3. Termalaine

Targos - 19 Uktar 8:00

Our heroes rise refreshed and embark on their righteous quest for breakfast. Outside, the never-ceasing sound of the sailors singing their Triglio echoes in the dark morning as they haul the smaller vessels over the ice.

The air is crystalline clear and hauntingly still as you take to Animosity Path. It's as if Auril has stilled Her winds so you can better appreciate Her desolate icescape.

The gruesome sacrificial crossroads mast is bare now. Auril's children returned in the night to devour the last scraps of Karl. The broken mast outside the town walls now stands like the promise of a grislier tomorrow.

You collect Anders on your journey and continue to Termalaine.

Termalaine - 19 Uktar 12:30

As the trail ridge rounds the maer, Termalaine spreads from the shore below to nestle in woods of tall pines amongst low hills. Termalaine is postcard pretty with spacious houses widely spread along long, broad avenues dotted with trees.

From Animosity Path, Termalaine looks more like a painting than a town, with fishing boats dotting the unfrozen clear lake. The ships look like they exist more to complete the artistic composition than for economic reasons. Termalaine shows archetypical mountain lake beauty that inspires artists, poets, bards, and the occasional third reich.

---

You make your way down the path towards the town's snowy paved streets. The buildings feature intricate braid-work, wizards, homunculi, tigers, and smiling djinn carved into wooden frames, doors, and shutters. Scrimshaw and stone ornaments hang from windows and gables. Fur clad pedestrians nod polite greetings to you as they hurridly past in Auril's frigid morning.

Perhaps to remind you upon whose land you stand. The icy claws and teeth of a sudden wind sweep down from the north, quickly dispelling the town's enchantment. This dreadful gale slices through your layers of clothing before continuing onwards to harry fishers on the southern half of the lake.

A bundle of heavy winter furs containing a human boy stands on a box and yells out in a cultured accent the latest news to passersby, most of whom ignore him to hurry through the squall.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! The gemstone mine is closed because of most horrendous monsters! Speaker Masthew is offering fifty pieces of gold to anyone who clears it out! Hear ye! Hear ye!"

He sees you and raises his childish voice a notch louder.

"Salutations and welcome to Termalaine, good gentles."

The boy offers something between a bow and a curtsey as he tugs his forelock.

"Oh goodie, Speaker Masthew shall be most pleased to hear of your interest.

Please, gentles, I do hope you'll allow me the courtesy of escorting you directly to Speaker Masthew at The Blue Clam."

Without waiting for a response, the lad jumps off his box and carries it to the side of the road. After depositing it, he starts a scurried return, slows, straightens his back, and walks primly with his hands behind his back.

"I trust you'll permit me to tell you about Termalaine and the history of our fair town as we amble to your destination."

Auril's wind blows a wicked gust from the north as if she scoffs at the boy's enthusiasm.

The boy strolls backwards, allowing him to face you and still point out the architecture as he starts his walking tour.

"Termalaine was founded in The Year of the Trumpet, 1301 Dale Reckoning, by Calishites fleeing persecution in the south. This desert history is still evident in the motifs adorning Termalaine's oldest buildings and the exquisite lacework of gnarled old crones."

Still walking backwards, he turns to lead you along the docks.

"Termalaine is blessed with geothermal vents. These vents allow the maer to remain free of ice, giving valuable employment to plebian fishers and other uneducated oiks."

He gestures east along a broad thoroughfare.

"Our hot subterranean vents also supply The Eastside Inn with the naturally healing waters of their spa.

Mama says it is a most wonderful relaxation and even treated Nanny to a pamper day after Nanny lost her son to a most vexatious trout. Although Papa does grumble about spas being a waste of money for those unaccustomed to finer things."

The boy continues along Termalaine's waterfront.

In times past, you would have walked past tables with bright young nobles drinking warm hot chocolate and fashionable aperitifs; laughter and romantic bardic ballads would have filled the air along with the smell of sizzling delicacies fresh from the maer. Today, the tables are gone; the only sound is the howling spiteful wind, and no scent is volatile enough to be carried in this cold.

"Many of Termalaine's superior residents enjoy the comforts and fine dining experiences offered by The Blue Clam. And for those unable to afford the refined delights available there, Speaker Mathshew has started a free soup kitchen and health service.

...Although Papa says that free food only attracts ne'er-do-wells and vulgar sorts, but Mama says one should use one's privilege to help the filthy masses as they don't know any better."

As the boy continues his insensitive prattling, you see The Blue Clam behind him. It's full of life on the deserted and barren waterfront, like a tonal photo negative of a haunted house. The glass windows are orange and warm. The roof is devoid of snow. You smell roasting meat and hear Termalaine's patrons feasting and making merry in what seems like Icewind Dale's last oasis of wealth.

"...here you are, The Blue Clam, good gentles. I'm sure Cordelia, the maître d', will escort you to Speaker Masthew. I've heard that she is most efficient as even Papa says she is a bit of alright.

I do hope you enjoy your stay in Termalaine."

Again, the boy tugs his forelock and beams an angelic smile.

The boy points along a road that runs eastwards across the north of the town.

"Of course, Saer.

It's the last building on the way to the mine. It is a rather ugly and ramshackle old building, but the proletariat don't seem to mind."

Inside is a roaring open fire and the smell of roasting meat; the air is thick with the scents of fresh herbs, spices, and fine brandies. This busy restaurant's laughter and good cheer seem incongruous after austere Targos.

A cheerful self-assured half-orc woman wearing a spotless white apron approaches you. A young teenage human girl trails behind with wide eyes and wearing a nervous trainee's smile.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to the Blue Clam. Come on in out of that frightful cold and relax. My name is Cordelia. Would you like Cynthia to take your coats before I show you to your table?"

She motions to the teenage girl who shoots her arms out in wide-eyed panic.

"Today's roast is local reindeer tenderloin served with a dark truffle sauce and seasonable vegetables, which pairs well with Battlehammer dark ale. Our soup du jour is spiced clam and oyster cream chowder with homemade rosemary salt crackers. There is a three silver piece cover charge per guest; I trust that is acceptable?"

Cordelia garnishes her patter with a confident and friendly smile, as she gestures inside.

"Would you prefer to sit by the fire, and can I get you an apéritif before I bring your amuse-bouche?"