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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 761861" data-attributes="member: 6294">Kull's First Report - Part 7Tactics and discipline had overcome the Ice Haunt.  Now they would be needed to overcome the greater challenge: escaping the island.In the morning, after we had rested for the remainder of the night, I tended to those wounds that had been suffered.  In the end, the battle had been won well, but there were still a few who carried small wounds.  The druid wanted us to remain another day in the cellar, until we were 'fully healed', but I overruled this piece of cowardice-disguised-as-prudence.  The few slight injuries that remained would not inhibit our search.  In any case, our food could not last forever.I led the group back to the upper storey of the monastery, to continue the search of the building.  It was important to make sure there were no more threats waiting for us.  I also wished to see if there might also be some information or tools to assist us.There were only a few chambers left on the level, but they provided the information I was seeking, if not the tools.  The first room was a bedchamber for one of the senior monks, and the monastery diary was there among his possessions.Reading over the last few entries, it was obvious that this monk had felt himself responsible for the fate that had befallen the item.  He wrote often of the Ice Haunt, and how he had brought it down upon them, though he did not say how.  He also spoke of the creature's vulnerability to fire, and of a trap he had laid that he believed would destroy it: using himself as the bait.  Given the creature's continued existence until our arrival, it seemed obvious his trap had failed.  As the search continued, I soon learned the monk's fate: he had made the library his stronghold, and doused the whole room in oil.  A frozen, slippery coating of the fluid still covered the floor.  Frozen, just like the man who had prepared it.  His corpse was huddled in the corner, face locked in a grimace, flint and tinder in his icy hands.  Evidently the creature had rushed upon him too quickly for him to act.  But at least he had made plans to defeat it: it was a warrior's death.There was little more of interest in these rooms: not even a chart of the island's location, which was the least I had hoped to find.  There were, however, still the stairs that led up, and I now threw open the doors, to see where they would lead.The stairs emerged onto a balcony, high on the roof of the monastery.  A howling wind drove sleet and snow across the area, but I braced myself against it, standing as strong and as tall as the two statues that occupied either end of the balcony.These statues depicted monks, rather than deities.  Each faced a door, set into the stone wall on either side of the stairs.  The doors were made of sturdy hardwood, iron-bound, and proved to be locked when I tried them.At this point, Troilan stepped forward, boasting that she could open any door she wished, given a few minutes to work.  If the claim was true, it would mean that she finally offered some use to me, and I stepped back, waving for her to proceed.The woman swaggered to the door, and spent several minutes examining it, then crouched and produced a set of slender lock-picks.She had barely set to work, however, when there was a grind of stone on stone, and the two statues began to move.</blockquote>

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