There are more glamorous lives than those of Delvers, but then, there are also worse. One of those may be the life of those wretches who pull their nets through the Splintway, a thin dangerous path of harshly roiling river just south of the degenerate city of Bayford. Those haulers catch up what little they can find, net it, and sell it back, often pulling gold rings from fingers of disgraced nobles thrown from the enormous walls. The haulers live in shadow of the walls, in small shanty villages, pulling up what meager bits they can find before the garbage moves further downstream and falls down the massive waterfall barely a hundred yards south of the walls. Stuck between a giant fall and a hard place, they live hardscrabble lives and nobody cares much for them.<br/><br/>Until the Frostmaw opened.<br/><br/>At the mouth of the Splintway falls overnight an enormous, craggy stone archway formed, a portal through which only blackness could be seen. At first, this was dismissed, but finally as ice began to creep up from the portal, the guard took notice enough to identify the problem and shunt it to someone else.<br/><br/>So the Delvers ride in a tiny rowboat towards the Frostmaw. The ferryman is a young half-elf man with a mop of hair that looks terribly unkempt, his boat not looking much better than his own shoddy appearance.  For the seventh time since being hired, he shouts out to the Delvers over the earsplitting sound of the falls ahead, "I'm not going in there though. Derod went down there looking for Slip and they've not come back. So I'm just bringing you to the edge is all." He moves the boat expertly, passing between enormous rocks and hidden ice flows. Down the Splintway he guides the tiny boat, barely avoiding scratching up with the ice that has apparently formed from the Frostmaw.<br/><br/>The Frostmaw itself is enormous, looking like a giant cave entrance if the gods forgot to fill in behind the entryway. Mere feet past the beginning of the stony grey arch, there is a chill blackness through which nobody can see. The ferryman, Rill, turns his attention back fully to the water as the tiny boat careens towards the dark open mouth. He turns for a moment, making sure that the Delvers heard him, and abruptly the boat lurches as he slams into a floating chunk of ice he didn't see coming. One of the oars pulls from his hand and panic fills his eyes.<br/><br/>It seems Rill may not get his wish as the boat hurtles towards the Frostmaw, spinning and crunching against more ice.<br/><br/><strong>Delvers, you approach your adventure in the clearly magical Frostmaw that threatens to enshroud all of Bayford in ice! The boat is out of control as you rush down the river towards inky blackness.<br/><br/>What do you do?</strong>