Rell and Anchor sit, looking out into the darkness. The forest grows quite as the night wears on, the only sounds to be heard are the deep breathing of his sleeping companions, and the occasional hisst of the low fire as it changes from orange to blue to green. The brisk breeze that brought chill earlier in the evening has all but died, and with it, the cool night. Rell feels a noticeable increase in the air temperature as the humidity starts to settle in. An hour or so after midnight, a low, thick fog starts to roll in from the trees to the west. 

In less than an hours time, your camp is surrounded by a think, damp fog. Anchor feels the beads of water start to pool across his hard wooden exterior. That's when you notice something odd Rell. The trees that have stood sentinel, watching you through the long evening were certainly some breed of oak, or maple maybe. The trees that surround you now are pine. Taller even then the trees that were there moments before. And thicker too. Where there were trees only to the west of your camp previously, they now stand tall, looming all around. 

Anchor, in the same moment you notice that the earth below you has changed in someway. You sit now on hard packed earth, bare of any vegetation. The camp you made last night was off the road away, firmly set in a patch of lush grass.

Rell is going to use his Thaumaturgy to amplify his voice. "We have a problem." He states, hoping that the others wake up. "Entire forests don't just... change their trees in a few moments! What. In. Torm's. Good. Name. Is. This?" For good measure, Rell is going to use divine sense to see if anything malignant or unholy is nearby.

Rell's voice echos through the tress. As he focuses his divine sense, tuning into his holy connection with Torm, Rell is overwhelmed by the hatred emanating from this place. It's almost as if the fog around him has the tint of evil and anguish. Amid the bombardment though, focused directly to the west, or at least, what was west as you knew it, a stronger, more condensed concentration of evil radiates. 

Can everyone make Perception checks please.

Anchor takes his coat of exposing his armored body. He begins to pull out his Maul, address the group "Its seems we have moved to the road... it could be a a enemy ambush... what are my orders."  Standing at attention his armor is scratched and dented and his Maul matches.

Perception: 14

Tingting shoots up from her slumber. Her hand instinctively reaches for her tome. A sigh of relief escapes her as she finds it in her backpack. The sense of dread was coming from somewhere else. She gets up and looks confused to the others. "W... what happened? Weren't you supposed to be on watch?"

Perception: 13

"This place. It's... it's evil. The very land itself emits a malice unlike anything I've ever encountered." Rell says, frantically looking around. "Find a way out of the fog. It's evil. Beyond that, stay frosty." 

Perception: 20

Anchor your mechanical ears pick up the distinct sound of feet dragging in the hard packed dirt directly due west. Easily less than 50 feet away, but the dense fog is obscuring your ability to see any farther than your green flamed campfire's light, maybe 10 feet out. The trees glow with the light of the flame, burning a bright spring green. 

Rell, your sense tells you there's some creature or creatures in that same direction, and they're closing in on your camp. What they could be though, impossible to know from this distance. 

Feeling a weird change in the log he's standing and hearing the lound voice from rell, Krakk quickly awakens. He tries to fly a bit to try noticing something further than 10feet away from the camp, but the fog seems too tick, so he decides to land again.

"What the hell happened?"

Perception 17 (passive 11)

Krakk, as you swoop into the air, you can just barely make out three dark shapes, blurred by the fog. They must be within 20 feet of your campsite by now, based on the shapes you saw. 

Finch awakens with a start.  

Perception: 23

"Can you see a way out of the fog?"

"Be warned, I say 3 strange shapes nearby, those might be bandits"

Krakk readies himself and gets his weapons out as he says this.

As Finch wakens, pushing herself from the ground, she sees what the rest of the party now see. Six pink dots, glowing faintly in the mists. No bigger than the size of a silver piece, and hovering, head high above the ground, sets of two move in unison.

The creatures finally approach close enough that they penetrate the low misty green light. Before you stand 3 beings, one a tall human male, clad in dull plate armor, his thick black hair slicked back. The second and third are both elves, one who's skin must have at some point been a pale yellowish color, but now has a clammy grey pall to it. The second elf's skin is dark, almost black in the mist. It's clad in dark robes, which almost blend in with the forest behind it. You might have missed the creature entirely if it wasn't standing between the man and the second elf.  Each approach with the same slow shamble, and each of you notice that the pink glow emanates from the beings eyes. Lifeless, they don't seem to see as they shamble.  

The approach silently, jaws shut tight. Their arms hang slack to their sides, their feet drag across the ground. The smell of death overwhelms each of you as they approach. The scent is strong enough that you don't immediately understand how you couldn't smell them as they approached. There within 10 feet of the fire now, still coming. They haven't acknowledged your presence, but still they come. 

Panicking, Tingting grabs her mother's old crossbow and hastily puts a bolt into it. "What do we do?" she asks in a high pitch.

Rell has his sword drawn, but not raised. If they do anything hostile he's going to retaliate."If they're hostile, we can either stand our ground and fight, or run while I buy time." He's also going to make an insight check to determine their intentions. 

Insight: 14

Krakk flies up and to behind those 3 weird things (trying to trick them into moving the other way) and quickly throws a javelin at the drow in the middle.

"In my few days here, I've heard about your vile kind"

Attack roll 20     Damage  4

"What are my orders?" Anchor asked in a calm manner, despite the approaching men. "If no orders are given, I will procced and engage the targets."

Finch grabs her bow and skedaddles away from the creatures, waiting to see their reaction to the javelin.

"Well, I don't suppose we've a choice. Anchor: Prioritize the continued survival of allies, and withdraw if the situation becomes dire. Otherwise, you are free to engage. Everyone else... Survive!"

"Understood" Anchor with his maul will move forward standing between the group and the three approaching. "Halt, state your business or I will be forced to engage."