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Eastern Plaguelands, Stratholme.
The fierce wind kept howling and whipping past. Whooooo!!!
It sounded like a wild beast straining its throat, roaring over and over.
"The wind here has really been strong lately." Standing atop Stratholme's newly built walls, Baron Rivendare lowered his visor and carefully felt the howling gale as he spoke to a Lich in purple robes beside him.
"The winds from the northeast all blow in from the sea," the Lich replied casually.
The two walked along Stratholme's completed walls, pointing things out as they went, broad smiles on their faces.
"Look, all the construction in Stratholme has gone incredibly smoothly. The walls are basically finished now. Only this northern section still needs a little work."
"But whether the northern wall is finished hardly affects Stratholme's defenses at all. Mountains lie to the north of Stratholme, and they're extremely steep. There's absolutely no way an enemy could cross them and attack Stratholme from the north." Baron Rivendare stood on the wall and pointed north.
His voice was weighty and his expression spirited, with the air of a commander surveying his domain.
He continued, "Who knows how many men they'd have to sacrifice to cross such treacherous peaks? A thousand? Two thousand?"
"Even if they managed to get across in the end, how could we fail to notice such a massive undertaking? We'd be ready and waiting. Against a bunch of exhausted men,