Map T30

Gnomes cower in fear as the Yule tribe stalk the tundra. Who will save them from their terrible fate?

Escape from Yeurfrost is the 30th questing area in the game and becomes available when all sub-quests and boss encounters have been completed on at least normal difficulty in Bludheim

NM Achievement Winter Horrorland

  • Completing this area on normal will allow you to get the Yule Workshop raid essence.


Title Level 1 Level 2 Level 3 Level 4 Level 5 Level 6 Level 7
Winter Horrorland
(Complete Escape from Yeurfrost on Nightmare difficulty.)
Acv winter horrorland 1
25 AP
Acv winter horrorland 2
50 AP
Acv winter horrorland 3
100 AP
Acv winter horrorland 4
250 AP
Acv winter horrorland 5
500 AP
Acv winter horrorland 6
1000 AP
Acv winter horrorland 7
2000 AP

Possible Drops

Name Att Def AV Per Ability Obtained
Collection incomplete toy 1 brown Brown Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Collection incomplete toy 2 grey Grey Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Collection incomplete toy 3 green Green Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Collection incomplete toy 4 blue Blue Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Collection incomplete toy 5 purple Purple Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Collection incomplete toy 6 orange Orange Incomplete Toy Craft x60 Stat Points Yule Workshop (Raid)
Yule workshop essence Yule Workshop Essence Used to summon Yule Workshop (Raid) Yule Workshop
Winter warlord The Winter Warlord 2500 2500 3125 Tundra Tactics: 10% chance to deal 10,000 damage; Extra 3,000 damage for each Makeshift Nailblade owned (MAX: 250); Extra 100,000 damage against Human raids; Extra 100,000 damage against Winter raids; Gains 10 Attack and Defense for each Toy Workshop owned (MAX: 250); Increases the Attack and Defense of Gnome troops in the active legion by 50 Escape from Yeurfrost


Quest Name Energy Experience Miniboss Drops
Z30 a1 q1 Little Ironies Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q2 The Revolution Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q3 A New Life Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q4 Blood on the Snow Yule Hunting Party
Yule tribe workshop small Yule Workshop

Quest Name Energy Experience Miniboss Drops
Z30 a1 q1 Little Ironies Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q2 The Revolution Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q3 A New Life Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q4 Blood on the Snow Yule Hunting Party
Yule tribe workshop small Yule Workshop

Quest Name Energy Experience Miniboss Drops
Z30 a1 q1 Little Ironies Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q2 The Revolution Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q3 A New Life Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q4 Blood on the Snow Yule Hunting Party
Yule tribe workshop small Yule Workshop

Quest Name Energy Experience Miniboss Drops
Z30 a1 q1 Little Ironies Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q2 The Revolution Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q3 A New Life Yule Hunting Party
Z30 a1 q4 Blood on the Snow Yule Hunting Party
Yule tribe workshop small Yule Workshop

Pre Lore

Thimwhistle rocked in his chair in front of the crackling fireplace. His old bones began to know warmth despite the ever present cold that seemed determined to overtake his small home. He was old even by gnome standards but still had many a tale to tell.

Around him many grandchildren sat in front of the same fire as he. Melting chocolates upon crackers and other delicious, wintery delights. His youngest grand daughter crawled up to his lap and looked up at him with sparkles in her eyes. Brightbloom, she was aptly named Thimwhistle thought, always beaming with joy. Where she went brightness seemed to follow. A smile came to his weathered face as he tussled her hair affectionately.

"Granpappi," she began, "what's that?" She was pointing to a green, pointed hat. Snow rabbit fur lined the brim and a nearly perfect white tuft of hair sat upon the tip. Thimwhistle stared for a long while, lost in thought as if he were seeing something that were not actually there. "A memory from long ago, sweet child. A reminder of where many of us in the north come from." Brightbloom seemed unsatisfied by the answer and fidgeted in his lap, "What does that mean?"

Thimwhistle contemplated giving the child a well crafted fib, but seeing her face full of questions he sighed heavily. By this point the other children had stopped what they were doing and watched the exchange with interest. Another smile came to his face, "Have you children heard the tale of the Winter Warlord?" All of them shook their heads.

"Well, it is an old tale. But it is important to us and helps us remember where we come from." He set Brightbloom down gently and began his tale.

"Our story begins in a time when the wind howled with a ferocity the likes of which you have never beheld, sweet children. When our homes were not safe and our people, the gnomes who decided to make a life in the harshness of the north, were beset by a vile foe who still walks these lands today." He paused, letting the tension creep into their young minds.

"A tale of the Winter Warlord and the escape from Yeurfrost." Excited eyes met his as he began to tell the story from long ago.

Quest Lore

Pre Lore

Brimble coughed violently and shivered in the cold night air. He took a deep breath and exhaled to calm himself. He could see his breath, drifting away in the air. He stared at it for a time and contemplated how the day would proceed. He was getting close now, he thought; they were growing more lax with each passing day.

He stared into his empty porridge bowl for a time, letting his mind wander and listening to the sounds of the camp. He had been a captive in this place for a long time; months, years - time stretched and he could not rightly recall how long his captivity had been. He knew there were others that had shared a similar fate as he over the years. One noteworthy gnome of times past by the name of Limbledorn had escaped in a similar fashion to how Brimble had planned: slowly earning the trust of his captors and escaping when they least anticipated it.

Limbledorn's tale mostly ended in the tundra. It was said that he stalked the Yules in their beds and slew them wherever they made camp, but Brimble knew these were the tales captives told themselves to remain hopeful. Hopeful that a magnificent rescuer would appear and deliver them from this place. Hope was a dangerous thing here, and Brimble reminded himself of that as his plan came closer to fruition.

He heard boots stomping on wood and before long a tall figure, well tall by gnome standards at the very least, loomed in the doorway to his cell. It was dark so Brimble had difficulty seeing exactly who was there, but the door to his iron cage rattled as the tribesman inserted key into lock. The cage shook and the door swung wide with a deafening clang.

"It is time for your day to begin, gnome." The tribesmen said gruffly, "Get to your feet and let us be quick. The festivals will soon be upon us and our chieftain won't be the fool as a result of your folly." He gripped Brimble by the arm and hoisted him up. The odor of sweat, excrement and blood assaulted Brimble's senses; it amazed him that the Yule smelled considerably worse than he did, but he kept his silence.

He was led down a long corridor and into a wide hall. Within the hall there were many other gnomes in ragged clothing working the toy tables, crafting all manner of trinkets for the Yule children and adults alike. Brimble saw weary eyes and exhausted hands working as quickly as they could, but it was never quick enough for the Yule. They barked out commands at the fatigued gnomes and hurled curses and threats upon them ceaselessly.

Finally the tribesman led Brimble to an empty table with an assortment of wooden tools at his disposal. Reaching down, he pulled a heavy bucket of paint and set it on the table. The green liquid sloshed and splattered over Brimble, but he knew better than to protest. The Yule seemed satisfied with this and left the gnome to his own devices.

Brimble looked around and saw that no one was paying him any mind. Reaching delicately into his shirt with the aid of an illusionary spell he produced a handful of nails and a short, primitive sword and started working them with the tools the Yules had provided. He would need to work on his escape while also delivering his quota to the tribesmen as they had come to expect, but he grew more confident in his plan with each passing day.

He surveyed the room and saw another gnome hard at work on a small, wooden train. He wasn't far, perhaps thirty or so feet, and with a quickness that surprised even Brimble he threw more iron materials through the air when the Yules were distracted. Nimbly, Brimble caught them and quickly set to work combining the materials.

The entire gnome population within the workshop was aware of his plans and worked to support their one and only cause: escape.

Little Ironies

Z30 a1 q1
In another life Brimble had been an accomplished smith. Working his forge and anvil for knights and peasants alike and he was as adept at making blades as he was at forging horse shoes or fixing hoes, but this was without a doubt his most challenging build yet.

He had plans to finish a very crude blade from various nails found within the shop. He couldn't forge a weapon the likes of which he would prefer, but he did have a secret that his captors were oblivious to and had been since his incarceration. Brimble had studied many things in the outside world in addition to smithing. He knew several languages and could recite poems written in the hands of many different races but his other skill lay within the arcane. Upon his capture he had considered utilizing this knowledge to aid in his escape, but at the time he felt stunned and near hopeless when they had found him.

Later he came to realize that this lapse in focus had saved him, for the Yules did not suspect he had any knack for magic at the moment and opted to chain him in typical irons as opposed to enhanced manacles which suppressed the ability to tap into the arcane conduit that flowed through one's body. Slowly and with great care Brimble would work the nails and heat them with the greatest of care making them malleable and more willing to bend to his cause.

He set to work on the toy at hand in addition to his freedom. The Yules were fond of toys and trinkets and had many festivals near the end of the year across the entirety of the north. When they weren't capturing new laborers for their shops they were hunting, beast and man alike. Their halls would fill with the sounds of revelry and feast, and in any other circumstance to an outsider it would seem like a most welcoming sound.

Brimble liked the idea of crafting toys for joy as opposed to the killing instruments of a knight. While he was an excellent smith he had reservations about his craft. Ironic that he found an odd sense of peace in what he did now despite the circumstances. The small toy soldier he toiled upon would be enjoyed by a young Yule lad or lady and that brought him a warmth in his heart that he did not expect.

He had once proposed the idea that many would be willing to produce these toys joyously if the Yules but asked, but his request was met by a volley of insults and threats. The Yules had a certain way they did things, traditional ways, and they didn't take kindly to suggestions that didn't line up with those traditions. So it was that Brimble found himself ironically enjoying what he did while simultaneously attempting to escape. Life was full of these ironies he mused.

He was brought out of his musing by angry shouting from the corner.

The Revolution

Z30 a1 q2
A gnome had dropped the toy she was working on and it had cracked on impact, leaving a large divide on the toy's body. The Yule overseeing her work was shouting angrily and threatening to remove her hands and send her to the cooking pots. Brimble's grip tightened on his half-completed sword.

He looked down upon it, a blade, if you could even call it that, made mostly of nails and other bits of scrap metal. He had woven the nails together and sharpened the edges and reinforced the shaft using other bits of scrap. It was mostly thanks to his magic and a little smithing know-how that he put the weapon together at all. It was a very short weapon, he estimated just under a foot in length but it would do the job he needed it for. He wanted more time on the device but the shouting was growing louder, angrier.

He had made several of these types of blades and with great care and secrecy, got them into the hands of a few other gnomes within the workshop. Then he heard it: the sound of a hard hand striking flesh. He saw the gnome sprawled on the ground with the Yule standing over her, an angry look in his eyes. Brimble couldn't remember doing it, but in the blink of an eye he had reached down deep inside and found the familiar spark of magic essence that flowed through him. It was like a river, calm and gentle until a hand dipped in and disturbed its flow, sending streams in a multitude of directions. He directed the flow of arcane energy through his body and in his hands, sending a white hot flash into the chains before him. There was a bright light and the link parted and before he knew what had come over him he had sprang to his feet and brandished the crude blade he held and ran towards the first Yule tribesman he could find.

He lept into the air and brought the blade across the Yule's throat. Crimson sprayed Brimble in the face as hot sticky blood flowed freely from the Yule's shocked face. Other gnomes now got to their feet, the nearest grabbing at the slain Yule's purse to find the keys inside.

Brimble's eyes were wild with fury as he conjured up more magic that had pooled within. He could feel it coursing through his veins. It was a chilling sensation that ran from his chest to his limbs and he focused that magic into a potent bolt of energy which emanated from his outstretched arm and struck another Yule square in the chest, leaving a smoking crater where the bolt had struck.

The revolution had begun.

A New Life

Z30 a1 q3
The workshop erupted in chaos. Gnomes were grabbing weapons, or turning toys into weapons, and assaulting the Yules. Brimble led the charge as best he could and got the gnomes out of their shackles. Many fell in the process but more escaped with the assistance of one another.

The majority of the tribesman were hunting or were elsewhere within the camp. Once the workshop itself was freed Brimble led who he could outside. There were a few tribesman waiting for them but they were dispatched quickly by the frantic gnomes who could taste the sweetness of freedom in the air. They had looted many weapons to replace their makeshift arsenal and were now standing toe to toe with any Yules that got in their way.

Brimble led twenty gnomes from the camp and the group escaped into the harshness of the tundra. The wind blew and snow covered the land in great blankets. The gnomes shivered and pressed onward, bloodied and fatigued but also thankful to be alive. It was the first taste of freedom they had experienced, for some, in years.

After what felt like an eternity they discovered a small cave and took shelter within. Some fell along the way, reducing the gnome forces by a fraction. They huddled together, smiles dancing upon their faces despite the dire situation they found themselves in.

Hunger and exhaustion were constant companions but they remained steadfast in their joy, for they were free at long last. Something within Brimble had sparked, a fire deep within his breast that had not existed before. He still had his makeshift blade from the workshop on his belt, but had replaced it in the heat of combat with a much more reliable steel blade from a Yule he had slain within the workshop.

He pulled several nails free from the weapon he had forged and infused them into his new blade. A reminder, he told himself, of where they had come from and how much farther they must go. He looked upon the faces assembled within the cave; young and old alike all smiled, all looked to him.

He stood up and addressed the group, all eyes watching his every move. "Today," he began, "we have struck a blow against our captors. Many fell to get us here, and many more yet toil within that wicked workshop. The camp will surely know of our flight and the tribes will talk amongst themselves to better prepare against such an incident occurring again." He paced back and forth and brandished his bloodied blade for emphasis as he spoke, "But while we have paid for our freedom, so too must we pay for the freedom of those unfortunate souls who could not escape with us."

A small voice piped up from the back, it was the gnome the Yule had struck earlier which led to Brimble breaking his chains initially. Her face was bruised and swelling had begun, but a look of determination played upon her face, "You mean to go back?" she said, addressing Brimble directly. He nodded solemnly in response.

"Then I too shall go. So long as chains shackle our fellows, my heart shall not rest." She hoisted a primitive looking warhammer and raised it high, "I will follow you, Winter Warlord. Wherever your weapon swings, so too shall mine."

The other gnomes rose to their feet and chanted, "The Winter Warlord!" and Brimble felt his old life shed away as his new journey was beginning.

Blood on the Snow

Z30 a1 q4
They were quiet as snow leopards, creeping up to the encampment. Yeurfrost had been their prison for so long, but now it would be remembered as the birth of a revolution. They had spoken at length about the best course of action and it was decided that the Yule chieftain and the entire workshop must fall.

They encountered many Yule scouts along the way who had attempted to track their whereabouts upon their escape, but the gnomes remained one step ahead of them. They crept over the walls and entered the prison cells. With quiet feet they began to free the remaining gnomes. Their numbers swelled and each gnome was armed with a weapon to aid them in the event of a confrontation.

Some gnomes accepted eagerly, others looked more scared than they had while in shackles. For some, this was practically the only life they knew anymore, and for others they had never entertained the idea of throwing off their shackles to make war upon the Yule. But all did accept their new armaments in the end.

Brimble, heralded the Winter Warlord, led the group to the chieftain's hut. But as they rounded the corner they came face to face with a group of Yules who were all too prepared to meet the gnomes in battle. Cries went out, "For the Winter Warlord!" Some declared, others screamed out other names but all joined together as brothers and sisters in this pivotal moment of conflict, and for the first time in Yule history gnome and Yule blades met as equals in what would be a historic and violent encounter.

Boss: Yule Workshop

Quest Zones

Burden's Rest |  Faedark Valley |  Fallows |  Ryndor |  Vornstaag |  The Last Titan |  Bludheim |  Subterranean Depths
Together in Eclectic Dreams |  The Dragons' Claw |  Scrolls of Dahrizon |  Peril of the Pumpkin Patch
Tales from the Pumpkin Patch |  Sanguine Stories |  Crypt of Caracalla |  A Tale of Two Swords |  My Name Is...
Far From Home |  Whispers |  Under the Hood |  Fog of War |  All Roads Lead |  Crimson Shadows |  Uncharted |  Thresholds |  Shadows of the Past