118 The Remnants of Chaos

Chilly winds filled the air, while leaden clouds rolled ceaselessly through the sky. A blizzard rampaged across the frozen plain, howling winds whipping the fallen snow into a fog.

Beyond the northern city, upon the slopes of Great Ajax's mountain range, it was a bleak tundra.

Obscured by thick clouds, no sunlight managed to reach this place, so that even out upon the white snow, you couldn't see your own nose right in front of you. Moreover, there was no sound which could be heard above the shrill, whistling gale. In this place, the biting cold and merciless winds crushed the snow into a fine powder. Under such frigid conditions, even magic would be slowed to a halt.

Draughts collided, forming spiraling cyclones of snow, and all of creation was crushed between the whirling ice.