Syltria's Research on the Indrid Cold case

  • This chronicles the research and reports of the elven bard Syltria Baequi'via, on the case of the archfey Indrid Cold and the Black-Eyed Children, made publicly accessible at the Bardic College of Peltarch (and filed at other locations upon request).

    5th - 6th Day of Kythorn, The Time of Flowers

    An impromptu expedition was organised in the Peltarch Commons. Party members include:
    Syltria Baequi'via
    Thau'lira Zartamba
    Jonny ((Cyr Stafford))
    Tenghi Fairwind
    Isendir Nain (whom, unfortunately, had to return to the surface before the descent into the pit.)

    Our party set off into the Residential District and through the quarantine barricade and headed into the crypts located under the city, also known as "The Barrows". Though it was my expedition, we were mostly led by our stealth experts, which suited me just fine. I'm usually content with providing support from the mid-back with my bow and my voice, and it allowed me time to mentally prepare. We fought through the usual assortment of ghouls as I guided the group to where I remember the spot to be, and it was still there: The five-armed stone spiral, arranged in an indentation and set into the ground. I had previously undertaken a short excursion with Call Sanner of The Order of the Shining Phoenix to this very spot, during which we discovered the stone arrangement had an abjuration aura, though there was something peculiar about it that we weren't able to place. Excavation attempts were met with resistance (which we concluded were both of a physical and magical nature; the dirt simply refused to move at a certain point, and previous attempts at a dispel seemed to work at first, but fizzled out).

    From there, we discussed amongst ourselves the next appropriate course of action. It occurred to some of us to perhaps pour some liquid into the ditch, as it objectively resembled a small basin or bath. Jonny, a priest of Selûne, poured a bottle of Golden Sands wine onto the stone formation, which Thau'lira blessed in the name of The Protector Corellon Larethian, whom she serves as part of his clergy. The blessed wine caused a reaction with the stones, which glowed with what I can assume to be holy energy, causing a sizzling before finally fizzling and evaporating away.

    This sparked the idea of filling it to its entirety with as much holy water as we could. I cast haste upon Axe, our hardy dwarven member, who then swiftly took off to the Temple of the Triad on the surface, and shortly returned with an enormous keg full of the holy liquid strapped to his back. I appreciate his willingness to bear that burden.

    We set up the...What is the "mouth" of a keg called in common, anyway? Someone once told me it was called a "bunghole", but I figured they were being rude, so I refuse to call it such until I can get confirmation. Anyway, we set up the spout-thingy at the edge of the basin, and urged the others back a bit before I opened it to allow the water to flow. Immediately, the stones started to sizzle and react, the holy water boiling rapidly, and I shut it off as soon as it was completely full; the water quickly turned to steam, and everything within the depression dissolved and opened up into some kind of chasm. The holy water appeared to have dispelled whatever ward was placed on the spiral, and with a great shake of the ground around us, the walls of the pit erupted with a winding staircase leading down into its very depths.

    At the bottom of the terrifyingly-rail-less staircase was a curious mote of earth: A small island, suspended within an endless void, and at its centre laid a tree (which I identified to be of the "Weeping Wytchwood" variety; a large tree native to the Fey Wilds with weeping branches and leaves of bluish-grey, whose bark is covered in strange and unnatural-looking whorls and grooves) next to the ruins of a small house. The place had an eerie, otherworldly feeling to it, and was shrouded completely in mist. Upon approaching the ruins, we spotted a strongbox, buried within the ash and rubble of the house that once was.

    I decided it would be prudent to cast Legend Lore, and see what visions it might lend me, which were as follows:
    It started with flashes of things: Peltarch. The way it looked before the war with N'jast. Before it was even "Peltarch". Just a small little collection of low stone buildings along the shore of the Icelace.
    Then there was a forest around the town. The town that would one day become Peltarch.
    It felt to me as though the forest was healing, somehow. Magic is helping, but I couldn't discern just what kind. Just that the forest was healing.
    I saw a house, and a man. He smiled warmly as he entertained visitors. He was the one doing the healing, I'm sure of it; but I didn't hear his name.
    The vision began to fade, and the mote on which we stood came into view. Those ruins, they were the ruins of the house that once stood, in my vision!

    Once I regained awareness of my immediate surroundings, I found that we were being attacked by several of Indrid's Black-Eyed Children. They must have descended the stairs while I was having my vision. We fended them off, suffering only a few injuries; their corpses erupted into a vile black ooze that sank into the ground. It was...Unsettling, to say the least. Jonny set to work jimmying the chest open, and within he found some tattered pieces of paper. Almost instantly, the ground began to shake, and the stairs began to crack. We swiftly gathered ourselves and ascended the crumbling staircase.

    Behind us, the mote began to rise upwards, and we barely made it to the surface before it slammed into the barrows, filling the chasm previously left by the disintegration of the stone spirals.

    When we returned to Peltarch, Jonny passed me the tattered pages that he recovered from the chest, and at a glance I could tell that they were written in Netherese. Luckily, Jonny said he could read and speak Netherese fluently, and kindly agreed to make some copies of the text, translated into common. It appeared to be the pages of a journal; five copies were made, one of which is attached with this report.

    I will continue my investigation into the true nature of the archfey known as Indrid Cold, with this new information at hand.

    The report is signed with a flowing signature, penned in golden ink:

    Syltria Baequi'via

    alt text

    alt text

    alt text

    alt text