The frozen city’s only warning.
The ice that surrounded and encased the city began to shatter and break as the enemy’s magic willed. In the senate, hundreds of empty balconies snapped from their resting places and tumbled down, crushing and shattering the others. Decadent old men in scarlet robes began to blame each other for the disaster as ice buried and killed them. Those with sense tried to flee, only to be crushed in the city’s collapsing tunnels.
The warehouse district’s frozen ground fell apart beneath it, and all of the city’s supplies collapsed inward. Underneath the district lay a lake forgotten by time, where the supplies fell and the people froze. Supplies were ruined beyond repair and food would come to spoil, not that anyone would be alive to try to claim the ruined goods in any case.
The market took the longest to collapse, and so the people within were foolish enough to try to flee. But the tunnels that led out collapsed upon the peoples, and their blood seeped from their now caved-in entrances before the walls came down as well and crushed those who tried to flee. Those still in the market would soon die as well, however, for the market’s structures both wood and brick and stone were brought down to pile on the poor citizens of the city of ice.
The military district sounded the alarm, and gathered as many as it could to save. However, the tunnels to the other districts collapsed too quickly for their efforts to save the city. The ice on the outer walls fell and crushed the outer buildings. Those in the atrium gathered in the center and waited for their inevitable demises, trying not to listen to the screams.
The Housing section had the worst of it. Filled to the brim with icy spires and pathways, what didn’t shatter like glass was broken apart by what did. Thousands died in an instant as their homes collapsed around them. Still thousands more fell to their deaths as the pathways they walked across crumbled beneath them. A great spire fell and crashed into the ice wall of the atrium.
At the end of the horrible day, only three dozen citizens remained to carve an exit, and only 14 lived long enough to leave.
And through it all, Gioco, god of order and ice and the supposed protector of the city, was nowhere to be seen.