We head north, as that is the pull that we feel but as of yet we do not know the target. We have taken a moment to rest in a town, I forget the name but it is a standard human town filled with thieves and Red wizards who apparently feel that they command all magic.
I have searched the libraries and listened to the chatter. It would appear that the only news of interest is the city of MythDranor. Not an unknown city as it is one of legend, the truth of it remains to be seen. The armies of the Zentirum are conducting a seige.
I must admit that at first I did not care for the news, let these people quibble over frozen lands. However, from my research and divination is guiding us directly to this location. The next threat of Bahl is there.
We have the use of a local mage, his magic is quite capable of taking us north. We arrived in a thick wood, the ground saturated, intense cold, and white filth covering the grounds, pristine white turning a moldy brown with each step. It is repulsive! The cold is absurd! Even with my natural heat it cannot remove the chill completely. What is this incessant frost falling from the sky as if a horde of white dragons will not stop their onslaught.
I have my shelter, I have removed the moisture from the immediate area so perhaps it will staff off any decay around me. Surely this is not a northern land and we have actually hunted this being into one of the circles of the abyss.