The hailstones are blown nearly horizontal by the unseasonable north winds. The low stone parapets provide some shelter from the hail but create fierce eddies of swirling winds near the ground. A flash of lightning illuminates the silhouette of Rufus and his men. Debris whirls about between overturned carts. Some guardsmen are taking down banners and standards. Others struggle to stable a pair of frightened horses. Rufus directs them with wild gestures but his yells are lost in a crash of thunder as the sky again goes dark.

Another flash of lightning. Rufus is running towards you, but dodges to one side to avoid loose debris. Darkness. Thunder.

Rufus' voice nearby. He has reached you. "Such devilry! When the sky changed, we assumed the worst. Merciful gods! What does it all mean?"

Without waiting for a response, he waves you towards the doors of the keep.  "No - not here. Seek the shelter of the tower walls. I fear that this storm has only just begun."