Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-12599067-20141107033353/@comment-12599067-20141111031907

"It's settled, then," Ranwulf nodded. "Let's keep moving. If we're lucky, we can make a bit more progress before the snow starts coming down."

And with that, the group was moving once again, although Veranwen still seemed pretty hesitant about travelling onward. She voiced this through an arched eyebrow and a look of dubious protest, but Ranwulf either didn't catch it or chose to ignore it and led the group onwards. Veranwen slumped her shoulders in a silent sigh but followed after him, once again taking up the job of helping the group travel up the mountain.

Only moments after the group continued their trek, the storm began to pick up. The freezing winter winds blew with the force of a hurricane, picking up snow and hurling it at the group in small whirlwinds of frost. The lack of trees did not do anything to shelter them from the howling gusts, and it was clear that the trek up was going to be miserable. Still, Ranwulf continued to whistle to himself over the storm, as if not he didn't have a care in the world.

As the path became less steep as they neared the Pale Pass, the storm grew to it's strongest. Now it was nothing short of a blizzard. The winds were so fierce that it occasionally threatened to knock the mercenaries over, and roared so fiercely that Ranwulf's whistling was lost in the howling wind. The snow fell like a white curtain over the mountain path, obscuring their vision. Veranwen conjured up a ball of magelight to help them see, but it didn't do much. They still couldn't see more than thirty feet in any direction. It would have been the perfect place for an ambush. A more imaginative mind might imagine hearing hounds baying over the whirlwind, but since they could neither hear nor see any foes approaching, they could do nothing more than continue trekking onwards like blind men.