“Ah-ha! Fellow adventurers, just the sort of capable individuals I was hoping to run into! You stand before none other than Sir Percival Ashby-Hawthorne, illustrious explorer, scholar of the unknown, and—most pressingly—victim of a most tragic misplacement!”

“You see, I recently embarked on a daring escapade through this very labyrinth, chronicling its wonders for my ever-expanding ‘Encyclopedia of Dangerous Yet Strikingly Beautiful Places to Perish.’ In the heat of discovery, I removed my most treasured possession—Blizzardpeak!—a hat of unparalleled majesty and frigid charm, said to grant its wearer the unwavering resilience of the northern winds!”

“However… in my enthusiasm, I may have set it down… somewhere… around coordinates 4718, 706… which, as fate would have it, is currently occupied by rather unsavory sorts. Ghouls? Wraiths? Possibly something with tentacles? I was rather distracted at the time.”

Image “Marvelous! Ah, my old friend, back where you belong! …Though, between us, I must admit, I’ve grown rather accustomed to my hair being less frostbitten. You know what? Keep it! A legendary relic such as this deserves to be with adventurers of your caliber. Besides, I’ve always wanted an excuse to commission a new hat—perhaps something with three plumes this time!”