The meteoromancers at the Celestial Tower issue their regular dispatch for the coming fourteen days, and the portents remain as mysterious as they are volatile.
**IRONPEAK DOMINION** — Expect the notorious winter grip to finally loosen its frozen fangs come midweek, as warmer thermals drift north from the Scorch Wastes. High temperatures near 38 degrees, with scattered snow flurries giving way to slate-grey skies by week's end. The city's Furnace Festival preparations continue unabated despite the lingering chill; blacksmiths report unusual demand for frost-resistant crucibles. Our weather augurs detect an anomalous shimmer above the Northern Spires—likely aurora phenomenon, though merchants from the Free Cities swear it appeared precisely one hour earlier than last month's celestial display. Worth monitoring.
**SHADOWFEN MARSHES** — The perpetual mists grow thicker, denser, almost *sentient* in their movements, according to locals. Humidity climbs to oppressive levels despite the late winter calendar. Fog banks now roll inland at dusk with unsettling regularity, obscuring the Wetwood Road entirely by nightfall. The Fen-witches' Convocation begins the 24th—a ceremonial gathering every third winter—and several travelers report encountering robed figures conducting strange rites at standing stones. Waterways remain treacherous; boatmen advise extreme caution. The Marshlands Authority recommends staying inland after sunset.
**SUNSPIRE COAST** — A rare stretch of clement weather graces our maritime provinces, with temperate breezes and crystalline skies anticipated through the month's end. The annual Springtide Migration commences, as sea-traders prepare vessels for the profitable summer routes. However—and this merits serious attention—the tide pools near Beacon Point have begun exhibiting bioluminescent activity two weeks ahead of schedule. Marine naturalists scramble to explain the phenomenon. Several fishing vessels report encountering *statuary* in the deeps where none existed prior, draped in barnacles and worked stone. The Admiralty dismisses such claims as superstitious fancy, yet has nonetheless restricted certain shipping corridors.
**THE BLEAKSCOUR EXPANSE** — Dust storms of apocalyptic proportion sweep the badlands with increasing frequency. Visibility drops to mere paces during the worst squalls. Caravans are advised to delay departure until conditions stabilize—an unlikely prospect given meteoromantic predictions. The nomadic clans report that the red dust carries an acrid, metallic taste, and livestock refuse to graze in storm-struck regions for days afterward. A merchant caravan vanished entirely during the 18th inst., leaving naught but boot-prints and scattered cargo before the dunes reclaimed all trace.
**WHISPERWOOD REACHES** — Spring arrives early in the ancient forest. Blossoms emergence three weeks premature; arborists and druids convene in hushed conference, exchanging theories both scientific and mystical. The wood's perpetual twilight deepens mysteriously. Hunters report game behaving erratically—fleeing westward en masse, as if driven by invisible force. The Rangers' Guild heightens patrols.
*Next fortnight's extended forecast available upon subscription.*