Ashia ignores the jarl. "Nevermind," she says curtly, "we don't need him; I know what it is we are dealing with."
She crosses the loft to take a better look at the ship moored in the warehouse.
The ship moored here is a traditional Ulfen longship. It has a single deck and mast, and benches for rowers. In the bottom of the ship are seven body-shaped bundles wrapped in sailcloth. A lantern, much like the magical one you now possess, is hanging from a hook in the prow of the ship.
Nothing on this ship detects as magical.
"It is attuned to the funeral barge. Go there for all I care, and die!" he snarls.
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Ashia is about to chastise the Ulfen man for his poor attitude when Elael silences Bengeirr with his dagger; instead, she merely shrugs.
"Well, that's that then," she says turning to the ramp to the lower part of the warehouse. "While I figure out how to attune the lantern to this ship, would someone please investigate those body-shaped bundles on it?"
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"I think the better question is 'why would we want to go there?' Everything we came for is here," Ashia responds continuing down the ramp and toward the ship with the lantern.
"You see, the lantern can open portals connecting the ship to which it is attuned, the tapestry bearing the ship's image, and the frozen north. If its light is turned on a living creature, the portal created connects that creature's body directly to the harsh climate of the tundras. That's what is happening to Skelg."
She approaches the prow and sets the lantern down facing her companions as she continues her explanation.
"Fortunately, the magic in the lantern cannot sustain other portals while being used to open a ship sized portal to send the attuned vessel to Irrisen, so attuning it to this ship and opening a portal for it should close the portal connecting Skelg to the north and end his affliction."
The jarl dies in a bloody heap (i'll forgo the roll, he perishes).
Try as she might, Ashia cannot determine how to change the attunement of the Beacon of the North from Haldyr's funeral ship to this current vessel. After a frustrating amount of time, she has to concede defeat.
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"Damn!" Ashia exclaims. "This isn't going to work. It looks as though we are going to have to actually go to Haldyr's final resting place ourselves."
Looking over at the bundles in the bottom of the ship, she asks, "Did anyone see what's in those yet? We're going to need to head back to Grey Dog Manor first, so we may as well figure out what we're taking back and how."
Tossing back the wrapped sailcloth, the bundles turn out to be dead guards wearing the livery of Greydog Manor. They were being taken back as trophies by the Ulfen pirates.
The loot in the loft, carpets, urns, sculptures and other works of art, probably weighs about 800lbs total and would take a cart or serious effort to move all of it at once.
Loading Skelg's treasure into a cart found on the pier, you make ready to head back for the Grey Dog Manor. As you roll out the main doors of the warehouse, the remaining Ulfen guard is startled, then surprised, then reaches for his axe.
Instead of attacking however, he flees down the quayside never stopping to look back.
When you return to the Manor, you find no guards at the door. Upstairs, the valet, Tyros, leads you to the tapestry picture in the lower stairs where you see the funerary ship encased in ice.
Activating the Beacon of the North, and it's cold light, Ashia focuses the lens on the trapped Ulfen ship. After a moment of silence, a crackling blue-white portal appears on the tapestry. The portal cannot be seen through, but it appears a man sized creature could pass within while ducking.
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In order to ensure that the lantern isn't inadvertently extinguished closing the portal prematurely, Ashia waits to pass through last.
"Do not forget that Bengeirr's lieutenant, Tirfyr, used this same portal to the funeral ship just days ago. We are very likely to encounter hostility," she warns the party. As well as a climate for which I am thoroughly unprepared, she thinks contemplating her imminent discomfort with a sign of resignation.
As you step through the glowing portal, you find yourself in a strange ice-cave. Sunlight filters through the walls and ceiling, and three braziers give some warmth to this otherwise chilly space. Directly ahead of you a tunnel leads through the ice, sloping steeply downward. Behind you, a shimmering portal hangs on what appears to be the main mast, embedded in the ice. Following the mast downwards, you can barely make out the blurry outline of a ship's deck below.
Cold and exposure deal nonlethal damage to the victim. A character cannot recover from the damage dealt by a cold environment until she gets out of the cold and warms up again. Once a character has taken an amount of nonlethal damage equal to her total hit points, any further damage from a cold environment is lethal damage.
An unprotected character in cold weather (below 40° F)must make a Fortitude save each hour (DC 15, +1 per previous check) or take 1d6 points of nonlethal damage. A character who has the Survival skill may receive a bonus on this saving throw and might be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well (see the skill description).
In conditions of severe cold or exposure (below 0° F), an unprotected character must make a Fortitude save once every 10 minutes (DC 15, +1 per previous check), taking 1d6 points of nonlethal damage on each failed save. A character who has the Survival skill may receive a bonus on this saving throw and might be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well. Characters wearing a cold weather outfit only need check once per hour for cold and exposure damage.
A character who takes any nonlethal damage from cold or exposure is beset by frostbite or hypothermia (treat her as fatigued). These penalties end when the character recovers the nonlethal damage she took from the cold and exposure.
Extreme cold (below –20° F) deals 1d6 points of lethal damage per minute (no save). In addition, a character must make a Fortitude save (DC 15, +1 per previous check) or take 1d4 points of nonlethal damage.
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Archibald watches breathlessly as Aisha solves the riddle of the funeral ship before the wizard can so much as a word in. His whiskers twitch an agitation, but despite his wounded pride, he lends his divinations to her study of the ship.
"Trouble, hrmm? If any of those mead-swilling simpletons cross us, they've got another thing coming. I've enough power left in my reserves to fell an ogre." Archibald says, puffing up like a peacock.
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Milo treats the portal with a great degree of trepidation, obviously not at all comfortable with the concept.
He ponders briefly a fortnight spent sleeping under an overturned cart in Underbridge during the middle of Calistril. "How bad could it be?" He mutters, before stepping through.
Once on the other side, he scowls as his breath sends out puffs of fog, and he subconsciously hugs his arms in a little closer.
"Colder'n the witch queen's t..." His words trail off as Ashia comes through and he does not complete the statement, instead shaking one hand vigorously until a bright flame appears in it, radiating both light and heat, although not enough of the later to make any difference. He holds it close anyway.
"Let's hook up this jigger and blow this cursed place." He growls angrily through frosty breath.
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Elael silently ducks into the portal just before Ashia, and when she asks for a hand down, Elael will wordlessly offer his. He believes he's quite agile enough to make it down without his hands, and in fact does so, attempting to slide down the slope on his feet.
He wants to complete their task as quickly as he can. He knows he's not quite equipped for this kind of weather.
Shivering with cold, the PC's descend the slippery, sloped tunnel, which after a long curve, suddenly opens into another cave at the rear deck of the ship. More braziers here keep the worst of the cold at bay, but a wall of solid ice blocks access to the foredeck. A large drum stands on the deck, and behind it is a trapdoor leading into the hold.
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"F...F..F...Freakin' hell." Milo grumbles, the flame shining brightly in one palm, as he stares at the walls of ice all around with obvious annoyance.
"How we s'posed ta get to the front of this tub through all that?" He scowls at the ice like its the enemy. "Could maybe burn through it..." he adds, musing, "But ain't got enough juice left if its far." He holds the flame in his hand close to the wall and watches the ice for a moment thoughtfully as the heat plays across it.
He notices the hatch over the hold and shrugs slightly, "Maybe no ice below? might be able to cut across." He shrugs.
The flame produced by the fiery gnome does melt the ice, but only slowly, maybe 5' per round?. The ice ahead is thick and the melting would take a good long time. Looking around the tunnels, it looks like they have smooth sides of roughly the same diameter.
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Folding her arms tightly into her body for warmth, Ashia looks around at the ice surrounding them and the ship here entombed and shivers. This cold is awful, she thinks.
"That's a clever idea, Milo, but I doubt we would get very far," she says with a smile. "Perhaps you're right about the hold though..." and Ashia opens the trapdoor to look below deck.
As Ashia lifts the trapdoor to the hold below, the smell of death and rot fills the lower deck, even with the cold. It is darker down there, without the sunlight filtering in through the ice, and no braziers burn. Shadowy movements are visible in the darkness, amd an eerie creaking noise as though someone were still working the oars down here.
A ladder stretches down from the trapdoor to the floor of the hold below.
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Milo steps into the room, and hops up onto one of the rowing benches for a better vantage point. With a snarl, he winds up and hurls the ball of fire he's been holding in his palm at one of the undead creatures, cursing in orcish as he does so.
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As soon as it leaves his hand, another ball of fire forms in its place.
As Ashia sends her lighted mannequin down into the hold, it illuminates a withered human wearing an Ulfen burial mask coming down the central aisle. The figure is too emaciated to be human anymore, and it's eyes are showing whites only, while it's teeth have become sharp and feral.
Additionally, along the rowing benches are 4 others. All are pale, one has a half-dozen arrows sticking from his body, another a large slash across his throat. They all begin to rise, following the thing in the mask.
Below Decks - Round 1
Elael*
Purple Zombie*
Ashia
Jiro
Milo*
Archibald
Red Zombie
Ghoul
Kaddok
Green Zombie
White Zombie
Elael leaped down from the ladder and slashed at the nearest zombie, but missed with his flashing dagger. Purple Zombie rose from his bench and slammed at Elael who ducked resulting in the zombie punching the mast instead.
Milo sends a ball of flame flying, hitting Red Zombie singing his undead skin and making a nasty smell.
Below Decks - Round 1 - continued
Ashia tosses a glob of acid on the Green Zombie, burning its undead flesh.
Finally getting a chance to unleash his sword, Jiro slashes completely through the torso of the zombie near him, ending its miserable existence.
Archibald sends a missile of force flying at the Red Zombie, striking the already burned undead monster, but not stopping him. Red, moaning, grabs for Elael, but his deathly slow reflexes fail to reach the nimble elf.
Rushing down the aisle, the Ulfen ghoul leaps over the last bench at Jiro, but none of his natural attacks get through the samurai's defenses.