To Stand Before Onrushing Night
Twentieth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
With the snow comes the cold that can bite even through the wardings laid upon you, and the
night also. Like some great claw reaching out from the north, the mass of clouds sends streamers before it moving in ways that to your eye no longer seem quite natural. Where the cloud lay there, darkness spread upon the earth and the sounds of the forest stilled as the beasts and the birds of the wild knew with some wisdom older than thought that more than the cold and the dark came.
If ever you might have doubted Soft Strider's wisdom those doubts are dispelled in the dash through the trees for high ground, for shelter. A long low hill raises its pale head above the green of the forest before you, perhaps one of the hiding places of the Children in days gone by, or merely a lonely peak worn almost to nothing by snow and wind, but it matters little now.
By words now grown familiar you scour the underbrush from one face of the stone down to the granite polished by the firelight... then another spell to put out the flames in curtains of oily black smoke that rise into the heavens like a banner answering a challenge. In mere moments the smoke is lost, carried upon the cold wind and Dany reaches to the stone, hands glowing with soft yellow light.
At her touch the hillside ripples like water and parts, revealing a rounded chamber more than large enough to fit the whole of your company, if not comfortably then at least well enough to last out a battle. The stone hollowed out from the hill flows in part into a simple half-circle wall around the entrance and the other into a door meant to fit the entrance perfectly as no working shaped by tools might. At last she presses into the stone a handful of small air holes. "It's not perfect, those should be hidden on top," she admits.
"There is no time for perfect," you say, eyes still on the approaching snow laden clouds and the darkness beneath them. "We have to fly!"
"We could also wait for whatever it is to show itself, your grace," Ser Richard says, Oathkeeper already burning greedily in his hand in anticipation of the coming battle.
"Can't we wait it out?" your mother calls, without much hope.
"We can't out-wait the winter, nor its servants mother," Dany says, offering a rushed peck on the cheek. "Get in cover, this will be over quickly."
"I can't..." she cuts herself off. "Be safe and come back!" Half desperate plea and half an order.
What do you do?
[] Fly out and face the foe
-[] Write in plan
[] Wait for the foe to show itself
-[] Write in plan
[] Write in
OOC: Remember, Dany can dream-cast Fly to get Ser Richard in the air.
