Category Archives: Journal Entries

Journal entries for the Jade Regent campaign

December 3rd, 2016

Character: Olmas

Annals of the Order of the Dragon

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as written by the cavalier Olmas Lurecia, himself.

Toilday, 9 Lamashan

Travelling in a caravan is, for the most part, a boring use of time. Oh sure, there’s the duty of it all, and I want to see the caravan succeed, and I’m even one of the active people, not just sitting in the wagon, but actually out riding on Kasimir, but nonetheless, it is a lot of “nothing happens”.

Ulf seems to enjoy this – as much as anyone could enjoy bitterly cold weather that is. Suishen grants me endure elements, so for me it never really rises above discomfort, but it’s the tedium. The cold numbs the mind as much as the body. So it was with a slight quiver of excitement when a large white dragon – no, make that silver, which is a much better tiding – flew towards us and as it passed overhead, reported, “Travellers! Be careful! Ice trolls ahead in your path!” before ascending again and flying off.

Nehali, able to scout further ahead than any of us (and less obtrusively, too), checked it out and reported back that there were a group of the creatures apparently camped just off the trail. They were not likely visible from the trail, but nevertheless within easy striking distance of it. Likely their campsite was chosen because it made it easy to ambush people on the trail.

A brief conversation with Ulf yielded the opinion that ice trolls were like normal trolls, only different. When more detail was requested, we learned they were likely blue and probably smarter. “Smarter than a troll” if said in the wrong context could lead to swords being drawn, but it sets the bar so low that we were genuinely unsure of what to expect.

We arranged ourselves in what we thought would be a battle-helpful manner, and advanced, leaving the caravan behind. the biggest surprise was that upon finding the troll camp, one of them advanced to us with his arms open, saying in broken Common, that “if you lost, we help. No big worry.” He then said something in Giant to his companions and they slowly, calmly, began to walk not toward us, but around us, as if to flank us. (I learned later that the troll had foolishly said, “We don’t have to find dinner, friends! Dinner finds US tonight!”)

Since I didn’t think even a smart troll would be all that smart, I approached the lead troll glibly. “We’re not so much lost ourselves, but this rock is. It is not of this place – you can see that, right? Look! Its edges are worn down, no doubt from the harsh cold. You seem to be comfortable in the cold, so I’ll bet you can explain, right?”

The troll stopped and if it were possible for the troll to look perplexed, he did so. “The .. rock? It is … it does not matter!” But his companions continued to gently try to flank us.

“Oh, I quite agree,” I responded, “but this rock is real.” I nodded at the rock and raised an eyebrow to the troll in a “you know what I mean” gesture. He stood their speechless, wondering what part of Common he was not understanding correctly.

About this time, one of the trolls realized my sword was on fire. “Firewielder!” he shrieked, and all pretense at conversation was off. But the task was done – the delay had allowed Kali to summon three fire elementals. While they were not huge by any stretch of the imagination, the ice troll were very much against their appearing. He attacked me, I swung back, and the battle was one.

They were armed with axes the size of battleaxes to us, but they obviously were relying more on numbers than sheer fighting skill. Suishen cut happily into their cold flesh, and a glance around me revealed that Sparna, Radella, and even Qatana were doing a number on them as well. The real fire elementals made the trolls very wary of Ivan’s false image of one. Kali levitated above the fray and cast spells while safely out of harm’s way.

In the end, the eight ice trolls would trouble this world no more. A search of they and their camp revealed only two things of any interest: 80 gp, and

[385] a ring, which later was identified as a ring of sustenance.

The danger removed, we returned to camp. At dinner, Ulf told us a tale of the “Arctic Chimera” which was part walrus, part polar bear, and part white dragon. It tried to bring an avalanche down upon his caravan, but he lured it away and saved the caravan. Or so the story goes

Oathday, 11 Lamashan

Really cold. REALLY cold. Even with Endure Elements – “enduring” is not the same as “enjoying”. The wind picked up today, and it is snowing. We only got about half as much travel in.

Fireday, 12 Lamashan

Wors ! Didn t th k it p sibl , but it is. Ink fr z ng in b ttl . Only 1/4 as m ch t day.

Starday, 13 Lamashan

C uldn t m ve t day. At al .

Sunday, 14 Lamashan

Less cold. Deep drifts. About 3/4 speed. Seems almost warm by comparison. Snow is not my thing.

Wealday, 17 Lamashan

We have made it to Igaliat. The normal caravan route normally bypasses this town, but Ulf wanted to consult with them about conditions over the Crown. Ulf has a talisman of friendship which was given to him by the hearth mistress and which should afford us entry.

— later —

Town very suspicious of us. Even Ulf feels it. The hearth-mistress welcomes him, but the town is tense. Apparently, a white dragon has been harassing their town, to the point of taking or killing townspeople. Their shaman thinks it is a holy retribution for failing to honor their religion, and insists a more rigid adherence to sacred rules is needed. In fact, we discovered upon talking to him in public that he believes we should be sacrificed.

That really is unwelcoming.

The hearth-mistress vetoed the idea, but did suggest that overnight might best be the total length of our stay. We offered to look into the white dragon issue and she was certainly accepting of that .. just don’t stay in town to do it. 3 parties of men from the town left to do the same, and never returned, she pretty much doesn’t expect to see us return again.

Oh, and she also offered the northern route is already blocked by “hungry storms” not unlike the one we encountered this last week. The old gods of winds drives the storms, it is said, and they believe they are but one more bit of evidence that the gods are angry with the town.

Meanwhile, Radella noticed the shaman drifting away, and with a deft invisibility spell from Kali, she went to follow him. She apparently found him taking a path into the mountain that was guarded by both locks and guards, and she followed as long as she dared before returning and bringing us up to date. She encountered a ghostly figure that seemed to see her even though invisible, and Ulf said it might have been a frost spirit – basically a soul that has died at the hands of cold.

The dragon, we were told, is about 60 mi north of the town. It’s about as big as a horse. That’s probably our next stop, but first we wanted to learn more about this shaman. As a group then, we returned to the area Radella had seen, but in a slightly different manner. She had seen an opening in the mountain leading to the same area, and rather than deal with the locks and the guard, we chose to use the more direct route, courtesy of Fly spells.

Owing to their dark vision, Radella and Sparna entered first. As I entered, I had Suishen turn on his flame. I sensed we were about to be in battle and wanted every advantage I could have.

Below us we could see the shaman, and an altar. As he saw us, he seemed to cast a spell, and eight frosty looking spirits appeared near us. Radella nodded; yes, these looked like the figure she had seen. And while we’ve no way of knowing whether they were created as Ulf said, we do know they were undead. One managed to hit Sparna and his shout (and behavior) seemed to leave him less nimble than normal.

I also know that flaming Suishen made the spirits most uncomfortable.

Eventually we worked our way to the shaman, and after dispatching him discovered something on the altar that was both shocking and telling. There on his altar lay shards from what appeared to be a white dragon’s egg.

Character: Qatana

Qatana’s journal entry for Lamashan 9 – 17, 4712

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Toilday, Lamashan 9, 4712 evening
northern caravan route

Thanks to the warning from the silver dragon we had a chance to prepare well before we reached the trolls. Kali sent Nihali out to reconnoiter, and she reported back that there was a camp of about eight large blue skinned creates some distance ahead, and a little off of the main route.

The caravan continued on until we were within a mile or so from the ice trolls, and Sandru arranged the wagons in defensive positions “just in case.”

Our group (minus Anna, who kept to her word of sticking with the caravan) walked off in the direction Nihali reported the troll camp lay. Maybe a mile later we saw a cluster of ice trolls. They had clearly seen us, and one walked towards us, hands out as if in greeting, and said (in very broken common), “Friends! Come to help you. Lost? It be fine. We assist.”

My personal philosophy is to leave other creatures alone if they leave you alone. And as unlikely as a friendly troll (blue skin or not) might seem, I would have been perfectly happy to send a cheery greeting and then after a brief social call been on my way.

Unfortunately several of the other trolls were moving out in an obviously flanking maneuver, and our would be friend then gloated (in giant) to his companions, “My brothers, we don’t have to look for dinner tonight. It comes to us!”

Sigh.

After a short skirmish the ice trolls all lay dead and burning. Somehow I could not feel bad about killing these foes as I did the giant we had encountered a fortnight ago, but I cannot explain the difference. He seemed sad and pathetic, while these creatures seemed vile and calculating. I guess feelings are seldom logical.

We searched their camp and amidst a pile of bodies found some coins and a ring.

80 gp of coins
[385] ring of sustenance

We returned to the caravan. Later that night after dinner we recounted our encounter with the ice trolls. Ulf then told a story of when he came across a chimera composed of a walrus, a polar bear, and a white dragon. He led the creature away from the caravan, and then crept back and his party made good their escape. There was no telling if this tale was true or not, but the fact that it involved sneaking about rather than fighting the beast made me believe him.

Oathday, Lamashan 11, 4712 evening
northern caravan route

It was much colder this morning than it had been, and only seemed to get colder still as the day advanced. Before we had even set out a strong wind had picked up, and snow began to fall, or more precisely it was whipped around by the wind and blown into our faces. It became difficult to see more than a few yards ahead, forcing our scouts to pull in and lead the way. It was slow going, and by late afternoon drifts of snow had piled up deep enough to slow our progress even more.

At dinner everyone crowded closely around our small cooking fires, glad for the orange glow and a hint of warmth.

Fireday, Lamashan 12, 4712 evening
northern caravan route

The snow, wind and intense cold continued and we struggled to cover only a few miles. When asked about it, Ulf shrugged and grumbled about an unseasonable blizzard. It is miserable, but I am lucky that I travel in a wagon. Our scouts and their mounts bear the brunt of the weather.

Starday, Lamashan 13, 4712 evening
northern caravan route

The blizzard intensified and the snow drifts completely blocked our way. Ulf decided we would not even try to move today, and spirits plunged lower than the temperature.

Taking advantage of having a kitchen all day long I decided to make bread. Ameiko looked amusingly on as I made the dough, and then stripped naked and pulled the mixing bowl into my bedroll with me as she piled on extra blankets and furs. There was no way the yeast was going to grow in the cold, and body heat was the only source of warmth we could afford for the hours it would take for the bread to rise. And it worked! We surprised the camp with a hearty stew of salted meat and warm fresh baked bread for dinner.

For desert I splurged and used some of our precious honey along with some butter, nuts and cardamom to make a wonderfully sweet flaky pastry that everyone enjoyed.

“How do you feel about Ameiko being the heir to the royal house of Minkai?” I asked Shalelu.

It was late and we were both on watch. The weather had calmed considerably, and the camp itself was glowing with magical light that extended out a good distance in all directions. The cold was still intense and each of us wandered about with our own private miniature snow storm as our breath froze and fell as ice flurries before us.

Shalelu paused for a moment, and replied, “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? Who would have thought? Sometimes I wonder how she’ll adjust to the change, although Minkai would be in good hands with her on the throne. She may shake things up a bit — you know how she likes conforming to rules… I think it’s a good thing, though, and I’m glad to be part of this adventure to get her there in one piece.”

I knew Shalelu had been on numerous journeys in the past. She had gone all of the way to Kaer Maga to rescue me; and although she never brought it up, it was well known that she had accompanied the Sandpoint heroes for part of their quest.

“Have you ever journeyed as far as we plan to go?”

“No, this is a longer journey than I’d ever have imagined myself making.” she said softly, almost to herself.

That was food for thought. Here we were on an epic voyage of enormous scope, and who knew if we would all arrive at our journey’s end, or what we would do once it was all over.

“If we make it to Tien and manage to restore Ameiko to her rightful place, will you remain there with her, or return back to Sandpoint?”

“Hmm,” she pondered, “I will stay for a while, at least. I’d like to see what the forests of Minkai are like. Perhaps I’ll find a new place to roam, or perhaps I’ll feel the call of my old woods again.”

It was hard to imagine Sandpoint without Shalelu, but I could see her point. Why hurry back on another arduous voyage when you have a whole new continent to explore? I thought of my own return trip and who might accompany me. This brought to mind our unexpected companion.

“What do you think of Skygni? Isn’t he great? Have you ever had a wolf for a companion?”

There was a long pause before she answered, “I… yeah, you know winter wolves don’t have the greatest reputation… But I reckon we haven’t been harmed by the creature, and maybe he will turn out to be a worthwhile companion. I do like the thought of a supposedly-evil creature showing his nature to be good, that we need to look at every animal with intelligence as a person and not just say, ”Wolf! Kill it!” So for that I’m glad.”

Yeah, I knew Shalelu would be happy having Skygni around.

We continued our watch in silence, and my mind wandered over our more recent encounters, and about the uneasy truce that stood between between Olmas (and Suishen) and Ameiko concerning her participation in combat.

“So, what do you think about trying to keep Ameiko safe? Olmas (and his sword) seems to hover about and treat her like she is fragile. I could not help but notice that you stayed back guarding the caravan when Ameiko insisted on coming along with us to fight — I guess you trust her ability to take care of herself in combat more than… others.”

Shalelu snorted, “Ameiko is an accomplished adventurer who has survived battle before, and I had a job to do guarding the caravan. Besides, my young friend, you and your companions are getting quite good at this battle stuff by now. I think you don’t need all of us at your side anymore just to stay alive. Who knows,” and here she looked at me with a grin, “maybe I’ll need you to defend me before long!”

I laughed at that. The time was was a long way off indeed for Shalelu to need me to defend her!

Sunday, Lamashan 14, 4712 evening
northern caravan route

While still overcast with heavy grey clouds, the wind and snow had stopped completely, and even the extreme cold seemed to have relented. Skygni stopped by to check on us after the storm, which appeared to have caused him no trouble at all. “Get used to it,” was all he had to say about it, although he did add “Such storms are unusual for this early and this far south.”

We broke camp and the caravan pushed on through the drifts. The clouds thinned as the day wore on, and a breeze picked up toward sunset, shredding the remaining clouds and blowing them away as welcome beams from the setting sun painted the snow pink.

Ulf said that tomorrow we will branch off the caravan route and make for the village of Iqaliat, nestled beneath the plateau upon which perched the Crown of the World.

Wealday, Lamashan 17, 4712 after noon
Iqaliat

The morning broke with a sky of deep cobalt blue and the sun peeking over the horizon to the southeast. Around us were hills and ridges covered in snow, but to the north we could see a dark band that stretched across the horizon, like low storm clouds.

As we made our way north the dark band became a glowering face of rock and ice. This was our first glimpse of the great ice cap over which we would soon be traveling, and it looked every bit as forbidding as Ulf had warned it would.

Half a mile from the cliff we saw a tall stone wall extending out from its base, with a large gate on the left, and a smaller door to the right. Within a hundred yards of the wall Ulf called for a halt.

He summoned the six of us and described what lay in wait for us in Iqaliat. “They are an isolated inward people, and do not expect to make any friends while here. Let me lead and do the talking until we are within the walls.” He then pulled out a talisman and said, “This was given to me by the village hearth-mistress on an earlier visit, and should grant us entry.”

With those encouraging words we came to the small door. We could see guards glaring at us from over the wall, but Ulf called out words of welcome and held up the talisman. The door opened and we entered.

“Unfriendly,” Ulf had said of the townfolk of Iqaliat. Hostile seemed more closer to the mark. The hearth-mistress, Sonavut, arrived and welcomed us to her village, and surprised us with an invitation to accompany her to her lodge where we could talk in comfort.

As we passed through the village Ulf questioned her about our cold reception. Apparently the degree of animosity expressed by the guards and inhabitants had surprised even him.

Iqaliat, it seemed, was going through a difficult time. The winter storms had started early this year and now a white dragon was periodically attacking the town, killing people for no reason.

The village shaman, it seems, had a reason. The bad weather and dragon attacks were the result of the town turning its back on their traditional ways. Specifically there was not enough suffering and sacrifice to the local gods.

We got a look at the shaman on the way to Sonavut’s house. A throng of people surrounded him as he railed against them and their leaders for being unfaithful and bringing the wrath of their former allies against them. And (of course) only he had the answer. Yeah. Sure.

Once inside with Sonavut we discovered that the normal caravan route to the high ice was impassible. Incredibly fierce storms had come down from the Crown, and the only way up onto the ice was the steep pass beyond Iqaliat. But the white dragon lived in the pass, making it unsafe as well.

This seemed like a no brainer, and I suggested that we could take care of the dragon, thus solving the town’s current problem as well as clearing the way for our caravan to travel north. Sonavut agreed to take us to the chief to find out more about the dragon.

We left he house and upon seeing us again the shaman shrieked, “There they are, the cursed outsiders. One of them must be sacrificed to appease the gods!” Angry shouts from the crowd rose up in support of this demand.

That his ravings were turning the villagers violently against us was obvious (and Detect Magic indicated he was using more than just words to do so), but why he was doing so was puzzling.

Olmas tried to reason with the shaman and villagers, and while his arguments would have swayed rational men, this was a mob. Mobs were irrational and driven by fear and anger. And being a servant of Groetus I could do fear and anger.

I stepped in to the verbal fray and flung the shaman’s words back at him. The verbal battle lasted but a few moments, and in the end the shaman stood leaning on his staff, silent for now, but breathing heavily.

“There will be no sacrifice today!” The chief had arrived and ended the debate. The shaman glared at us with such loathing and hatred that I could almost physically feel it. He then stomped off away from the crowd.

Seriously? He could not have made himself more suspicious if he had painted himself purple and danced about the village square naked yelling, “Look at me!” Radella began to casually saunter off after the shaman, and Kali quickly cast Invisibility on her. The rest of us were pulled into the chief’s office to discuss the dragon, but Kali had also cast a Message spell to keep in touch with Radella.

The dragon, we learned, was not exceptionally large, but still big enough to rip a human in half and fly away with the remains. The chief had sent the town’s best warriors up to where the dragon lived, but never returned. We once again offered to take care of the town’s dragon problem, for which the chief was grateful.

But the chief was also mindful of the town’s mood. He warned us that while we could spend the evening here, we had best be gone the next day. We had planned on staying with the caravan anyway.

All of this time Radella had followed the shaman through a secret doorway in the wall, which opened onto a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a guard, and another secret door. She followed the shaman through into a vast ice chamber. A large crevice in the ceiling lead up to the sky, and a ramp spiraled around and down to an icy floor below. The shaman had gone down below, but a pale figure stood on the ramp staring at Radella, despite her invisibility.

She wisely decided it was a good time to return back to us with news of what she had found. A few minutes later she had discretely joined us as we made our way back to the caravan.

Ulf listened to Radella’s description of the pale humanoid and declared it was probably a frost spirit — a type of undead creature formed when people died from the cold. Undead? I looked steadily at Kali and she nodded back. I cannot abide undead.

We decided to search for the crevice and confront the shaman in his secret lair that very day. Depending upon what we found, we would then move on to find the white dragon. I would have preferred to have had access to some spells to protect us from the cold, but Ivan was able to provide these and so we prepared to leave.

I found Shalelu and informed her of what had happened and what we were up to.

“We’re off to find out what the local shaman has been up to. Oh, and we might go looking for a white dragon too. What do you think of dragons? Have you ever encountered one before? That silver dragon we saw last week was great. I wonder is Skygni would get along with a white dragon. They both like the cold.”

Shalelu exclaimed, “Dragons! By the gods, there is a world of difference between a white and a silv- yes, I know what I said about the wolf, but this is dragons we’re talking about! If you go after it, be careful as if your very lives hang in the balance of every move you make, because they surely do!”

Thankful for the advice, I rejoined my companions. Nihali had been sent out to find the crevice and had just returned. We would use Fly spells from the wand I had created and follow Nihali to the entrance.

A short while later we were hovering above the shaman’s hideout. Bones littered the floor below. Frost spirits stood on the ramp leading down and on the floor. The shaman stood before an altar made from skulls and more bones.

We dropped down toward the floor and Sparna confronted the shaman. He sputtered and stammered the expected drivel about “survival of the village,”and “you don’t understand… the spirits…” Right. The usual hollow justifications made by petty tyrants everywhere.

Seeing we were unconvinced, the shaman went on the offensive, calling on the wind god’s protection. A powerful river of wind knocked Sparna to the floor, and the undead minions began to clamber towards him.

The shaman vanished, but Kali used Glitter Dust to show he was still there.

We began to carve our way through the horde of undead, but the shaman possessed more power than we had thought, and used spells such as Unholy Blight against us. I lessened his abilities with Touch of Idiocy.

When the last of his undead had fallen, the shaman turned into a gaseous vapor, but before he could flit away, we killed him. He resumed solid form and landed with a soft thud onto the floor.

We were about to sift through his belongings when Radella pointed at the altar and cried out, “Look!”

A broken white dragon egg lay there.

Prick! It looks like he intentionally brought the ire of the dragon against the village.

Character: Kali

Kali’s Journal, Lamashan 9 – 17, 4712

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Lamashan 9, 4712 (late afternoon, Path of Aganhei in the Hoarwell March)

The silver dragon returned today. It flew in from the east directly overhead, and then spiraled down towards our caravan. This was another one of those tense moments that had me second-guessing myself: Are those scales silver or are they white? It got close—uncomfortably close—and then called out to us. “Ho! Caravan! Ice trolls ahead of you!” Several of us shouted gratitudes in some form or another in response, and it flew off.

Silver dragons are known for taking a protective role around humanity. Actually dealing with the ice trolls directly would have been better, but that is probably a bit too much to expect. It is not it’s job, and I think the species in general takes the same philosophy as parents when looking after children: it is important to learn to fight your own battles. A little nudging here and there is fine, but intervening directly makes you soft and dependent. I admit I have mixed feelings about this approach to pedotrophy, though, probably because mom’s definition of “a little nudging” differed significantly from the norm: she left the hen house open to the fox and the extent of her guidance was “figure it out”.

Sandru stopped the caravan so that we could work out a plan and the first thing we did was consult with Ulf. “Ice trolls are smaller and weaker than regular trolls, but they are adapted to the cold. And, they’re smarter.”

Of course that is a relative term. It’s not difficult to be smarter than a troll, but he didn’t mean for it to be a backhanded compliment: ice trolls really are cunning, or at least cunning enough, and have been known to create skillful ambushes. We could very easily have stumbled into one if the dragon hadn’t warned us. We needed to know what we were walking into.

I asked Nihali to scout ahead and see what she could learn. This earned me a number of stares. Every time I send her out or involve her in our activities I get questioned about her safety and my apparent disregard for it. I never know what to say to this.

Etayne treats Ling like he is made of glass, and I get it. Much of that is simply the reality of being a witch, but on top of that she has her reasons—very personal reasons—and I don’t question that. But it seems everyone has the same expectation of me, and that is just not how it is. I am sorry to disappoint you. My relationship with Nihali is no less important to me, but what I need from her is not the same as what Etayne needs from Ling.

Whatever their opinion, no one argued with the results. Nihali returned in short order with the rough location of the ice trolls’ camp, and we dealt with them.

Were they as smart as Ulf suggested? More or less. They attempted a respectable, albeit unoriginal, ruse that certainly caught our attention. Their only mistakes were assuming that we didn’t speak giant and wouldn’t recognize flanking maneuvers. In all fairness, I suspect few would pass the first test, and though the second was fairly obvious, if you were close enough to see it you were probably in trouble, anyway. Unless, of course, you were equipped and prepared as we were.

I would never say this to the others, but this skirmish nags at me. It was the first time we have gone out of our way to engage—to kill—creatures native to this part of the world. Logically, I understand that they are a menace, dangerous not just to us but to everyone who lives here, and we saw enough human bones in their camp to reinforce that point, but there’s this fine line between preemptive and aggressive. On which side did we just fall?

Lamashan 11, 4712 (evening, Path of Aganhei in the Hoarwell March)

Snow has been falling steadily since late this morning. This would be lovely if it weren’t for the winds. By mid-afternoon heavy white flakes were blowing all around us making it difficult to even see the road much less make any progress on it. Until they died back it wasn’t possible to tell if the snow we were seeing was newly falling or merely being relocated from points north.

“Died back” is not the same as “stopped entirely”, however, and drifts have started to form on the windward side of the wagons that mark the perimeter of our camp. We’re going to have to dig out in the morning before we can get moving, and that’s assuming we’ll be able to move at all.

I’m not exactly a stranger to snow or even blizzards, but such things are rare occurrences along the Lost Coast and I’ve never been in snowstorms as intense and heavy as this. Growing up we’d get at most an inch or two here and there, and maybe one big snowfall every few years. It was fun as a kid but it’s less so when you can’t just go inside to get out of it. The campfires created from the beads are helping to keep us dry, and our spells and enchanted items are keeping everyone warm, but these things do not keep the wind from whipping the canvas of our tents and the covered wagon, nor do they keep the snow out of our face and hair. The latter in particular makes guard duty particularly unpleasant. I predict a long, damp, and restless night.

Lamashan 13, 4712 (evening, Path of Aganhei in the Hoarwell March)

The storm has been our faithful companion for three days now. Only a few inches of snow seems to be falling overall, but the winds have been a constant presence whipping up to blizzard and whiteout conditions for hours at a time. Yesterday it took us much of the morning to dig out and de-ice, and I doubt we traveled more than a dozen miles afterwards.

Today, we didn’t even try to move. The drifts were several feet high, nearly burying the supply wagons, and the wind was gusting heavily. We’d get one wagon cleared, but in the time it took to do another the first would be inundated with more snow and ice. It wasn’t worth wasting our energy on a pointless activity. We have opted to wait it out until morning and see if the weather improves.

I suspect this is just a taste of what is in store for us in the coming months.

Lamashan 14, 4712 (morning, Path of Aganhei in the Hoarwell March)

The storm finally broke over night. After days of gusting winds the air around us is eerily still and silent. We are surrounded by an ocean of snow, with drifts like waves stuck in time. We are supposed to turn off of the Path of Aganhei today and head for the village of Iqaliat but I don’t know how we will be able to see the road we are currently on, much less the next.

Skygni dropped in on us as we were de-icing the wagons in preparation for leaving camp. We asked in passing what he thought of the storm. “Get used to it,” was his reply. I thought that pretty much spoke for itself, but he had more to add. “It’s not common to see this so early in the year, but we’ll get more of it as we head north.”

So that is something to look forward to.

Lamashan 17, 4712 (morning, Hoarwell March)

We can finally see it clearly in the distance: the cliffs that form the edge of the arctic plateau. The High Ice. After two months of travel we are nearly there.

Ulf says we will make Iqaliat by noon. I asked him what we should expect.

“They are mostly a nomadic people. The main caravan route bypassed their village, and they are generally suspicious of outsiders.” He paused and then said, “They have their own ways.”

I interpreted that to mean we would not exactly become close friends during our stay. Ulf concurred. “Don’t expect them to be friendly until they get to know you, and you them.” He pulled out a strange talisman that looked like it was made of remorhaz scales. “This was a gift from their hearth mistress. It’s a token of friendship between me and their tribe.” Which meant he would do most of the talking.

Why make the stop at all, given the cold (ha!) reception we are likely to receive? Because they can tell us what the conditions are like on the Ice. If we ask the same question in Unaimo—which is the last village along the main caravan route on this side—they will in all likelihood (and rather sensibly, I might add) just tell us not to go and leave it at that. Unfortunately, this is not one of our options. We need information, not a nanny, so Iqaliat it is.

(Afternoon, Iqaliat)

There are basically two decent people in this entire village: the hearthmistress, Sonavut, and the chief. Two gods-be-damned people in a village of over one hundred, and truth be told? I think the chief is just being polite. What is wrong with these people?

That’s a rhetorical question. What’s wrong with them begins with, “what is wrong with their shaman, Tunuak?” He is an old, bitter, angry man. Every misfortune is a punishment sent by the gods for some transgression; every penance requires some form of sacrifice (the barbaric variety where you kill some hapless animal and let it go to waste). All his solutions involve returning to the “old ways” and spilling blood.

The Erutaki worship elemental spirits, and if Radella and I are right they believe these spirits control the seasons and the weather. Please the spirits and you are rewarded with sunny skies and a balmy subzero day. Anger them and they park a storm over your head. Or worse.

They are currently dealing with “worse”. In the past four months, a white dragon has raided their village three times, flying nearly 60 miles one way to do it.

Their shaman tried to use us as scapegoats. We stepped out of Sonavut’s home and into a lynching. “It is as I told you,” he cried out to the crowd of villagers that had gathered around him. “We need a grand sacrifice! One of the outsiders must be killed!”

It was almost as if we weren’t welcome here.

He was whipping the villagers into a frenzy, and was not above using a little magic to improve his delivery. Well, sir, two can play at that game. I had prepared for the possibility that we would need similar help ourselves, so when Olmas stepped up to try and reason with the people and their chief, I figured there was no better time than the present. The shaman then tried to bully us with veiled threats, but Sparna would have none of that. Finally, he resorted to the time-honored tradition of outright lies, and that’s when Qatana joined the fray.

In the end it was something of a draw. “We are not going to sacrifice anyone,” the chief said, which sounded pretty good, but then she turned to us and added, “You may stay the night, but you must leave the village in the morning.” Hardly a ringing endorsement. As for the shaman? He expected his performance to end with, I don’t know, a public beheading or something. When it didn’t, he stormed off in anger.

I wanted to leave this village to rot and its wounds to fester right then, especially given the welcoming party, but two things have turned their problems into our problems.

The first came from the hearth mistress. The usual caravan route is completely blocked by what she called the morozokus. “They are terrible storms that come down from the north, from the center of the High Ice.” It’s been an unusual year. Not only is this not their normal season, but they are traveling farther and farther south, and are fiercer than ever.

If that sounds a little like she thought of them as being alive, I had the same question. “The old gods of the wind oversee the mighty storms. Our shaman has been chastising our people for not doing the normal homage to them.” More elemental spirit mumbo-jumbo. Regardless of the reason, though, the result is the same: the caravan route is blocked by the storms, and that leaves only the alternate route—the passage north that Ulf spoke of. The problem is that this northern route will take us near the dragon’s lair.

Of course, we could just take our chances on that: three attacks in four months sounds like pretty good odds for just passing through. But there’s that second thing I mentioned.

It came from Radella, who had the wisdom (and the skill) to follow our shaman friend after he left his impromptu town hall meeting. With a little help from some invisibility, courtesy of yours truly, she was able to tail him all the way to his secret lair hidden in the cliffs above the village. No, really. That is actually a thing.

Tunuak has been a busy man, and we’re pretty sure no one else in the village knows what he’s up to. We’re certain they don’t know he’s been creating or controlling undead. This little but of news was enough to grab our full attention, and even Ulf had something to add after Radella described what she saw. “They say the souls of those who die from the freezing cold come back as frost spirits.”

Qatana and I looked at each other and I could see the look of grim resolve and determination on her face. She started in Pharasma’s church before…well, before. Unlife is the very antithesis of Pharasma’s domain. Willing souls use it to cheat death and avoid her judgement. Unwilling souls are ripped from her grasp. Qatana may no longer be part of that faith, but her views on this particular matter haven’t changed. If the shaman is using this brand of necromancy then he is up to no good, and we are getting involved.

I admit I am concerned, though. They insist on doing this today…on doing it now. I don’t have the right spells for this. I am going in unprepared.

(afternoon, cliffs above Iqaliat)

He smashed the eggs. The bastard smashed her eggs.

OK, I don’t have proof of that, but something tells me those eggshell fragments are not some  grand coincidence, and he wasn’t trying to hatch a dragon of his own. And if I am right…

Gods! What if I am right? What if this is exactly what it appears to be? She’d just be defending her nest. Can we blame her? Should we be surprised if she blamed the village for this crime? They don’t all deserve to be punished for what happened, but isn’t this her nature? If we kill her, are we any better? Are we even doing the right thing?

Gods, I feel sick.

Can we do this? Should we do this?