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Tal paused, gazing across the desolate valley below. He took a long swig from his waterskin. Everywhere, ice. Some mystic force had drawn the young goblin into this snow-covered region. All the legends of Iferra spoke of opposing forces, battling among the peaks, seeking a balance between order and chaos. Tal found no balance here, only ice and bitter cold. One could easily fall into a sense of despair and hopelessness in this frigid wasteland if you pondered too long upon the emptiness and isolation. Still, the promise of adventure and luck-laden trinkets, along with the unknown force driving him, pushed his small frame to begin striding forward again, his boots crunching through the shin-deep drifts ahead of him. A little luck had always carried him through in the past after all...hadn't it.