Far to the north, past the cold, vast plains and tangles ancient forests, past even the brooding Deadfire Mountains, lies a real of ice and bitter cold. Barren and stark, few have ventured in to this icy realm. Hunting here is scarce and the wind seems to howl with the voices of demons. Yet there are rumors of a citadel in the heart of the ice field, rising above the wind-swept whiteness and glittering in the pale sunlight. Some say that the citadel was built of block of ice by giants. Others claim that some wild magic caused the structure to grow from the very ice. Yet others state in low voices that it is not ice that shines so, but a fortress of diamonds, built in ages past to guard the most powerful of magics in the world.
You realize a group of men is going right to you. The man in front has a hard determined look on his face, the two men behind follow him with some uneasiness. He stops before you, holding the handle of his sword in one hand, and slaps (choose person carefully) with leather gloves he carries in the other hand. "Rhadagald Thinvoice, I challenge You to a duel to dea..." Stopping abruptly, he realizes this is the wrong person.