After what had felt like years underground, but in game terms was only a few days, we emerged onto the mountain tops with a broken dwarven queen and a sorrowful sense of fresh air. We marched across the frozen peaks in order to escape the demons that pursued us from the deep, but with an endless series of poor dice rolls became lost again and again in the snow. Whilst lost, we stumbled across an obsidian block in the ice, making us all think of Kubrick's Odyssey, the space age and the apes. The storm worsened, or appeared, since we do not recall there being a storm to begin with, and we only survived by befriending a pack of wolves, placed there, like us, by wild chance. Crawling into their cave, we kept warm by pulling wooden ladders from the pocket dimension and burning them in a pile. We were surprised when the wolves did not turn upon us. My character spoke to them in a language that was theirs. Exhaustion was everywhere.