King 'Tundrai' Tom drummed his fingers on the arm of the Frozen Throne of The Ancients as he gazed balefully around the Palace of Enternal Winter. The Palace had stood for a thousand generations, its crystaline beauty masking a formidable strength that was a true testament to those ancient snow-masons so revered by Tom's forefathers. His eyes settled on the Spire of Frostling Might - a huge, inverted icicle removed from a vast cavern and hauled a thousand feet to the surface, now held in magic stasis by long-forgotten sorceries as it stretched high into the clear artic sky through an aperture in the roof of the Palace's main hall. Tom stared at it, and in doing so reached an epiphany that had long-eluded his ancestors.
He shot to his feet.
'Bloody hell, it's cold!' he boomed.
A minion scuttled forward, holding a parchment and trying to hide the huge sense of relief he was now feeling.
'Just so, your majesty. We have long be aware of a land far to the south - a land of 'beaches' and 'flowers', 'palm trees' and..' he swallowed, then in an awed whisper 'sunshine'
Tom grabbed the parchment from the now faintly-catatonic minion and studied it intently.
'It says it's being run by a bunch of Azracs' said Tom, jabbing a thick forefinger at the map.
The minion shook himself from his daydreams.
'Yes sire, and by all accounts they are somewhat inhospitable to visitors'.
'Are they, indeed ?' roared Tom. 'Right lads, get the Penguins out of their pens and into the bloody sea. Time they earnt all that fish we've been shoving into their gullets all this time. We're going on Vacation!'

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Cost myself valuable time by double clicking when I didn't really mean to.

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Independents rake our troops.
Slow going to be safe...
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Not too bad a turn.. notice the Frostlings have quite a few heroes.

I feel lonely..

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Don't worry Sleet - the Azracs will have more company than they can handle real soon!

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A little housekeeping and:

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Pesky lizards.

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'Are we there yet ?!'

The Frostlings get restless, anxious for a tan. Meanwhile, the Halflings have no stomach for war so we agree to peace. We have fun at signing of the treaty though by making the table that little bit too high..