Stanimir laughs. "No, my friend, we are but ordinary humans, although I see some of your friends might have that ability. I would have them lead, but as they do not know where we are going, I suppose we should break out the lanterns."
You turn around to notice that the wagons have been quickly packed and are now lined up with 2 of the horses hitched to pull each. Stanimir climbs up beside Damia and takes the reigns, while Ratka takes a lantern and walks in front of the wagons. The other wagons follow with two in the seat of each wagon and the others walking along beside, while Lae follows a short distance behind the last wagon.
The wagons begin to roll. Ratka and Necros take the lead down the trade road, Ratka holding the lantern and a glow of green energy seemingly held in Necros' hand. Immediately following them is the first wagon holding Stanimir and Damian, then the other 2 wagons, followed by Zennas, then Lae, and finally Zander. Bengal seems to weave and mingle with the walking travelers beside the wagons.
As the travel continues, you begin to become acclimated to (though not necessarily participating in unless you choose to) the somewhat raucous atmosphere of the travelers' campsite. The third night, a light mist begins to creep in. Instead of dissipating in the morning as most mists would, it continues to get a bit heavier as you continue to travel, with the 5th day being very slow travel due to very low visibility. After that day, however, the mist seems to lighten a bit as you continue, disappearing completely around the 7th day.
You emerge from the mists into a dark forest. A deathly stillness hangs in the air. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.
You continue to travel another 5 hours. The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.
As you approach, the gates swing open, screeching as the hinges move. As the last wagon rolls through, the gates begin to close, causing the "rear guard" party members to jog slightly to make it through. Looking back, the fog climbs right up against the gates.
Towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling of an invoiced scream.
Lae and Zander, you catch the scent of death on the air.
Zander speaks to the group. Ugh, I know that smell. Be on your guard. Seems unlikely we'd travel with these folk for 7 days just to end up in a trap, but anything's possible. He pulls out his bow and keeps an eye out on the treeline as they walk.
I wisper to the group " why do you think i am always holding a spell ready. As my dad used to say being paranoid is what keeps you alive, not so much on his case. Evey one else sleep with one eye open and and the sword under your pillow, and what is that smell"