Snippet #2807357

A dense bank of fog arose from the waves around the viking longships. Tendrils of shadowy clouds lapped against the hulls like ghostly fingers as a dreadful moan floated through the ocean breeze. The waves grew silent, choked by the encroaching fog.

The fog engulfed the longships in an impenetrable veil that shrouded one from another. A foul miasma - the stench of rot, decay, and mildew - drifted through the air as the sea became deathly silent.

Somewhere in the fog, the creaking of a lone vessel stalked the herd of longships like a shark. It drifted through the water, presence felt but unseen like a phantom, and left a sense of wordless dread in its wake.