A Ragged Page

Samla,

As we follow our Lord Arthas north, ever north, my heart grows heavy. While he once shined with the Light, I now sense a darkening of the young paladin's spirit. His zeal is shadowed by a brooding, over some nightmare in his soul that I cannot divine...

We will soon make landfall in the frozen wastes. Although many of his men grow sick from the chill and from battles against putrid beasts, Arthas tells us that what he seeks in the ice will turn the tide of battle. But I took no comfort from his words, for after he said them... the grim smile planted on his curled lips chilled me deeper than any blizzard could.

Pray for us, Samla, and pray for our world,

Torgal