<span class="mu-s">You are <span class="mu-i">Fiona Jarnafeldt,</span> Level 2 Helsinki Stormwatch Trollslayer,</span> and as the doors of the personnel carrier swing open, you are grateful for the torrent of rain which greets you, letting its sweet and soothing petrichor wash away the stagnant air of pyrrhic victories and disappointment.
And the miasma of the body of the squatter you killed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owys1kVR4og

Today, you led a small scouting expedition to find an entrance into the stormdrains, following known trends of aberrations being imported from the north into the stormdrains. The mission was a success - you found a guarded secret tunnel in current use by off-the-books migrants. It cost one of your agent's the capability to freely use one of their arms. You're pretty certain he's going to be out for a month or two. You had to carry away the body of someone you killed to cover your tracks, and a trickster aberration that led an ambush against you and struck you twice with a sling slipped away. All in all, success, but with far more lumps than you can have and be prideful about.

But that's not why your mood is dour. On the way, you met up with a naturalist researcher who calls himself Leshy, and he was the one who offered a letter of recommendation to the Stormwatch to get you hired. He explained that your mother who you thought was simply dead had in truth gone on an expedition to remap the north pole, as mulititude calamities and time have eroded and reshaped it. This isn't as bad a goal as the secondary goal of finding "Hyperborea," a supposed land beyond a wall of ice when it has been recorded that the ice caps totally melted at one point and in ancient times of satellite imagery and space flight confirmed to be not present.

The organization that lead the expedition, Mother Nature's Providence, is also one that imposes limits on the number of people who are allowed to live, enforces the usage of primitive tools because factories cause waste, and controls who is allowed to have children. Learning that this hysteria born from the existence of aberrations, mutated creatures resembling legendary monsters of eld, has affected an organization to not only orchestrate your peasant upbringing and inability to start a family until you kill in their name, but the disappearance of your mother.

So yes, you're very upset. You're upset at just about everything. But as the drops sting the open gash under your hair and dampens your clothes, the first breath you take of the smell of rain is nothing but healing. A gift from the gods who know you need something pleasant today.

The others hurried out of the rain, the body hauled off to processing. You stood there, under the gray sky, letting the rain hit you for a while.