The caravan descended into the mist. It was cool, and immediately seemed to tcik to their skin. Around them, the less adventurous types clutched their holy symbols, the wagons jangling with each movement, as more holy symbols provided protection on the wagons themselves. All was quiet, and above evne the night's sky seemed to fade away, leaving them in an endless, grayish sea of fog.<br/><br/>As the sun set, and night settled over the land, the darkness grew more pronounced. Lanterns and magical lights lit up along the caravan, creating a tiny oasis in the darkness. All seemed well, with no sign of any enemy, though. It was deathly quiet; the clopping on the horses, the creaking on the wagons, the occasional murmured prayer, heard through the fog. At last, the path began to turn up, leading out of the valley; they were nearly free, for this portion of the journey.<br/><br/>(Perception, DC 28, to notice flickering shapes at the edge of the fog, coming up from deeper within the valley.)