I was sipping my tea so joyously when a faint knock tapped upon my door. Like the quaint gentleman I am, I approached the stranger and gave him my most dashing smile. He seemed a little tense, fearful even, so I figured I’d relieve him of his anxiety by enlightening him with my killing joke. After I’d laid out the punch line about why the summoner hung himself with his own robes, I’d expected a giddy, lighthearted laugh, but instead he moved not one muscle of his smudged features. Disappointing. He was too serious.
There is some good news, however. It turns out the messenger was carrying a satchel, full of sealed documents! There were letters for Demacia, Noxus, Ionia…Oh! And did I mention?! There was one addressed to me as well! Heeheeheehahaha!
It appears my sources have found a large deposit of black magic, deep within Freljord. They have bestowed upon me the generous task of collecting it. How exciting! It’s been so long since I’ve tasted the souls of the cowardly, other than the diluted, replicated ones the Summoner’s Nexuses retch out. Just the thought of tampering with Runeterra’s goodness though…It is almost too much to bear! The chilling winds of Freljord will be the perfect cleansing tool for my system before I take in new power. I cannot wait!
I leave tonight. Eeheeheeheehee!
Hurricane Plains, Eastern Freljord
How dare those Demacians call this place a ‘barren wasteland’! It is one of the most glorious, most fascinating destinations I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon! Oh ho! The swirling storms, the smooth, yet jagged rocks that sprinkle themselves about; the rainbows of light that mingle in with the twinkling stars in the night sky; it is all so very wondrous!
And so it is such a shame that I cannot seem to find a living soul anywhere. No tracks, no camps…nothing. Quite frustrating, really.
I will prod onward I suppose. Yet, I wonder: how do the creatures here travel about in the scanty snow cover without leaving a single trace behind…?