue toward the towering wall of spirits marking the edge of the Grey Mists.

The border of the Mournland.

Vice, 37 and Torhak have been through its icy cold before. Even from Salvation, the featureless faces that churn through the mists seem large. Up close, they are gargantuan. Easily tens of, possibly even hundreds of feet tall. Immeasurable in number, stretching as far as the eye can see to the north and south and further skyward than any elemental airship dares fly. The spectres swirl in and out of view in silent, perpetually screaming torment.

The giant minotaur stares into the mists, lost in thought. The faces drawing him in. He can almost feel the manacles on his wrists being drawn back together. The persistent rattling of the dangling chains magnetically pulling toward each other. He takes a quick glance down at his hands and sees nothing. The chains jingle freely with the rocking of the cart on the road.

As it’s just after midday, the kobold is having trouble seeing through the bright daylight.

As the cart approaches the edge of the mist, Talon notices a man upon a black horse, sitting on the ridge behind them. The man has a black beard, dusty coat and a faded black hat. He is clearly watching the group as they approach the Grey. The lion gets Tryne’s attention and directs his view toward the figure.

Torhak stays vigilant as they approach the mist. The figure remains on the ridge, watching. As they enter, he just notices a second rider join the first.

Then the cart is swallowed by the icy cold of the grey. It is disorienting and chaotic, the faces are not just on the edges of the mists, Tryne and Torhak find themselves surrounded by wave after wave of the immense spirits, swirling and swooping around the them.

They struggle to even see the road beneath them as the grey seems to envelop them. They notice one of the ghastly face seems to zone in on the driver. Diving toward the the cart.

Wisdom save vs the mist