"Fair note, we don't care about where they came from. Just that we stop it." Malik chirps; trying to reassure he cares not if any of it was bought from unsavory or unsavory ways.

Katia sighed. It was difficult to understand Malik, true, but Daelnar's way with words had some room for improvement. "You bought the blue liquid in a vial recently for a 100 golds. We have reasons to believe that liquid is what provokes the sickness and already kill two people, while two more are dying. Do you still have it with you?"

Harley watches the conversation warily, hand moving to the handle of her greataxe in case intimidation might become necessary.

Katia’s concise explanation elicits a horrified reaction from Irven. “But my whole family’s been in contact with it! Our children, too!” A sequence of tense minutes follow as Irven wakes his family.

Behind the bar, Arl takes a shot.

Tired and scared, Irven’s family emerges into the taproom. Two human males and two young tiefling girls--twins. The girls are dressed in matching pajamas, and each holds a stuffed toy dog. “This is my husband, Fenton, and our adopted daughters Honor and Magic. We’re traveling booksellers. I met a dwarf woman on the road to Palebank Village. She said she was moving and needed to shed some possessions, so she offered to sell me a rare Aeorian relic at a terrific price. I had thought to sell them for a profit once we reach Uthodurn. Among them was the blue vial. We've all handled it!  Here, take it!” 

He reaches out, holding something wrapped in a cloth.

Katia's green skin became a couple shades paler at the mentioning of the children being in contact with the foul liquid. She took off her own scarf to handle the vial, finally looking at the source (potential source!) of all deaths around. Hopefully, her precaution was enough evidence of the seriousness of the situation for the merchant and his big family. "Did you open it?" She looked intently at the kids: "Did you try to smell it or touch the liquid?"

Irven stammers.  "I mean... yes, of course.  I wanted to examine it before purchasing, and we were all excited to hold something so old.  What does this mean?"

Arl stirs from behind the bar.  "I better go fetch Elro..."

______________________________________

Later, after an unsuccessful attempt to put Irven's family at ease, Elro meets with you in the living area of his own cabin. He pays you 100 gp as promised but asks you to stay in town. "I've some questions to ask.  And I'm quite certain I'll have need of your services again soon."

______________________________________

The next morning, Elro bids you to another meeting, and he has somber news.

"Irven, Fenton, Honor, and Magic are all afflicted with this sick.  They call it frigid woe.  Now that we know it's this blue powder, I consulted old lore and learned a few things about it."

"This frigid woe is said to have only one cure—a milky liquid the Aeorians stored in gold vials. I can only hope that the cure might be found in the same place Urgon found the vials... in Eiselcross. This is asking so much, but we've lost Urgon and Verla.  Now Tulgi, Irven, Fenton, and the girls are sick.  Would you travel to the islands of Eiselcross and retrace Urgon’s path?  Find the cure? The village council has pledged two hundred gold coins for the task.  Time is of the essence for Irven and his family. If you accept, you've got a day to prepare.  Find me at the village docks tomorrow morning when you’re ready to set sail."

(Welcome to Level 2!)

"We will go there!" Immediately responded Katia, looked at the others, slowly realized she was talking for them without asking and had the decency to blush. "Are we coming? I mean, I will go for sure. Probably uncle had some maps at home and the place where he found that vials is marked - I would need to check." (That map-case Hulil returned could contain the map too, by the way, why did not she check before? And was there a diary or something? There was a lot to do and she begun right away.)

"Awww heck, that dun make this an easy decision... I'm all for findin' out what caused the old dwarf's death, figure I owe him least that. We dun found that now, an we talkin' about goin' t' the place where all this started? How long have these folks got?" Daelnar was reticent about the prospects of trips to old ruins. He'd felt an obligation to Urgon because he had known the dwarf. There people that were still in danger, they weren't his friends, they were just folks that had each got caught up in this for trying to turn a quick profit. He'd nearly died in that first fight, and the ***** cat and Shagar had both been in near fatal circumstances since. How much was this cure worth? "I dun be thinkin' this be our fight lass. We gunna risk our hides for somethin' we dun even know still exists? Seems to me that yer uncle woulda been more likely t' bring golden vials back with him than the blue vial that be causin' all this."

He needed convincing - the gold was nice but you needed to be alive to spend coin, if the rest of these folk were intent though... He had nearly died, and the doddering old fool had saved his neck. It was a mess, that's what it was. Did he owe anything to these people that had been complete strangers but a few days ago? Their individual links to Urgon bringing them together for a common goal was the stuff of stories, and being renowned through song forever was certainly tempting...

Smiling warmly at Katia's reaction, Red Chanter says, "I'll travel with you, young one. This seems to overlap with my own interests in the region to some extent. I've been following vague rumors that seem to coincide with the facts of our current predicament."

She looks to Elro. "The support and information is much appreciated. We'll leave at first light. Does the village have a ship we can use to cross over to the northern island?"

"As for you," she says, giving Daelnar a side eye. "Your involvement is at your own discretion. I, for one, would welcome you to join us as you've proven to be a valuable ally. If the intrigue, money, or the altruism of helping this family isn't enough to spur you to action, I don't know what's left for inspiration. The decision is yours alone."

Shagar stands "I owe much to Urgon, keeping Katia safe and finding the cure to what killed him is the least I can do to repay my debt. I will go" 

Waving his cane around at the implication he wouldn't attest to the task, "Bah, the dead are dead and there ain't no caring for the dead.. Its the old's job to pave the path for the young. Them chiddlers are just sprouting.  Its our job to let them grow. I go, I'm older than you'd guess. Anyer books tell what dangers be there or frequent the path there? If we got time, it best spent knowin what we're going for.  Show me them books you read."  The Old Man firmly declares his intent. 

Save the children, save the future. That's what the old does for the young, whether in nature or civiliation.  The old man will do his job.

(At some point in the day of preparation while the boat is prepared. Malik wants to learn all he can about the supposid cure so that no mistakes in administartion or care of the medicine ocurrs)

Elro agrees, inviting Malik and anyone else interested to review the materials he consulted.  It is a series of texts held by the the council as what might pass for a library or historical archive.  There isn't a great deal of information.  

Frigid woe is a sickness that is rumored to afflict those who live in Eiselcross, especially those who explore far off the beaten path.  Its existence is attributed, based upon speculation by the writer, to the ancient civilation of Aeor.

The flying city-state of Aeor, a place of inventors, magic, and progress, was hurled into Eiselcross by gods both good and evil during the Calamity (an ancient war between lords of darkness and gods). The deities agreed on a momentary armistice to achieve this mammoth task, for Aeor's people crafted weapons made to kill the gods and had to be stopped. The gods tried to wholly destroy Aeor, but its protections against divine entities were carefully tuned and unexpectedly strong. It took the most of the pantheon to crash the city.

Aeor was long believed to have been obliterated, and the gods' silence on the matter only furthered this conviction, so the books of lore left nothing more to be studied or discussed on the once-powerful nation. However, recent discoveries of Aeorian artifacts revealed the truth of Aeor's resting place and spurred rumors of arcane secrets frozen beneath the ice of Eiselcross. Now Dwendalian, Uthodurnian, Xhorhasian, and mercenary expeditions search the hazardous terrain for materials that could change the tide of the war between the Dwendalian Empire and the Kryn Dynasty.

Aeor, a civilation known for its strange inventions and magical munitions, might have created frigid woe as one such weapon in its arsenal.

Shagar will return to her clans "village" a few hours out from town at the foot hills of the Floket Alps. 

She visits with her mother and father telling them of the trip she is taking once again to the northern plains of Eiselcross. 

She will also visit the clan elders seeking the blessings of the ancestors for safe passage and return.

She will return early before first light the following morning and meet the rest of the group at the docks 

(Did Katia find anything in her uncle's stuff (or in this mapcase) indicating the path to Eiselcross? To the place he was digging?

Katia does indeed find some information in one of Urgon's more recent travel journals.  His logs direct you to Syrinlya, an Uthodurnian outpost on Foren, Eiselcross’s largest island. He writes fondly of a dwarf there named Orvo Mustave, who has accompanied Urgon on numerous expeditions into the wilds of Eiselcross.

The bleak dawn brings little relief from the freezing nighttime temperatures.  Still, a hot fire and a warm breakfast in your bellies is a fitting start for the day.  Although Elro had not stated a specific meeting time, you find him keeping busy at the docks, meeting with fishers, reviewing ledgers, and overseeing maintenance and repairs.  

"Good morning!" the elf says cheerily.  He is wrapped in thick furs and seems oblivious to the cold and strong winds whipping in from the sea.  "I'm pleased to see you're agreeable to the task.  Now, we've arranged passage to Eiselcross for you on The Remorhaz, a sailing ship owned and operated by our Glassblades.  If you have no other preference, you will travel to the outpost of Syrinlya, on the island of Foren."

"From there, you do what needs done.  Once you have found the cure, use whatever you need for yourselves, then give the rest to an elf in Syrinlya who goes by the name 'the Buyer'. Tell the Buyer to teleport the cure directly to me here. I'll be waiting."

"But blazes, look at ye!  The islands of Eiselcross are covered in ice and snow, and are always well below freezing. You'll want to buy cold weather gear before you depart, if you don't already have it.  Elsewise you'll be frozen solid before you ever reach Foren!"

The old man perks a bit "Eh, "The Buyer" is quite vague, how are we to know its the right one-and not someone using the name?" 

As for preperations, having spent extensive time up on his own cabin, he's fair prepared he feels for the cold. Unless his old brain has forgotten something.

(Got winter gear already; though not sure what other 5E winter gear there is. We got plenty of gold now but not a lot to spend it on overall)

Elro should not have worried - after a year living in these frozen lands Katia (and surely others too) were fully equipped to handle the northern weather. "No other preferences," assured Katia the elf, "Syrinlya is where we would go anyway. I found uncle's journal - it says there is a man in there - Orvo Mustave - that could help us. May be he knows your Buyer too."

When the last words of Elco properly sunk into her brain Katia asked: "Is that Buyer capable of teleporting only small things? Would he be able to teleport us as well?"

Elro excitedly calls the crew together and introduces you and the eight sailors he has hired on, including the captain, the dwarf Hallbjorn. These women and men, experienced sailors all, have agreed to see you the nine days journey to Syrinlya. Elro has managed to put together enough food and other provisions to last the crew and passengers twenty days. 

The journey northwest is mostly under clear skies and with a good breeze blowing from the southeast. There is no need to take to the oars, and thus most of the trip is spent in idle endeavors. The sailors are inveterate gamblers, and Hallbjorn is possibly the worst of the lot. Storytelling and music also pass the time, and Red finds an attentive and appreciative audience for their stories and art.

All is not pleasant, however, and there are hardships to face. The wind and waves are calm, but the sea is cold, and nothing stays dry for long unless well protected. The longship is open with no enclosed belowdecks to speak of. Saltwater breaks across the bow and douses the sailors. Fresh food runs out in a week, leaving salted pork, twice-baked bread, and dried fish as the primary ration. Most of the time, there is no opportunity to light a fire. Yet the crew members find the whole experience invigorating and fiendishly mock any who express discomfort.

On the eighth day, a gale storm blows up and tosses the ship around for the better part of a day. The crew has its hands full keeping the ship aright.   You must take an oar. The sea is mounting to touch the sky, and the ship rides up one mountainous wave only to crash down into a cold and wet valley of the sea. Sleet and then hail begin to mix with the rain, driving into the faces of the crew. Lightning flashes above, and soon the dragon’s head prow is aglow with St. Elmo’s fire.

That night, an aurora appears in the night sky to the north.

The coastline has changed. Expansive woodlands have transformed to rolling plains carpeted by muted green permafrost. Rivers empty into ice-clutched basins, and long, low islands of ice cluster close to the shore.

The temperature has steadily dropped since you left Palebank Village, yet it seems to grow colder still as you step off the ramp of the Remorhaz onto Foren. Through windy snow, you can see fur-lined tents and yurts arranged in a large camp. Campfires are whipped by the wind, with dwarves and elves huddled close to the flames.

“Don’t worry! It’ll cool down here eventually!” a joking voice bellows over the snow. A female dwarf with a shaggy mane of unkempt hair bows to you. “Morgo Delwur at your service. Welcome to Eiselcross!”

"You were told to expect our arrival? Shagar eyes the dwarf watching for any signs intent. 

Insight: 14