The Bogs of Sickness

For days now I have traveled through the bogs of sickness. Heavy were my footsteps and unstable my way. Thickly the fog hung about me like curtains of greyness as shapes drifted in and out. The mud pulled at my boots and tried to slow me from my conquest. Cold breezes stir the air and on them are whispers of the coming Frost Giant. Slowly, these curtains are lifting and I can see the lordly sun Helios breaking through. Thanks be to the Ancient One for his strength.