Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part II

Bolwyn wrapped the furs tighter against the freezing cold of the night and bit on the stem of his pipe. The ice on it's surface stuck to his chapped lips painfully. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a decent pipeful. His pipeweed was frozen and useless. It would be impossible to get it burning in these conditions, but it wouldn't stop him trying. He couldn't even remember when he'd groomed his beard. Not that there was much left after the brief visit to blazing inferno inside the remorhaz. Running his hand through the charred remains Bolwyn wondered: "Maybe I should just cut the rest of it off and start all over again?"

Cursing his blasphemous thought Bolwyn ripped the pipe from his lips a spat mightily. The slightly bloody splatter was frozen solid before it hit the ground. He didn't want to be here. He had never wanted to be here. He should be back home feeling the heat of the forge on his face as he created tools of destruction for their soldiers. He could be of use like Moradin had intended. Instead he was out here chasing idle fantasies, but orders were orders.

"Crumbling stone" Bolwyn muttered to himself , but the dwarven phrase didn't fit the situation. There were no hidden flaws. This expedition hadn't looked promising to begin with, and now it had turned from bad to worse. The message "There is no Thule" was ominous enough, but what frightened him more was the tunnel before them. He didn't know how deep it ran. If it really would take them to the Underdark, they would be in trouble.

 Journeys there were dangerous enough with highly skilled deepwardens. 

With this bunch of surface dwellers it would be fatal.

Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part I

Thelon Celtharion stood a little bit outside the camp staring at the frozen landscape. The tears flowing on Enoch Crowgale's face from seeing his son die had hardly dried and the news of the words ”There is no Thule” had hit the camp.

Eventhough the two recent deaths of their comrades and the personal wounds Thelon had suffered in the battle against the white wyrm darkened his mind, he felt surprised. Surprised that considering the difficulties they had faced so far, these were the first two deaths to happen. And how many more there would be considering that Thelon didn't believe this was the end. Didn't believe that Thule wouldn't exist. There still had to be something and they would find out what, as soon as Crowgale was ready to continue.

Thinking about the strange writings on the sign in the tunnel, another thought once again conquered his thoughts. The magical symbols and Slaadi at Sarhild. The Grey Wanderer. Thelon didn't have any evidence but still those events brought old memories to his mind. Could it be what he thought? It may have been only wishful thinking but it also seemed too convenient to be just a coincidence.

Despite these events or possibly because of them Thelon felt more confident than ever. These were only obstacles that could be passed. In the grand scale of thing his missions had not changed. Neither of them.

Chapter Seven: No River To Take Me Home

 Session was held at Casa De Grandiosa in 15th of March

There is no man who would head north with a light cause. Although the thousand stars shimmer on the night sky, and Aurora Borealis might illuminate the way, the northern darkness won't unbind it's shackles. And still as you go, the ever-gnawing cold reaches your core, despite all the efforts to keep warm.
To this very journey you will lose yourself. There is no fellow to walk that path alongside you, no comrade to comfort you. 
Alone must you stride, like descending into an open grave. Into vast emptiness.

Reghed Glacier

Cold northern winds slashed it's cold whip against the Expeditions men. Morale was plumetting as day's labor consisted of walking trough seemingly endless cold wastes the Reghed Glacier with no sign of destination. As they had journeyed on the glacial ice for three days already, following Enoch Crowgale's vague destination, old-man Crowgale was finally ready to announce their next waypoint. He had studied the rose-red gem pendant that they had taken from it's guardian back in Dol Aurmeth, and according to Crowgale it did indeed show them their next destination. Either or not it was of makings of Valgaerd the Whitefarer, they did not know, but it was the only reasonable clue they had at the moment.

Valgaerds Pendant

Enoch explained that the seven holes of the pendant matched to well-known constellation known as the Crown of the North or Cold Crown. This same seven-star celestial body was known by the northerners as the Eye of Evil and Hole That Leads To Darkness. Phrases of old northern language, sort of a proto-illuskan was ascribed to the center of the pendant. Crowgale had been translating it the last few days and he was ready to announce his findings

See the Cold Crown rise,

fourteen days in a row.

When you stand with

 the Goddess of Magic, 

Alagairtha will

lead your way.

Crowgale thus presumed that Expedition was to continue it's march northwards, taking bearings from the constellation that rose to the northern sky every night. And at the end of fourteenth day they would reach a location that would guide them further. As an waypoint this was somewhat indefinite, but the men continued nevertheless.

Crust of Ice
Days at the glacier came with a steep learning curve. Many near go situations showed them to watch their step as hidden crevasses lurked under the thin crusts of ice and snow. Sunlight made the snow into a bright blinding mirror, and sudden snowstorms came with much too brief notice.

On fifteenth of August,  seventh day of of their fourteen-day quest, a climb onto a snowy steppe drove the expedition face-to-face with a herd of woolly mammoths! As the herd made a defensive circle, young bull mammoth decided to make a show-off and charged towards the men and dog-sleds. Due Orgots abnormally quick wits, that charge was fended off as the half-orc cleric evoked a wall of fire on the front of the mammoth. No animals were harmed nor blood spilled that day.

But luck was not on their side the next day. Days journey was suddenly interrupted as someone spotted something big flying towards them. Quickly a fearful cry was heard aloud "DRAGON"! Our heroes organized everyone to spread out in fear for a devastating breath attack that everyone was familiar with. The white scaled creature landed to their front and started yapping with it's crude dragonic language. It was slightly bigger than the largest war horses, thus making it just an young adult dragon, but a dire threat nevertheless. Thelon who had studied draconian languages back in Evermeet translated it's will to the party.

Nidhogrym was it's name and it wanted "all the furry ones" meaning the dogs that pulled the sleds. Of course this was a no go, and our heroes demanded the drake to back off and fly away. Arrogant young wyrm took that as an insult and launched an attack. It's frozen breath freezed many capes as most of the expedition ran away due it's frightful presence. But our Thelon, Orgot, Bolwyn and Posco stayed, fighting off the dragon. So did Nespil Crowgale and his mercenary friend Artyom. Rest of the men who were not panicked did their best to handle the dogs. Even old man Konrad Haldurssen shot few bolts from his dog sled.

Young white dragon did not posses the power to usurp it's prize, and it retreated cursing and hauling insults. But it's last breath hit Thelon with cold-feet, and the elven warrior was blown down. He suffered partial nerve damage of permanent status, but everyone was happy to still have him.

Unexpected departure..
On the ninth night of their journey, a new struck of bad luck presented itself. The camp was alerted in hearth of the night as Abbie Bousson cried for help. Watchmen at the shift along with Posco rushed to Abbies tent, where her tent-mates Gorim and Enoch were leaning over fourth member of that tent, Konrad Haldurssen. Old man Lord Haldurssen was coughing badly, an it was evident that he was on his death-throes. For days Abbie had tended his health but his time had come.

Few moments later Konrad Haldurssen took his last breath. His last words were "I'm afraid". Enoch Crowgale spoke to the men on that bleak night, announcing Haldurssens death due poor health and old age. Crowgale said that it was Haldurssens dream to reach Ultima Thule, as he was sure that he would regain his health there and see many good years. This was not the case this time, but Enoch did his best to rise the men's morale. Still, many suspicious words were whispered.

On the eleventh day the expedition discovered old remains of a camp that had apparently been build
 by similar expedition. Nothing of value was discovered, but remains of a man were found from old wreck of a tent. Causes of death for this headless corpse were unknown, so no conclusions could been made.

They stayed it the same vale with the ruins for the night, making funeral pyres from the old camp for Konrad Haldurssen and the unidentified body. Memorial words were said.

.. And an unexpected arrival.
Day later the expedition was preparing the camp for the night as a blizzard was arriving from the north with haste. The preparations were put on hold two unidentified men were closing the camp from south. They announced to be friendly men seeking shelter. It quickly became apparent that the man speaking was none-the-less than Windmill Hágo, notorious swashbuckler from Luskan. He had been on a journey with his friend Agnor and two wizards of the Arcane Brotherhood Obiran and Feldolin. But northern harsh climate and rumors of frost giant kingdom Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell had been too much for the spellcasters, who had left with magic, leaving Hágo and Agnor alone to the glacier.
Hágo admitted that they had been following the expedition as a mission granted by the Brotherhood, but now that they were abandoned by it, they had no ill-thoughts about the expedition. Thus they wished to join in order to survive, as travelling alone in a glacier was quite suicidal.

After brief negotiations, the members of expedition decided to take Hágo and Agnor in, but many doubtful thoughts were shared between the heroes. Posco even did some eavesdropping on following night to learn Hágos motives, but no evidence of bluff or vile play was present, it seemed that their intentions were genuine.

Destination unkown
As the blizzard stormed for a day, the expedition reached their destination on the fifteenth day, instead of the fourteenth. It seemed that they had arrived to the upper parts of huge ice-fjord, a stream of ice that slowly drained over the years into a vast snowy plain that seemed to be an frozen sea. As night descended upon the glacier and the Cold Crown rose once a gain, Crowgale witnessed a distinct change in the pendant. It gleamed in the starlight, and a engraved picture of the same ice-fjord appeared into the pendant. In the middle of the engraving was a arrow, a clue for their next way point.

Valgaerds pendant with some obvious changes

Thus they slept the night at the top of the glacier and begun descending the ice stream in the morning. Icy slopes and ridges that served as their path were treacherous, and many close calls were witnessed. But luckily no one swerved down. Finally they reached the half-way of the fjord. Quickly an anomaly was discovered, as one bright blue icewall had steam coming from it. On a closer inspection it was revealed that finger thick stream of boiling hot water was pouring from a small crack in the ice.

General consensus was that this had to have something to do with pendants clue, and untrustworthy newcomer Hágo was ordered to use pick against the ice wall. Shielded with elemental protection spell, he began his work, hitting the wall few times hard. But that was few time more than enough. Something moved inside the ice, something that seemed to move in quite lively fashion. Suddenly the whole wall exploded, as it seemed that it had been somekind of a pocket of boiling water, washing Hágo almost off the edge of the cliff. As the fog and steam caused by the water had disappeared a bit, many covered in terror as two centipede-like monsters rattled their red fins.

These abominations were known as remorhaz, monsters of the cold north, with a heat so impressive in their insides that it could destroy even steel weapons that hit the creature. Everyone attacked these monsters with fury as it was apparent that it was either them or us. Their carapace was penetrable, but while everyone were smashing the hell out, Bolwyn and Nespil Crowgale were grappled into maws of these centipede beasts and eventually swallowed whole. This resulted into even more desperate fight, and thanks to newcomers Hágo and Angor, both mosters were struck down.


Bolwyn emerged from the gizzards with severe amnesia, bad burns and wounds alike, but Nepil never recovered from his horrendous wounds. Witnessing the horrible death of his one son, Enoch Crowgale fell to weep and cry his sons fate. Whole expedition was struck with grief as something like this was expected but not welcomed.


As grieving the decesed continued, someone explored a long cavernous tunnel that seemed to lead far into the the Underdark, that was now exposed from the wall. Only thirty feet from the entrance, there was a an ancient wooden board struck into the ice floor like a sign. Thelon managed to decipher the old runes used in it, but he did not known the language. But Enoch knew, and despite his sons demise, he came to the tunnel to see the sign. Tears already in his eyes he turned even more pale as he understood the signs meaning:

"það er engin Thule - There is no Thule"

Chapter Six: Farewell to Summer

Session might have been held 30th of November 

As the expedition proceed with great haste, part of the journal for the timeline of this chapter was written quite poorly, and the other half was destroyed by a winter wolfs freezing breath. Thus it might seem bit shorter recitation than usually.

On third of August the expedition launched onward from Bryn Shanders closed walls. According to Crowgales plan the expedition headed northwards towards Caer Konig, a village along the shore of lake Lac Dinneshere. Passing the Kelvins Cairn, they would then head further 20 miles north towards old burial grounds known as the Dol Aurmeth,  as it was the most viable location to match with Valgaerd Whitefarers log and it's clues for their next destination.

"The frozen tree of Ice Wind Pass, where men hand like apples in the ice-carved branches. The apple rosy-cheeked, the Captain alas, he guides your way."

Northern Ice Wind Dale

First the expedition followed the way towards Easthaven, but soon turned on a smaller trail towards Caer Dineval, Caer Konigs competive big brother. They stumbled upon a herd of deers, only to be ambushed by two ferocious winter wolves on the hunt. Battle was cold at least, but no losses were taken that day!

Upon arriving to Caer Dineval, our heroes learned that the town was on warpath with it's northern cousin, Caer Konig. The latter was overrun by barbariansa few decades ago when a mad wizard Akar Kessel tried to take over the world, and the council of the Ten Towns prescribed the town to barbarian claim.

While resting at Holfi's Homestead inn, Captain of the Townguard Thuor Styrmo advised the expedition to proceed with heightened awareness, as Caer Dinevals governor Dráinn Brent had gone missing on peace-negotiations with the Caer Konig Uthgardts.

Later on the expedition withdrew from Caer Dineval. They arrived to Sarhlid, old meeting place of the nordic tribes, where the presumed peace-meet was rumored to take place. Quick investigation revealed signs of murder and mischief, which lead to eventual conflict. But it was no man that opposed our adventurers, hidden into the carnage that took place at Sarhild, group of red and blue Slaadi attacked our party. These beasts of pure chaos had slaughtered both the men of Caer Dineval but also the Uthgardt barbarians of Caer Konig. But now they met their victors, as our heroes struggled those vile creatures back to the planes they came from.

One survivor was found from that cursed place of mayhem, and he was none the less than Governor Brent himself. Poor fellow had endured much, but the was thankful for saving his life. He told to the heroes that "Grey Wanderer" had stormed into the meeting hall and somehow summoned the Slaadi, but he could not provide any further details as the mental strain had overcame his will.

Days passed and the expedition pushed slowly to the open lands above Kelvins Cairn. Day after the day a faint white glimmer in the horizon expanded until it was clear that they journeyed towards a wall of ice known as the Reghed Glacier. In front of the glacier a great hill rose from the frozen tundra, like a last bastion of the known world, and that was Dol Aurmeth, their destination.

Exploring the hill took some time, especially as it was slightly unclear what they were looking for. No trees grew up here, only some old ceremonial branches of ages old graves of tribesmen reached towards the cold sky. But eventually a spot of interest was found as the glacier descended upon the hill from it's northside where a single old tree was trapped into a crack of ice. There in the light of setting sun, a new view was generated. The sunrays illuminated a part of glacial ice that had apparently entombed several corpses. And one of them seemed to shine faint red light, just like Valgaerds poem had predicted.

Turns were taken as a tunnel was mined trough the ice towards the reddish corpse. But upon reaching it, hell broke lose, or atleast the corpse as it turned out to be animate, undead beign of terrible power. A red amulet was gleaming on it's neck as it hacked trough the men of the expedition that were trying to defend themselves against it. Luckily, still there were no need for graves as the expedition managed to overcome this threat.

Crowgale took the amulet to his possession, as it needed careful study. Meanwhile the expedition continued to heading predicted by Crowgale, penetrating the glacier wall and ascending upon the world of eternal ice.

But none of the expedition knew that the Grey Wanderer was studying their progress from afar.

Chapter Five: Gates of Ice

Session was held at the Penthouse of Pain 19th of October

Every now and then a ship full of adventurers arrive to Targos

The expedition had finally arrived to the Icewind Dale. Now within the relative safety of the  fortified town of Targos they had a moment to spare for further preparations in order to relocate themselves in Bryn Shander, the capital of the Ten Towns. Even though the journey through the Sea of Moving Ice had been perilous, none of the members had succumbed under the burden. But that was not the case with the crewmembers of Virgin Ingrid. Half-dozen men had died from Captain Saltskins crew, forcing the ship to Targosian dry-dock for length of the winter. Most of the surviving ones planned to return south along trade caravans, and the Captain himself visioned a future as a career-fisherman in the lake Maer Dualdon.

As the shipmates were clearly stranded, Enoch Crowgale was planning expeditions next move with furious pace. He had rented two wagons for the following day, as reaching Bryn Shander was a top priority. But he maneged to dine with Kemp, the mayor of Targos, as the rest of expedition were getting hammered at a tavern. Orgot, the depressed half-orc, was especially feeling the power of brews, as he proclaimed loudly how he had finally met his god, Talos, and how He had blessed him with His thunder.
As the rest listened for the green drunkards rant, a man, local pub patron, assaulted Thelon with a knife, dissing him as a murderer. The fool was quickly subdued, and as the innkeeper explained that the patron, Lorent Silkspindle had recently became a widow, the heroes understood his outburst. Nevertheless, it was clear that poor Lorent had mistaken Thelon as someone "elvish".

Vetrvaders Sign

Everything was set, and as a first thing in the morning the expeditions wagons departed Targos. Eleazar the Algarondian, the mingy merchant to rent the wagons, and his son Schmaiah joined for the travel, as they would drive the wagons back right after reaching Bryn Shander. The Dale beyond Targos was a rugged tundra, devoid of snow for now, but desolate nonetheless. After few hours of travelling, the road descended into a green vale with tall pines, pouring glass clear streams and beautiful birdsong. But that illusion was soon dispelled as Posco and Thyngall Pedersen halted the convoy. The trail was blocked by a giant and a goblin, both clad in crude armor. The giant in particular was an prominent obstacle to cross, but working as a close-knit group, such a threat was soon demolished. As they searched the corpses, two crude amulets with a matching sigils were found. Bolwyn remembered hearing about a increasing threat of a northern  ice giant kingdom, Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell and their notorious ice giant king Vetrvader, and he was convinced that the symbols were the kings mark. Thus they speculated if these two were just some deserters, with their "quality" equipment, how mighty could Vetrvader be?

Later on, just before dusk, the wagons came within range of vision with Bryn Shanders palisades. The gateguard was reluctant to let the expedition pass, as he declared the town to be under a guarantee. Such a delay was not part of Crowgales plans, and after insisting strongly, access was granted for part of the Cassius beckoned them. After leaving their backpacks to Geldenstag's Rest inn, they dashed to before-mentioned late-night council meeting.

expedition. While insisting, he even managed to invite the leading members of the party to meet Bryn Shanders council, as the councils spokesman

Something was indeed wrong with the town, as many of its inhabitants were showing acute signs of severe respiratory symptoms. And indeed, the council confirmed their observations. The members of the council that night were Cassius himself, councilman Azurr, townguards commander Jökull Engeset, priestress of Oghma Dasha Shimova and scientist/cleric of Mystra Arcangelo Izzi. During the meeting they revealed that the cause for this apparent plague was unknown, and the few clerics were struggling to heal people, that became sick again the day after. Crowgale offered the heroes to investigate the cause and possible cure, while he would do last-minute research in Temple of Oghma's library. There was also a evident juxtaposition among the council, as Arcangelo Izzi was offering his help, and the rest accused each other to be responsible for the epidemic.

But our mercenaries decided to follow Izzis way, as he was only one to even try to find a solution. He took them to his laboratory-apartment that was based in a old mill at the northern part of town. Full of strange apparatus and esoteric tomes, he gave a tour around his work, also downstairs laboratory. There they saw a one of the earliest victims of the plague, a local woman, in her death throes. Sight of the repellent nature of the latter phase of the disease, the heroes were ready to give their best to help to find a cure. Arcangelo explained that in order to run extensive tests he needed fifty vials of contaminated blood, small samples from 50 different persons. The mercenaries saw this as a rational task, as many locals could be reasoned to grant small dose of blood.

Arcangelo Izzi, and spectacular laboratory magic

Next morning the group split in order to collect the samples faster. Arcangelo had asked them to deliver the vials as they got them, so that he could run tests all day long. He had defined almost five dozen different mixtures and ingredients to combine with the samples in order to find one that acts as a remedy. No samples were asked from the council members as they seemed to shun Arcangelos research, especially priestress Shimova and spokesman Cassius. By the end of the day all the samples were delivered and the wizard shut himself into his laboratory to run rest of the tests.

With the arrival of dawn acme also the long-awaited solution. Arcangelo Izzi had found right ingredients to cure the disease but he had a problem. In order to refine the remedy to be potent enough to cure the whole town, the wizard needed a catalytic substance, one he called the most powerful conjuration-binder known to the Art, a fresh human heart. This unprecedented request was one that required careful consideration, but as Izzi showed a bounty-poster he had taken from a tavern wall earlier, the decision was easier to make. The four  mercenaries were ready to hunt down a poacher known as Hedeon Horn, wanted dead or alive, and bring him to Arcangelo who volunteered to butcher the poor wretch. For this was the only available option left to save rest of the townfolk.

Hedeon Horn was known to camp around Gloombog, south of Bryn Shander. Guards at the gate were easily bluffed to let the heroes pass as they believed a small white lie that mister Horn was behind the whole epidemic, and he should be brought to justice.

As the vigilantes reached the swamp, tracking the poacher was relatively easy job. It seemed that he had evaded justice because no one dared to enter the bog, which was strange as the heroes found it to be relatively cozy place. Hedeon Horn was found and subdued from a old hunting shack, and delivered tied up back to Bryn Shander. Arcangelo Izzi was more than relieved to find out that creating the cure was just a matter of few hours of work. He left the heroes upstairs to sip tea and take a breather for a while, as he would perform the heart removing operation downstairs in his laboratory.

Strange sounds were heard as the bounty hunters were waiting for Izzi to do his part, and everyone shared a peculiar feeling that something was not right. As they took a peek downstairs, Hedeon Hooks mutilated corpse was left on the table and Izzi was escaping through a secret door. As the heroes scolded themselves for being so naive, they plunged after the apparent impostor, fearing that this all had been some vague necromantic scheme. Passage following the secret door spiraled down into a great underground cave that was eerily illuminated by trail of torches burning alongside a pathway that cut through thornbush-like roots that infested the floor. Thelon who was the spearhead of the pursuit, witnessed Arcangelo flying through the cavern, and thus he received slight advantage as our heroes had to tread through the rooted path. On the other end of the cavern rose an ominous obstacle, cyclopean hexagon tower, apparently cut from one solid block of strange stone. Crude wooden stairs went to one opening on the side and continued upward from the other side.

Lord Pest

Once inside, they saw that same plague-ridden woman that Izzi had previously portrayed as the first disease victim. Actually she was Suppur, crazed woman who had turned herself into being a "cancer mage" (see; Book of Vile Darkness). She was in the middle of the room, nurturing a queer sack of pulsating flesh, that was seemingly pumping some kind of toxic up to the town through several pipes that was infused into it. Dazed by grotesque of both cancer mage and that disease-sack, the heroes stormed Suppur down, slaying her and continuing upwards where Arcangelo Izzi had escaped. But the whole stone tower trembled suddenly, and a evil-sounding laughter and speech was heard from upstairs. Little bit shocked from the trembles, they entered upper level with caution, finding Izzi standing besides a great undead being. The thing had fifty vials of blood hooked into it via small metal strings, and apparently Izzi the necromancer had inserted the poachers heart inside it's ribcage, thus awakening the monster. He shouted in mad bliss "Lord Pest! Lord Pest!" to which the mummy answered by casting him aside and attacking the heroes.
The battle against Lord Pests undead vigor was a grievous one. It's strength was beyond their abilities, and one after another they fell, maimed and hurt, to the floor. But one had the stamina and wits to outcome this encounter, and it was the halfling. Without Poscos effort, everyone would have died that day, but the small blades of the tiny rogue vanquished both the necromancer and his creation. After destroying the mummy, our heroes decimated the sack of disease, and transported the unconscious necromancer back to the surface to answer for his crimes.

Members of the council were relieved to learn that the imminent threat was now gone, and after Izzi confessed that the disease was actually harmless flu, they decided that the guarantee was no longer needed. Izzi in the other hand, managed to spin delicate web of lies and our heroes were enraged that the council put down the most serious accusations.

But never the less, he was going to face a long sentence in Bryn Shanders cold prison, although when considering where the heroes themselves would head next, Arcangelo Izzi had the more hospitable one of the two options.

To the North! 

Chapter Four: The Shadow of the Ironmaster

Session was held at the Cabin of Shadows 16th - 17th of August 

"The summer breeze that still at the continent felt somewhat warm, had now turned into a  much more biting variety. Such was it's bite that a man peering over the edge of the ship shriveled.The wind blowing from the distant shore brought a familiar smell, sweet yet stingy scent of a wild-pepper bush. It was rather surprising that such a plant had spread to such northern latitude. The scent also brought up memories.
It was a sunny summer day of course. He and his little sister Nin were up to go fishing with old bachelor Jaamakki Sammaltakki, although Jaamakki was widely considered as bad influence for the two young ones. And what a splendid day for fishing it was, as the river near the village was abundant of fine catch. As the sun began to descend, the two young ones decided to return to the village, while the old bachelor stayed for little longer. There as the siblings made their way back, a strong scent of wild-pepper bushes that grew near their home, tickled the noses of the two.
As they turned to the small paved road only a lep from their home, they saw mob of people buzzing around their home. Aunt-Berthe ran to the children and weeping and hugging the two who were oblivious for what had happened. None of the five river-perches they had catch was eaten, as the aunt took the two to her place, as there were no one left waiting for the siblings at their home.
The sorrow that followed as the children realized what had happened soon turned into anger, and it was fed by the constant sympathies and condolences that the villager poured on the two orphans. Only two weeks after the grievous incident, they left their aunts house, half-empty backpacks with only some food and stolen silverware of their aunts. And a bag of pepper."

The journey through the northern seas had finally begun. Captain Saltskin  and Enoch Crowgale had calculated that it would take them approximately one and a half week to reach the delta of River Shaengarne at the coast of the Icewind Dale.  The river would then take our fellowship all away up to the port of Targos at lake Maer Dauldon. But neither could the Captain or sage Crowgale foresee if the river was passable all the way up to the lake.

An albatross is always an omen.

Virgin Ingrid was a seaworthy ship mostly due it's skilled crew. When the captain attended other bussinesses, first mate Kolben was in charge. Bosun Hröngvid watched after the benefits of the crew, while old geezer Fisheye was at the lookout. As the crew functioned like a machine, there was little for our expedition members to do than plan for the future moves.
While Posco was gazing the ice-blue sea, Lord Haldurssens personal guard Gorim came to talk to him. It was clear that the only real flaw that this northern warrior really had was his constant urge for nonsense chit-chat. There talking, the pair spotted a bird flying around the mast, and Posco decided to drop it with his crossbow. Bulls-eye! But the triumphant shot took a grim turn as the crew started to curse for their fate, as the bird they shot was indeed a black albatross. It was generally considered as a ill omen, and killing one was a sincere death wish. Captain Saltskin himself was needed to spare the two from a vicious mugging, but the grudge kept living on.

Later that night, Posco was confronted while taking a leak. Brondir, a cautious crew-member had decided to settle the problem with his own knife. Three stabs-to-the-neck later Posco flushed Brondirs corpse down the ships head. Only possible witness for this self-defense turned to murder was Fisheye, but he was fast asleep in his lookout, so Posco decided to keep it all to himself. Brondir was longed the day after, but he was soon considered as drowned by accident.

Days passed by slowly. As they sailed further to the north, the coastline became more and more forlorn. As the climate shifted towards winters grip, Konrad Haldurssen decided to stay below the deck, where he was accompanied by Valkurs priestress Abigail Bousson. The two northerners Onarr and Gorim werein good terms with the crew, meanwhile Thyngall Pedersen stayed mainly by himself. Hornbori  had a long history as a sailor so he took part of daily dues with the crew. Faerhar Bogomoloff  befriended with another sturdy bearded fellow, Bolwyn. Nespil Crowgale hanged out with his old mercenary comradew Artyom, as old man Enoch Crowgale studied his maps and notes. Posco socialized with everyone, as the halflings often do, unlike Thelon whose presence was shunned by most men, except his old mates. But nobody wanted to talk to the half-orc, and the one who wanted the least was the orc himself, Orgots mind had been shattered by the grievous defeat by the Hellmaker and he was still struggling to reason this.

That night a great flock of glowing medusas illuminated the ship that steered trough the dark waters. An eerie sight was destinied to take more lethal turn as an aberration approached from the depths. The beast was known as Uchool by the marines, a slime-condensed crustacean with a paralyzing touch to life. It's corroding slime did terrible burns to few crewmembers, but together the heroes succeeded to fend the aberration off.

This was just the beginning of the all the bad luck that was going to be poured over them. When the ship had been at sea for a week, a fog entwined the vessel. Steering blind, it was only a matter of time that something happened. An small iceberg collided to ships keel, making a breach to the hull. With the aid of our heroes, the hole was mended shut and sailor Frode, who was injured badly, was saved. But there was no end for the mist. Two days already in the freezing curtain had turned the ship into a frosty ghost galleon.

22nd of Flamerule and the mist finally pulled back, only to reveal how bad the situation had actually gone. Virgin Ingrid was stuck between floes. Saltskin pondered the situation and came to a conclusion that the ship could be freed, but it would require a combined effort of everyone aboard. Picks and shovels in their hand, the crew and the expedition descended on to the ice raft and begun chopping the ice. Thyngal Pederesen and a shipmate Geirfast took a leave with captains permission, as a group of seals was spotted nearby. At dusk people realized that the two hunters had not come back and thus our heroes promised to go and take a look for the missing men. They managed to climb on the top of a nearest snowhill only to find  fatally injured Pedersen. Without divine magic, Thyngall would have been dead meat, but now life was restored in his thawed veins. He spoke about a monster that sprung from the ice, ripped Geirfast apart and wounded him with it's terrible claw. Thyngall was obviously struck with fear. But for Geirfasts soul, our band decided to push on. Following Thyngalls blood trail, they soon got to the scene of assault. Nearby, an entrance to a ice-cavern was discovered

Ice Troll

The cavern was vast. In fact, so vast that it hold an age old shipwreck inside. The path was clear to the wreck, as the beast had obviously had no intention of hiding the trail of gore that was left behind from poor Geirfast. Inside the old hull our adventurers finally found what they were searching for, a big troll with a ice-blue hide, enjoying it's human meal. Confronting the powerful creature with an ability to rend a man into pieces, was tricky, but with Bolwyns expertise defense techniques against giants like this, the heroes were able to battle against it with relative ease. It tried to out-maneuver them, but justice was dealt nevertheless. While catching their breath, a opportunity was taken to loot the old shipwreck, and they did indeed find some plunder.

When ascending from the caverns, they realized to be stranded by night and snowfall, that had all the manners of oncoming blizzard. Pushing their luck, the team decided to penetrate the night, even tough captain Saltskin had warned them about the night on a iceraft. Soon they were completely engulfed by the chilling darkness.

Frost Hag - Marzanna

From the snowfall a menace erupted. With a magic hail of ice and snow a creature attacked the party, numbing the men with it's cold magic. After a short moment of confusion, the attacker was identified as some sort of a witch or hag, that manipulated  the elements of winter with it's dread spells. It's mere gaze infused our heroes with terror, and it's horrific claws shred armor padding like a cleaver cuts meat. The Marzanna, as the sailors later identified the hag to be, struck down our mercenary champions one after another. Without the aid of an another search party led by Captain Saltskin himself, the four heroes would have been frozen to death by the winter-hag. As they finally regained their consciousness by the help and aid of Saltskins crew, it seemed that poor Orgot had taken the greatest punishment, once again.

The ship was finally freed from it's icy shackles a day after the battle. the others recovered quite well, even badly mutilated Thyngall Pedersen showed signs of recovery, but Orgot had been struck down once and for all. The half-orc cleric did some serious self-examination somewhere in the cargo-hold, before he finally returned to the deck. He recovered, but the wound would never fully heal.

The ship was finally inbound to it's destination. They sailed north along the Cold Run, steep and icy cliff that separated the Icewind Dale from the Sea of Moving Ice. As the river delta of Shaengarne was seen, crew sighed in relief, as the most perilous phase of their journey was presumable behind. Saltskin himself steered the ship through it, letting the cold breeze from the sea push Virgin Ingrid upriver.

Stranded by ice - Never again!

Cold Run's cliffs rose as high as the ships mast and the relief soon changed back to anxiety. Suspension was increasing exponentially, when like a flash in a night sky, a volley of arrows flew towards the vessel. Many took hits, especially Fisheye at the lookout. Following the sudden volley, fierce barbarian men assaulted the ship, jumping from the cracks and faults of the cliffside. The quiet waiting had turned into high-scale carnage. Men were struck down, impaled by keen arrows, cast overboard. But our heroes were trained to withstand even a attack of two dozen barbarian raiders, so eventually the scale shifted back to the sailors. Also, an unexpected aid arrived as someone smote and rushed the archers from atop the cliff. As the battle ceased, five dwarves , who had slain the archers, descended down to the ships deck.

The small troupe was known as the Ironwatch, elite soldiers, trained in guerrilla manner. The officer in charge, Burthon Steelshirt saluted the ships crew, but within the same sentence he told the captain that the ship was thus commandeered by the right of Ironwatch of the Ironmaster. Captain had his objections but turning against these five battle-machines would have certainly come with such a cost that it just wasn't worth the risk. So did Burthon Steelshirt steer Virgin Ingrid up the stream, all the way to their dwarven citadel, the Ironmaster. Enoch Crowgale knew some of the legends surrounding the colossal burrow, but he had not foreseen how it had spanned across the river, forming something like a steel barrage where no ship would sail without paying a toll.

Citadel Ironmaster

Such was the gargantuan scale of the fortress, that the ship was steered into a giant hangar, where hundreds of dwarven soldiers were waiting. When the ship was attached into a peer, a delegate marched in. Dwarf known as the First Master invited some of the more prominent individuals to attend a meeting deep within the fortress, and as our fellowship had no intentions to resist, they followed the dwarves. A counsil of six Masters greeted the captain and the expedition. They informed that due certain policies, a toll must be paid before the ship can pass the barrage. And as the ship was carrying cargo of zero value, a favors of some other sort must be made. The council asked, or frankly speaking, ordered the heroes to perform a small task to ensure the ships allowance to pass.

First Master explained that the citadel was led by  Grandmaster Thadaragin. But the Grandmaster had grown old, and after he turned 500 years, he became almost a like a mummy. And the council believes that this is due that he is missing one of the four artifacts, forged by his great-great-grandfather, the original Ironmaster. The item in question was a platinum beard-buckle, that was buried in mistake to Grandmasters fathers tomb. And now the council ask politely for the heroes to retrieve it in most delicate manner, as it is forbidden for the dwarves living in the citadel to enter into the tombs of the old Grandmasters. Our mercenaries thought the plan was ridiculous but agreed to perform it nevertheless. Armed only with crowbars and torches, as the dwarves had confiscated and forbidden their usual weapons

The catacombic dungeons were an unhallowed site at least. Bolwyn had tremendous difficulties perform the task in hand, due his own dwarven lineage, and what they were up to, was certainly an heinous act indeed. After hall after hall of dwarven statues and reliquary, they finally saw mithral doors that opened into the the Chamber of the Grandmasters. A murky hall with tomb entrances on it's sides, had a great iron statue depicting the original Ironmaster. But something else was there too. A bunch of vile subterranean dwellers were chopping pieces of metal off of the statue. As our heroes confronted them, the creatures charged against them. Someone later identified the beings as Derro, a mutated dwarven subrace dwelling deep within the Underdark, tormented by madness. The derro had dug themselves into one of the tombs, where they had spotted the iron statue in the main hall, but whatever were their intentions, everyone was struck down, except for a single individual that was carried for the dwarves for questioning. The platinum buckle was also recovered from the old grandmasters tomb, although it was protected with vicious traps.

The Council of Six Masters was glad for the recovery and they were convinced that this would help them the regain touch with the old grandmaster. But the expedition would not see this happen, as they were quickly escorted back to their ship, that was granted a permit to pass the barrage. The visit at the Ironmaster was probably one of the most efficient ever.

Virgin Ingrid was back in line, and Saltskin calculated that they would reach the port of Targos in two days. Such was the merry mood for the rest of the voyage, that they even picked up two peasant fishermen along the way. Mathias and Ingred were their names and they were first to introduce the northern moonshine called Vyrymborouh to our heroes.

As the journey was almost over, Orgots depression peaked. During a stormy night he climbed into the mast in order to contact his deity Talos. He spoke every single chant he knew, trying to call forth his god to answer him. He was certain that the thundergod would strike him down instantly, and thus release him from the misery, but instead the wicked stormlord sent it's harbinger instead. From the clouds a elemental of pure storm nature descended, raining lighting and terror upon the ship. A bolt struck Orgot, thrusting him down to the deck. As the others joined in to the battle, Orgot knew that his god had not abandoned him. Defeating the storm elemental was quite a task, resulting even in some deaths of the crewmembers. Despite the general state of misery, the ship reached it's destination. Dockworkers at the Targosian harbor were amazed how a ship of such size and condition had managed to come up to the lake Maer Dauldon.

As the sailors prized the firm land under their feet maybe more than ever before, many within the expedition had certain doubts about the upcoming journey. 
If the prequel had already been such a chain of disasters, how would they ever survive the full adventure.  

And the journey continues...

Chapter Three: Wretches Who Stride Towards Their Doom - Part II

Session was held 25th of May at the Skyhouse of Slumber

Fifth of Flamerule. We're once again stationed at the Seven Sails Inn. I do not overstate that is truly a miracle that we're still here. Our operation for saving Captain Agmuind Saltskin from the bowels of Underkeel took a direct hit, as a group of scaly gate-guards assaulted our backs. Never have likes of those creatures walked on the golden sands of Evermeet, my gratitude for the Lords for that! Luckily our companionship proved to be more hard-woven than the scaly hides of those lurking swamp beasts. Nevertheless, we were blown out from fatigue and injuries, and pushing deeper into the rectory of evil seemed like a suicide. So we reverted, a decision that brought us shame.

"Yeah, we're alright!"

 Now as I am writing this from the warmth of my bed, I am confident that next morning will be ours, and Captain Saltskin will be freed. On the wider scale, I suspect that our leave for the Expedition will be near. Enoch Crowgale has pushed his preparations and he's almost done. As long as we have a proven captain to sail us to the shores of the Icewind Dale. I believe that the journey will be unforgettable. I also believe in Posco, but I must question Bolwyns motives, as I do question the orc, whose name I refuse to utter. My dear brother would never endorsed such a company. And what comes to my search.. I am still alone.
-Thelon

Return to the Source

As the dawn broke from the shackles of mother night, our adventurers ate a quick fix of nourishing breakfast, and headed back to the forgotten sewers of Luskan. As the chance to save Saltskins life grew weaker by every passing hour, the fellows proceeded with haste. Quick descend through the reeking tunnels of decay brought them back to the gates of Underkeel. The door that  was guarded by vicious lizardmen a day before, now supported new guardsmen. Three human scoundrels now manned the post and while doing so they were cleaning up the deceased scalykind, throwing the corpses to the same filthy current from where they launched their surprise assault on our braves. A goblin named Shadlarg was giving them orders, a queer choice to be a lieutenant in Hellmakers private army.

Shadlarg - Barghest

Our rescuers proceeded to storm the gate, again. This time Posco opened the fire with his keen crossbow, wounding the scoundrels with several volleys of sharp halfling-sized toothpicks that they call crossbow bolts. In the mean time, the rest charged on the gateguards, swords blazing. As suspected, the goblin had a reason to hold the rank of a lieutenant, as it shapeshifted into the form a giant wolf. It was a creature called Barghest. And it was quickly killed.

With Shadlargs key, the sturdy iron door into Hellmakers underground lair was easily opened. Our heroes raided few chambers, beating down Hellmakers bouncers and his another officer, Regortass Blackscale, a huge black scaled man-lizard. Finally they stroke down a door that lead into inner chambers. There, at the edge of a great chasm, a group of prisoners was held. To free them, our saviors had to battle with two entities of malevolent, god-hating evil. These gargoyle-like creatures are known as Kir-Lanan originating from some outer plane of existence, brought to the face of Toril by the Time of Troubles. Their powerful connection to negative energy proved challenging, but the steel of the blades didn't mind, it ate their flesh just as eagerly. With the monsters smit down, the heroes checked the condition of the prisoners. Most of them were dead or dying, but one persistent prick of a captain was still breathing. Although he was alive, he was clinging at the end. Happy to see familiar faces, Captain Saltskin thanked our heroes and swore that he would keep the fees for the upcoming voyage at minimum.

 - Hellmaker -
Artists impression from
Poscos vague remembrance

Saltskin was left to regain some of his vitality for the return through the tunnels as our braves decided to open the last and the most menacing door at the Underkeel. As the heavy iron door swung open, they saw a powerful looking "man" sitting by a table, back towards them. The man was painting some dark and devious painting on a canvas that might as well be one made of human skin. With a deep voice from the Abyss, the thing spoke:

”Do you, or do you not, wish to slay me? Well, will you, or will you not force me to lift my flail? Do you even know, WHO exactly calls me the Hellmaker? The Sinners, the sinners call me Hellmaker. And that is for I am an Angel of Retribution. And by the Right of my lord, Asmodeus, I will smite you down!

And after a ponderous monologue, the demon-spawn launched a devastating attack upon our braves. It swung its heavy flail, crushing the bone and sinew of everything that tried to make a stand against it. The Hellmaker proved to be worth of its name. Crushing Thelon, mangling Bolwyn and decimating Orgot, only Posco managed to escape from sure doom. Wounded captain Saltskin by his side, they ascended back to Luskans streets, grieving for the terrible outcome of the supposed-to-be triumph.

At the Seven Sails Inn, Posco wept for his fallen comrades, as did Agmuind Saltskin, although he was still glad to be among the living. The small halfling drowned his sorrow into a jug of beer, as fell into nightmare infested slumber. Hours later, Posco woke up as he heard screams from the streets. He followed the innkeeper and several patrons to the streets to investigate the source of this cry that was filled with terror. There, hanging head down from a top beams of a nearby house, was the rest of the adventurers. As they

were lowered, the rescuers saw that Bolwyn and Thelon were both grievously injured , but Orgot had sustained an injury with far more serious consequences. His will had been shattered. As the rest regained their strength and vigor back in a week or two, Orgot never became the same wretch of an orc again. To top this, they all had a text "Hellmaker" carved to their chests.

There was no apparent reason why Hellmaker had spared their lives, except to show his power over life and death. And also now he had three walking signs of his victory.

Preparations

Next week was full of errands for the upcoming expedition. Dwarven merchant Jando Karakas was the one to deliver all the items and equipment, rations and supplies for the voyage, and a long hours were spent planning for the delivery lists. By the initiative of Enoch Crowgale, the expedition members also met each other for the first time. And here is the full list of men who boarded Saltskins ship and headed to north to search for glory:

• Enoch Crowgale - The Expedition Leader, scribe and mastermind.
• Konrad Haldurssen - the financer, according to his own words, wishes to experience adventure one more time.
• Nespil Crowgale - Head of Security
• Artyom - Mercenary muscle from the Red Dogs
• Gorim - Haldurssens personal bodyguard
• Onarr - Also Haldurssens man, able smith too.
• Thyngall Pedersen - Tracker/ranger, head of navigation
• Hornbori - Paid muscle
• Faerhar Bogomoloff - Beast of burden and a workman
• Abigail Bousson - Priestess of Valkur that Haldurssen personally requested to take part.

And of course our heroes, Bolwyn, Thelon, Orgot and Posco who were hired by Crowgale to provide muscle, security, dirty jobs and general adventuring. This group of fourteen was to defy the dangers of the uncharted north. 

Few days later our laborers paid a visit to the office of merchant Jando. Final arrangements for the delivery were agreed upon and while they were idle, Karakas offered a small task at the wharves. His warehouse number four had been apparently overrun by "ghosts" or so the dockers and teamsters say. As they had nothing better in their hands, the adventurers promised to investigate this dilemma. Jando hinted that the dockworkers had been spending awful a lot of time at the Cutlass recently.  

Above mentioned group of slackers were at the Cutlass as Karakas had foretold. They were reluctant to come with the heroes but one of them finally gave up and agreed to show them the fourth warehouse. The wharves were a gloomy place even during a day, and the perimeter around the warehouse in question was exceptionally bad. The dockworker refused to go nearer so the lads had to continue alone for the door. But an eerie and ghastly sound interrupted them. This wailing seemed to originate from a nearby crate, and inside this wooden hideout, a small wretch of a man was found. The little thug sobbed that his boss, Mantor had forced him to mimic ghosts and spooks to scare off unwanted visitors.

Encouraged by this earthly explanation for ghostly sounds, they stormed in and found out that gang of

Artists careful demonstration how two bears, uniting their strenght
could easily best a damsel (who now on is in serious distress) 

criminals had turned the building into a animal cage fight center. At the time being, there were two ferocious bears battling against each other, with two dozen men cheering and placing bets outside the cage. Mantor, the organizer and kingpin behind the show tried his best to fend off the intruders, but ended up being eaten alive by his own pet-ursidae, and boy did those two battle bears feast on his meat. The warehouse was quickly purified from gamblers and hostile animals, although those two bears were dangerous to calm.

Jando Karakas was glad that the issue with the warehouse was solved once and for all, and promised a small surprise bonus among the goods he was to deliver for Saltskins ship later during the passing week. And so the time passed and finally the day of departure arrived. Luskan bathed in the light of dawn as last crates, barrels and sacks of supplies were hauled into the cargo hold of the Virgin Ingrid, Captain Saltskins trusty ship.

Few numbered group of family and relatives were waving their goodbyes to the sailors and expedition members, sobbing farewells as everyone knew that death was waiting for some, if not everyone, and the hope for loved ones safe return was thin at best. It was 12th of Flamerule, when Virgin Ingrid departed from the relative safety of Luskans harbor. All the necessary preparations were done, and the men let their lives in the hands of their faith or fate. As the seagulls sung their farewells, the ship float to the open.

Even captain Saltskin doubted on what he had agreed upon
There was not a single soul that didn't have a seed of doubt in it, because from now on, they all would be on a collision course with the unknown, whatever it would be. 

Their destinies were out there, where even the gods wouldn't serve as witnesses.