Acolyte's Frostbite

When a temple acolyte from Dyrford decided to leave behind his life of prayer and meditation in exchange for adventure, he carried a simple hatchet as he marched for Stalwart Village. Unfortunately, the acolyte's cloistered life had done little to prepare him for surviving in the wild. Halfway to Stalwart he was caught in an unseasonably bitter snowstorm. As night fell, the storm turned into the coldest blizzard the region had ever recorded.

The acolyte's body was found frozen stiff the next morning. He stood, hatchet in one hand, while the other held up his collar as if to protect his face from the wind. The hatchet, now permanently covered in a layer of frost, houses a portion of his wayward soul.