Scouting for my Lord Sir Vandemeer’s army, I witnessed first the Ice Wraith’s fortress. Crystalline and looming, the keep was surrounded by giant frozen statues and a meager contingent of skeletal guards.
To my mind, the absence of any significant defense made the fortress vulnerable to attack. And hence, my ill-fated scouting report that emboldened Lord Vandemeer to march his entire army against the wraith’s stronghold.
A handful of survivors of that short-lived assault told tales of how, through the wind and driving snow, they heard those giants shed their shells of ice. Soon after, the silent sentinels hurled boulders onto the ice, plunging those armored men and horses, Vandemeer amongst them, to their Icy Doom. My lord can sometimes be seen on the battlements, eyes ablaze with an unholy light.
It’s become my haunted obsession to release him.