9th Day of Winter, 514 AV
A biting chill rode the wind as it howled at Zeltiva, it's song only muffled in the city's best sheltered nooks and crannies. When it spiked, the wind was so loud that close conversations were supplemented with yells, and people still had to strain their hearing in order to make out the words. Breath frosted in the air, and men wore heavy cloaks and countless layers in their attempts to ward off the cold, usually to no avail. A lone figure stood out from the crowds that shuffled slowly through the city. It wasn't that his hair was blown into a tangled mess around his head, though some of the people he passed thought they saw an odd shimmer of light in the midnight strands. Nor was it the sword hanging at his hip, which was carried with the comfortable familiarity of a man who knew how to use it. It was his clothing, or rather relative lack thereof, that made him an oddity. Lacking a cloak or heavy clothing, it appeared as if the cold didn't concern him at all.
I wonder if Morwen will bless us with snow this year, Halvar thought idly as he navigated the cobbled roads. Winter was in full swing, and it was proving to be a fierce one. Halvar thought he could feel his gnosis mark itch beneath the gloves he wore, as if it didn't like being covered. It was a familiar sensation, and one he was quite certain wasn't just a figment of his imagination. With a mental shrug, Halvar pulled his gloves off, tucking them into his belt for safe keeping. As soon as the intricate snowflake was exposed to the chill, a soothing calm washed over the mercenary, and the hints of a smile played at his otherwise stern expression. The mark was a gift from Morwen, god of Winter, and it made Halvar feel completely at ease when out in the cold.
The recent chaos had left its mark on the city. Cracked cobblestones, shattered windows, and even the occasional pile of rubble dotted the landscape. Now there were whispers of a new crisis at the docks, and Halvar made his way to the water's edge to investigate. It was the noise that alerted him as to the authenticity of the claims before anything else. Despite the wind, the sound of hundreds of hammers and chisels cut through to reach his ears. When Mathew's Bay finally did come into sight, it was almost overwhelming.
By Morwen... Frozen. A large portion of the bay was frozen, and with it most of the ships in Zeltiva. This was bad. Without the large fishing vessels bringing in regular hauls, the city would have to turn to its food stores. Despite the cold, hundreds of workers had flooded onto the frozen bay and struggled to free the ships from their icy prisons, but progress was slow if not impossible.
Moving at a brisk jog, Halvar rapidly closed the distance between himself and the water.
Not water. Ice. Petch! Each step brought with it the risk of slipping on the potentially frosted ground, but the colossal scale of the disaster had pushed such cautions to the back of his mind. He wasn't sure what to do specifically, only that he needed to help. A set of wooden stairs by the quay led to the frozen surface, and Halvar took them two at a time, cursing when he almost lost his balance and had to clutch at the railing to steady himself. Instinctively, he could tell that the ice would easily support his weight, another benefit of his gnosis mark. No longer running, but instead carefully progressing at a steady walk, Halvar moved onto the sheet of ice, casting his head around in search of somewhere he could lend his assistance. Most of the larger vessels already had dozens of men working on them, and any more would likely be redundant.
There! A small row boat was trapped in the water, and a lone man was working alone to try and free it. Halvar closed the distance between them, and called out when he felt he'd be in ear shot. Which, given the wind - which was close to deafening out on the water - would be practically right next to the man.
"Ho! Need a hand?"
I wonder if Morwen will bless us with snow this year, Halvar thought idly as he navigated the cobbled roads. Winter was in full swing, and it was proving to be a fierce one. Halvar thought he could feel his gnosis mark itch beneath the gloves he wore, as if it didn't like being covered. It was a familiar sensation, and one he was quite certain wasn't just a figment of his imagination. With a mental shrug, Halvar pulled his gloves off, tucking them into his belt for safe keeping. As soon as the intricate snowflake was exposed to the chill, a soothing calm washed over the mercenary, and the hints of a smile played at his otherwise stern expression. The mark was a gift from Morwen, god of Winter, and it made Halvar feel completely at ease when out in the cold.
The recent chaos had left its mark on the city. Cracked cobblestones, shattered windows, and even the occasional pile of rubble dotted the landscape. Now there were whispers of a new crisis at the docks, and Halvar made his way to the water's edge to investigate. It was the noise that alerted him as to the authenticity of the claims before anything else. Despite the wind, the sound of hundreds of hammers and chisels cut through to reach his ears. When Mathew's Bay finally did come into sight, it was almost overwhelming.
By Morwen... Frozen. A large portion of the bay was frozen, and with it most of the ships in Zeltiva. This was bad. Without the large fishing vessels bringing in regular hauls, the city would have to turn to its food stores. Despite the cold, hundreds of workers had flooded onto the frozen bay and struggled to free the ships from their icy prisons, but progress was slow if not impossible.
Moving at a brisk jog, Halvar rapidly closed the distance between himself and the water.
Not water. Ice. Petch! Each step brought with it the risk of slipping on the potentially frosted ground, but the colossal scale of the disaster had pushed such cautions to the back of his mind. He wasn't sure what to do specifically, only that he needed to help. A set of wooden stairs by the quay led to the frozen surface, and Halvar took them two at a time, cursing when he almost lost his balance and had to clutch at the railing to steady himself. Instinctively, he could tell that the ice would easily support his weight, another benefit of his gnosis mark. No longer running, but instead carefully progressing at a steady walk, Halvar moved onto the sheet of ice, casting his head around in search of somewhere he could lend his assistance. Most of the larger vessels already had dozens of men working on them, and any more would likely be redundant.
There! A small row boat was trapped in the water, and a lone man was working alone to try and free it. Halvar closed the distance between them, and called out when he felt he'd be in ear shot. Which, given the wind - which was close to deafening out on the water - would be practically right next to the man.
"Ho! Need a hand?"
