Hector- Scale

DREW’S HEART LURCHED as he was carried high over the great frozen walls of Icegarden, the white roads and avenues rushing by below. Silhouettes shambled and shuffled through the snow-covered streets, drawing ever closer to the mighty monument at the city’s heart. The palace of the White Bears protruded from the Strakenberg, towering flying buttresses holding it aloft, a cathedral to the glory of Sturmland. The figures that ambled through the city all headed in the same direction, to the great doors that marked the palace entrance, as if answering some ghastly call to prayer. They amassed on the steps, hammering at the threshold, clawing at the wood, wanting to enter and claim their prize. As Count Carsten swooped low, the dark wanderers looked up, the blue fires in their eyes flashing as the Wolf and his allies sped by overhead.

Icegarden was lost to the dead.

B6 P5 C1