Duchess of Snow

Lucky sat at the bar slowly drinking his wine, a shiver ran down his spine and he could see his breathe in the air.

"My lord its cold for spring.” He thought to himself as he got up and built a fire in the Silver Arrows hearth. Who would have thought one would need a fire this late in May.

Sitting back down he glanced about the Arrow, nary a person in it but him. So much had changed over the years. Lucky sat remembering the days when the Arrow would be so filled it was hard to find a seat, when the Ostaur would patrol the outer forest to keep it safe. When there were Fara’s every week. Now monsters came into the Glade frequently since the Ostaur had disappeared, hunts were a rare thing and even when scheduled no one came.

As for the Arrow, cobwebs hung in the door and had to be swept aside to enter. Lucky looked down into his cup to take a drink of wine when to his astonishment he saw a thin layer of slush covering the top. Pulling his cloak tighter around him he waited for the fire in the hearth to heat the building.

Just as the fire started to warm Lucky’s bones he heard a tremendous crash from outside. It sounded much like stones crumbling and grinding.

Lucky leapt to his feet and ran outside slipping on the ice that had formed on the taverns stone cobbles. Frost covered the ground and the grass crunched under Lucky’s feet as he ran towards the water's edge to see if ice had formed on the bay itself. Before Lucky could look out over the bay his eyes took in the site. Blocks of stone crumbled and swept aside as if it were a childs play toy; relics from the past scattered about as pale white humans in furs gathered what they could carry.

A new building in the Glade, an ice white building with a woman standing on the porch covered in furs holding a glacial staff and the Temple destroyed.

“Elves of Tel’Ruid, you have forsaken your precious Glade and now it shall be ours.” she screamed. “Your Temple has fallen as has your faith in yourself and your Gods. This is but the first of many buildings that shall be taken over. From this day on your Glade will not know summer, or spring it will only no the bitterness of Fall and Winter so says the Duchess of Snow.”

Another blast of winter wind swept across the bay and struck Lucky full in the face, terrified he stumbled back to the Arrow.

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