The room started to grow cold. The vapor of his breath growing weaker and weaker as his body began to freeze. Cracks in the ceiling of the room letting water drip down, freezing instantly on impact with the ground, sprouting pillars of ice in all directions. His body began to turn blue as the temperatures started dropping faster. He ran and ran as fast as his frost bitten legs could carry him, screaming in agonizing pain every step he took.
But every direction was just white walls covered in pillars of frozen ice. Most of the ground he walked on was either covered or surrounded in ice. He began to break down, pain shooting through his body, and no where to go. He hears a snap and he falls over landing on his back sending even more pain shooting through him.
Looking down he sees the shards of his frozen leg a foot away from him, disconnected at the thigh muscles. He falls back in disbelief as his life is about to come to a close. A drop of water lands on his face, running down his pale face. He raises his arm to brush it off only to have his shoulder shatter turning his arm to dust on impact with the ground.
A soft ringing noise began to grow in his ear. A constant beat, growing louder as he lay there on the glass-like floor. The room began to darken as the ice began to melt and his body with it. First, his other leg, than his arm, each part fading away with the ringing growing louder every passing second. After a few minutes he was nothing but a block of ice, unable to move, unable to speak, only watching as dark figures began to surround him.
The figures parted and knelt as a lone figure emerged from between the group. "My lady, Lissandra. The village has been destroyed as requested."
Lissandra approached the lone man frozen solid on the floor, and looked down on him with her shining blue, cold, eyes. "Good. Leave no trace of us. The Frejlordians must not know of our arrival until such time is required." She looks down at the man at their feet. Save this one, we always need more slaves." Her smile widens as she gets eye level with the man. The room grows black as he slowly slips unconscious, seeing nothing but the bright blue of the Ice Queen's eyes before him.
The large wooden door at the end of the hall swings open with tremendous force as a group of barbarians rush across the pillared room. They kneel before the King and Queen of Frejlord.
Ashe, dressed in a white and blue dress, gets up from her stone carved throne and stands infront of the barbarians. "What is your business here?" They look up at the snow queen as she stands before them reaching her hand out to help them stand.
The leader of the barbarians accepts the help and gets to his feet. "We come before you in desperate need of assistance." Tears began to build up in the beefy man's eyes. "Our village in the Ironspike mountains was attacked while the warriors were out hunting. When we got back, the women and children had all been the village was burning down." Ashe had just now noticed the desolate faces of the rest of his group. Who looked petrified with shock and fear. The room went into a eerie silence, as Tryndamere, the king, stood up from his throne. His greatsword on his back reflecting the light that came through the stained glass window behind him.
He walked down the wooden steps and met the group on the stone floor. "Do you know who it was?" The leader of the barbarians turned his head to look at the king.
"No, there was no signs of anything that could tell us who did it."
Tryndamere began stroking his beard thinking about what actions should be taken. But before he could speak, Ashe stepped forward, helping the group to their feet. "We can not bring backed your village, or your loved ones. But we can offer you support anyway we can."
As the group rises and make their way to their entrance, Ashe turns to her husband only to see him sitting back down on his throne. When the door closes, Tryndamere motioned to one of the guards in the hall. "Send more soldiers to guard posts around the outer villages. We need to protect our borders as best as we can."
"Husband, we must not provoke the other clans while we are so close to starting a war already." Ashe interjected.
Tryndamere's eyes light up with rage at her sudden interjection. He slams his fist on the stone arm of the grey throne, nearly snapping it in two. "I will not sit back as savages burn down my villages, and slaughter the people of Freljord! Provoking the Winter Claw is the least of our problems right now." The room grew into another moment of silence as Ashe made her way to the her seat next to her husband. She looked on as her husband motioned for the next group.