He was not remotely dressed for that and the first thing he does is put his mace away and drop his pack to pull his coat out of the bottom of it. It's very convenient that he didn't leave it behind at the fort - it's tailored, and not magical enough to retailor itself, so he planned to keep it for future winters. He didn't think any part of the Wound contained a sea but maybe there's somebody throwing around Tsunamis. He thought the archmages were done with the Worldwound now but possibly one of them was bored or something.

Once he has his coat on, and his hat, and his gloves, and his scarf, he puts his bag back on and hikes for the ?fort?.

It's a weird fort made of titanic round pieces of metal. He can see figures walking around near the base, some with flickering lights.

About a mile out a pair of people covered in ragged furs emerge from snowbanks on either side of him, sixty feet away in perfect ambush position. One has a longbow and one has something else they're holding like a crossbow. They're not actively aiming at him, though. They shout some kind of demand or question.

He holds up his hands. "I belong to a signatory to the Worldwound treaty!" he calls in Common Taldane.

That sure doesn't sound comprehensible. But the gesture is a reassuring sign.

Guy has a nice coat, and a metal club for some reason? Sure.

They shout at each other to confer, then the longbow wielder puts the weapon on their back and approaches, also hands up. From close up it looks like this person might be a woman.

She tries, haltingly, French, and something that she thinks might be Nordic? All she knows of it is 'Hej, vill ha kött'...

She scowls and sketches in the snow. Stick figure with mace, stick figures with bows. Stick figures all near the ?fort? around a fire with some kind of animal over it and the weapons off to the side. She makes encouraging gestures at it.

Stick figure with mace leaving the fort with a bunch of round things: She slashes the sketch out vigorously. Stick figure with mace ?attacking? other stick figures, same thing. She also does a sketch of a stick figure with mace being riddled with arrows. For emphasis.

...nod nod.

Glad that's agreed, then. They can all walk the rest of the way there.

They climb a long-packed snowbank and shout conversations with some of the lookouts on the upper level, then fight with a squealing metal hatch encrusted with ice, eventually managing to lever it open. It's a good bit warmer inside, especially once you're away from the entrance. Most of the hatches seem to be rusted shut. Something is rattling and echoing through the structure, and around half the lights strung along the ceiling are flickering or dead.

Then they come to a large hall set up as a kitchen and dining area. There's maybe twenty people here right now. They look worn and gaunt, moreso than even most peasants do.

He has a Create Food and Water prepared. It's a nice spell to drop a casting of on a farmhouse when you're traveling and want a place to spend the night; you give them all dinner, in the morning they invite all their neighbors over for breakfast and polish off the leftovers, you take a chicken leg and a bread roll on the road for lunch.

Blai's castings are technically only rated for fifteen people, not this many, but enough food for fifteen people for a whole day can be enough food for a larger number at just one meal.

He picks out an empty table, marches up to it, makes sure it's not obviously covered in something food-unsafe, and Creates. His go-to when there aren't plates is bread bowls full of chicken and vegetable stew, cheese in wheels, apples and oranges with their peels on, and hardboiled eggs; you can't get too fancy with it and everything needs salt, but this, his spell can just do. The "and Drink" he omits, usually, because it's just water, and he can do that separately. Sometimes you can squeeze an extra piece of fruit out of it like that.

Is that an APPLE????? This generates Some Excitement. Everyone is rather talking at once. Several duck out of side passages, and several more show up, attracted by the commotion.

Longbow Lady shouts over the crowd and gestures people away from crowding Blai. NotCrossbow Man gestures at the food and then fails to articulate whatever is confusing about it in gesture form.

Blai steps back from the food; he's been eating fine and these people do not appear to have been doing so and he's supposed to be good now. They can all have it; he does his best to gesture invitingly.

The fruit is the object of most interest; They very carefully segment it up into small pieces and distribute them. A bunch goes out of the room, presumably to people doing something elsewhere. They fish the vegetables out of the stew and give them the same treatment. The rest is treated less carefully and more covetously.

Someone gives him a bowl of Meat Slices and a slate board and a piece of chalk and a pack of playing cards. Someone else keeps trying to ask where the food came from.

Okay, go heavy on the fruits and vegetables next time, apparently. He bows politely over the bowl of Meat Slices and tries one. He can't really help the person with the question about the food.

It's Meat. That's about all that can be said for it.

He's not picky. Worldwound food is mostly porridge and beef and whatever he makes, and he hasn't been able to cast the spell all that long.

Longbow lady shoves the one confused by the food out of the way and starts trying to teach him English via mime and drawing on the slate. The food is disappearing very quickly, and more people keep coming to the hall. It's crowded. Maybe fifty all told, counting the kids and elders.

He is planning to obviate the not-speaking-English problem by magic in the morning but it would certainly be good to know basics like numbers and "yes" and "no".

Five of the people here have what might be holy symbols. An amulet depicting... A tower with an eye at the bottom? They seem like a bit of a clique, slightly separate from the rest of the community. Two of them are playing chess with each other!

Ooh, chess. He should not look longingly at the chess at the expense of his language lesson. Tower with an eye... he doesn't recognize that, maybe an Arodenite saint with a cult following, given the eye? ...He pulls his Iomedae symbol out of his coat. It is made of a dagger he bought from a passing halfling adventurer because it was the right size and some wire he got out of a miscellaneous supply chest. He was planning to see if he could get a proper one in Westcrown, but it should be recognizable enough.

People seem to assume it's a holy symbol, but they don't recognize it.

The mood is festive. Someone starts playing some kind of improvised string instrument. His translator manages to mime that they use playing cards as currency, like the deck he's been given.

The chess game ends. Black wins... Fairly easily, it looks like. Which might be why white waves off a second game.

These cards are a strange choice of currency but at least they are not backed by the souls of the damned, he's not allowed to trade in the souls of the damned.

Is his tutor done with him can he go play there are clearly more important things happening here, wherever here is, than the chessboard.

His translator seems to be trying to ask where he's from and whether that place would trade for meat.

...if he sketches a very bad map of Avistan complete with crosshatched Worldwound, do they recognize that at all?

They bring it to one of the oldest people here. He talks about it for a while- The Inner Sea looks vaguely right, but the rest of it is off in a lot of ways.

They shake their heads. Someone digs through old files and eventually (after a few minutes) comes up with a raggedy old oiled canvas naval chart showing England, the Baltics, and the North Sea. They ignore the fine, detailed charts on the front and show a more recent sketch on the back. There's landmarks sketched in grease pen, and outlines of bad terrain and viable trails. This one is even less recognizable.

Ah. He is on a different planet. Or this is a close-up map of some detail of a continent he's not very familiar with, is there a sense of scale?

It looks like the first chart is probably a few hundred or a thousand miles across. The one on the back is pretty clearly smaller scale, he can make out these peoples' home and the mountains and sea he saw are a decent distance away.

So much for the 'Worldwound' hypothesis. This is probably another planet.

Via mime it is demonstrated that these three communities (forest, hanging rock, lake) that they used to trade with are gone.

Well, that's... bad... what about any farther-off communities?

"New London", "Winterhome", "Frostcrown", "Broken Inlet", "New Sheffield". Each with a vague gesture towards a blank part of the map. There's probably some out there, but it's too dangerous to go exploring far, especially with their gear breaking down over time.

One of the five with the symbols comes over at the mention of "New London". They're from there, apparently! He starts talking up about how great the place is (it's mostly not very comprehensible, unfortunately). The holy symbol gets held up and referenced a lot. The rest of the survivors seem annoyed and resigned to it.

...will they by any chance hand him a broken object?

....Sure? Here's a bow with a crack down the wood.

"Mending."

WHAT. HOW.

The New London crowd think this calls for a group prayer. Someone else points him at a burnt out lightbulb on the wall.

He doesn't even know what that is but he can cast Mending on it!

It starts emitting light.

Wow. Uh. 

Here's more broken things? Rusty tools, torn clothes, lanterns with broken glass...

He can't actually do much about rust, but if they got rusty because they were broken in some other way and then not maintained he can fix the original problem so people can de-rust them the long way. The others are all yes-es unless there's missing parts.

What about- He is shuffled to a workshop- This very fiddly bladed fan sort of jig with a hairline crack right down the middle? The way they treat it, it seems like critical infrastructure of some sort.

Longbow Lady, among others, watch with intense anticipation.

Mending!

Joy and celebration!

A team of four takes the thing down to another room full of large metal things and starts carefully installing it in a large metal thing.

It takes a few minutes, but they carefully nurse the controls along until the metal thing is rumbling steadily. It sounds a lot healthier than the groaning clanking of the other one- Which is promptly shut down after some consultation of steam gauges. It leaks sticky black oil over the floor as it shudders to a stop.

Huzzah! They're not all going to freeze to death! Oop, they're breaking out the booze.

Not his thing. Anything else he should spend ten minutes chanting over?

They weren't quite prepared for a sudden repair miracle. They don't have critical broken infrastructure already lined up. There's a couple more big objects- Motors and pumps, mostly- But people proffer heat lamps, torn packs, weapons, that sort of thing.

Sun's going down, eventually.

He should maybe figure out where he should sleep before it's dark, though the mended light globe is helpful.

There are lightbulbs here and there; Most are broken.

He can have his pick of rooms in the warm part of the hulk, once they understand what he's going for. Some of them may even have been properly originally designed as bedrooms, with metal bed frames built into the wall. Small and private, large and shared with plenty of blankets, or Longbow Lady's room offered with a wink.

Oh dear. He'll take small and private.

The room is warm. A buzzing steel radiator sees to that. He's undisturbed overnight.

The radiator is neat!

He dispenses with the armor and the padding, adds his coat to the pile of blankets just in case the radiator is going to need mending in the middle of the night, and sleeps there.

They apparently have a wakeup horn. Just before dawn, it BLAAAAARs out, boneshakingly loud, for about five seconds.

The only reason you would have something that would wake up your wizards like that would be if it were a DIRE EMERGENCY. He leaps up and gets the armor on as fast as possible and charges out with his mace drawn.

...They don't seem to be having an emergency? People are queueing up for the bathroom in the hallways and rubbing sleep out of their eyes perfectly calmly and are kind of alarmed at how he's alarmed, now.

There isn't an emergency?

Maybe if you don't have wizards - oh, yeah, they probably don't have wizards or Mending wouldn't be so exciting - maybe then you make hideous noises like that before dawn for non-emergency reasons?

Well, dawn does appear to be about to break, outside the occasional frosty window. The orange of twilight is spreading across the plains of white.

Someone who seemed in charge at dinner yesterday heads over to him and stands attentively, a questioning look on his face.

He shakes his head and goes back in his room and drops the mace and prays.

The community bustles into action beyond him. There is the clatter of feet in the hall, eventually petering out.

When he emerges, the hallway contains an eight-or-so year old spinning cloth. They stand and say 'good morning sir food's this way!' and dash towards the dining hall, waving.

Which he can understand, since he has prepared and cast Comprehend Languages! He goes foodward. He's got another Create Food and Water in him. And you can get really quite a lot of fruit and vegetables out of it, if you lean hard in that direction, since it's limited by calorie count and not by volume. Though first he should check if they have anything of their own, like if a shipment that had been delayed got in overnight or something.

There's about fifteen people in here, most of them cleaning up. Looks like most people already ate breakfast. They are in a pretty good mood overall.

"I swear, Bran is just not going to believe it at all- I wonder if Mister Miracle will stick around."

The other one snorts. "You saw June yesterday. She certainly wants to stick something."

"June is June. It's not like any of her other prospects are very good, now are they?"

"S'pose so... Anyway, this isn't anything solved for good, mind. I'd hardly believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but there's still plenty that can go wrong. We don't even know when the next storm will be."

"Well, make the best of every day, that's what we'll do. Just think, there's a few old cores- We might be able to get the pumpjack going again, maybe even build a hothouse."

"Or build some kind of expedition vehicle."

"Or that, yeah. Make contact with New London, see if they're still around... They must be, right?"

"We'll only manage that if those New London brats are actually worth anything. Eating our food, burning our fuel..."

"Come off it. They know their stuff," someone not involved in the back-and-forth comments. "Kevin's teaching your kid math, isn't he?"

"-And it's not like the rest of us are helpless- Oh, there's the man of the hour. I'll go fetch more seal for him."

A young-ish man stands and greets Blai. "Hello! Welcome again to our humble home. I'm supposed to teach you English since I've got a limp and can't hunt anymore. Not that I know where to start. But maybe you can fix my prosthetic, eh?"

"Max, you're going about it all wrong! Small words! Sketching!"

"Prosthetic?" Blai inquires.

He looks startled. He taps the opposite arm, one that hasn't been doing much. It thunks. He pulls back his sleeve- It's metal, with a grabby claw at the end.

"Prosthetic. Broken, it doesn't grip anymore. But I'm used to the weight." Shrug.

Blai nods and beckons him over to sit down so he can start Mending it.

The boy is very excited and will babble mostly aimlessly during the chant, unless it seems like he should shut up. Someone puts a big bowl of Meat in front of Blai. The cleanup crew finishes cleaning up.

None of this distracts him from Mending the arm. There, now it's all done! He breakfasts upon Meat.

One of the women cleaning gives Max some basic tips on how to teach properly and hands him a slate and chalk and rag, before running off. Max doesn't interrupt his eating. Instead, he marvels over the working prosthetic, grinning and awkwardly practicing with it- He has to wind it up by leaning on it repeatedly, first.

Okay, Max appears to be his designated person to talk to. He gets the Share Language. Boop.

Max jumps up and scrambles away, cursing in mixed languages.

"I apologize for startling you!"

"How many miracles do you have in your pocket, man???"

"New ones every day, or I would have done this last night."

"Where do they come from? Is it the power of evolution*, or deliverance from God, or- Some kind of technological marvel from before the frost?"

*He uses a loanword from English for this.

"I'm a cleric of Iomedae, goddess of defeating Evil, and my spells are from Her."

"Huh. Not much evil around here unless blizzards are evil."

"They usually aren't, no, but my spells work even in situations not of particularly high-level interest to Her overarching goals."

"Those blokes from New London seem to think their precious Generator is a god, sometimes. Or maybe the Captain. It's not super clear to me. Uh... Well, we certainly appreciate not freezing to death because the oil pump that was on its last legs is fixed now. Thanks for that."

"You're welcome. I can mend more things today, and have also prepared Comprehend Languages so I can understand people besides you for a while, though you're the only person who will be able to understand me today."

"They were talking about assembling everything in a long line for you to look at, so that's probably what everyone else is off doing. Maybe planning out things to put back into service, but there's only eighty-seven of us. Even if a bunch of this broken junk was fixed, we wouldn't even be able to use it all. Also, everyone's wondering what you'll want to be paid with. It's not like we've never heard of charity, but it's scarce when desperation rises."

"Shelter will cover it. I have no way to get home right now and nowhere else to stay but here."

"That's not really fair recompense for fixing all our stuff and creating a bunch of food from thin air."

He looks around at the various entrances to the room to check that nobody's there.

"Personally, I think life in this old wreck is a dead end. There's other people out there, somewhere... Maybe, hopefully, a lot more of them. It might be better to go find them. Anyway... A 'cleric'? Do you think someone else could become one of those?"

"...maybe, but they would start out less powerful than me, and would have to align well with the god in question. It probably wouldn't be Iomedae. She is having a busy year."

"I think the Bible had a lot of things like... Feed the poor, treat your neighbor as you wish to be treated, be kind even when it's hard, revenge is bad. There was a bunch of things about God dying to save everyone from Hell... Maybe Grandma Eb still has one, if anyone would she would."

"...there are several dead gods, so if I'm meant to recognize this one you might need to be more specific."

"Grandma Eb was pretty insistent there was only the one. Yahweh, I think? Probably she's just wrong. The world before the frost sounds like it was a pretty crazy place."

"It used to be warmer in this part of your world?"

"Yeah. Used to be liquid oceans and green fields. Then one year had a really long 'winter'," he pronounces it like a foreign word, "And they panicked and built a lot of things like our beautiful dreadnought friend for shelter," He kicks the floor, "And next year 'winter' just never ended. I was born after all that."

"Do you know if it's like that across the whole planet?"

"I don't know. It's pretty dangerous to travel even a hundred miles, and the planet is a lot bigger than that."

"There wasn't communication or travel over longer distances at the time...?"

"Some of the older folks might know. My education has mostly been on hunting and survival, and then I got my arm crushed like an idiot, so I'm just thankful there's enough cleaning and maintenance to do that I can justify what I eat, still."

"I'm not powerful enough to restore your arm, unfortunately."

"My parents and my sister and her daughter aren't gonna die, probably, that's a win."

"I can only do the food thing once a day."

"The broken pump was actually a much more urgent issue than vitamin deficiency. Uh, we'd like as much citrus and vegetables as you can get out of it, instead of cheese and bread. Much as some of the old folk were moved to tears by cheese and bread."

"Yes, I can steer it toward fruits and vegetables. What does the pump do?"

"It takes oil stored in this giant tank at the bottom of the cliff and pushes it into a furnace. The furnace keeps us all warm and powers the lights and so on."

"So it fills something like an oil lamp? How much oil is there?"

"A bit like that, but much bigger. About forty five thousand tons left down there, we measure it occasionally. And there's more old oil cars wrecked across the plain. Whoever built this thing built it huge. Plenty for now."

"Oil cars?"

"This whole giant thing used to move! They would dig up oil from the ground, and then store it in huge steel tanks and carry it where they needed it to go. There were probably dozens of them all strung out behind the big puller at the front. That was the idea, I'm pretty sure, anyway. Now the dreadnought is a wreck and only parts of it are still good for anything."

"That's amazing." Downright Azlanti. Probably worth the god dying and causing an apocalypse if it saves everyone from Hell?

"I want to see New London's Generator some day. It's the same kind of thing, apparently. A huge tower that heats a city and powers all sorts of machines."

"It sounds wondrous."

"Yeah. It's nice to think that people can still build things instead of just hunting and living in old wrecks."

"What is there to hunt?"

"Seals. There's a lot of them at a place about... I think forty miles from here, far side of the mountain ridge. They can get through the ice to whatever lives underwater, apparently. We've been careful not to overhunt."

"Is that all you eat normally?"

"There's a few things you can forage, plants hardy enough to survive in caves and stuff, but it's a problem. Thus the vegetables and fruits."

"Understood. I can do that any time today, whenever would be best."

"I think they expected me to be, erm, not able to really talk to you all day and now that you can maybe we should go find where everyone's got to."

"Do you have other things you need to do? Would my help be useful?"

"-You could fix the loom, and the punch press, and the lathe. I bet that's what they're all off arranging honestly. There's quite a backlog of broken tools. If you fix them all even once before leaving to - do more good elsewhere or whatever, we're still in a better spot. Let's go to the workshop floor?"

"I don't have a way to get to my planet from here. I'm not powerful enough to cast Plane Shift." He follows to the workshop.

"I meant, in New London or somewhere."

The workshop is down a flight of stairs and through some halls. It's a huge place but a huge mess, with random piles of scrap and broken things. There are a dozen people cleaning and arranging things.

"Hello, everyone! Mr- I never got your name. Our guest has more magic now, including for talking. So I'd thought to bring him here."

"I'm Select Blai Artigas. Is there something I can get started on here?"

"He says he is Select Blai Artigas. I think 'Select' is instead of 'Mister'."

"Well, if you're volunteering," one of them says. He oversaw the pump work last night. "We weren't sure how long your patience would last or the precise limits of it so we are in the middle of inventorying. There's also search parties going into the abandoned sections. Maybe we should chat about what's next for a bit before you get to work, Select."

He points. There is a large box with gears sticking out on a workbench. "Mechanical tabulator, 's meant to work with the pumps and furnace and give us a readout where the heat is going. And control them, too. There's a lot of old leaks and we're not sure what's broken, if we're to open up old sections again in a reasonable amount of time it'll come handy."

He points to a stack of cylindrical things. "Those are all steam motors. Figure we can build carriages with them- Sleds, probably. Be a challenge, but with some of the other workshop tools repaired we could do it, and then explore, and get the hell out of here if we find a better place to be. So one set of priorities if we're keeping the wreck, and a different one if we're doing something else, see?"

"I don't know what your priorities here should be. I can cast Mending an unlimited number of times, though, it just takes ten minutes each time."

Max translates again.

"That's handy. As many hours of waking you have and however long your patience lasts, at any rate... We need a village meeting, but we can't do that because fully a third of us are away on a hunt and not expected to return for several days."

"Understood."

"Well, if you're keen to fix things instead of talking, start with this." He points to a thing. "And thank you, again."

"It's no trouble." He likes Mending things. He starts Mending the thing.

"Are you distractible while you're doing that? If you are better to ask at the start than the end. How quiet do we need to be?"

He smiles slightly and glances over but continues chanting uninterrupted.

They'll get back to work cleaning out the workshop, then.

After ten minutes his chant is up. "I need to keep doing that while I'm doing it or I have to start over," he says, "but I can concentrate on a spell through most things that don't leave me convinced that I should drop it."

"Aha. So would lectures while you do it be a good plan?"

"It's kind of hard to hear them over the chanting but it's worth a try if you don't mind repeating parts afterward."

"We specialize and optimize. It's fine. Too many cooks in the kitchen over there anyway. Any particular subject preference?"

"With everything mended what facilities will this place have?"

"Hrm... Let's see... Cabins and facilities for five hundred or so, easy. Maybe up to a thousand. There's less than a hundred of us but we can spread out more or take in strays. More pumps for the oil car down in the valley, and better heat and light inside the wreck. Cargo elevators for getting things up and down easier. This workshop and another, bigger one- This one's more of a place to develop new things, the tools that make tools. The other one made lots of standardized parts, lamps by the dozen and the like. We might be able to get the old onboard hothouse going again, and use night soil and skins and entrails to grow things. It won't sustain us by itself but it'll help. Steam and electrical power throughout the structure, for adding more tools if we can work out how to make them. Oh, the old infirmary- Well, it's not much use without a doctor. And there's still some sawmill and oil pumping equipment on board, a couple hundred old standardized prefabricated structures deep in the structure. Could build a lot of different things with those if we get them out and get the tools working."

"I can heal, though I don't know if the infirmary is laid out for that to be at its most efficient."

"It's a large barracks-style room with two dozen beds, each with machines to help people breathe or drip-feed them drugs or what have you. I'm no doctor."

"My most efficient healing option is a thirty foot burst. It's possible to build a room to allow quite a lot of people to be within thirty feet of me."

One of the New Londoners has been listening in and speaks up.

"I can definitely imagine the Captain building something like that. A sphere? Multiple levels, trams and walkways. There were always a few dozen injuries at a time- Frostbite, generally, but just as often being mangled by a machine or taking a nasty fall or stepping on broken glass or the like."

"I can do the burst twice a day, and substitute any spell I prepare for a commensurate amount of healing."

"There aren't enough of us here to make full use of that. We should try to get you to New London!"

"What, and leave us all here to the frost?"

"I'm sure New London would be happy to send aid out in return."

"Goons with truncheons and guns, more like. New London would be the death of us, mark my words. We shouldn't have anything to do with them."

"Gentlemen-"

"That's baseless fear-mongering! The city is prosperous, warm and industrious, and the Captain is a good man!"

"You're not listening to a word I say, you sanctimonious twit-"

"GENTLEMEN! Stop! This is what we are going to have a nice, orderly community meeting for. At the earliest opportunity. Yes? I'll not hear of it again until then."

Oh dear. He'll just mend this thing now how about.

The two arguers glare at each other and stiffly return to their tasks. The man in charge details someone to stand near Blai and explain how steam power works.

That's very cool!

They don't know how much he's understanding without the ability to get feedback so they just keep on going- There's several main ways to do it, and lots of ways to work with the steam, force, or electricity thus produced, like a lot of complicated crafts it's not a straightforward 'this method is best', it depends on context (which he tries to impart).

He blinks his eyes a couple times in confusion about electricity.

-Electricity is a force similar to lightning but in much smaller quantities. It's arcane and difficult to work with compared to force and steam; He personally doesn't know much about it besides that a box in the engineering room turns steamforce into electricity, it goes through wires and will short through metal if any of the wire is damaged, it's what powers the lights.

Wow. Okay. Mending mending mending - poof! It is mended.

On to the next one.

Uh... Next topic, daily life in the Old Dreadnought. This is how they get water. This is how they wash clothes. This is how the community meetings are supposed to work but, you know, most people have their own ideas and see the orderly rules as polite suggestions. The wake-up horn every morning keeps everyone to something like the same schedule but it'll blow three times quickly if there's a real emergency. And so on and so forth.

How do they get water and is it more or less efficient than Blai dumping ten gallons a round on a cistern somewhere?

They gather and melt snow, and Create Water is better than that!

Then when he mends this thing he can mention that Create Water is another one of the spells he can cast all day long!

There's a hopeful buzz in the people surrounding him as the day moves on. They tell him more things as he Mends and Creates Water- About surviving in the frost, about the other people they've seen in the past, someone is found who knows more history: The whole world was cooling when the British Empire fell and things are less cold now than they were at the worst, but still quite cold. They thank him a lot. They don't have a chance to ask a lot of questions since he's usually chanting.

Lunchtime comes around.

Is the long term trend on the temperature good or is this just a warmish year? Do they want Created food for lunch?

The long term trend on the temperature is... Unclear.

Five years after the frost, it was Horrible.

Ten years after, still Horrible.

Fifteen... Terrible, but slightly better.

Twenty... Still terrible.

Now... Maybe slightly less terrible?

And yes, they do want Created food for lunch. They'd like to store some of it away for the hunting party's return.

"That won't work. It will only last a day. I can prepare the spell every day, if we don't want that slot for anything else, but it needs to all be eaten within twenty four hours."

Oh. So maybe instead the hunting party has first dibs on Created food for a couple days when they get back. They'll divide everything equally-ish for now, with a bit of priority to the most malnourished. Scurvy is a bitch to fight off.

They wanted citrus, right? He can't make the spell do citrus and only citrus without lowballing its possible total output a lot, it's much more sharply limited on calories than on volume but it will not just give him 500 oranges. It will get him sixty-one oranges and twelve lemons and the rest of it is going to be fruit pies and vegetable pies and six copies of a chocolate almond thing he had in Egorian once and a few bowls' worth of lentils and eggs and broth and a loaf of brown bread, created already sliced up and buttered.

It's all delicious, even shared between four times as many people as it's meant for. Then the Meat comes out to supplement the fresh food. People relax and take it easy. A few pat him on the back and thank him for being a good sort. Several ask about God- His God, they mean, and how they can pray to thank Them.

Her name is Iomedae. Hundreds of years ago she was a mortal paladin - sort of like a cleric but more with the waving a sword around, less with the spells - of another god, Aroden, who later died. He doesn't know what the standard forms are that are popular in Her country but he can read aloud a grace She said to Aroden from the Acts if they want to pray over the food with the name swapped out?

Saying a Grace is a comforting ritual. They like it a lot.

After everyone eats, it appears to be social time, not more work time. People rest, hang out, gossip. The man he saw playing chess yesterday is here, but he doesn't have it out right now.

...well, he can't talk to that guy, but he can... go over there and get a Prestidigitation up and hanging in the air and start making pieces.

"-More magic? A chess set? I'd be delighted to play, sir, but I can't promise any particular skill."

Smile! Setup!

This New Londoner is perhaps too used to playing against people who only think one move ahead. He has the marks of a practiced rather than skilled player, and loses easily.

He takes the next game much more seriously and tries to force a stalemate.

Honestly nobody Blai has played with before is any good either except that one adventurer with the book of variants; if Blai is good it's by brute force, though he does bring a lot of that to the game. He doesn't require a skilled opponent to have as good a time as he expected.

After two games, his partner glances around. People are slowly moving to clean up and disperse again.

"One more, very quick." He plays recklessly and incessantly aggressively. Win or lose, it will be quick.

And then everyone is heading back to work again, in fairly jovial moods. Or if not jovial- Confident. The things he's Mended this morning are mostly gone, off for installation elsewhere. The workshop looks in much better shape than it was this morning already. Someone is making a new hatch. Someone is making pipe segments. Someone gives him more things to Mending.

When the game is over he lets the chess pieces wear off with the end of the Prestidigitation duration and goes to his Mending.

They'll keep giving him things to Mend if he keeps offering, pretty much for the rest of the day. They lead him around the maze-like network of half-frozen-over passages and tunnels under the crawler, too, to fix objects that are bolted in place here and there.

It eventually stops being big, complicated machines and more like hand tools and worn, torn coats. The gossip around him as people work grows more hopeful. Maybe they'll survive the next whiteout, whenever it comes. Maybe they'll find new villages to trade with. Maybe they can melt all the way down to the soil and grow real food.

"There is a very weird spell I can prepare that lets me breathe fire but I assume you have another mechanism in mind."

They shake their heads. "Oil and steam and a huge drill with a pipe in the middle that goes down, is the basic idea- It would be a major technical endeavor. Likely not feasible with current resources."

"What resources do you need?"

"More educated engineers. Large-scale manufacturing equipment, to make precise metal shapes dozens or more feet across. Likely at least one Steam Core- Marvels they built just before the end but now likely can only be scavenged, that could do a lot of math very quickly, this turns out to be surprisingly useful. New London had all of this."

"What... makes doing math quickly so useful...?"

"Let me think a moment... You can have devices that read out a number- Say, how hot is this fire? How much oil is flowing through this valve? Or how many times has this hammer swung down since we started from zero? And you can also have controls- Gears that turn the hammer on and off depending on the result of the math. Or pumps that speed up and slow down. And then you can go, oh, the fire needs to be between five hundred and five thirty degrees, and if it goes lower we need to add more oil or less water or both. And the hammer, it needs to keep hammering until the ingot it's working on is thus and such thick, and you can define these types of decisions in mathematical operations with enough planning and forethought. Then, machines can do all the work that a man would, or at least a good chunk of the simple tasks. I saw the Holy Generator's control room once... They had no less than ten Steam Cores within it, controlling temperature and water flow for the whole city!"

"Water for the whole city? Like aqueducts?"

"Yes! And hot steam for the whole city, too, all controlled from one room- Well, technically there were lesser hubs, but all ultimately answered to the Chief Engineer, with instructions and signals transmitted via electricity. It was amazing to see."

"It sounds it! Clerics create drinking water in cities in most parts of Golarion, though there are also wells and rain."

"Ah... I cannot help but wonder what has become of New London. We were on a scout team, you see, when an unusual storm gusted up suddenly. Try as we might, we could not see any signs of the city or even our comrades when it passed, and we wandered until we were freezing and starving... Whereupon the fine people of the old dreadnought found us and, despite what I am told is some disagreement among them, nursed us back to health. I believe this was seven years ago."

"So this isn't a - continuous single community, here?"

"We five are outsiders, yes."

"Well, it was good of them to take you in. And if this place is in traveling distance of New London it should be possible to find it again somehow. Inconveniently clerics don't get to fly and I'm not even strong enough to walk into the air or I'd suggest looking around from higher up on a clear day..."

"We thought about building a steam balloon and a long cable for it, but inconveniently, we don't have enough cloth or seal skins for that. We've summitted the nearby mountains on a clear day and looked for landmarks before, and we think it might be to the east from a pair of other mountains... But it'd be a disaster to go that far and be wrong."

"Are there dangers other than the cold? Supply problems other than food?"

"It's pretty much the cold and food. They make every other challenge worse. The terrain is challenging but not insurmountable."

"I could handle cold and food for a small group."

"I would certainly appreciate a trek home. I also think you can do more total good in a larger city. But the fine people who took us in might have other requests, and I wouldn't presume to ask you to go without the community meeting they wish to hold- Nor to tell you not to go seeking, I suppose. It's not an easy question."

"I think I should certainly wait for the meeting! I don't wish to be ungrateful for the hospitality or encourage anyone to make decisions without consulting the usual process for that when it's not urgent."

"And in the meantime, we can repair these steam distributor boxes. Or rather, you can while I look for and mark pipe breaks."

"I can do that for sure."

This continues for several days. The old dreadnought comes to starkly better repair, and the available rooms get better. The onboard greenhouse section is a horrible mess, holes in the walls and everything, and it's not fully running yet- Though they're making progress. They make an effort to start teaching him English as he Mends. The boy with the prosthetic, Max, spends a lot of time out of doors. Longbow Lady- June- Makes another couple of halfhearted passes at him, seeming to enjoy discomfiting him, but not escalating, and eventually takes the hint. Some of the kids warm up to him. His Chess Buddy, Samuel Cooper, is happy to play a lot of chess.

Then the horn gives one short and one long blast. Everyone puts away what they're doing and hurries outside. "They're back! That's the signal for a returning party. Time to prepare a warm meal for them all and celebrate!"

"Are they more or less than ten minutes out?"

"Probably an hour or two!"

So he shouldn't start on the Creation of Food yet. Do they want more of the lots-of-oranges-and-most-of-the-rest-pies spread or will the hunters predictably want something else?

The people near him are too busy rushing around putting their heavy coats on and gathering and preparing tools to answer this. Everyone seems to know exactly what to do for When The Hunting Party Returns, but they forgot to explain his place in it.

He'll just sit and wait, till they're probably about ten minutes out, then.

Some of the elders and most of the children too young to usefully do light work are all gathered in the dining hall with him. A few are cooking up warm meals, and they tell him when to start casting, then supplement the results with stored meat. Then, a series of unkempt men and women troop into the dining hall, still partially covered in snow and talking loudly, a few nursing wounds.

"-I truly did not believe it when they told me, but by my eyes, that's an orange alright!" The one in front shouts. He's a big man and strongly muscled, with plenty of scars and wild hair. "Good work, all hunters! Time to rest and feast."

Then the big man approaches Blai and nods. "I'm Leon. Most capable hunter here. You're our miraculous guest, Blai Artigas?"

Nod nod.

"Good welcome and thank you deeply! In return for preserving the shelter of the Old Dreadnought for us, for giving us a burst of the nutrition we so sorely lack and a few more years' lease on life, for helping my family and my friends, I declare a debt of honor to you."

what does that even mean

(Confused blinking will have to stand in for this.)

"...You've helped us without demanding anything in return. Miraculous powers from a god or not- I don't understand that part, I think, the tales were rather confused- Anyway. So now I will help you with something you want, without demanding anything in return. Now or later. So long as it's within my ability and not awful in some way, I mean."

Oh. ...solemn nod.

Leon claps him on the shoulder heavily, then turns amd starts talking with the rest of the hunting party, who are really enjoying the fruit.

It's nice to be useful.

Blai awaits the meeting in his customary fashion, i.e. mending things people bring him or bring him to and playing chess.

The community meeting actually waits for the next day; All the hunters want a nice long sleep first, and everyone else is busy processing and rendering all their kills. They talk about their most daring feats and impressive hunts at the feast. Several say results matter more than daring, and doing something risky to 'prove your bravery' is just stupid, not brave. If Blai volunteers Worldwound stories he'll have a rapt audience.

The actual meeting takes place over breakfast the next day. It starts with Samuel Cooper (the New Londoner chess player), Leon (the hunter-in-chief), June (Longbow Lady), and Arnold, just Arnold (the engineer-in-chief) all discussing what is known about Blai and how many things he has done to help the community to everyone else. They also spread news of- Who's been injured or sick lately, what's been repaired recently (a lot of things) and how to use them all safely, please don't go into the still-sealed areas they are still sealed for a reason, how this person and that one have decided to marry next new moon, and that so-and-so's baby has survived a year and will get a name soon.

Then they ask Blai if he has any questions or things he wishes to say to the community. After that it'll be an open floor with everyone getting a chance to speak, if they want.

Blai can't actually deliver Worldwound stories to a rapt audience except through his translator - he has some functional English now but not enough to regale people with anecdotes - but he can describe demons and their defeats!

He would like to volunteer that he can cast Endure Elements and Create Food and would most likely be capable of seeing a small expedition safely to a vantage point from which they could see if there are other settlements worth visiting.

That sets off the discussion. Cooper and his little group VERY MUCH want to go on an expedition to find New London. It should be far off to the east. They think they recognize a mountain seen off to the east as one known to be west of New London, at least. People talk about how Frozen Forest, Hanging Rock, and Fishing Village have all been abandoned- But perhaps one could scout further afield. The sea of ice is visible from a mountain southwest of here, large and flat and perhaps they could look carefully for any landmarks or survivors. Terrain to the north is mostly unknown to them. Tesla Mountain is distant southeast.

Lots of people are afraid to lose what hope they've recently gotten, of 'losing' Blai and his Create Food and his Mending and things going back to the inevitable slow decay. A few days of Created food rich in vitamins has not fixed all their health woes, though it does seem to be helping already. The discussion splits into a faction who want to fortify and repair the Old Dreadnought and live off it and a faction who want to contact other settlements, if there are any, and trade, thinking isolation is death. Someone rants that if they're going to rely on a miracle-wielding man lost far from home, they may as well declare him Baron. It's clearly intended as an argument against 'rely on Blai'.

Blai is certainly willing to put off such an expedition indefinitely if they need more time spent eating fruit every day before they're up to it. Also he is absolutely not making a bid to be Baron and wants to be clear on that.

The discussion gets pretty heated. There's a small group that's vehement against ever contacting New London, saying the City is a violent and sinful place. One of them gets in the face of the New Londoners, practically shouting. 

Can he solve this problem by stepping between the two of them?

Oh wow he's not malnourished and kind of big. Yeah that stops the yelling. Glares continue.

"I think," June drawls, "We have to resolve the New London thing before moving on to the details. Maybe put it to a vote?"

"You're going to doom us all by putting it to a vote like that. One hint of this place, and the jackboots will be all over us like flies on a corpse-"

"Oh shut up!" Someone in the crowd calls. "All you ever do is complain, Jack! Also, you owe me money!"

Jack's face goes red and he stomps back to his seat.

"So... Yeah. All in favor, in principle, of trying to locate New London? Or at least communities closer to it that can give us news of New London?"

Hands start going up.

Blai's not clear if he's allowed to vote and stands back.

Of 70 voting members present, there are 60 'aye's. (June asks if Blai is abstaining and accepts the answer with a nod.)

"So that's settled. We're agreed that contacting New London, somehow some way, is what we want to do. Because we can't keep going like this. Even with Blai- We can't."

"And New London represents... Hope," Arnold adds. "So the question that's left is- When and how to seek New London. I'd give it a week, personally-"

Leon raises his hand, and Arnold nods at him. "We should discuss the material conditions of the shelter first before making any specific plans. I, personally, don't have a clear picture of what's changed and what we are trading off."

"Ah, certainly. Well, the major subjects there are engineering and the hulk's systems, and our food and health situation. June knows the latter. Engineering wise, Blai has repaired dozens of systems. We have brought many more rooms and workshop items back online. More rooms to spread out to, and more consistent heat in the hulk. We've repaired the horn, and a lot of heating systems, a laundry room, most of the hatches... And the machine shop. It's already letting us make replacement parts for sleds, build new heat lamps, and so on. We'll be able to make new shotgun shells soon, though the reagents are in limited supply. The only major essential it doesn't supply is cloth and thread, for clothes, so we'll have to continue relying on our tanners for that. Finally, we are in the process of repairing one of the hothouses. We estimate- That is, we estimate it will suffice to provide enough vitamins and minerals to make a full diet if fertilized with waste and seal entrails. Mostly in the form of potatoes, carrots, beans, and cabbages, all of which we have found viable, IEC-preserved seeds for."

"What about maintaining all these new things if Blai leaves? What about fuel?"

"...We have forty-four thousand and five hundred tons of oil at last census, on track with our estimate of twelve tons per week. This is still enough for decades, six decades, and there are more oil cars in the surrounds, too. We are actually using slightly less, now, because the recovered systems are more efficient and insulated. As for maintenance, it should be possible, by using the machine shop to manufacture spares and replacements for the machine shop, and then also for everything else. We'll have to step up salvaging the wrecked cars, though. This will rely on a steady supply of steel."

There's no more questions.

June stretches and relays the medical situation a bit less verbosely, after that. 

"If the hothouse works, we'll be good on nutrition so long as the seal meat keeps coming in. The Created food is already making a massive difference. I've seen sores close and pallor improve, though it's only been a few days. There's less weakness, less random bruises. All very good signs. But I'd be more comfortable putting off any expedition that takes Blai away from here until we have a viable crop. I've been following the work in the Hothouse, and there's still a bit of a question how well it's going to work- We don't have lived experience of farming, for all that these systems were designed so a small child could use them. Probably a week to put seeds in trays, and another two to see if they're viable- The special lights and some other things I don't understand are supposed to accelerate plant growth.

-Hey Blai, can you Create anything other than food and water? Fertilizer? Wood?"

"Just water, and if I could it wouldn't work well, the food shrivels up and disappears if no one eats it within a day."

"So there you have it."

"To summarize," Leon says loudly, "Plenty of fuel. Plenty of machines and the theoretic ability to maintain them, with steel. Limited cloth. Three weeks to see if the hothouse is viable."

There are nods and affirmations all around.

"I think the obvious plan, then, is to plan an expedition in three weeks, contingent on nothing major changing. Either we'll be more confident we'll be able to last on our own, or we'll need help from afar more than ever if the hothouse doesn't work. How does Endure Elements work?"

"Endure Elements lasts twenty-four hours and makes it possible to endure a blizzard in shirtsleeves comfortably - it also works on hot weather, not that that's relevant here. It's possible for it to be too cold for the spell to protect a person, but I don't think it is here nor that it will be up the mountains. I can prepare four in their native slot, though I could prepare up to four more if I were using higher-circle slots to do it - Share Language is a second circle spell and I think I should have one of those each day, and a Create Food, at third, and if there are other hazards I don't know about it's possible I should allocate some slots to accounting for those."

"Mr. Arnold, could you furnish a vehicle in three weeks? One faster than hiking?"

"It would be a challenge. One faster than hiking over flat areas, perhaps. It would have to haul its own fuel."

"I see. The principle remaining hazard would be sudden falls. Four Endure Elements, Share Language- Though you should be able to learn some English by then- Create Food... Would a scout team of four be viable? Would five?"

"I'm working on English but cannot guarantee I'll be able to have a complicated conversation under stress in three weeks. Create Food if used every day can feed up to fifteen people, and for a smaller group if you time the casting right it could suffice to cast it alternate days, eating heavily for dinner one evening and breakfast the next, with the complication that the food will not be able to endure the elements and will freeze. If I use a second circle slot on an additional Endure Elements or we avoid having all of us need the spell every day I could maintain a group of five."

Leon nods. "I would like to experience Endure Elements so that I may judge how much it will speed up our trek. If we can run in light clothing with packs, rather than walking, for example."

The crowd is getting a little bit confused and restless.

"-Ah, we should confirm the decision before making detailed plans. Blai Artigas and a team to be selected, tentatively planning in three weeks to trek East and attempt to locate and gather information on New London and then return here, so long as the hothouse project appears to be viable. Does anybody have another proposal, or anything to add?"

"Are you going to bring New London here? Or tell them about us? Jack is a fool but he has a point. We might wish the scouts to be vague about where they are from if New London appears to be hostile."

There's some muttering at that.

Blai doesn't have an opinion on that part. He nods at Leon; he actually has one now, it's a good backup spell in a frozen wasteland especially if you don't expect to need reserves for combat.

The debate about how open to be to New London continues for a while. Eventually they decide to include a respected senior in the group, with the first line being observation to see if they seem violent or evil, and the second line being offering to trade meat for tools or goods, and to definitely not lead New Londoners back here, yet.

"Or spells? They might want oranges too, or some other food."

Well, they weren't considering Blai part of their community, per se. They're unclear on whether he's going to be - staying, or not. If New London makes him an offer, he can do what he likes, as long as he escorts the chosen scouts home again at some point.

"I won't strand them in New London."

Some of the anti-New London crowd are now trying to argue that none of the New Londoners should be on the scout team, since they'll obviously go right back to their old masters and reveal everything.

This sets off another round of mostly-civil arguing. The yelling earlier was kind of embarrassing, but like, they are kind of nervous about the city. They have giant metal war machines there, or so they've heard. (Samuel Cooper of the New London contingent trying to clarify that the automatons mostly do hauling work does not reassure people very much.)

But the objectors are a minority, and they know it. All they can do is make a lot of noise, with the diplomatic members of the crowd trying to address their concerns before the vote they propose inevitably fails, 13-57.

Hopefully this isn't a terrible mistake!!!

They wrap up the meeting with some discussion of who lives where in the expanded rooms, and how to use the newly repaired laundry machines.

Leon and Arnold stay near Blai as the meeting breaks up.

"I don't think we'll have a vehicle for the expedition in three weeks. It's possible if we make it a priority, but it's also a novel development project for us. You should plan on nothing being available but a good sled for carrying supplies on, if you wish it."

And then Arnold tips his hat and leaves, too.

Will Leon take his hand for the Endure Elements?

He will, with a slight smile.

Blai casts it.

"I'm going to go on a hike, now. I'll report back how much this miracle will speed an expedition. Good day all."

Leon comes back from his hike and says he thinks Endure Elements will increase the speed an expedition can travel at by half again; They can jog while wearing little without fear of soaking everything they wear through with sweat and ruining their insulation, and make faster progress, but the dangers of unstable terrain and poor visibility remain.

Days pass. The people of Old Dreadnought visibly improve in condition. The hothouse goes up and things are planted in it. The kid with the prosthetic and one of the kids' teachers are assigned to teach Blai English full time. The workshop crew try to build an oil-powered vehicle of some sort, but it mostly just makes loud noises and a mess rather than proving useful, yet. There's some sort of issue with someone's son and someone's daughter but it's resolved without the particulars becoming very important.

Three weeks pass. The first crop from the hothouses is harvested: Potatoes. They're served with dinner, and while modest, it's a celebratory mood. The locals cheer when the topic of an expedition to attempt to locate New London is brought up again. Does Blai have any opinions on who ought to be on it?

No strong opinion, no! Even if his opinions on people would be operational constraints he doesn't have any that are strong enough to matter here.

The assembled team: Blai, Leon, June, and two people he hasn't interacted with beyond pleasantries- Joseph, a New Londoner who prays a lot, and 'Nuts', a withdrawn girl(?) whose eyes dart around a lot. Apparently, a prodigy with machines but also the most disposable engineer-type, meant to evaluate New London's technology.

Are they all very confident that there are not monsters on the route, such that he should not bring his armor or weapon? They're heavy but it's really much better to lug them around than it is to be caught without them by even a fairly minor monster, especially if he's got his spells prepared for a journey and not a fight.

They are very confident there aren't monsters. The most threatening thing would be a polar bear but what would they eat? A polar bear is admittedly pretty threatening, though. Also, bandits or whatever the equivalent is, perhaps.

He should definitely bring the weapon. Maybe he should have been training with a gun this whole time, too, but it's a bit late for that now. They're less sure about the armor.

The armor is much heavier than the weapon but if they will all have ranged weapons of their own he will bring his mace as backup and leave the chainmail behind.

Joseph and Nuts aren't as good with their ranged weapons as the two hunters who use them professionally, but they do have them.

Leon drags everyone into a group meeting where they go over the planned route, what maps they have of it, how they're going to map and mark their progress- Nuts has a clever arrangement with surveyor's tools and known landmarks and math- And what everyone should pack, and practicing common trail hand signs (the important ones are 'stop', 'go', 'caution', and 'attack'), and what to do if they're separated (fire your flare gun, fresh from the machine shop, straight into the air, wait for eight hours, if no flare responds try to go back to the last major landmark the expedition visited), and so on and so on. They'll be moving with rope tied to each other if the weather gets bad and on dangerous slopes, but it's been good recently and there's no signs that's about to change.

He's planning to prepare Snow Shape at least once a day and that should help with awkward icy terrain.

That'll help. 

Leon also leads everyone on a two hour hike to the nearest abandoned oil car. Packs fit alright? Not too cold? Socks and shoes dry? Can you keep this pace up for twelve hours? (Nuts groans in complaint but nods.) Have everything you need in your pack? Great! They'll set off tomorrow, then.

(June seems to be deliberately ignoring him.)

That is not unexpected when you rebuff somebody and it's fine.

They're seen off with a good bit of fanfare the next morning... And then it's a lot of walking over ice and snow. The wind whips up once they're beyond the cliffs of the old wreck. It can be shouted over, but this is difficult enough to deter casual conversation. Only Nuts doesn't care and continues to explain navigation and surveying techniques in a long-winded wizardy way.

Cliffs. Ice. Snow. And more snow. And more ice. They walk along a long frozen riverbed for most of the first day, and camp in a little crevice.

(They should set out significantly more than an hour after dawn, so that they are never in a situation where someone is freezing to death with their spell run out while Blai is still praying - it may not be possible to reliably hit exactly twenty-four hours every time, but if dawn shifts, or the casting time creeps earlier, they need some buffer.)

Their day begins at five o'clock, well before dawn even in this northern region.

The next day is more of the same. The riverbed ends and they're exposed to harsher wind. Nuts's surveying and measurements slow them down a bit.

They get to the old site of Fishing Village at the end of the second day. The buildings are actively falling apart, wracked by ice and wind. There's a long line of graves. They shelter in the most intact building.

"Have you thought much about what you want to accomplish in the long term, Blai?" Asks Leon over dinner. "... Anyway, I think I'd like to learn more about Iomedae, as long as there's little else to talk about."

"I don't think I have enough context for a long term plan yet... but of course, what would you like to know?"

"I've heard what you explained to the others but I think it's distorted in the telling. Lawful means that one attends to oaths and promises, does not break the laws without a very good reason, and so forth? What if the laws are foul amd despicable?"

"It is ideal to cooperate with a legitimate authority if one is available, but - do you have here the concept of 'illegal orders'?"

"-I suppose it makes sense as a concept. I would not listen to one who told me to kill a fellow hunter without giving cause or explanation, and might club him over the head and tie him up for fear of sudden insanity."

"Right, so, if you're going to be Lawful under conditions where the authority at issue is Evil, I think that's probably a useful concept, that even if they're legitimate their authority can't be scoped to the point where you're doing Evil things they tell you to do. And it also matters how you, sort of, introduce yourself - if you're conducting a war, you don't become a lawless murderer when you set foot into enemy territory and carry out an attack, even though they might easily have laws against that, because you were not presenting yourself as - a fellow countryman of their people who ought to be expected to be restrained by such a law. I don't know how this applies to intelligence gathering, unfortunately, I'm piecing it together from the Acts and a few other sources."

"It might be worth talking over our choices of when fighting would be justified, as a group, then. I'm certainly no general, but conflict with other people... Gets very messy, very easily. We nearly had a war of sorts with the village of Old Sawmill- Idiot lusting after a woman from that place, was bothering her, her brothers beat him up, he was plotting revenge against the brothers-" Sigh. "Well, he wouldn't listen to reason and we don't really have the facilities to imprison people, so when he vanished, we warned the brothers about him, and disavowed his actions, and then they shot him dead a few days later and Old Arnold managed to convince both families to not keep going."

"It sounds like you handled that well given the givens... I don't think Old Sawmill has come up before."

"I wasn't involved in making those decisions. Too young at the time... But it struck me how easily we could end up murdering one another when the cold is already trying to do us in. Ah, we call it Forest sometimes. They were built around, well, an old sawmill, we traded meat and rendered oils for planks and woodcraft. They told us their situation was untenable and left, hoping to find and immigrate to New London, about fifteen years ago."

Nod nod. "You're unusually longstanding holdouts?"

"Yes. We- Before you came along, we figured trying to find New London was a desperate gamble, and maybe we could hold on with seal and forage until the Frost finally vanishes as a safer one. If it's going to vanish."

Nod. "We'll see what New London is like now, soon."

"Indeed. So, we are not at war with New London. But we are not subjects of it either. If we're confronted by a hostile force claiming or actually being of New London, do we try to talk? Do we surrender, or run? What if we see them committing some atrocity? 'Try to learn what's going on' seems like a safe first line..."

"Learn what's going on, announce our intentions and stick to them as far as we can."

"That sounds sensible. And our intentions are... Learning about New London, surviving to report back, and helping people in in need to a reasonable degree? Everyone agree with that?"

There's a reluctant nod, a distracted nod, and an attentive nod from the other three.

"So, this is why when I promised that I owe you, for helping our community, I caveated it with 'so long as it's within my power and not horrible'. I didn't have a word for it, but I wouldn't accept an illegal order to repay of that debt... If that holds together as a concept."

"Of course, and I wouldn't want to ask such a thing."

"And Iomedae, being both Lawful and Good, is concerned with doing things in orderly, honorable ways. But there are others who are, say, Good but not Lawful, or Lawful but not Good- Those would be the type who will break a law or promise to help, or those who follow honor but make no particular effort to aid others... Is it supposed to be difficult to tell what sort you are?"

"There are spells for it; you can just guess, without them, and you have to for anyone who isn't powerful enough."

"...Powerful? As in, a mayor, or community leader?"

"No, like an adventurer. Like, I can cast third circle spells, but a new cleric would generally only be able to cast zeroth and first circle spells; I got more powerful fighting demons." And then there was a certain irregular blip but he's forbidden to lie not forbidden to not tell everyone his tragic backstory.

"Demons. Right. We don't have magic that gets more powerful over time. You get more skilled- Or you die, or have a close scare and start taking it more cautiously, I suppose-"

"People who aren't spellcasters have this too, but without monsters it would be much harder to come by the kinds of adventuring that do it."

"It seems difficult to tell apart- That not being a thing, and that being a thing that doesn't happen very often. There's always tales of some unkillable warrior or a woman who can shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred paces or what have you. I'm strong and tough compared to my compatriots, or at least I like to think so- But a polar bear would rip me apart without having to try very hard. The limits of flesh are stark."

"Polar bears are a serious problem, I'd have trouble with one unless I prepared spells specifically intending to fight animals and probably even then. But someone who was... sixth circle, say, or a non-spellcaster of a comparable power, they'd make very short work of one."

"...Guns, stubborn skill with a bow that make her at least as threatening as a gunner," a nod at June, "and weight of numbers do a lot to make up for it. The healing, the Create Food, the Endure Elements... I suppose if you told me genius engineers had invented devices that do these things I wouldn't be quite so - uncomprehending-"

"When I hear that no magic was involved in making any of the things you have that seems at least as incomprehensible to me."

"I'm sure miss Nuts would be happy- Er, could explain to you at considerable length. I think it's all tools and knowledge building on tools and knowledge. The more you know, the more you can find out. The more you have, the more you can then build. Without monsters destroying things, perhaps we made steady progress here?"

"I don't think that's monsters so much as apocalypses. The cold here is a - slow apocalypse; Golarion had a very advanced civilization, maybe in this respect as well as magically, I wouldn't know, and then it was destroyed by a fast apocalypse and took time to rebuild."

"Well. With any luck, New London's not letting the frost keep them down. What is 'magic' anyway, but some property of the world like steam or light or metal that people have learned to manipulate..."

"I think wizards think about it that way; divine magic is different."

"Because Iomedae is doing it? Well, where does she get it?"

"She ascended to godhood by using a magical artifact her own patron from when she was mortal left behind, the Starstone, and he used wizardry for that, I believe - he was an archmage - but I don't know what powers gods in general. Maybe Pharasma, the Creator, but Her I definitely can't explain."

"How do I pray to Pharasma to protect and ferry up someone?" June interrupts suddenly. "All those graves out there..."

"- the most appropriate one I can remember goes - 'Lady of Graves, see to it that the soul who once resided here moves freely on to Your court and accepts his eternity there'."

June nods stiffly and heads outside into the cold wind.

"She has not had an easy life. Not that it's an excuse. None of us have, really. And - someone certainly has to tend to the dead, if they're being collected after all."

"I'm surprised you don't have more of a ghost problem."

"I wouldn't know about ghosts. Never seen one."

"Saw a zombie once," Nuts comments.

"-Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Dead guy wandering along the south cliff one day while I was cleaning the smokestack. Had some kind of machine grafted to him that was walking for him. I watched him through the telescope for an hour. Creepy. I'd swear he looked right at me."

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

Nuts snorts. "Nobody believed me."

"- do zombies around here not walk without machines?"

"Never seen a zombie that didn't have a machine."

Joseph says, "One hears stories... But I've never heard any credible stories. It's all- Vengeful woodsman angry enough to dig themselves out of their graves, or angry ghosts of the starved wiped out this or that isolated village, when what truly ended them was more likely the cold or hunger or scurvy than the vengeful dead."

"Huh. I wonder if there's... less ambient negative energy or something, that fewer of the dead rise."

"Does negative energy come from people using magic, perhaps?" Suggests Leon.

"No, or the Pharasmins would be against it."

"Hmm... Is there a god of hunting?"

"God of machines?" Nuts asks.

"Erastil is the god of hunting as well as agriculture. There... might be an obscure god of machines but we don't have them in such a central place as you do here so I cannot call one to mind, they wouldn't be very widely mentioned."

"Well, I'll pray to Erastil that they're still having good results with the hothouse, I suppose."

"God of crafts? Learning? Discovery?" Nuts persists.

"Shelyn is the goddess of art? Nethys is the god of knowledge as well as magic but he is understood to be insane."

"Oh well."

Joseph speaks up. "I'd like to hear or read some of the Acts of Iomedae, until June comes back and we can set a night watch. You've mentioned them but I don't think we've yet been curious enough to ask."

"Come to think of it, I think I'll go walk with June while she prays for the dead," Leon says. "So nobody's off alone. Just in case. We can bed down in an hour or two and rest up for tomorrow."

"I don't think I'll be very good at live-translating the Acts but I can try."

His audience appreciates the attempt and can even attempt a thoughtful analysis and criticism of it.

The next day they have a hard hike up to a peak to get a good view and survey the surroundings. It's smooth sailing for about two thirds of the way up, and then a large floe of snow makes an ominous deep creaking noise.

Leon signals 'stop' and 'quiet' with hand signs, then huddles everyone up and speaks in a steady near-whisper.

"Don't make any loud noises. That sound is an avalanche waiting to happen. June, what do you think?"

"Avalanche will kill us even with the Endure thing. It'll bury you. We gotta go back down."

"Trigger it from far away and come back?" Nuts suggests.

"Do you have a bomb you can set off on a timer, or the like?" Headshake. "The only other way would be to shoot at it from a safe distance- Miles away. That seems unreliable. No, just avoid the whole business, I think. We can go back and do our best to navigate without the benefit of height. Anyone else have any thoughts?"

"I can try Snow Shape, if you know what part of it needs to be shored up."

"...I think... If anything it would be the underlayer- The sound came from that flat section there... And what you would need to do is help it stick to the rock underneath, in a more packed-down form. But any sudden change might just trigger it instead."

June adds, "I've got a feel for avalanches and my gut says it's maybe one in twenty to trigger it if we walk across, and it'll probably be a small one as avalanches go. We're safer above it than below it. Don't know what Snow Shape will do to it."

"Snow Shape covers ten cubic feet. I have to touch at least a little corner of what I'm shaping, but just barely brushing it is fine. Once I've got it, I don't think it will fall, but what's below it might."

"We're risking too much for not enough," Leon says after a bit of thought. "It'd probably be fine, but once in a while you roll snake eyes. Worth taking that risk to save lives, not to save time. Down we go. Carefully, and around north."

The rest of the party seems a bit relieved.

Blai obeys.

They go around north. They're officially in unknown territory for the Old Wreck crew. They end up making camp on a convenient patch of rock instead of something so convenient as a structure, with a ridge visible on the horizon that they hope to get to tomorrow.

Later that afternoon they hear the distant, echoing booms of the avalanche going off. 

"It's gotten warmer this week," June says. "That's what did it, I'd bet. Not melting-warm but warm enough that something shifted and slipped. I guess good signs for the future can have nasty results in the meanwhile."

"Amen."

They'd really appreciate a bit more reading and discussion on the Acts. Leon presses him for whatever he can recall of Erastil. And then they can sleep.

From atop the ridgeline, reached the next day, they can see part of a massive frozen river or possibly a bay- A different one than they were walking previously. Joseph definitely remembers it being west of New London, recognizing the distinct pair of mountains framing it- One sharp and tall, the other broad and low. He's very confident that New London lies beyond those two mountains, along the frozen path. From this vantage point, they can also see lights and activity around some sort of structure on a mountain to the north. Taking turns peering through the telescope, it's obvious there's a large crowd of people moving around some sort of sprawling camp. It's out of the direct, known path to New London, though.

"I can see arguments for detouring to see who's there, and bypassing to ask New Londoners about them first."

The rest of the party sans Joseph think they want to check the outlying community first, as a less conspicuous place to check. Also, maybe dress properly for the cold instead of lightly to move faster so they don't stand out?

"If you don't want to reveal how foreign I am I also shouldn't speak; I have a considerable accent."

"An odd accent isn't quite as notable as immunity to cold." This is said in a tone of dry understatement. 

"It might still prompt questions."

They eventually decide to head to the outlying settlement; It proves to be a sort of slum area. New London allows productive outsiders only to enter the city. Limited exceptions for immediate family of those permitted to enter. There is a cablecar setup leading towards the city with rotating cables, and a fortified complex with an office where you explain or demonstrate your skills. It has high walls topped with razor wire, guard towers, the works. Armed guards and twelve-foot metal automata with brutal steel cudgels. Long lines of desperate people queuing for the chance to prove their worth.

The little settlement of Snowdrift is positively seething with tension. There are clear signs of gangs running particular little blocks of dilapidated improvised shelters. Blocks of semi-passable construction where steam or smoke is emerging are the most guarded and also the most crowded by far. The best-armed of the lot have a fortified cave on the mountain. There are mass graves. There are a lot of sick and starving people. There's no guards at the edges of the settlement; Merely a dozen petty groups in a clear tense faceoff. They're taking tolls for passing through 'their territory', but on noticing four guns on five people who move like they're comfortable in the cold, they don't bother the scout team.

Rumors of the city roil; They say that you can get bread and a room for free there. They say that you can buy your way out of community service. They say that they mix things into the food to stretch it, but at least there's food. They say that there's only a year's worth of coal left. They say that the Evolvers cut off their own limbs to replace them with superior mechanical versions. They say that the Faithkeepers are protesting against the proposed law for communal child-raising, stealing babies from their parents and raising them in creches. They say that you can bribe your way into the city, just say you're 'proving your ability to generate value'.

Oh wow does Blai have to form opinions on any of that right now? That sounds hard.

The scout team quickly gets deeply uncomfortable with the slum and decides to leave and go back to their camp to discuss these discoveries.

They pick the wrong route, though. This 'street' of packed snow throngs with people, muttering and hard-eyed, pushing and shoving, barely held at bay by threateningly pointed guns.

There are hundreds, gathering up in every street and alley just beyond New London's fortified compound. The tone is angry. How dare they preach to us so? How dare they expect us to just lie down and die? When you give us no other option, you forced our hands. We didn't want this, we're not the ones at fault here, but it is time to rise up against the tyrant's metal fist, for just lying down and following the rules is death. By sunset we'll all be feasting or dead.

...Yeah, it's time to leave.

If he knew what the fuck was going on he would probably feel obliged to join this fight on one side or the other or talk to someone about something to do with it but he cannot confidently not make it worse. Out of here at once is good by him.

They are confronted by a band of men trying to stop them from leaving. Calling them cowards and New London's lapdogs, pointing at Joseph's holy symbol.

A lot of people start paying attention to them.

June retorts that she's not ready to die like a dog for someone else's benefit- Do you think the ones charging the gates will be the ones reaping the rewards? No; The real winners will be those saving their strength to pick up what's worth taking from a thousand corpses!

(Nuts is doing something with something from her pack. Leon is glaring at people and trying to look scary. Joseph is scared silent.)

Blai's not drawing his weapon yet but he's got one hand hovering over it and the other on his own holy symbol. Are the people stopping them identifiably following a single ringleader?

There's a leader, but it's unclear if the rest would run if he were removed.

"We're no friends to New London either," June is saying, "We're just getting the fuck out of here. We don't need to hurt each other!"

Qualm on that guy if it looks like he's going to inspire violence and not just posturing and then hopefully that'll buy seconds for Prayer. Hopefully June has it though.

He is totally spoiling for a fight. He just wants to look justified about it.

Qualm hits him fine.

"Don't some of you have memories of the good old days? When the generator saved folk, and New London wasn't the monster it is today? It's a thing of hope. Broken hope- Corrupted ideals. Fighting won't help us. Besides, you'd die. I'd shoot you first. It's not worth it."

"Bitch, we're freezing to death and starving by the day," one of the other men says, confused at why their ringleader is suddenly quiet. But it looks like they might back down.

"Hey, tell you what, I'll give you guys some meat if we all just go our separate ways-"

This last line of argument is a mistake.

"Food- She has food! I heard her say so!" Someone in the watching crowd shouts. People look at each other, the mob instinct wondering- Food, those big packs are probably full of it. Is it worth maybe getting shot? There's a lot of us, and only three guns and a bow...

...They're near a wall; Nuts stands up suddenly and tosses a hooked rope high up to the two-story rowhouse's roof. 

"Climb!" She announces, and the people- Who have completed the mental transformation to a mob- Clearly takes this as the call to start pushing forward.

Prayer and then he'll do his best to struggle up the rope - last. He can probably take hits better than anyone else in the party.

Nuts goes up first, scrambling adroitly. Joseph nearly falls, until Nuts helps him up. Leon and June go up next in well-practiced speed, Leon kicking away a grasping hand.

By the time Blai gets to a rope, they're right on top of him. A thrown rock smacks into his torso. A kick hits his shin. Two separate people grab his pants or boots as he goes up; June shoots one in the shoulder with what would be a nonlethal hit to someone healthy and not in the middle of a stampede, the other loses her grip and falls on top of several other mobfolk.

There are thrown rocks and thrown knives hitting his back, and people trying to climb after him.

Blai has no ranks in Climb experience with climbing ropes but he can do his best to pull it up after him and kick people off and is surprisingly unimpaired by the thrown knives even though he left his armor behind. The Prayer is just barely still helping when he grabs the rope. He'll make it up soon if nobody gets a really solid grip on him.

He can shake people off and keep climbing, and-

-The rope tears free of the knot in the roof where it lodged, bringing a chunk of wall with it. Leon looks ready to leap back down and try to rescue Blai from the middle of a dozen prone mob members.

Blai narrowly rolls out of the way of the chunk of wall and scrambles back to his feet, and now he's drawing his mace.

June wrestles Leon away from leaping back down there, shouting something it's hard to make out over the screams of the mob. The people around him mostly spend the next few seconds trying to stand back up.

There's the loud report of a gunshot from somewhere.

Burst of Radiance.

Basically everyone is blinded or dazzled! 

The building starts to collapse. He can't see his other party members anymore, they ran past the lip of the roof.

Yes, they're clearly going to have to regroup elsewhere. He bolts.

He can hear fighting as he runs. A stunningly loud horn blast like at the dreadnought blows and a booming voice declares, "DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL DEFEND OURSELVES WITH FORCE." More gunshots.

The gangs are out in force now. Most of the big streets are blocked, most side passages are full of cowering folk.

Grace and he'll chance weaving through a gang.

You need to get past a gang.

Grace got you past the gang, you say.

But what about second gang, one street over?

Yeah, he doesn't have another one of those. He has a mace and will attempt to be very clearly looking to get beyond them without necessarily hitting any of them with it.

"No fucking passage until this shit's over! We got families in here! Get!"

"I only want to leave the town."

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England! Find a place to hunker down like the rest of us!"

"I do not live here. I only want to go."

"What part of Fuck Off isn't in English?"

"I will fuck off in that direction."

"...You can do that if you let two of us walk right behind you, alright?" If only to get rid of him so they won't be distracted.

"Yes." Off he continues to attempt to fuck.

He gets past that one block. The next one is in the middle of an active fight between two gangs. Looks like defenders are losing. Something's on fire. The area's getting less dense though, this should be the last significant blockage.

There are loud stomping sounds coming from behind him; Those twelve foot high constructs are on the move.

The last thing he needs is a steel golem. ...can he get around this blockage by going into the building which is on fire? He doesn't have an air bubble but you can pull a lot of smoke out of the air with a fine mist of Create Water and it's not like it's not lethally dangerous to walk through the combat itself.

He can go into the building! It contains a kitchen and the same sort of trays the hothouse at the old wreck did and people trying to snuff the flames.

...Create Water and on out the back door before they can ask him any questions about that.

They seem too busy for that.

There's more shacks and people guarding their shacks but no more fully street-blocking gangs. Looks like a lot of people had the same idea and are hiking out into the snow.

He cannot prepare enough Endures to save any significant fraction of these people but hopefully they can keep moving to stay warm and come back when the town's settled as it gets. Tromp tromp.

People steer away from each other and him, except when he sees, distantly, what is probably a robbery in progress.

The windswept plains are quiet, in a way, at least in how the wind shrouds the screams and fighting.

Okay. So. That was bad.

He retraces their steps. Their Endures won't run out till a few hours into the next morning, which gives them a while to get out, if they can, and hopefully this is the obvious place to return to. He'll prep more Endures but - maybe not enough for everyone, they do have coats and can load up one person with extra coats if the rest of them have Endure Elements on (and that's assuming they all make it out alive), if he can think of first-circle spells he'll need in place of the Endures that might be useful for extraction. Tomorrow's supposed to be a Create Food day but they can all go hungry for one day without it being the end of the world and then eat heavily the day after tomorrow to make up for it, if he needs the third circle spell. At second he will definitely want Calm Emotions, maybe more than once.

A group of twelve people including three kids stumbles upon the meetup site.

"Ho stranger! We're going north, to high pass- There's a safe place beyond! Safer than that shanty town anyway!"

"Thank you, I have other plans."

"If you're sure? Very well. Good luck in the cold."

Off they go. Not much else happens for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Just some motion on the horizon as various groups move around.

He waits. He prays. He builds a little snow shelter, nothing much but enough to keep the wind off. When night falls he sleeps in it.

Nobody turns up the next morning. The little shanty-town has visible activity around it- Less than before. New London's cablecar setup, easy to see now that you know not to dismiss that odd line, is running constantly.

Okay. In that case he needs to go in and get them.

He... does prep a Create Food. Channel Vigor is great, but this might be a diplomatic situation rather than a combat one, and if oranges and pie will buy his party out of whatever they're in, it would be terrible not to have it. But he wants another Grace, two Calm Emotions - oh he has another slot at second circle, he'll add an Eagle's. And three Endures - he can do without, he has Worldwound clothes - and an Air Bubble in case things are on fire again.

He tromps back down into the settlement.

Steel golems with sharpshooters standing atop them and uniformed men and women with truncheons and the occasional gun are posted on intersections and patrolling the streets, twitchy and wary and hesitating to get very far from one of the giant machines. A woman on the outskirts warns him to just leave, they're locking up everyone who looks like they're looking for a fight and he looks like he's looking for a fight.

"I do not want to fight. I was separated from my group here yesterday. I want to find them."

"I don't think New London is trying to kill more people, if they're the type to surrender and they didn't get away I'd guess they're alive still, in one of the improvised lockups."

"It was not in New London that we were separated, it was here in this town."

"Yeah? Those who didn't die throwing themselves at the automatons or in the stampede and fires are all locked up in improvised shelters near the center of town now. They flattened the whole place and put up rowhouses and kitchens and hot baths and everything." She spits. "As if they couldn't have done that at any damned time."

"I don't think I understand."

"You were here yesterday, right? The fires, the fighting?"

"Yes."

"So after the big stampede towards their little fort, those automatons came out and started stepping on people and there was a panic, and a stampede right in the other direction, and then New London's people suddenly come boiling out of the place and rounding up everyone who still had weapons or looked like they might have been involved?"

"...okay. Where can I find them exactly, to negotiate their release?"

"Damned if I know. Just keep going straight, I guess. This whole business stinks worse than rat guts. They built a prison in like four fucking hours. They could've built houses and prevented this whole thing! God."