The Northern Lands border, an uninhabited wilderness.
The sky was as black as ink, and snow swirled in the raging Gale. The frigid air, thick with fine, powdery snow, shrouded most of the world in a fog.
The blizzard obscured all vision. In this brutally cold season, not even the most adventurous Explorer would dare to venture far. The sub-thirty-degree temperatures and snowdrifts over sixty centimeters deep were enough to make travel nearly impossible for anyone.
But in the heart of the wilderness, at the very center of the storm, a dozen or so warriors in Power Armor stood against the blizzard, heavy machine guns in hand. They were guarding several robed scholars and a lavishly dressed middle-aged man enveloped in Magic Fluorescence.
Whether warriors, scholars, or the nobleman-like middle-aged man, all had runes for protection against wind and cold shimmering on their bodies. The breath they exhaled condensed into plumes of mist.
