‘Road’ can only loosely describe the path here, as there are no true roads in Icewind Dale’s frosted frontier, but this route worn by decades of wagon wheels is what passes for one. And there, heading southwest before their eyes, is a large group of townsfolk. Almost certainly from one of the northeast towns such as Caer-Dineval or Caer-Konig, these people look to have thrown their packs and wagons together in a hurry. Though not fast enough, it seems. Snowy boulders fall from the sky to crush unfortunate townsfolk, heaved by frost giants somewhere nearby.
A dozen men in the group with bows wheel about loosing arrows in panic, but none of them seem to know where to focus their fire.
What’s more, the people and wagons are faring poorly in the spring sludge of melted snow. Several wagons appear to be stuck in the mud, with beleaguered men and women trying in vain to get them loose.