Upon the eternal glacier of the Frost Weaver, the priestesses of the cult of Aryn are guarding the sleep of the great Winter Dragon. They know neither leniency nor mercy in their duty, for should the dragon ever be awakened, all life would perish in the chill it spreads. Therefore, the arrows of the ice elves of Tirganach do not discriminate between light and darkness anymore; the only thing that matters to them is their duty.