Casey Hollingshead
Description
Ah, the true heart of the north: its winter. Much has been said of the region's hostile climate, that it is a beast in and of itself, a spirit wreathi
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ng your very soul in freezing tendrils. And it’s true. The common hexe has nothing on the ice that isolates, the frost that frightens. She stands second to this suffocating cold which so easily corrupts minds into desperate imaginations. I shall return with books entirely dedicated to this bastard weather, for here my ink bottle hasn’t the depth to replicate its horrors. But I will try and answer succinctly, borrowing from a common northern refrain. You asked of me, ‘What do I think of the north?’ and so here is the simplest response: Death would be warmer.
Mercenaries, bound by an impossible contract, traverse a treacherous territory rife with conniving noblemen, secretive scribes, and monstrous creatures. Amid sieges, perilous escapes, and costly battles, these sellswords must stand strong against the creeping cold of the north. Here, winter is no ordinary season but a beast unto itself, a creature that only the strongest of wills would ever dare contend with.
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