From the Strongfell mythology. Born in Triwath to an ancilary family of vaguely noble blood, Ablador's austerity was not appreciated by most. A rigid man, he gravitated toward the Greater Triwath Gaard and rose to a middle rank quickly, then continued in his career path much more slowly. In his 40th year, he was promoted to commander of northernmost outpost of humanity, the Fortress of Strongfell. Within his first month he had made enemies of their Dwarf Giant neighbors in the Village of Medlin, but with regular deliveries of provisions from the south, they had no need of native help. But when The Iron War ended with the Wall of Winds, they found themselves trapped in a hostile frozen land with few skills suited to the environment and no friends. The soldiers did their best to hunt in the mountains and fish the ocean with little enough luck to barely keep them ahead of the inevitable. It was barely a year before they began eating the dead, and little time before that they stopped waiting so long, Ablador serving as the first of the fresh meat. The soliders that took that final step roam the mountains still as ice creatures made of hunger, their calls familiar voices and sometimes screams in the night.