Fat snowflakes akin to shredded paper fell from the slate grey sky onto the tiny village. Settled deep within the Kilanthro Mountains though within Connlaothan borders, this tiny village had become the safe haven for mages fleeing the mainlands of the Kingdom to rally in hopes they would one day push back in the Northern Duchies. But to no avail. So in the unhospitable wastes of the deep Kilanthro mountains, this village served as a stronghold for rebellious magic-users of a rebellious calibre.
Just above the village lay a flat ridge where the Connlaothan forces laid camp, far enough away to easily spot any who wished to approach, close enough to stop any who wished to flee with sheer force. The canvas tents flapped noisily in the wind as bonfires and torches filled the air with hazy smoke. Soldiers hunkered down as they awaited orders, chewing on tobacco, hard tack or whatever kept their mouths working.
The largest canvas tent was settled in the midst of the fabric town, the walls bending inward with each wintery blast of wind. Nonetheless, the inside remained relatively warm as flames' orange glow kept it alight- a small map of the sprawling layout of the village settled neatly on the middle of a table. This would serve as the group's so called war room until the end of this minor siege.
Major Kilandre gazed down at the map thoughtfully, the thick leathery cloak pulled tightly about her shoulders. Her gaze flickered upward as the tent briefly opened, a cheeky puff of freeing air briefly shifting the items within the 'room' before it settles again," Confessor Mercuxio Rastognlir, Lieutenant Aven Alveron; welcome to the Northern front, I hope you both arrived relatively comfortably." she tilts her head in greeting, keeping up formal face for both though a warm smile curls her lips," I trust you both know the situation, unless you would prefer me to fill you both in?"