A moonsteel armlet set with diamonds
The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame
One of the largest and most famous cryodetention centers operated by Creative Incarcerations Corp
A treacherous door to enter. Take a deep breath, focus your mind, and leap into the ice.
"Are you lost in the frost?" A lone giant speaks, a cloud of chill air escaping his blue-lipped mouth.
In the distance, through a thick fog, you can see more of them coming out a cave lit by blue light. Almost like a portal to the netherworld is it’s eerie glow. You can feel fear growing in your belly. These aren’t normal giants. Their skin is blue, their hair and eyes silver. Stone jewelry hangs about their bodies making them look like brickwork monsters.
"Tiny man," The leader speaks, icicles breaking and falling from his jowls. "What brings you so far north?"
"What you wanna go messin' around up in the mountains for? Ain't nothin' up there but snow, and wolves, and more snow.
Yer lookin' for the old tomb? Take my advice, boys. Let that tomb alone. There ain't nothin up there you ought be messin' with. No money, no treasure, no fame, just ice. And death."
A legendary Artifact of the first brutal Ice Age.
The remnent of a much older time, the Methranar, the Icerender, the Lurker, is a figure prominant in the Megamoth Hunter’s legends.
Behold, the Harbinger of ill-tidings, the blizzard rider, the thief of winter, the Stamagast.
The icy lands of Sagaris are cold and unforgiving, and the Frost Owl is a manifestation of the dangers of that frigid realm. Of all the fantastic beasts that roam the Sagarian tundra, the Frost Owl is the greatest threat to man.
The Walking Mountains of the lands of Eternal Ice
Brumborion’s blade, the fang of the north, ice razor, the glacial sword, Givone’s Favor
In the trackless Frozen Waste, at the heart of the Sra lands lies the sacred glacier Ganamed, wherein lies Illyana’s Palace, the great ice necropolis of the Sra tribe.
Nothing but snow, nothing but ice and snow. I fear we will all loose our minds out here. Even the caves have frozen into ice…
from the collected notes of an unknown explorer.
Walking through the alleys of the docks district of town, you hear an old, mad beggar calling out for alms. He claims to be a god, cast out from heaven and stripped of his powers. The party passes, tossing a few coppers to him. In thanking them, the madman refers to incidents in their childhood or distant past which would have been all but impossible for him to know.