The Hard Times is Jarlsburg's premier source of news (not necessarily truth) and routinely outsells it's competitor, The Cryer.
The march to Fort Kemp was long and arduous, we aren't really an army, merely men and women of the City Watch and Bronze Legionaires. The cold seemed to aggressively attack us each step closer, but there were real Heroes amongst us, so we carried on.
I'd like to recount more of it, but marching, eating and sleeping (if you were lucky) was all I really remember. And fear. Fear that we would be attacked, fear that we wouldn't make it, fear that we would. Marching and fear. That's what I remember most.
Evan as the soldiers lined up on the battlefield and the drummers played and the commanders shouted. Fear was my companion. My lover.
Until the white dragon flew high above us and wiped out legions in a single attack. Fear then became terror and then nothing.
Yes, I saw the Heroes attack the dragon. I saw them fight and die and then I saw the Blizzard King. I literally shite myself. He loomed huge and powerful, a god striding amongst ants. I witnessed him tear the heart of the dragon from its corpse and consume it in one terrible bite. And then the white out occurred as I swear I saw him, it, Him grow to immense proportions.
I'm still not sure how we were saved. One of the Heroes is a pyromancer and his quick thinking enough to protect us from the storm and eventually hurd us into what was left of the Fort's main building.
I pray for my beloved city, for Jarlsburg, but I can't shake the feeling that we are all doomed.
Pathos Gibraltar, Council Reporter
Morning Edition on the 25th Day of Fray in the Second Hundred and Twenty Second Year of Thronehold