#121 - Frost and the Children of Winter

From the Annals of the Gateekeper Izzeth, Druid of Dagger Wood / Zarantyr 25th, 999 YK

The last forty years had been mostly peaceful. I’d lived with my order in the Dagger Wood. We watched the changing of the seasons and the comings and goings of the birds. We sat under the trees whose leaves had just sprouted and we crunched through the forest after those same trees had dropped their leaves.

All of that peace and solitude evaporated when I entered the Chambers of Prophecy at the Carnival of Shadows. The words spoken to me by that masked and maimed seer resounded like a sharp retort of

The Carnival of Shadows
is operated by House Phiarlan.

an echo across a canyon wall; some of the very same words had been uttered to me as I fled the Obsidian City, not from the lips of an elven mystic, but from the mouth of a dragon, and not in any language that I knew at the time. Those words led me on a journey that ended up beneath this once magnificent keep of the Dhakaani Empire.

     Beneath the keep and its shattered throne
     The remnant of six becomes seven
     The cloak of winter nears its end
     The mire of true hunger is leavened

The keep mentioned in the prophecy was likely to be Glyphstone and the cloak of winter seemed to be a reference to Frostmantle, the druidic name for the month Zarantyr. This month. As for the remaining lines, I could not say at the time. Our long rest gave me time to reflect on what brought me to this place and I think I can now make sense of the other lines.

Obviously, the Mire of True Hunger is the evil that is brewing in the Cauldron. I do not have any more of the prophecy in my possession, which gnaws at my heart. Are we to stop the Mire, or should we let it rise like bread? As I have observed, often wonderful things come from terrible events.
As for the remnant of six becoming seven, I believe that refers to me joining this band of adventurers. They were six in number and I made them seven. Furthermore, they are the remnants of a much large group, having lost several of their companions, one before my very eyes just after joining forces with them.

After our rest, we decided to try to get word about the Mire out to allies. I did not think highly of this plan, but as always, sometimes it is best to allow events to unfold. After encountering some resistance in the form of a few dire bats, we found ourselves face to face with a dryad.

The first thing that I noticed was that she was beautiful. Her skin was tinged green and delicate branches suspended the most verdant lush foliage that I have ever seen. The leaves entwined her torso and limbs like a creeping ivy that had wrapped itself about her. She moved with the grace of a fey creature, seeming to glide across the floor, rather than landing with the oafish clumsiness of normal humanoids.

The second thing that I noticed was that she was mad. Dryads are bound to their trees and do not generally stray far from them. When their tree is harmed, they are harmed, and if their tree is destroyed, then they lose their sanity. It is fitting that this mad creature should come to find itself in this place that is festering in the madness of Xoriat.

Despite knowing that she was mad, I still held out hope that something could be done to soothe her. I sheathed my weapon and made an attempt to speak to her, but that impetuous Aleae could not stomach any patience and blasted the dryad with a ray of frost. This shattered any attempt to forge a bond and the dryad immediately let out a wail that both beckoned and repelled me. She demanded our attention, but none would fall to her magics.

When she saw that her will had been resisted she called forth the magic to entangle Magnus and myself, and she fled back through the wall of thorns that barred our exit from the keep. I quickly cut myself free of the grasping vines of the spell, just in time to have my world turned upside down.
A nine-foot-tall heap of heap of rotting, fetid vegetation emerged from the wall of thorns. There were vines and branches, mosses, and small carcasses strewn about it from its legs to what served asa  head. In the center of its torso was a humanoid-shaped carcass with its skull caved in; only one eye glared from the remaining socket, and much of its flesh had started to separate and fall off of the bones. At first I wasn’t sure, but when I noticed the all too familiar emblem of a forest with a space between the two centermost trees shaped like a dagger. I knew that the body could be none other than that of Ket, a Gatekeeper and my former companion.

This truly made me reel and for a few moments, I wasn’t sure whether to fell the beast or try to extract Ket’s lifeless body for a proper burial. While I was prevaricating, the mound ambled over to me and swung two great limbs at my head. The first I easily dodged, the second landed squarely on my back, snapping me back to sense and clarifying my priorities.

In addition to the mound, two more Children of Winter, druids of a severely misguided sect who believe that life must be purged in whole to make way for a cleansing apocalypse, assailed us from further down the hall. I summoned a Sphere of Flame and willed it to roll into the mound and towards the Children of Winter. The flame singed some of the vegetation off of the mound, but did no serious damage.

Magnus was still helplessly stuck in the vines of the dryad's Entangling spell and was attempting to free himself when the mound wrapped its tentacles around him and simply pulled him into its unwholesome mass. As Magnus vanished completely from our sight, Ket's body was ejected as if she were offal to be discarded.

The next few minutes were quite a blur. I was vaguely aware that Clarion came charging upon his massive aquamarine steed and attacked the shambling mound. I was aware that Bale was engaging the Children of Winter from afar with his spells. I was aware that a small swarm of bats swooped in and transformed into a slender feminine shape near Aleae. But it wasn’t until Magnus burst forth from the mound’s center under the power of his own strength that I could get a grip on my emotions.

Shambling mound are driven by instinct. It is not particularly intelligent and has no way to distinguish Ket’s corpse from any other. The shambler was not to blame here. Frost was. It was at that moment that I realized who the figure near Aleae was.

I disengaged from the mound and set my focus on Frost herself, who appeared to be a blighted version of what a sunlit-dwelling elf should be. She was clad in bark- and bone-like armor stained black, and her otherwise lovely form appeared sickly in every way.

The Children of Winder say that civilization has drawn people away from the natural cycle,

allowing the weak to survive, and that nature will not allow this to continue. For ages, they

have been waiting for a great cataclysm to scourge the world with plague and catastrophe,

but despite what others think, this sect does not see this event as the end of things. It is

simply the dark winter that paves the way for the new spring. Winter is harsh but necessary, 

and the strong shall survive and prosper. For most of their history, the Children of Winter

have been content to wait for the end of the current age. In the wake of the Day of Mourning, 

the druids have come to the conclusion that winter is finally rising—and that it is the duty of its

children to aid the approaching apocalypse. Now the Children of Winter are preparing to spread

plague and despair—all for the good of the world.

Aleae and Frost were squared off against each other, engaged in a battle of druidic magic and sorcery. Frost attempted to conjure a swarm of insects upon us, but Aleae countered her spell, dissolving it before it could coalesce. Frost then motioned for her pet, a blue-black beast that had the lithe form of a great cat, but with blurred edges and far too many legs. From the back of the beast protruded two long tentacles with razor sharp spikes at the ends. A displacer beast! I had heard of these cunning fey panthers but had never seen one.

As the beast advanced on Aleae, she muttered a few words and in an instant, the beast was gone, banished to the faerie realm where it had come from! Just like that. Aleae was clearly frustrated that Frost had not likewise been banished by her spell. Perhaps Aleae did not properly understanding how dangerous this other elf was—for Frost is one of the Children of Winter's more prominent leaders. Briefly I wondered how many of us would be slain at her hand, as had some of my own kinsmen.

Or were we the real force to be reckoned with now? I have already seen my new companions slay demons and purple worms, nagas, and a number of abominations. In looking back, I can now see that this was the precise moment that Frost began to question her certainty that she would be the victor of this encounter.

“Frost!" I bellowed. “Do you have any last words?”

Without waiting for an answer, I drew upon the darkest side of the magic of nature. There is one thing that the Children of Winter are right about: death and decay are a part of the natural world. While I prefer to work magics that create and sustain life, the other side of the coin is that life can be drained away. I called upon the language of nature, allowing Eberron to absorb the vitality from Frost’s body and enrich the very world beneath us. Frost withered before our eyes, a shudder running through her body as an unearthly wail escaped her lips.

She retaliated before Aleae could stop her spell and brought down a rain of ice from above. We shielded ourselves as best we could, but were still damaged.

Cypher loosed a bolt from his arm bow and a dark, crackling energy erupted about Frost’s body. Somehow, Cypher had managed to leech some of Frost’s own life energy into his own. Bale seemed impressed by this feat, while Cypher seemed surprised, although it is hard to tell for sure given his rocksteady features.

Frost was beginning to weaken and was making ready to flee, so Aleae pulled out her Wand of Wonder and activated it. Many things have sprung forth from this mystical wand and I am not sure that I will never get used to being surprised by what it conjures. On this occasion, a thick pool of grease immediately sprung forth from the wand and covered the ground. Aleae was as surprised as I and lost her footing, landing with a loud splat. Frost was somewhat more composed and remained standing. She then began to escape, but Cypher chased her down and locked his construct hand around Frost’s arm while dragging her back toward the pool of grease.

By this time, Magnus, Wynn, and Clarion had bested the shambling mound but were still engaged fighting a giant beetle and the two younger Children of Winter. Clarion seemed like he was contemplating a risky maneuver to attack Frost, but thought better of it and remained beside his companions. The druid herself enacted a new spell too quickly for Aleae to counter, and healing magic seemed to restore some of her vigor.

Yet I have no doubt that on this day, Ket will be avenged. Frost will be made to pay for her actions. And yet, I still have questions raised by the prophecy. The seer at the carnival said that the Whispering Rock, deep in the forests of northern Aundair may provide answers, or more questions. When we have dealt with the denizens of this place, I will have to speak to my companions about finding the rock.