THE BLEAKFALL

[tilly 5115]

 

 

THE BLEAKFALL of 152 ARP
 

From the desk of

Lord Mayor

Sorrel Tulpe Auclair
Atstana de

Regne Petrère

152
 

I’ve received word from our friends in the west that winter’s breath will be no gentle frost this year, but a cruel and bitter howl: a cold front rolling in from the snowbound Highlands, where the ice and chill are as constant as the rising sun. The winter front has begun to spread its icy fingers across the Meadowlands, and with it will come a storm — a monstrous squall borne upon grey clouds heavy with dread. They say the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska shivers beneath drifts of snow that reach a grown man’s waist; now, that same fate has turned its gaze upon us, within the bosom of the Heartlands.

The Bleakfall that is upon us, fellow citizens, shall bring snow to the Meadows for the first time since we’ve reached Aevos. This snow will not come in mere dustings or gentle blankets, but in cruel, unrelenting cascades of white, with blizzardous winds strong enough to shake one’s house. The River Petra, our lifeblood, will be ensnared by the deep freeze that arrives with the snow. The Petra River Basin will lie still beneath a sheath of ice, and even the waters stretching north to Lemon Hill have the potential to surrender to winter’s clutch.

Crops that once swayed in the soft breezes of the Meadows will be lost, their stalks stiff and lifeless beneath a crystalline prison. Those vibrant blossoms, the pride of our rolling fields, will be swallowed by the storm, buried beneath feet and feet of snow so thick and dense that it blots out the very memory of the fields. The Meadows, once a canvas of color, will lie stark and pale, a barren expanse where the wind carries the sound of brittle branches snapping under the weight of frost.

Prepare yourselves, my friends. Stow away what provisions you may, for the roads shall be naught but treacherous passages of ice and peril. Firewood shall be dearer than gold, and warmth more precious than coin. Aid your neighbors, for this winter’s wrath will spare no man, woman, or child. The Petra endures — she always has, and she always will — but in times such as these, it is our unity that will see us through the long nights and frozen days. Do not be afraid to call upon your neighbors should you need a warm place to stay, a few logs to feed your fires, or food for your table.

May your hearths burn bright and your spirits brighter. We shall wait out this siege of frost together, and when spring comes to reclaim the Meadows, we shall rise again with it, stronger for having weathered the storm.

In service and solidarity,
 

THE POPULAR, Sorrel Tulpe Auclair, Baron-Consort of Rhénanie, Lord Mayor of Vallagne, Commandant of the Swords of Saint Emma, Ambassador of Fun