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It's well past the worst depths of winter, even here on the north edge of the Worldwound- the temperature ekes its way above freezing occasionally, the days are only short and not miserably short, last night's snowstorm wasn't quite a blizzard. It is, nonetheless, fairly surprising when the patrol on their way to Fort #11 spots three figures in the distance trudging towards them from the north.
Osirian Connie meets Blai at the Worldwound
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One of the archers who cleared the field says, "Woo," maybe sarcastically, but that clears the way for more woos and some light applause, not all of which is sarcastic.