The Journal of Heelie Faes

Valen. Ignis. Pippin. Aethel.

It happened again. I failed again.

I am beginning to think our adventuring party name might not be a joke after all. "Blame The Healer".

I have never seen anything like the Sea of Moving Ice. A frozen desert, featureless and vast, broken only by the dark shape of a ship ahead, half-buried in frost.

As we drew closer, we could hear loud thumping and creaking from within the hull, followed by guttural snarling. Something large was inside.

Corren sent the cat scholar in ahead. It reported back. Large holes opened the upper and middle decks to the sky. Below, a creature was throwing itself against a door.

We climbed up the ship. The shield guardian stayed outside.

The creature turned out to be an ice troll, fixated on the door it was trying to break down.

Corren sent rays of fire through the cat scholar. The troll turned and saw the Tortle wizard. It came up the stairs fast.

Kylma moved to engage. The Tortle wizard called on his magic to move faster than should be possible, a slight blur around him as he did. Corren kept his distance and continued sending rays of fire toward the troll. I bolstered the party’s resilience and called down a blessing on them.

Then the cold hit. The troll carried it with it, a bitter aura that radiated outward. The Tortle wizard took the worst of it at close range. The speed faded from him as he seemed to experience a wave of lethargy. Luckily his defences held well.

We brought it down. I healed the Tortle wizard after, a good chunk restored.

With the troll dealt with, Corren, Kylma and the Tortle wizard went to explore the rest of the ship. I went down to the bottom deck. Someone might need healing.

I had no intention of forcing open a door that had resisted an ice troll. I knocked on the hull instead, signalling the shield guardian outside. It drove a hole through, opening up the space between us. I moved along the hull to where the locked room was and had the shield guardian punch through there as well.

Four kobolds. Terrified out of their minds.

They threw their javelins at the door, which achieved nothing given I was not standing at it. When that failed, they began crying and begging for their lives. I attempted to calm them with words. The shield guardian attempted to intimidate them into stillness. We both failed spectacularly. The kobolds continued to scream.

I channelled my divine power and calmed one of them. It did not help. It may have made things worse.

It seems this ship belongs to Arveiaturace, the ancient white dragon we met a few days ago. The kobolds had been her guardians. They were quite certain they were all going to die for their failure.

The rest of the party came down. Among other things, they found a goat. They also found the hoard, Arveiaturace’s treasure, buried under four thick layers of ice. They set to work chipping through them. I could not help. I had three hysterical kobolds and one loopy one to manage.

It took the better part of four hours, but we managed to retrieve everything.

Then the ship shook.

The sound of titanic wings, then silence, then the crack of ice under something immense settling onto the hull above us. Arveiaturace’s voice boomed, reverberating throughout the ship.

The kobolds recognised it immediately. Whatever composure remained in the room left with it. Three of them dissolved into fresh panic. The loopy one looked around serenely and informed us we were all going to die.

The rider on Arveiaturace’s back had slipped from the saddle. We had heard her call his name. Meltharond.

Before anyone else could react, the Tortle wizard rushed forward and picked up the corpse, seemingly intending to help the dragon reseat it.

Corren said we should run. I agreed. Kylma agreed. The kobolds and the goat did not have a choice. We boarded the caravan and the shield guardian pulled us clear.

Behind us, a sharp crack of frozen air.