This is the only bit I've really got for the Ice Age event, but I figured others might have some good stuff. Anyone is welcome to post their own tales.
A single ship emerges from the mist. A tattered sail, still catching the breeze, pushes the ship onward toward the docks. As it approaches, it is clear that is it unmanned. The rigging seems right, but there isn't a soul to be seen on it. It approaches closer and closer, until it rams through an unused dock and runs itself aground.
After some time, a single mustachioed young man climbs down from the beached and broken ship. Seemingly unharmed and unaffected by what has just happened, he sets a leisurely pace towards Azzal. A small audience had arrived to see the devastation, but none ventured near the man.
Some onlookers are close enough to here him talk to himself. "...where in the blasted void am I? Even the illiterates of Outer Tilog could follow a damned map, The ship captain must have been drunk before it happened...".
let me know if it's a problem and I'll take it down, but it seems harmless to add
Roleplay from Jager
For days now dark tidings and portents had been reported by many across the realm, and not only by the usual superstitious old hags.
Omens suggested the height of the darkness was imminent, and now there were stories of a sole passenger mysteriously crashed ashore. “Pile the logs high on the camp fire tonight lads somethin' sinister be afoot,” Jager instructed his troops, “we should have secured this troublesome region again by morning but need to stand ready for anything.”
The knight pondered awhile in front of the growing camp fire. “This strange newcomer has now announced himself? Not quite the scale of what was foretold but send word back and ask him if he is the apocalypse. If he be not, bid him welcome.”
Reaching Azzal he checked the registries of estates and military affairs. Upon errands in the city, he came upon some of the watchers from the coast. They had followed him. Strange, he thought. Increasingly strange, when they offered their lives to him and his quest against the coming. They think I am a messiah...oh, poor devils....
After equipping the most able, he headed off to Massillion to take an estate. Not before replying to his first correspondence:
Dear Jager O'Deathh
I assure you, I am no apocolypse. A beginning, an ending, and the chaos in between, perhaps, but a mere young man set adrift more accurately.
Not being doom manifest, I humbly extend my warmest regards to you and your livestock for your good welcome.
Snow Trolls? Emeric thought, No, no ho ho no, no...maybe. What HAD he seen in the mist? Rending of flesh, the flaying of living meat, sure, but that wasn't new. He could have easily did that to the crew of the ship. He didn't, though...not this time. He had seen great hulking beasts emerging from the waters of the mist, maybe they were snow trolls, but he had seen other things before he had emptied his chest of gold and locked himself in. He had seen ALOT of distressing imagery before, but he had never seen THAT...
Emeric looked away from the scout reports of the north. He was inland now and there were things to do. An estate, some training, paperworkpaperworkpaperwork....but Masimillion was not far off. He wondered how long he could delay returning northward. Aye, a week or so distracting myself at the academy might slip by the general.
Content on thinking of putting off the horror, rather than the horror, he rode on. He knew he would be called, and knew he could not ignore it when ordered to face it. For now, though, he idly thought of how to get a dagger into a person's ribcage from their foot.
