The wind bit cold across the high valley, cutting down from peaks that vanished into cloud and shadow. Ice ruled this place—an ancient glacier lay ahead like a frozen god, pale and immense, its cracked surface glowing faintly blue in the waning light. The air was still, but wrong: too dry, too silent, too lifeless.

Elora was the first to feel it—a deep unease that set the hair on her arms rising beneath her cloak. The few shrubs that clung to the scree were brittle, gray, and yet impossibly still alive, refusing the natural death that should have claimed them. It was wrong in a way that only druids could feel in their bones. “These should be dead,” she murmured, kneeling beside a twisted bush. “But they cling on, unnaturally.”

Thorn crouched beside her, his eyes narrowing. The air around him shimmered faintly as he murmured the old elven words of power. “A lich’s touch, perhaps,” he said softly. “Death without release. A mockery of nature’s cycle.”

Behind them, Maledurk snorted, a puff of steam curling from his nostrils. “Undead trees. Zom-trees.” He grinned, proud of himself. “Sounds like a band name.”

Tempest burst into laughter, sparks of blue energy crackling from her fingertips as she tried—and failed—to stifle the noise. The laughter, too, felt out of place here. Even sound seemed reluctant to linger long in this valley of ice and dust.

Ahead, the glacier loomed closer, and the fissure at its base gaped like the mouth of some buried god. The heroes advanced single file, their boots crunching on frost-hardened soil. The ice swallowed them quickly—light dimmed, color drained, and soon the world was painted only in shades of deep cerulean and shadow.

The tunnel stretched on, unnervingly smooth, as if the two glaciers had pressed together for centuries and then, in some act of divine spite, split apart. Light filtered through the ice above in thin, ghostly beams. No sound but their breath. Then—dripping. A slow, patient drip that echoed impossibly loud against the stone floor beneath the ice.

They followed it, the sound leading them deeper until the fissure turned, revealing an opening that breathed warmth and the faint scent of mold. It was as though the mountain exhaled.

Maledurk went first, his broad shoulders squeezing through. Warm, humid air washed over him, heavy and moist, reeking faintly of rot and the memory of jungles long past. Beneath the glacier’s belly, a stone staircase spiraled downward, its steps slick with patches of ice where water froze mid-drip. Below, the faint glow of torchless light pulsed—a tomb breathing softly in the dark.

The barbarian turned back. “Feels like walking into the lich’s mouth,” he said, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s see if he bites.”

Down they went, slow and careful. The stairs ended at a gate of iron bars—ancient, rust-pocked, but sturdy still. Beyond lay a vast stone chamber, the air thick with the scent of age and damp. Water dripped from unseen cracks above, gathering in small, glimmering puddles on the flagstone floor.

Elora’s keen eyes caught something strange—a puddle that did not ripple when struck by falling water. “That one,” she said. “It’s not right.”

The others peered closer. Thorn murmured a spell and felt the faintest hum of magic—a false shimmer cloaking what appeared to be ordinary water. Elora extended her staff and pressed its tip into the puddle. It sank through effortlessly, vanishing as if swallowed by smoke. She drew it back dry.

Her brow furrowed. “It’s not water.”

Maledurk grinned. “Bet it’s treasure.”

Before anyone could stop him, he dropped to his knees and shoved his head through.

At once, all sound died.

He saw darkness first—then, slowly, the faint outlines below: a shaft, fifteen feet deep, lined with spikes like the jaws of a beast. Skeletons lay impaled upon them, silent as the grave. His heart hammered in his chest, though he could not even hear it. He pulled back with a gasp, shaking frost from his beard.

“A pit,” he said. “Spikes. Bodies. No sound down there. I could fall in and scream forever, and you’d never know.”

Thorn’s eyes flashed with understanding. “Silence magic. And illusion. A trap for the curious.”

Tempest leaned over, peering with one eye. “A puddle of death. Lovely.”

Cautious curiosity warred with pragmatism. Elora shifted, her form rippling and shrinking until a small monkey stood where she had been. She darted through the iron bars, rematerializing inside the chamber to raise the lever that lifted the portcullis. The gate groaned open, and the party advanced into the heart of the tomb.

The chamber stretched wide and low, stone walls sweating with age. The false puddle loomed ominous beside the entrance, and beyond it another archway beckoned—an invitation none of them trusted. The floor was cracked, uneven, veins of dark stone snaking toward shadowed corners. The air felt thicker now, as though time itself moved more slowly here.

Maledurk, ever bold, descended into the pit itself, bracing his arms and legs against the walls, lowering himself past the illusion into silence. The spikes were real. The skeletons, human. Scratched into the wall near one skeletal hand were crude words: I wish I hadn’t fallen down here.

He felt the weight of centuries pressing in on him. No tools. No ropes. No gear on the corpses. Just bones and despair. The silence down there wasn’t merely magical—it was absolute. Even his thoughts seemed dulled by it.

When he climbed back up, his breath was shaking. “It’s just death,” he said quietly. “A dead end.”

They moved on.

Beyond the illusory pit, a second chamber opened. The air grew warmer, thicker. Water pooled on the floor in dark puddles, and faintly, they heard something new—a slow, ragged sound, like breath.

Three figures hung upon the far wall.

At first they seemed statues, then prisoners, then—alive. Barely. Their chests rose and fell shallowly, skin pale as marble, eyes closed. The party froze, instincts warring between compassion and caution.

Elora felt the pull of life there—faint, unnatural, like the trees in the valley. Thorn sensed enchantment, the residues of binding and preservation spells woven deep. Maledurk’s hand drifted to the hilt of his axe. Tempest whispered, “Well, that’s… not foreboding at all.”

The glacier groaned above them, an ancient sound of weight and age, as though the mountain itself warned them to turn back.

None of them did.

Session Notes

  • The party had previously determined that the guide they were speaking with was a tree; she then spoke to them. This was Jareth, who provided limited answers but a direction: a witch in the High Forest mountains might divine who/what is interfering with the party’s lives, but she requires several magical ingredients.

    • Jareth advised gathering the ingredients first. From her grove she can teleport the party across the planes to the required locations and back, providing a reliable return point.
    • The group chose to pursue a lead to a lich on the Material Plane that Jareth knew of; she teleported them there.

  • The group arrived in a mountainous valley, surrounded by taller peaks, with a glacier filling the valley ahead and a visible fissure at the glacier’s base about 100 yards away.

    • Environmental observations (Nature/Arcana checks):

      • Vegetation was extremely sparse and sickly; small shrubs appeared on the brink of death yet inexplicably still alive and growing.
      • There were almost no signs of animal life, including a lack of insects.
      • The valley looked glacially carved, and the glacier seemed to be receding; unusually, there was no meltwater stream or runoff visible.
      • Thorn inferred that necromantic influence from a lich or a lich’s tomb might be affecting the land, potentially “undead” flora.

  • The party approached the fissure:

    • The passage was narrow—single file—dark but faintly lit by blue light filtering through the ice; the floor remained dirt rather than ice.
    • Maledurk observed that the fissure might be the seam between two glaciers pressing together at an angle; he could see roughly 60 feet ahead before darkness.
    • It was cold; there were no apparent hiding places along the visible stretch.

  • Survival assessment:

    • Maledurk estimated they were in the far eastern/northern mountains, likely near the north end of the Anauroch Plains (not tundra), looking out over rocky plains far below.

  • Proceeding into the fissure:

    • Perception: Thorn and Elora first, then Maledurk, heard slow, intermittent water drips ahead despite the surrounding cold and lack of liquid water nearby.

  • Party discussion clarified the goal and context:

    • They were seeking “lich moss,” said to grow on the skull of a dead lich.
    • Jareth had sent them here because legends suggested a dead lich’s tomb might be in this area.
    • The witch was a separate contact to consult later; this site was not the witch’s location.

  • History/lore (History checks and prior knowledge):

    • Maledurk recalled the legend of a lich named Knogbrüth (spelled K-N-O-G-B-R-Ü-T-H): once a wizard who came to these northern mountains seeking eternal life, he stole corpses from local villages for experiments, became a monster, and was ultimately defeated by a village hero. Fearing his return, followers sealed his body in a mountain tomb.
    • Elora and Thorn recognized that similar legends exist worldwide; the story aligns with known practices of lichdom. They referenced the nation of Thay, ruled by a lich, as prior context encountered during events in Chult.
    • They also knew Knogbrüth had been a respected researcher who withdrew from society when obsessed with escaping death, traveling north; there is no official record of his death, but Maledurk’s legend is consistent with what they know.

  • Advancing toward the source of dripping:

    • They saw, about 20 feet ahead on the right, an opening off the fissure large enough to enter.
    • Warm, humid air flowed from the opening—noticeably different like a “wall” of warmth compared to the freezing fissure—bringing a musty, moldy (not decayed) smell.
    • The opening proved to be the glacier’s edge above a carved stone stairway descending into the ground; glacial ice formed the ceiling above the stair entrance.
    • Water dripped from the ice onto the stairs; some drips froze in patches, making the steps potentially slippery if rushed.
    • The stairs descended roughly 20 feet; the party noted they should move carefully.

  • At the stair bottom:

    • A closed portcullis blocked entry to a large, constructed stone chamber beyond (stone-slab floor, block walls, roughly 15-foot ceiling, ~30 feet across). Puddles were visible on the floor.
    • A lever was mounted on the interior wall of the chamber beyond the portcullis; it was set down and out of reach from the party’s side.

  • Opening the way:

    • Elora wild shaped into a small monkey (capuchin-sized) to slip through the portcullis bars.
    • Inside, she reverted to her normal form and made an Athletics attempt to raise the lever; she succeeded, feeling initial resistance before the mechanism engaged.
    • The portcullis rose into the stone wall with repeated clicks until nearly out of sight; the party entered the chamber.

  • Inside the entry chamber:

    • Layout: open area with archways leading to additional spaces both right and left.

    • Several puddles dotted the floor. Elora noticed a larger puddle on the left that did not ripple when a drip hit it and produced no sound, unlike three nearby smaller puddles that clearly rippled and splashed.

    • Examination of the suspicious puddle:

      • Elora probed it with her staff; the surface did not react, there was no resistance, and the submerged end became invisible below the “waterline.” When withdrawn, the staff was not wet and undamaged.
      • Elora then slowly lowered her head through the surface. Immediately, all sound ceased.
      • Below, she saw a vertical shaft roughly 15–20 feet deep, with spikes on the floor (first seen as approximately 3 feet tall) and several impaled skeletons; there was no lich moss present.

  • Identifying the trap’s magic:

    • Arcana results: Thorn identified that the shaft was within a Silence spell area (no sound produced or heard inside) and that the puddle on top was an illusion designed to mimic the other puddles and conceal the shaft.

  • Investigating the shaft bottom:

    • After discussion of options (e.g., Elora wild shaping into a climbing creature, using rope, or flight), Maledurk climbed down chimney-style with an Athletics check (success).

    • At the bottom, Maledurk confirmed:

      • A real stone floor and real metal spikes; on closer inspection the spikes were described as about 5 feet tall and spaced such that one could step carefully between them.
      • The skeletons were humanoid.
      • There were no exits, no loose stones, and no secret doors detectable.
      • A message was scratched into the wall: “I wish I hadn’t fallen down here.”

    • Observations from above while he was below:

      • Elora saw a small amount of water pooled at the bottom and occasional drips landing there.
      • Silence prevented any sound or spoken communication with Maledurk until he climbed back up.

    • Additional detail noted in the chamber: the skeletons had no clothing or gear present. (In-session possibilities were mentioned: items removed by others or extremely long decay.)

  • Bypassing the trap:

    • The opening beyond the suspicious puddle required care: it was wide enough that an unwary person would likely step through, but the group could deliberately skirt along the wall or hop/fly over it to avoid the illusory surface.
    • The party chose to avoid stepping on it and moved past safely.

  • The next chamber (to the right through the archway):

    • Stone construction continued.
    • A closed wooden door stood on the south wall.
    • Additional puddles and a structural floor crack were present.
    • Three humanoid figures were seen tacked to the wall; from a distance, they appeared alive but unconscious or asleep.

  • The session concluded upon the discovery of the three wall-tacked figures.