The sun had not been seen for days, and for days they had waited with baited breath. The winter winds from the dread mountains to the east had come early, and soon after them came the tales. By the time the deep and dark and unnatural clouds had rolled into Austr, they had heard all the stories from the fleeing small folk. They knew what was coming for them, but could do nothing but wait. The storms that came with blinding snow made it so they could not leave. So they waited in the bleak darkness for the great horrors from the mountains, a horror they could not stop as they were only a tiny town, and much greater towns had fallen before them. All of their men were gone on the king’s orders, to defend against the raids of Jötunheim. To fight against men, when monsters were pouring from the mighty peaks of the Andlàtbergs. They were alone, defenseless, and trapped.
Still, the few men that were left did what they could to fortify their town. Some of them attempted to dig an escape path into the woods for whoever could make it out, but the attempt was futile. The snow fell so heavily that any progress they made was covered over within minutes. Eventually, once they had done what they could or given up on shoveling snow, they settled down to wait, for there was nothing else to do.
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