haar

haar is ground fog as weather with a body, not a slider. on cool, still, humid mornings the fog pools in the low places — a real heightmap reading, valleys and river courses and lake bowls filling first while the hilltops stay clear. you climb out of it, and that is the whole magic: not a flat haze over the whole world, but weather that has learned the shape of the land.

it draws in two honest layers: a distance-fog bank that thickens the lower you stand under the local fog ceiling, and sparse mist sheets drifting at the fog's own surface, so the top of the bank has a visible skin instead of a hard edge. mid-morning burns it off from the top down, hilltops clearing first, same as it pooled — and wind is impatient with it: a strong morning breeze can cancel a haar before it ever properly gathers.

rarely — maybe one day in twenty, on a cold day near open water — the true haar rolls inland: colder, denser, a front moving with the wind behind it, visible on the horizon before it reaches you. it never blinds: minimum visibility holds at 24 blocks even in the thickest bank. atmosphere, never a mechanic that fights your hands — no fog HUD, no weather announcement. you look outside, like a person.