The young boy knew something waited, perhaps a great beast had washed up on shore to attract such vast numbers of the flocking vermin. He upped his gate to a jog, excitement gripped him at what treasures he might find, perhaps a downed dragon or a beached whale. One thing was certain, the gulls were feasting. So whatever it was, wasn't on the fight.

Coming to the crest of the cliffs he peered boldly over its nearly vertical incline. Gulls scattered into the air as soon as he invaded their perches. They waited for their turn below, which was still obscured by the white and gray avians. It had become known to him though right away, this was a ship wreck. Pieces jutted up out of the water off shore, lumber floated, barrels and crates sat lazily in the water lapping at the receded beach.

Quickly young Dreslic found what he was looking for, the well hidden path down to the rocky beachhead, it was a path his sister and he often used when the tide was low, as it was now. Much to the ire of their mother who was far to often dispatched to retrieve them when their make-believe adventures kept them until dusk.

Soon he found his way carefully down with the dexterity of youth. The gull squawked in protest at his intrusion but never the less gave way to his undaunted curiosity. He pushed forward pausing long enough to pick up a haft of lumber. It was long and sturdy and he held it like a broadsword. Instantly he felt he could take on a dark knight of Necrucifer or perhaps even a dragon. Knowing the place well he did not bother to search up close to the cliff. Any evidence there would be pulverized, the stone itself was smooth and clean. Nothing but the staunchest barnacles clung to it in places and deep recesses. So farther out he ventured the gulls rising like a blanket to reveal the shore littered with debris.

As he flipped timbers and kicked over a broken barrel he stepped back in shock. A thick yet short fingered hand revealed itself underneath. Its arm disappearing beneath another large set of timbers. He calmed himself and looked back up to the cliff face wondering how long it'd take him to reach it before the undead gobbled him up. Stealing his courage he gripped his wooden sword and reached out with the tenderness of one expecting to be burnt to the hand. Gingerly he touched it, it was cold clammy and dead. He sat back suddenly when his probing forced a crab to scuttle out from beneath it.

Swallowing hard he braced himself again and reached for the underside of the planking and heaved flipping it over with his eyes clenched tight and then dancing backward several steps to get a head start on whatever lurked beneath. Critters moved swiftly about no longer hidden delicacies for the gulls they were easily now revealed. As well was revealed the pale face of the peacefully dead dwarf dressed in military regalia bearing the well known insignias of Thaxanos. Seeing quite enough, young Dreslic MacAllen abandoned his makeshift sword and headed for the trail as fast as his athletic legs would allow. He had to tell someone, anyone and pray he didn't get a beating for another tall tale like the last time.

As was feared, the dwarven war machine was on the march, it had reached the shores of Icewall. And before the day was ended, those who would return before the tide attempted to obliterate the rest of the wreck, it would be confirmed that no force marched away from the beach. The word would spread, the SS Grudgebearer went down. All hands to be lost.