The Mists of time

The Mists of Time

The fog hung unusually heavy on the moors this time of year.  With visibility being exceptionally poor; going out walking was a dangerous thing to do even for those who knew the moors well.  Yet through the fog and mists a dark shadow was cast and as it drew closer one could discern the features of an old man.  The man walked with apparent ease despite his stopped and crippled demeanour.  His withered hand was wrapped firmly around a beach staff.  Upon the staff were drawn unusual symbols and shapes of an age long forgotten and twisted around the body of the staff was that of a carven Asp.  As he walked and the staff hit the ground it appeared to be emitting golden shards of light which lit the way and laid a path of safety ahead of the old man.

His boots were well worn and tattered in places but somehow still appeared to be remarkable sturdy despite appearing threadbare.  About his shoulders he wore a long black cloak with a hood.  The hood covered his facial features, which gave a hollow and empty perception of where a face should be.  Apart from the tip of a rather crooked and bent nose which perturbed outside of it; and when the old man smiled, if you could call it that.  In all honesty it appeared to be more a sneer than a smile, but when he did, you could see the yellowing of his teeth, and a single lone fang descended from the upper left gum.  This added only to the sinister appearance of both the man and his smile.

The cloak itself was fastened about the man with a rather delicately intertwined gold chain and fastened with an oak leaf clasp, which seemed very out of place with everything else that the old man was wearing