OPEN | Blood And Ice

[northcliffpass]

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

The story of why gets twisted and distorted between its departure from the Crags and its arrival in Northcliff Pass, but the town criers maintain consistency on a few points: Althea of House Jessamy, Duchess of Black Rock, has at last thrown down the gauntlet against the Duke of Cliffside, and has called on her vassals to rally their bannermen. It seems there will be war within the borders of Maireglenne for the first time in a hundred years.

Given the state of the roads leading through the pass, it is understandable that the news is a few weeks’ stale by the time armed soldiers sporting Duke Galein’s colours march (or gallop, if they are astride a horse) past the village walls and garrison themselves on the festival grounds. Anyone objecting to this new arrangement is encouraged by the soldiers to bring their objections to the garrison commander (who, rumor has it, personally oversees the flogging of objectors himself).

Like it or not, the regiment is here to stay, at least until they receive orders instructing them otherwise. On the bright side, the soldiers did the hard work of clearing the pass for the season; travel between Northcliff Pass and the city of Cliffside just got a heck of a lot easier this winter.

II. Cold Snap

And it’s highly likely that those orders will be as delayed as the news, for the regiment has hardly been within the city walls a week before the temperatures plunge to dangerous lows. This is not the seasonal frigidity accompanied by blustery blizzards that encourage snowball fights and a bit of ice fishing down by Sands Creek, but a cold so biting and bitter that any prolonged period spent outside in it runs the very real risk of hypothermia and death. This is the kind of cold that leaves the air clean and clear, with nothing to impede the watery white light of the sun for the few hours it spends above the horizon each day before setting again; it cuts the lungs when inhaled and bites straight through to the bone. Many of the village’s poor are brought within the sturdy walls of the Town Hall and the chapel, because the alternative is finding them frozen solid in the streets.

The silver lining to this development is bare indeed; avoiding the cold means that, for a time at least, the village residents and soldiers are too preoccupied hunkering down to endure the cold to be at cross purposes.

III. A Howl in the Night

On the third night of the deep freeze, an animal’s piercing howl shatters the oppressive silence that has settled over the village.

It’s not a wolf’s howl; it is far too shrill and keening, and comes from a great distance away, that much is clear. The few villagers brave enough to risk exposure to the cold will find nothing of immediate danger within the city walls--but should they lift their eyes and look to the gossamer clouds near the summit of Gods’ Reach, they will glimpse the dark silhouette of a massive winged beast circling the mountaintop in search of a safe place to roost.

Comments

[infinitewatch]

Lance, a devoted attendee of the evening service, has his eye fixed on the troublemaker from a few feet away, with an air about him like a collie watching a sheep, waiting for it to stray so he can dart forward and snap at it.
No violence has broken out yet, nor does it seem that it's going to, but Lance is here if it does-- and he meets eyes with the vicar, with a little nod. Just say the word.

[mysteriumtremendum]

"Which gods?" snaps the troublemaker, who has not yet moved from the foot of the stairs (and who is oblivious to Lance's presence). "The way I hear it, you Northerners have your pick of gods up there, don't you? So how do I know you're not bringing that heresy down here?" Now he places one foot on the first step, grasping the wooden railing.

The vicar remains very still, but he lifts his eyes to look beyond the soldier's head. He meets Lance's gaze. "Captain," he greets, just loud enough to make it clear that yes, this is the word.

[infinitewatch]

Stepping into motion, Lance approaches the troublemaker and claps him on the shoulder with one gloved hand.
"Time to be on your way," he says in a low voice, giving him a chance to disengage of his own volition before any force is used.

[mysteriumtremendum]

The soldier starts like a spooked fox when Lance claps a hand on his shoulder, revealing himself to more a boy than a man, and being faced down by someone else in a uniform seems to put him in his place. His hackles go down, but he won't make his departure without getting one last barb in.

"Let the Earth swallow this whole wretched village," he snaps, shrugs Lance's hand off his shoulder, and storms out of the chapel.

Once he is gone, Adhemar steps down from the pulpit and approaches the guard captain. "Thank you," he says mildly, though his eyes are on the handful of the soldier's fellows as they stalk out after their compatriot. "Though I expect there will be more difficulties of that nature in the coming days."

[infinitewatch]

Lance lifts his hand with pursed lips as the soldier makes his way out, then looks up at the vicar and sighs out through his nose.

"I expect you're right," he murmurs, with an undertone of Fucking Soldiers, and glares at the departing group. "We'll try to keep on top of it."