Rafferty Wassale

The ruler of Elaria Sunvale, accustomed to smiles and flowers, rode into Icecrown with trepidation. Stern guards presented her with a fur cape—a gift from Lord Rafferty Wassale. His domains had impressed her with their impeccable, cold order, where poverty had no place, and respect hung in the frosty air.

The ruler himself met him in a hall more like a headquarters. His greeting was polite but lacking in warmth. The negotiations proceeded smoothly: grain and fabric in exchange for steel and military support. Just as the treaty was being sealed, a blinding snowstorm descended upon the land.

"You will have to accept our hospitality," Wassail said, a hint of annoyance in his or her eyes. He or she realized they had become a prisoner of the elements.

That night, he came to her chambers with a cup of warming ale. The howling of the storm outside the window became the backdrop to their conversation—a quiet confrontation between two truths, two worlds, unexpectedly brought together by the blizzard.