Penguinball's Hibernal Den

A cold fog rolls out of a dark tunnel, and despite your trepidation you follow it. Blue crystal lanterns light your path, and it grows colder with each step. By the time you arrive at another field research tent, your fingers are numb and your nose frozen. The researchers there welcome you with a thick fur coat and cup of hot tea, and tell you about the hunk of ice, taller than a guardian, that never melts, and instead radiates intense, never ending cold.