Beware the Fog

I remember this story from when I was but a lad. Me gran used to tell us grand tales of her youth. She always used to tell us stories wit' morals that would be somethin' along the lines a', "so wash behind yer ears, or a brain maggot'll get ya". Creepy things of that ilk. One night nary a month ago, my wife n' I traveled along the coast west o' Gettersmacht to celebrate me gran's 86th birthday. We had our honey cakes and wheat beer, a course. Her hovel appeared a bit messy and overshadowed wit' trees, but the ol' gal doesn't get around as well as she used ta'. We had dinner and gran was delighted to see me an' Sophia and we had a grand ol' time catchin' up; talking about military life and the like. When we were to settle for the evenin', I got an idea of asking gran to tell us a story for old time's sake. She grew one a them wicked smiles and agreed. Must be a good'ne that she was afraid to tell me when I was a babe. So we settled down with a beer in front of the old mantle and listened without a word.

"A long time ago when the Great Storm first struck the land, hunters and gatherers foraged relentlessly to find food and drink for their tribes and clans. They bravely ventured into the twisted wood beyond the shores to hunt and search for a new place to call home. Of course, the discoveries they had made were far beyond imagination: creatures of unnatural colors with hulking bodies, dozens of eyes, and disproportionate limbs. Everyone had their own name for these amalgams: storm-beasts, the warped, storm-twisted, but hark, it mattered not what they dubbed them. They were merely creations of the apocalypse that swallowed this word over 500 seasons ago. The hunters grew and adapted to be able to slay such creatures whilst on the hunt, learning their strengths and weaknesses as they went under the ash-colored sky. "Eventually, something terrible happened. A pack of 10 hunters set out for a week's time and came back a fortnight later with only 1 in number. The poor lad was pale as sand and distant as the clouds. He refused to speak to anyone until he slowly withered away because of his refusal to eat or drink. Only later did they find evidence of a great rolling fog known now as a Storm's Cloud sweeping through at the same time the hunters set foot in the Rimewald. A pack of foragers had begun finding remains of lesser storm-beasts with great, piercing holes stuck through their hides that nothing the tribes had could recreate. The foragers came back and told the tribe that there was something lingering high above the tree-line, for they brought a carcass back for their healer to examine. The only cause they could find was a great dirk-like object stuck through the beast from high above, straight through its head. Even to this day, ye dare not venture into the wood on a foggy night, for a great evil lurks. It hides in wait for the foolhardy and ignorant alike to cross its path."

Gran always had a great sense of timing, for her home was being gently encroached by a swell of fog. Poor Sophia was quivering in her boots. I couldn't help but chortle at the tale as we slept for the evening. To this day, Sophia swears that she saw some strange things moving by the windows that night. Damn ol' gran sure does have a way of scarin' folks.

Summary

The legend tells of a great creature that lurks in the Storm's Clouds and hunts creatures foolish enough to enter its domain.

Historical Basis

There are several accounts over the years of people sighting a strange and eldritch figure looming in the roiling mists, but none can confirm or deny its existence.

Spread

The myth is known across the forested villages of Gentrov and even out to some parts of Dhaversland and Florestal.

Variations & Mutation

Some people believe that there might've been a demon or devil that inhabited Ordia to lead troubled souls out into the woods to be taken to the lower planes. Some myths even denote floating fire-fly like motes hovering inside the mists.

In Literature

There are a few books written on the study of storm-beasts, but none can directly address what creature is linked to these stories.

In Art

Many a grim artist depicts a landscape with a great many spider-like legs working there way through trees in the darkness and cover of fog.

Related Species

• Church Record #143-G: Private Schmidt on Encountering a Roil Hunter