Narratives of the Cold Waste - Part IV

Climbing step after step of endless stairs upwards, Orgot could not help wondering was this really the reason Talos had sent him on this quest to North. He kept telling himself "Means to an end, means to an end", but still he could not shake the feeling that something was not right on this path. 

These thoughts were quickly ended when the group reached the end of the staircase, and exit from the grueling Underdark. Breath of fresh air was of no comfort, when Orgot soon found himself face to face alone with a huge frost giant on top of a cliff. Summoning every flaming spell Talos would grant him, Orgot hoped that the unforgiving Storm Lord had not heard his blasphemous thoughts of doubt in the tunnels bellow. Apparently not, since Orgot was able to scorch the giant with unforeseen infernous might, and with the help of his friends the frost giant was quickly defeated. But not without a cost. 

Thelon had fallen on the frost giants axe after heroic attempt to aid Orgot in battle. Seeing his friends battered body lying on the cliff, barely breathing, Orgot could not help but to wonder "How much more can this guy take? The elf sure has more courage than constitution..." Joy of his friend being alive was quickly diminished, as Orgot saw flame after flame lighting on the watchtowers around the vale bellow. And as he saw the unbelievably gigantic army of orcs, frost giants and other foul creatures of the North, Orgot truly hoped that Talos would not abandon him on this day...

Narratives of the Cold Waste - Part III

Staircases of this shape have been
 known to inspire insanity.

The staircase seemed like it would continue forever. Thelon took steps after another as he walked upwards the stairs of the Dwarven cylinder in the depths of the Underdark. Even though the walk was exhausting it somehow felt as a break.

The expedition had just battled against a group of terrible beings with tentacles growing from their faces. Those creatures had struck Thelon down with some kind of spell like powers. That feeling brought back memories from ten years ago. Memories of adrenaline in his veins, sword in his hand and then... magic hitting him, striking him down and finally... darkness.

A step. And another step. The staircase went on and on. Every step was taking them towards their destination, but Thelon couldn't help shake the feeling, that each of those steps was also taking him away from his personal destination. The elf had thought that the two tracks were the same and he would find what he was searching for at the end of the path. But as they moved forward and each obstacle they faced seemed to tell them the same story, that they were the first ones here, he felt unsure.

Finally they reached the end of the staircase and found a hatch surrounded by ice. Thelon could almost feel the the breeze of the winter air. He was eager to get out of the tunnels and leave his dark thoughts behind. He had a feeling that once outside he'd have a nice moment of rest.

Chapter Eight: Under the Dark

Session was held at Backman Bastion 7th of June 2014 AD

It was August 26th 1372DR. After the horrid events at the Ice Fjord that took Nespil Crowgale's life, the crestfallen expedition proceeded into the only viable direction, underground. Even though a menacing sign had been discovered at the entrance, proclaiming that there was no Thule nor wonder that they were seeking, most of the men were committed to continue the cause.

Descending into the realm known as the Underdark, the dwarves Bolwyn Flameblade and Faerhar Bogomoloff took the lead as they both proficient tunnelers and experts of world under the surface. Six days of aimless wandering through most accessible tunnels and caverns finally led the expedition into vast limestone cave full of exciting rock formations known as stalagmites. Judging from the dripping salt water from the ceiling, the dwarves figured that they were beneath that very sea that they saw just before they descended into the tunnels.


Moving on from the cave, it's apparent tranquility was suddenly shattered, as Hórnbori diverged to take a leak. One should never inadvertently piss on slumbering cave trolls dome, as the creature is prone to deliver massive amounts mutilating damage upon that poor souls genital area. Hórnboris most horrendous demise inspired our heroes to charge against the troll, a beast twice the size of an ordinary one. It's hide proved to be keen for mortal wounds and the creature was soon slain. Hórnbori was left into a rubble grave, as the expedition continued deeper into the darkness.

Delving deeper mile after mile, the men soon understood that bringing the dogs with them proved to be a mistake, as the hostile climate was driving the canines mad. Days went past, but  while walking on the rubble bottom of a underground crevice yet another menace engulfed our expedition. Strange aberrations suprised our team by swooping down from the heights- These craetures were part manta ray, part a mundane cloak, and as they plunged upon the terrified men, they wrapped their strange bodies around their victims, biting and strangulating them.
While rest of the party was struggling against flock of these leathery devils, Posco decided to seek better tactical position from darkness. He managed to stumble upon long forgotten piece of weaponry, a enchanted light crossbow known as Victor. There were much joy as the creatures were slain and Posco was somewhat happy about his new treasure.

Journey in the dark continued. A day passed, according to the dwarves who still claimed that they had been tracking expeditions voyage to a detail. But the tunnels came to an end, as a strange white-skinned child was spotted on the edge of torchlight. As our mercenaries advanced carefully to investigate this ghastly sighting, they discovered a full tribe of underground dwelling humanoids. Barely dressed in loincloths, these "men" were almost white skinned, big eared and apparently almost blind. Illumination from the torches seemed to enthrall them. But the most astonishing thing about the discovery was that four human men had been living with these creatures. They were part of late Mordgóin Gemgrinders expedition that had been launched towards the north couple of years ago.
As the cave people did not speak, only gurgled and clickered, the frontman of the four, Varden Diomede introduced the two parties.
He told that their expedition, led by Mordgóin had been crossing a glacial field when crust of ice had collapsed, plunging their party into a icy crevasse. Many died, and the rest wandered aimlessly to the Underdark. They eventually ended up with these cave dwelling degenerates who seemed to be oblivious about almost everything. Mordgóin, Agvidr and Kolsen Lightshank died during their time there from mal-nourishment and sickness. Now all that were left were Varden himself, Adrik the Dwarfsoul, Morten Håk and one handed Tooths Felder. 

Average Underdark degenerate

Varden showed their camp among the cave people. A single withered tent was all that was left from their dream. The cave people (known as Blindies  by Varden) lived in little stone huts, and they stored their food and tools in small holes in limestone cave wall. Among the stone huts there were also small pillars that were made of humanoid skulls, the ancestors of blindies. Every skull in those pillars had a curious hole in the top of dome, it was somewhat similar to short tribal hairpiece that the leader of blindies sported. His name was Red-Eye, he was one exceptionally bright fellow as he even managed to say hello to our expedition.
Behind the huts at the end of the cave was one peculiar spot of a wall, that almost drove poor Mordgóin mad before his death. It was completely smooth stonewall with miniscule lines engraved into it's surface with no apparent reason. Enoch Crowgale was immediately absorbed into it's mystery.

Days passed as the expedition "gathered" their strength in the mirk. The Blindies fed our heroes some Underdark delicacies such as cave fish, isopods and fungi, the reason for Mordgóin's expeditions fate was obvious. Varden Diomede endowed Mordgóins old hammer to Bolwyn. This mighty creation of dwarven forges of Citadel Adbar was a heck of a more use in the hands of Adbarian warpriest than soon-to-be-dead human fool. Gemgrinder was it's name and it proved to be worth of it's name.

Crowgale's transcript 

After a week from their initial arrival, Crowgale declared that he had no clue about the walls meaning. He had studied Mordgóins's notes and made some of his own with little results. But as they were to throw in the towel, Enoch spotted a little cave people child with a strange helmet in it's head. Iron helmet, clearly illuskan made, sporting a distinct tale of a whale as a elaborate nose guard. Crowgale quickly ripped of one of the pages from his notebooks and showed a picture he had copied from some historical volume. The Blindie girl was wearing Valgaerd Whitefarers helmet, Gullhvadr.  This discovery gave them much excitement as they now knew that they were still on the trail despite all the confusion in the dark.

With this new surge of hope, Enoch immersed himself in the notes in hopes to make a groundbreaking discovery. Rest in the other hand idled among the cave people, playing Six-Eyed-Spider and maintaining their gear. But all this came to a halt as the wall began to ripple without warning. Crowgale had nothing to do with this strange phenomenon, as the diminutive lines on the smooth surface began to glow with dazzling luminescence . The wall was morphing into a portal.

Glowing brighter than a pyre, everyone just looked at the light when three roughly humanoid figures emerged from it. And as the light decreased into a soft purple glow, horror broke loose as the figures were identified as mind flayers! Illithids, those creatures of immeasurable cruelty and evil, began bombarding the bystanders with their psionic mind blasts, knocking the weak-willed into a stunned stupor. Also confusing some of the more susceptible for persuasion telepathically to aid them as their defenders, these mind flayers proved to be a genuine obstacle to our heroes. Thanks to Tymoras guidance that day, none was killed and the tentacled aberrations were fend off.

Illustration depicting Illithian practices. 

While recovering their sanity from the previous encounter, someone noticed that the now opened wall led into a new tunnel. Quick preparations were made for the expedition to continue it's journey, while rest of the ill-fated Mordgóin-expedition pledged to join the still existing one. None really cared about the Blindies as their fated seemed somewhat sealed. It was now clear that their ancestors were all lobotomized by the Illithids, as these poor creatures were clearly nothing more than a herd to be harvested.
Delving into the dark once more, a good start came soon to an end as they arrived into a large round room that seemed to be the bottom of some gargantuan hollow cylinder. Narrow stone stairs circled around its' smooth walls, circling slowly upwards. As no other route was accessible, the expedition decided to begun a slow ascend, that would surely pain those with fear of heights.

Bolwyn discovered that the vertical cylider was of dwarwish making, possibly duergarian, and his suspicion proved to be correct as they discovered dwarven runes spelling the legendary name of "Migdhal Wyrdrazh", outpost of the whitening, mythical dwarven northern outpost lost in the sands of time. Whether this cylinder was part of the outpost or not, the expedition was once again inspired to continue onward.

During their ascend, Onarr stumbled and plunged into the dark, but thanks to Poscos quick reflexes and magic, the poor nordman managed to rescue himself back on the stairs. Eventually the cylinder ended, after hours of heavy climbing. At the top there was just an empty round room with one iron trap door in it's ceiling. As men seized their breaths, our heroes investigated the trapdoor. It seemed to bee frozen stuck, and as they managed to prize it open, they saw a thick layer of ice and snow that they'd have to burrow trough. As there could be several feet of the stuff, turns were taken with a pickaxe and a shovel. As the ice was finally broken trough several hours later, celebrations were canceled immediately as Onarr who had landed the final strike against the ice, was instantly snatched up from the trapdoor. Orgot rushed after him, climbing up and peeking out of the hole, witnessing how a huge frost giant hurled the poor man high into the sky.

Orgot pushed himself up and braced to battle against the giant on top of an apparent guard tower on some norther mountain peak. Quick wall of fire sheltered him against the gigantic northern warrior, but as Thelon jumped to aid him, the giant had regained it's strength, an it struck Thelon stone cold with a single mighty swing of it's battleaxe. Covered in his friends blood, Orgot and the rest of the party fought furiously against superior foe, striking it dead with sheer power of will.

As Thelons wounds were being treated, Orgot realized that he had accidentally ignited a signal pyre that had been constructed on this watchtower terrace. And as they peeked over the tall ice walls that acted as railing, they saw a icy vale surrounded by three separate mountain ranges. The vale itself was swarming with the largest assemble of creatures the north had ever seen. Judging from the banners, it was the army of Thrum Vetrvader, the supreme ruler of Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell, the King of the North. 

And now the flaming signal pyre had alerted the others on atop of two other mountains ranges,

 and the army was marching for war.

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.