Jalna, didn't uncover much from her autopsy regrettably. The body was amazingly preserved. Even with the bitter cold, you'd think under the cloak she would be starting to decay. However that was not the case as she was utterly immaculate. Her hand however was clasped around something, and gingerly the rogue pried open the fingers to reveal an amulet within her hand which held a familiar crystal within it. The same crystal that was monitoring everything. She saw that it was black however as if all the energy and life within it had been snuffed out. The theory on how the crystal failed her was starting to look more and more plausible. It looked less like it was a sheer mishap and more along the lines of foul play. Something or someone had removed the magic from the stone and exposed to the elements even as bundled up in an adorable snow bunny like way, without knowledge on how to keep the winds out of the cavern she still eventually froze to death when the curse on the forest got more intense.<br/><br/>Remi and Waywocket were right, the stones could not be taken away so easily. Remi tried and every time she did, no matter what it seemed to find her again. Meanwhile as Wren suggested a funeral cairn or such to give final rights to the dead others kept extra warm by the fire. It felt comfortable and they protected the fire as much as it was protected from the winds by all of them. The fire gave them the comfort needed tor et even in such a hostile environment. Their rest allowed others to replenish their strengths. However during the rest, before they could truly relax for the long night, something sought to interrupt it. However after a moment of harsh wind it seemed to pass over them as the fire danced, illuminating their shadows.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">If you roll 15 on Perception...</div><div class="spoiler_body">The shift of a shadow along the wall of the cavern was the warning sign that something was wrong and it came from the deceased adventurer. The body of the elven women was rising up steadily and stepped down from the slab of rock she had been resting upon. Her hair was frozen to her neck and the rest of her body was pale in completion, as if all the blood had been frozen. Her eyes were shut all the same but she looked as though she could still see. Slowly and slowly drew closer and closer to them. With a voice as melodic clearly sounding like she was in terrible agony from the bitter chill she spoke two simple words. <strong>"Im... cold..."</strong> She reached for no weapon, but as she neared the horrible and unnatural chill the radiated from her was felt. Their skin pricked like ice was raked along it and frost began to cling to their skin beyond what the magic of their stones could endure. Her motions were not ones of hostility or violence but she did draw closer all the same to them. What do our heroes do?<br/></div></div>