Festival on Ice (Sarenith [June]-Lamashan[October] 4708 AR)

The tunnel leading into the next chamber made a sharp ninety-degree turn to the north before opening into a twenty-foot-high, thirty-five-foot-long cavern filled with a shallow lake that glittered with a faint greenish light from algae on the ceiling.

This used to be the main room for worship for the cultists - they knelt in the cold, 2-feet-deep water before a polished granite altar at the east side of the room (not visible from the beginning of the lake). The heroes noticed a handful of half-melted skeletons in the "water" that seemed to be still in the process of dissolving. When Mrunk managed to make it to the altar, he saw that it had the symbol of Zyphus carved on the front and was covered with rotting organs and other offerings to the Grim Harvestman. A small brazier atop the altar gave off a strong musky odor as it burned - the heroes could smell this as soon as they headed down the tunnel. Mrunk, in order to avoid stepping into the acid pool, climbed along the walls and reached the altar. The north wall was smooth and slippery and quite difficult to climb but the south wall was jagged and unfinished and relatively easy to traverse.

Mrunk and Wrack found a small metal rod on the ground in front of the pool. This acid did not give off noxious fumes like a normal pool of acid would.

Mrunk, Seoni and Wrack had to destroy the altar. The altar was constructed of masonry, and after hours of chipping at it, Mrunk managed to destroy it.

The last room once served as the bath house of the cult. Two sputtering torches still burned here, casting most of the room in shadowy illumination. Most of the pool was slush - with several frigid and wet bodies in it. The tunnel and frozen bath house had 20-foot-long ceilings.

There was a simple snare trap in the tunnel leading to the bath house - it caught a cultist. He still hung from the snare 10 feet up, his head distorted and purple from the weight of all the blood in his body. A small pool of blood marred the chamber floor beneath him.

Defeating Baillaset and the remaining of Oppara's Zyphus cultists did what the Society hoped it would - it rid Oppara of a cult that tricked and murdered an esteemed Pathfinder, and it sent a message to other cults not to trifle with the Society. After spending the summer in Oppara, the heroes heeded the request of their homesick protege, Savram, to return to Falcon's Hollow. Aranthor decided to follow them.

Strange winds blew down from Droskar's Crag, bringing on an early winter. The ground crunched underfoot with thick frost, and autumn surrendered without a fight. Days grew shorter and stars held court in the darkness reigning above. An unnatural cold permeated the town, and the Foam River's jubilant voice was frozen under the ice. Birds abandoned their nests for warmer climes, their songs silenced by winter's grim embrace. But the frozen riverbank now held a shimmering respite from the gloomy cold in the form of garish tents, joyful shouts, and sumptuous smells. Quinn's carnival had come to town.

Some of the heroes got to Quinn's Carnival for the simple opportunity for some fun. Especially after returning from Taldor, some jumped at the chance to relax for a while and have a good time. Sheriff Baleson sent the heroes an invitation with a specific reason to head to the fair, to meet him in the strong ale tent. Some of the heroes wanted to take the rescued children to the carnival, plus their parents demanded to treat the party to a night of revels as a meager token of gratitude. Wrack also saw an opportunity for business, trying to meet with the Carnival's master, Namdrin Quinn, in order to sell his brews.

Namdrin was a sinewy half-elf of corded muscle and bone, with a long face. His sunken eyes did not fix on any who attempted to speak with him, instead staring off. When Wrack spoke to him before going to the carnival, Namdrin was curt in reply to any inquiries, responding to questions with a strained cordialness that was barely human, but eventually Wrack procured a permit to sell his wares at the fair.

Adjacent pairs of rickety podiums tacked together from pieces of apple crates formed raggedy ticket booths that marked various entrances to the carnival. Eager-faced fairgoers crammed about them, gleaning wonderment from the faded posters promising stilt-walkers, terrifying rides, and all manner of freaks. Tirelessly working the booths, baggy-eyed carnies busily hawked tickets to various events and did their best to direct the stream of excited townsfolk. A crowd of unwashed beggars shielded from the winter's harsh kiss by nothing more than tattered rags huddled by the entrance to the carnival, pleading with passersby for a few meager coppers or a bit of food to see them through. Many were children or old men and women fallen on hard times. A good number were maimed from lumbering accidents or crippled by a horrible bout with plague or pneumonia. Rich merchants turned a blind eye to the haggard indigents, pretending not to see or hear them at all, and lumberjacks snarled, guffawed, or even kicked at the dirty beggars as they strolled into the carnival to spend their coin on games, shows, and other frivolities.

Tiny fair tents erected on the perimeter of the fair grounds allowed fairgoers to purchase basic entry as well as provided tickets for special events and contests. Most of the events only cost a few coppers.

Twenty-two beggars in all gathered at the ticket booths, although they had no luck with any of the townsfolk. Aranthor gave alms to the beggars huddled at the carnival's entrance.

Gaiety and laughter cut through the cold wind, and even the sky-shy sun peeked its face from around the gathering winter clouds. Children squealed with delight and gasped in awe of the sights, sounds, and smells of Quinn's Carnival. The titan's wheel creaked and groaned as a burly lumberjack tested his might with a hefty spin, a family rushed giggling into the sprawling ice maze to the north, and dozens of happy skaters flitted about the rinks atop the frozen river. Carnival dolls were handed to wide-eyed townsfolk as prizes and a menagerie of freakish creatures and glowing lanterns beckoned the curious. Garish skirts and scanty veils called others to a different breed of voyeurism altogether. Treats and wonders abounded for young and old to enjoy, and for a time the early winter was forgotten in joyful revelry. The heroes wandered the fairgrounds as they pleased, taking in the myriad diversions.

A small cove of wagons and tents curled around a rickety three-foot-high stage cobbled from a wooden platform precariously balanced on stacks of unmortared bricks. The stage planks creaked and moaned in time to the prancing and posturing of a dozen or so freakish humanoids as they performed their comically grotesque displays. A dough faced huckster preached to the crowd and flailed about a cane to pontificate the show's details.

The stage played host to several different performances who rotated throughout the day. In addition to these, several more sideshows were located within the various tents adjacent to the stage.

Chained to a stool, a dog-faced little girl in a charming yellow and white flowered dress mournfully howled at passersby. The dog-faced girl was actually Jeva. The heroes took pity on her, and Wrack created some chaos on the stage to facilitate her running away from the carnies with Mrunk. Jeva couldn't revert to her humanoid form and thus couldn't speak, but used pantomiming to warn the heroes of some grave danger. She handed them a needle and thread with a knowing nod towards the ice maze.