City secretary's diary

The 27th of Blathe

We have tried everything. Magic rituals do not work, the gods cannot be moved by sacrifices, nor do the methods of scholars show results. All we have done was for naught. The cold is more and more overwhelming, and snow falls constantly. We no longer know what to do.

The 17th of Feainn

At the mayor's request I went to the mages of Tor Gleavi'ch to ask how to arrest the changes to our climate. Sadly, they, too, are powerless. They claim the frost comes from some opening between the worlds, though I do not know if I understand them properly. One way or another, the snows do not relent.

The 35th of Feainn

It grows worse every day. The mayor has ordered everyone who can to gather in the lighthouse. We are to bring warm clothing, supplies and fuel. He hopes together we will find survival easier. People walk there slowly, bundles of wood scavenged from furniture strapped to their backs. In this weather even a meager fire is sweeter than honey.

The 6th of Lammas

Most who once lived in this city are now dead. The few who might live still cannot be reached - snow has buried every home. Only a few chimneys stick out in the whiteness. We are almost out of fuel and food. I feel that we will not make it much longer.