Rain. Rain. And More Rain.
The last five days have been nothing but rain. Everything you own is soaking wet. Cold and wrinkled your feet slosh through mud and water numb to the chill that's crept now into your bones. The pale flickering torches of Nivakta's Crossing are a welcome sight up ahead.
The southernmost village in Rostland, Nivakta's Crossing, is an alert town of tradesmen, hunters, fishermen, ranchers and trappers. The village itself is surrounded by a wooden palisade and is set on the northeastern bank of the Shrike River. A low bridge allows access over the river here to the wilderness to the south'€"the southwestern side of the bridge being fortified by well-manned guard towers. The people of Nivakta's Crossing are notoriously sturdy, down to earth, and possess stunted senses of humor. Serious to a fault, they are somewhat suspicious of visitors from what they call 'œthe South,' but you hope they are willing to take your coins -- for you need a warm inn desperately.
Three groups converge on the bridge that spans the River Shrike. The river itself is swollen to the brim with the rain. The muddy banks are leaking overflow in patches making small marshy terrains along the way dotting the river for miles in either directions. The water itself is freezing, late spring thaws from the Nomen Mountains to the east are filling the banks with the icy water. With the clouds overhead even during the day the area is dark and gloomy.
From the south come three shrouded figures trying to keep warm, having given up on staying dry days ago. Returning after helping move some cattle from one farmstead to another near Varnhold in the far south.
From the west two others are moving toward the town, they two attempt to remain warm and dry, even though its pointless to attempt it. The figures are on the move heading more away from where they've come, than heading toward anything.
A third group rolls in a covered carriage from the right. The bulk of the carriage is plain to see as it nears and arrives at the bridge first. The wagon has soaking wet fringe hanging off the rim of the roof. The coachman driving the two horses is as soaked as everyone else out in this weather today. The horses snort hot breath out of their noses into the cold wet air.