Cold. It seeps through, to your very bones they say, although I know not how that feels. Yet metal too has memories. A rushing wind, sheets of ice, water freezing to the touch. I had been here before, this Icewind Dale, in another life. Though but weeks had passed, Bremen was gone, ashes but the vestige of what little was here before, no solace from the storms. Waxillium was with me, and Mazikeen, the two upon whose magics we have all come to rely and trust, as well as Etari, a new arrival, another Tiefling. Perhaps we are indeed the rejects, cast-outs of our worlds- it would certainly explain the rate of devil spawn. Not evil, but just the misunderstood, those rejected for what rather than who they are. Yet I digress. Our final member was Book, the monk I had journeyed with once before. Thankfully, he was wise enough to not lead with his tongue this time in these lands of ice.
A howl in the wind, oft the hallmark of prowling wolves proved instead our salvation. A pack of dogs arrived, twelve in all, ravenous but friendly with a sled in tow, which bore the Dwarf Flinn, his fatal wounds arrested only by the grip of a winter which had not yet seen its final cruelties. The others wished this murderer cast adrift or brought to justice, but perhaps my second chance at life has given me perspective on the gifts I've been given. I did my best to heal his wounds, and set the Dwarf free with a promise that never again shall he be a catalyst for the death of another. I can only hope he finds his redemption.
We set off east, for the town of Caer Dineval, guided by Etari who could speak to the Dogs. I never knew such beings indeed had a language and the experience certainly broadened my horizons and reminded me never to judge those I simply do not understand. Kastros, the sadistic wraith-caller we had encountered previously, was trying to extract some 'Primordial liquid' from the Ten-Towns of Icewind Dale, hoping to create a portal to the Astral plane with 'Astral Shards' he extracted. Such a gate would enable a vile monstrosity known as the Astral Dreadnought to walk free; though what purpose Kastros has with this being remains unknown as of yet. I dare not guess.
Caer Dineval was before us. Alight and welcoming, yet still and silent, not a soul to be found, as if its denizens had vanished, like a ghost into a fog. Not even birds flew overhead, an omen perhaps we should have heeded. Footsteps led around the town, all leading to the Caer, the Keep on the east side of town. We followed, finding the tracks leading to the four corners of the Caer. Stepping through the open gate, we heard chanting upon the wind, voices droning softly in unison, noticeable only in stark contrast to the pervading, deathly quiet, their words alien, but perhaps familiar. We approached the nearest tower, peering through stained-glass panels to see Kastros himself preaching to an enraptured crowd.
Suddenly, the very snow itself rose up against us, forming into a humanoid shape as it reached for Book who smartly lit a torch to strike back at the creature, which hissed back from the flames. Maz's crossbow and Etari's mind-magic had little effect, and meanwhile, I stepped forward to aid book, calling upon the Twilight to enshroud our forms and spare us from harm. Wax, however, was of different tact and lept through into the tower, towards Kastros to end this blight at the source. Kastros whispered temptingly to Wax of power and glory but instead Wax shot forth a bolt of fire, as intense as a dragon's breath. I dared hope, then, that perhaps the day could be won. Instead, Kastros but laughed off the fire and continued his honeyed words, while the crowd before him continued their ominous chant. I called forth an aura of silence, hoping that might break the crowd from their seeming daze but they refused to move. Kastros stepped forth, shrugging off our attacks while the Snow Golem eventually was brought down, Book and I worse for wear.
A crater arose beside us, the very ground itself collapsing into a purple, viscous ooze that ruptured forth. Wax flew to the next tower, seeing another Kastros speaking to another crowd of townsfolk. What magics Kastros used I know not, perhaps both were but shades of the original but either way, we were not able to stop him. As the crater expanded, the Caer beginning to collapse as its foundations were torn away from below I did my best to save who I could, but as I reached for the townsfolk they dissolved at my touch, withering away like castles of sand upon the high tide. Wax flew high, shooting more flames into Kastros despite like lack of results, and collected some of the purple ooze which crystallized upon touch within a vial. With my strongest healing I was able to buy a few seconds of relief for a single townswoman, who whispered 'We made a mistake' to me before she too withered away before my eyes. So gaunt and shrivelled were the crowd that the young and old could not be told apart. I stood paralyzed with inaction in horror as I watched them die, but Mazikeen came to my rescue and we flew back to the waiting sled, where the dogs had come to carry us away from the expanding crater that was once Caer Dineval. As we rode away we heard music upon the wind, a sombre, flute-like melody, haunting but somehow soothing, like the peace that comes to one in the moment of death- I would know. The dogs said the town of Bryn Shander lay to the north, likely the next target for Kastros as he sought sacrifices for his rituals. I can only hope the mercurial magic that leads to these lands sees fit to return us in time to save the other towns.
Far too many screams quietly reverberate upon the winds if one cares to listen.