Day 20: Flamerule 24
Caer Dineval
As you wake near the docks to the dim light of street lamps, you begin to get a glimpse of this town. It's about the same size as Good Mead or Lonelywood, but lacks any of those towns' scant charm. The town is huddled closely together around a frozen harbor. No boats seem to be coming or going, and the one that remain are frozen solid. Many of the boats sport damage from the crushing ice and may well sink, if and when the ice ever breaks up.
You get a better look at the inn nearby, a drafty old building with boarded-up windows and a crooked weathervane shaped like a rearing dragon. Someone must still be taking care of it, footprints break through a neck-high snowdrift to its front door.
As you walk north around the semi circle on the town's only real street, you spot lights along the hilltop Faruk mentioned days ago. Atop the shelf-like cliff, sits the Caer, and next to it, The Uphill Climb -- the tavern where you were told to find Roark.
Roark, proprietor of the Uphill Climb
Your first order of business is delivering the letter from Sahmad el Faruk in Targos. Roark is careful to keep the contents out of sight while he reads what must be a short message, judging by the few seconds it takes. Muttering under his breath, "Six days to get this to me?", he slides you five gold pieces across the bar. He does not seem happy at the contents of the letter, the price he is asked to pay for it, or both. This may be the reason the breakfast you ordered is so expensive, or it may just be standard prices in this small, remote town. You eat in silence, the tavern's only customers.
He grumbles for you to check back with him after an hour or so. He'll give you his reply then. After you finish your dried fish, he gives you directions to Ailsen's Menagerie, where you'll find the historian Culver Ailsen.
Though billed by a sign as a shop, this is a house, and its resident, Culver Ailsen, isn’t so much a merchant as he is a collector. His home is filled with books, strange trinkets, countless forms and styles of scrimshaw, tools, old weaponry, animal trophies, and other odd items. He has so many things that he is forced to use his table and stools as shelves, leaving him with only a single usable armchair.
He greets you enthusiastically, perhaps eager to finally have visitors. He points to two stacks of books piled on the floor, motioning for you take a seat. A small woodstove in the corner seems barely lit, burning only tinder. He apologizes for the lack of warmth.
"Firewood is getting harder and harder to afford, and I'll freeze to death before I burn a single page of one of these books."
Culver explains he accompanied the historian and archeologist Jargogle Fub on his expeditions throughout Icewind Dale forty years ago, and never left the area. He learned a great deal from Fub and inherited most of Fub's collection of tomes and artifacts when Fub retired from field research twenty-five years ago and set off for Neverwinter.
"I am grateful to still receive so many vistitors curious about the history of our fine corner of the world, especially in this time of darkness. Now, how can I help you?"
Culver Ailsen, Ten Towns Historian and Collector
Elva asks, "We found a lantern that can find Chwinga. Are they aligned to Auril or some other deity?"
Chwinga are certainly a mystery. Their numbers grow, slowly. Where most folk had never seen such a creature before, even in the wilds, almost everyone now has a story of seeing Chwinga sometime in the last few months -- and near, or even in, a town.
An acolyte of Lathander met with me some months back and shared her theory. She wondered if I could provide any further insight but I admitted to her that I know little of them. I was able to confirm to her that there is no historical record of them being so abundant in the Dale prior to the events of this forever winter, so I hope that her journey here was not entirely in vain.
She was convinced Chwinga are the key to our survival under these current conditions. The Chwinga are minor elementals, attuned to life we often overlook, like fungus, algae, moss, lichen, pollen, and the like. This acolyte – Just a moment, I have her name written... here, 'Greysteel' it was – Greysteel believed the Chwinga were summoned to the Dale by Lathander, the Morninglord and are bound to give all inhabitants of the material plane a chance to survive this darkness.
For example, replacing the energy that would normally come from the sun with their magic, Algal Chwinga living underwater, provide aquatic algae and seaweed what they need to keep the knucklehead population alive. The increased algal activity, in addition to hot springs, also heats the lakes just enough to thin or melt ice cover entirely allowing us to continue to fish in abundance.
Other Chwinga may be keeping lichen growing that feed the caribou, the willow and spruce tips just alive enough to feed the moose -- all of which, by any reasoning, should have died off after years of darkness. We, in turn, can continue to hunt those delicious ungulates.
Chwinga could also be slowing growth – as in the mold that would normally grow on our existing, precious stores of food – preserving it far longer than the cold would alone. She believed Chwinga are helping the inhabitants of the Dale survive in countless ways that are unseen, unknown, and completely unappreciated. And, having heard Greysteel's theory, I admit it is sound and would explain much. It is a shame that many in the Dale instead blame Chwinga for this mess.
As for the relationship to Lathander, who is to say? It's possible Greysteel is prejudiced by her faith. I do agree that Chwinga are a force for good, and as such, I would doubt they are here on Auril's bequest. Though frankly, it would be encouraging if any god is intervening in this on the behalf of mortals in this forgotten place.
"Have you heard of this 'scientist' Elric Sunhair, and can we trust him?"
I have not, but I have seldom left the Caers these last few years, even before this darkness set in. I will say there have been numerous attempts to tame black ice, all resulting in failure -- meaning madness and, in all likelihood, death. To my knowledge, if this Sunhair has been successful, he would be the first.
"My friend went missing. It seems someone wants Tinkerers. Any clue who and are there other tinkerers we should be talking to? Have you ever heard of greyish dwarves accompanying a creature that looked something like a yeti?"
Duergar, dark dwarves. Venturing out of the underdark is rare for them -- they can't stand sunlight, or for that matter, extreme cold. They live primarily near underground lava flows and are far more accustomed to heat than even those living on the hottest surfaces of Toril. It's surprising they're so bold, but taking advantage of this perpetual darkness and the chaos that has ensued, may have presented opportunities they couldn't pass up. Some are capapble of prolonged invisibility, which could explain being seldom sighted.
By all accounts, duergar are fine craftsmen. Their technology and skills may even surpass their above-ground kin the Dwarves, but would certainly exceed that of humans. If Duergar are responsible for taking these tinkerers, I can only think it would be that these select humans are capable enough, while under Duergar direction, to complete whatever task the Duergar have in mind. And whatever they're being forced to work on is too dangerous for the duergar to be around. In short, these duergar need expendable, yet skilled, underlings.
As for the yeti-like creature, I can't say. I have little expertise when it comes to teratology, particularly of the underdark. But it's reasonable enough to think the Duergar's usual beasts of burden, which consist primarily of rather large spiders and deep rothé, were unfit for these conditions or the mission.
Now, other tinkerers... well, yes they are in abundance in the Dale. The ingenous spirit thrives in these parts. No one notable comes to mind right now, but I would advise you to check with the speaker of the towns. They would know. Of course, our speaker is currently infirm with sickness and unable to take visitors, so my advice is not off to a good start.
Elva describes discovering her family rune carved into ruins near Bremen.
Most ancient towers you will find in the tundra of the Dale, both upright and fallen, are ruins of Talossan temples from their crusades here, millenia ago. There are two exceptions: The towers you will find right here in Caer Dinval having been built four centuries ago, and that sunken tower you describe. That would be the Tower of Damien Morenius, and it is the youngest of our towers. It was built and then quickly consumed years later during, what was known as, "The Great Thaw" only a bit more than two centuries ago. I can go into more detail on the wizard Morenius' story if you'd like, but a rather succinct version is that after the tower sank and Morenius slayed, he continued to inhabit it as an exanimate -- that is to say undead creature -- until a group of adventurers destroyed him a bit more than a century ago. Is it possible your parents were part of that party, and made the mark to celebrate their victory?
Elva describes the events at the Temple of the Storm Lord. "Talos versus Auril? The Deities of Furies? It seems we stumbled upon a war. Which side is the side of 'good' and how can we help?"
Well, if it is Talos battling Auril, I can assure you the side of good is not being represented. There are four Gods of Fury, lead by Talos, who is by all means the strongest. They include Auril the Frostmaiden; Malar, the Beastlord; and Umberlee, Bitch Queen of the Sea. I cannot imagine a particularly loyal association of those deities, given their malicious greed and vanity. Though I can't speak to the ways of the gods, they are most likely in a constant state of petty backstabbing over lust for power. They would be held in check only by fear of Talos. If Auril is now in an all-out war with Talos, that association would appear to finally be disintegrating. This would also correspond with the neverending winter, though is still hard for me to imagine what Auril hopes to gain from it
Hmm... Though, perhaps by keeping the greatest concentration of her followers in fear, and prohibited from leaving, she hopes to cling to the little power has left. She gains more followers by the day, here in the Dale. Fools who think that appeasing her is the only way for this rime to end. It would be a desperate move on her part, and desperate gods are particularly dangerous for us mortals.
That tower is just one of half a dozen known towers built to Talos in Icewind Dale. Incidentally, I was recently paid a visit by a gnome, a Mr. Woosenbiig, who came by way of a rather sullen goliath attendant who hoisted the gnome in his backpack. He, that is the gnome, is quite the expert on Ostoria, the ancient kingdom of giants. Woosenbiig was investigating the possibility that the Talossan towers, or at least some of them, were built by dismantling Ostorian temples and reusing their foundations. This, being done to save on quarrying new stone certainly, but perhaps more purposely, to rid all evidence of the giants ever having laid claim to these lands. Such destruction and general deceit are common amongst the incurious and staunchly devout. I told Woosenbiig that I spent fifteen years assisting in the exploration of those towers and their surrounding areas, but we never thought to look underneath them.
Oh... Drats, well I see in my notes that Mr. Woosenbiig meant for me to keep this theory confidential. My apologies to him, and please should you meet him, make no mention of it. At any rate, the tower you explored is one of the finest examples of Talossan crusade architecture. It has stood for two thousand years, and should stand easily for two thousand more. Perhaps I will jouney to see it once before my mortal light is extinguished.
Quickly changing subjects, Elva inquires about the murders in Good Mead, recalling the details. "The victims had snowflake scars. If they worship Auril, why are they being brutally murdered?"
These murders you describe fit the fashion of sacrifices by Reghedmen who worshipped Malar, the Beastlord. Most Reghedmen follow Tempus, the god of war, but Malarite cults were known to exist among them going back centuries. Malar is known as the god of the hunt, but that has always seemed to be a misnomer to me. He is the god of stalking prey, for certain, but the cruelty and savagery he is said to exhibit to victims of that chase have little to do with "hunting" as you and I, or most Reghedmen, know it. He is a savage and evil god, and this type of ritual sacrifice is an offering to him. As to why that is occuring now, I can't say, but these are strange and desperate times in the Dale. If the Gods of Fury are in flux, Malar may be attempting a grab power in the Dale. He may have found Reghedmen who follow the old ways of Malarite cults to do his bidding. By targeting followers of Auril, Malar openly mocks her.
Interesting. You mentioned the hands being removed and taken. I recall coming across something about a Malarite sacrfice of hands needing to be collected from all the "races of the north", both male and female, in order to bring about an event. Although the nature of this event is not known to me, nor could I tell you what "races of the north" would include, precisely. You did mention victims of this sacrifice have been human, dwarven, and halfling.
You know, I came across that in the library of House of the Triad in Bryn Shander. Despite appearances, I do not own every book in existence. Given the urgency of these murders, perhaps it is time for this old bird to go on a journey, provided of course, you'll accompany me there.