The day for battle had finally arrived.
The town of Stratford lay shrouded in a thick blanket of snow, its rooftops and cobblestone streets buried beneath a layer of white. The air was crisp, cold, and every breath puffed out in a cloud of mist.
The town square, once a place of warmth and laughter, where children played and merchants haggled, had now become a staging ground for battle.
The mercenaries wore heavy furs and leather armor, moving around with grim determination etched on their faces. The Magi wore enchanted robes and wielded artifacts as they checked their spell components.
Mayor Hobbs and the four council members spoke words of encouragement to the people that had gathered. Almost everyone was present, while those that weren't were on their way.
Gore was inside his lodge, practicing a round of mindfulness. There was still about an hour to go before they departed. He wanted to take this time to be in optimal shape.