Mists covered the small peaceful lake at the base of the grassy hill in this chill autumn afternoon. If someone was overlooking from the top of the hill, or from the apple orchards dotting the gentle slope that led to the lake, it would seem an unatural sight. The Mists covered the lake like a soft white blanket, a blanket made up of roiling vapor, but seem to dissipate and thin unaturally fast on the shore, extending barely a few dozen yards outside the still waters of the lake.
As fate had it, nobody was standing on the slope to witness as the mists started to part and the peace of the water was suddenly disturbed.
One by one you realize that you're not where you have been minutes ago, when the fog thickened around you. At first, you can barely see your own legs. In a couple of heartbeats the Mists lessen and you can see a few yards away to the shore of the lake. The feeling that you're watched starts to subside finally. And then you realize you're not alone in the waters. A few feet from you, others stand. Humanoid forms, cloaked in the thinning fog. One is unaturally short and stocky for a human. Whether your first instict it is to run, or draw weapons, a gut feeling, something you may not understand completely where it comes from, seems to suggest those people are not enemies.
Yet.
