The light of the sun breaks the horizon over the small mining town of Hagfaldur, but with it does not come warmth, only blinding brilliance as the light is refracted off a million snow crystals.  Hagfaldur is a tiny collection of no more than three hundred ragged homes.  On the southern edge of the desolate, forbidding region of the North, it is the sole stop before miles of trackless wilderness, torn up by the terrible force of the dwarves' war machines fighting giant berserkers.  The people here are rough, but welcoming, and are here to avoid the war if they can.  Rather than belonging to the dwarven empire, the giant kingdom, or the barbarian clans, this small town is a hodgepodge of cultures, and everyone in it is beholden only to themselves.  Marked by a large main street leading up to the dangerous mine and a large tavern that serves as a communal gathering place, the village carries its own sort of rustic charm.  As you turn your gaze away from the wooden huts, your gaze takes in the vast pine forest covered in a thick layer of frost, and the huge, jagged Rime's Ember mountains that pierce the sky like the ruined teeth of some great, long-dead beast.  Here and there, the landscape is dotted with giant, glowing blue crystals a story tall.  Known to be channels for ice magic, the crystals exude an aura of cold but are otherwise harmless unless breached - just another strange feature of this untamed region.  Where in town are each of you on this frosty morning?

Sigh.  That's supposed to be a nice picture.

I really know how to create the right atmosphere, huh?

Thelanis is at a smith’s forge, trying to negotiate a fair deal for reattaching a scale which has fallen of her shabby armor.

Audun is in whatever tavern or inn resides in this town, his late night of regaling the locals with stories and songs begetting a late start to the day. After eating breakfast, he packs his few belongings into his satchels and makes his way into the center of town, searching for somewhere to somewhere to restock on supplies before setting off once again.

I'm sorry, but we can;t actually start playing until everyone else tells me what they're doing.  

On the road into town, Annika hikes steadily past one of the blue crystals, glad to see the wooden walls of the tavern buildings after weeks of traveling north. She’s looking forward to a strong drink, a seat by the fire, and a proper bath later tonight.

Shouldering her way past a tall human on his way out(Audun), Ava enters the Tavern. The young dwarf tosses her large pack into a booth and sits down. Her armor's shine has dulled due to lack of polishing and she looks like she has traveled far. Ava reaches down and adjusts the simple cloth cover on her shield and reaches into a pouch that hangs from her neck, checking on the contents. Content everything is as it should be, she begins to idly play with the beads in her auburn braid as she watches the other patrons. 

Okay, at this point I'm fairly sure Dragonlouis is on vacation or something.  We'll start with the people in the tavern:

The Frosty Beard is a cozy place.  The taproom is only about a thirty-foot square, but it's packed with life.  On the left is the bar, stocked with several barrels of drink and a door to the kitchen, and a ladder than leads up to a small supply loft.  To the right is a large dwarven-made stone hearth, its roaring fire already attracting a number of cold patrons despite the early time.  Directly across from the door is a small raised wooden platform that functions as a stage on the rare occasions there is entertainment.  The rest of the room is taken up by small wooden tables with three to five seats each.  Even though it's only morning, many townspeople are already here - not to drink; Kabli, the half-orc barmaid, doesn't allow anyone to buy alcohol until afternoon - but to have a warm breakfast and a nice chat with friends before heading out to another dreary day of frozen work.

Kicking the snow from her shoes at the door, Annika enters the heat of the taproom with a relieved sigh. She pulls off her gloves and begins unfastening the buttons to her coat, sidling up to the bar with a general familiarity borne of repeated, if sporadic, visits. She greets the barmaid with a quick, weary grin—

“Good morning Kabli. It’s been a while, glad to see you haven’t frozen solid up here. A hot cuppa, when you can please?”

After placing her order, she turns around to scan the room, noticing a face she doesn’t recognize. She nods politely to Ava.

"Annika.  Good to see you.  You want some breakfast to go with that? The mutton stew's good today." She prepares a cup of coffee, using beans that you know for a fact was delivered to the tavern five years ago (coffee is grown in the Sun-Lands, on the other side of the world from here).  "So... what brings ya back up this way?  The City finally gonna help put a stop to this damn war?" (it's not).

Ava, you see a strange-looking woman with light blue skin enter the tavern and talk to the barkeep, then take an old, battered mug of steaming liquid.  

(Both of you can describe your characters now)

Sorry, I thought I already posted my first post. I also thought I was subscribed. I'll get to it now.

A hill dwarf rounds the bend. He has finally arrived. Taking in the cool, fresh, morning, air, Torivir sighs. Hands interlocked in a calming position, he takes in his surroundings as he continues onwards. 

*      *      *

A hill dwarf enters the tavern. He is short and stout, and he carries with him an aura of peace and quiet. He signals for a waiter or waitress, and puts in an order for a small meal. "I'd like 2 baked potatoes, and some water, please. Make it warm.". He waits patiently for the meal to arrive, in complete silence. 

At this time of morning, there isn't enough business to justify waiters, so you have to simply order it with Kabli.  "Welcome, stranger.  If we didn't make the water warm, we'd make it ice.  Not much choice, these parts."  She pulls down another beaten, stained wooden mug, fills it full of steaming water, and hands it to you.  The rough, weathered wood feels warm and comfortable - at least until you run your hand along it and get a sliver.  "Two baked potatoes, comin' right up."  She turns and shouts at her husband Thorolf, who works the kitchen, to prepare your food.

“You say the mutton’s good every time,” Annika replies wryly. “But no thanks. Coffee is enough for me.” She side-eyes the worn, near-illegible label on the container of beans for a second, but nevertheless takes a large swallow, grateful for the warmth.

“And you know the White City is fully committed to supporting Hagfaldur. Which is why I’m here. Again.” The words are rote and political, but the smile she shares with Kabli is far more genuine.

Annika is of average height, but slender for a soldier, almost wispy. Despite that, her field uniform is finely cut and tailored - sturdy waterproof boots, fitted black pants, a loose white blouse, and a heavy blue coat with grey fur trim. The pack she carries with her is equally well made, though obviously much-used. Her purple hair is fine and straight, hanging loose around her shoulders. For those not familiar with genasi, her coloring in general may come as a shock, but the most striking thing about her is not genasi at all, but the almost glowing gold of her eyes, which is pure Primordial.

Annika raises her cup to the new dwarf in the universal gesture of recognition.

"Hmmph.  If the City really wanted to help the north, they'd just kill the damn giants.  The dwarves are winning, sure, but not quick enough.  But all the city folk do is say, "We don't have walkers like the dwarves! We'd just be useless!" Hmmph.  As if it's called "The City o' Magic" for nothin'.  They're just too damn lazy.  Not you, o' course," she quickly adds.

In the hill dwarf's studies, he has learned much about the White City to understand the conversation, despite his isolation, and this conversation has peaked his interest. He stands up, and pulls over a chair. "Calm down. It's easy to dismiss others as lazy or uncooperative, but often they have reasons other than those that I have just mentioned. Have you ever met somebody from the City?"

Silently, Kabli raises a finger and points it at the genasi sitting next to you.

After finishing up his bartering, Audun re-enters the tavern to grab the last of his belongings from his room, getting ready to set off. As he emerges from his room, he walks over to the bar, handing the room key to Kabli. "Always a pleasure to tell stories at this place, Kabli. Perhaps next time you will join me in this thing, yes? We would make quite the team, I think." He says in a strong northern accent, winking at the barmaid.

The tall, blond northerner wears simple woolen garments, obviously designed for warmth rather than fashion. Across his torso and shoulders sits a shirt of chain links, much of which is covered by the various furs that are draped across his broad shoulders. holding them in place are an assortment of tooled leather belts. On his back is a large array of bags and satchels with various scrolls and books sticking out. At his left side is strapped a sword and a long, thin leather tube and at his right is a large case made of the same leather. His right hand twirls a strand of his meticulously braided beard.