As you make your way through the city square heading toward the main entrance you are having to weave through crowds of panicked citizens who are frantically hurrying to their homes for shelter. The Vassal has called for all gates to be barred and all draftees to report to their commanding officers. Words pass by quickly as you slip through the mobs but you are able to gather that a scout has finally made it back, but hardly with his life. People mention frozen blight and death heading toward Lannereth. You begin to realize that you are no longer fighting the masses but it hasn’t become any easier to move forward. It feels as though there is an unseen force pressing firmly on your chest. As you make your way up the steps the weight of your legs seem unbearable. From the bastion you can make out the fear, like the rustling of Autumn leaves in the wind. In the distance you catch a cool blue glow sauntering slowly over the bluff. As the formation makes it’s way over the open farmland, you begin to make out bulky figures swaying melodically. Many of the fledglings have begun to shirk their responsibilities and crawl back into the corners. It is now apparent that tragedy is about to strike hard into the land of Amadar, and you seem to have found yourself in the epicenter.