As the fog enveloped the camp, the bandits felt a small chill on their spine.
"What is going on?"
Asked one of the bandits who was fully enveloped by plate mail and wielded a giant axe, bladed on both sides.
"I don't know but I don't like this, it's almost noon, why is it getting foggy out of nowhere?" Asked another one of the bandits, he was clad in light leather armor, he was an archer.
As the fog continued to get thicker and thicker, the vigilance of the bandits only rose.
"When is the chief coming back?" Asked the archer who stood by the axe wielder's side.
"I don't know, probably still another hour."
Murmured the axe wielder bandit, his voice was fearful.
"We are being attacked by a gifted, I'm almost sure of it, let's try and regroup with the others.
"You are right, Fredrick we need to hurry, this is the work of at least a blue-rated gifted."
