It's a peaceful evening around Arx. The sun is setting, snow is falling, and the entire city is draped in a blanket of white. Guards are patrolling the city, citizens are settling in for their evening meals, and everything is perfectly normal.
And yet many people find themselves feeling unusually absent-minded this evening.
Crafters find it hard to focus on their commissions, as though it's hard to remember precisely what the design they were working on was. Guards on patrol find themselves retracing their steps, trying to remember if they've already walked this part of their beat. People out trying to buy goods before the market closes find themselves struggling to remember just what it was they came for.
And then a rumor begins to spread through the city: the snow falling near the Great Archive is /different/. For rather than a pure, pristine white, the flakes that are falling there have a greenish-black look to them, like something diseased.
Or perhaps... something Poisoned.
Whatever the cause, the strangely tainted snow soon begins to spread across the rest of the city.
There are tales of odd things happening around the city this evening. A ship went astray in the harbor, the captain and crew seemingly simply forgetting how to sail. Some veteran messengers who know all the shortcuts simply forgot entirely where they were going, and messages were delayed or lost. Merchants in some stores briefly forgot their own prices, selling things for far more -- or far less -- than they were worth. There are even rumors of a huge crowd of people /singing/ at the Shrine of Vellichor!
But now the fog that seemed to seize people's minds has passed; that odd forgetfulness, that strange absent-mindedness, has lifted. Those who were having trouble focusing find their thoughts clear once again, and life goes on about the city once more.
And yet... the snow that falls across Arx still remains a strange, sickly green.