Noel Makes the Summit of Snow Lord's Peak

Two strapping janissaries crest the summit, huffing and puffing, with what looks to be a huge soup tureen strung on pole between them. The lid on the soup pot opens and Noel emerges, striking a pose much like Heinz Guderian surveying Poland from a panzer. 

This week's Snow Lord's Peak brought to you from Mount Columbia, Alberta.

The Snow Lord looks pointedly behind Noel. 'Where is your entourage? I was expecting a larger party with you.'

Noel rubs his head, not wanting to meet the Snow Lord's eyes, 'Right, well, knowing that there was treasure that would need to be split up I decided to, ahem, reduce my footprint a little. You know, it's absolutely astonishing how treacherous the cliff sides can be coming up here...' 

The Snow Lord arches his eyebrow and smiles knowingly. 

Noel clambers out of his pot, flourishes a bow to his janissaries and looks around. 'Hmm. I thought it would be, well, more peak-like up here. It's sort of flat.'

The blue creature nods and grimaces a bit. 'Martin was just up here and wanted to take a few rock samples. I think he went a little overboard.' He gazes at the surroundings which are flat as a billiard table. 'Lady Sarah's going to have a few choice words when she get's back. Maybe I can get some of the local stone trolls to help me out...'

He shrugs and turns back to Noel. 'Anyway, you spoke of treasure, so I assume you need me to help you out with that?'

Noel nods, 'If you could that it would be brilliant. I have to get back so I can paint another zillion figures tonight in order to make everyone feel like a bunch of pathetic underperformers.'

The Snow Lord closes one eye and ponders. 'You know, I think I have the perfect task for you. This should be absolute torture. I want you to focus your work on ONE figure or vignette for ONE week. None of this I painted an army in an afternoon nonsense. Just work on one thing for one week. It can be anything you like in any scale, but it has to be a single figure or something on a single base.

Stupefied at the unattainable task at hand, Noel girds his loins to face his fate...

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I look forward to seeing what your labours produce, Noel!

-Curt