GET URN

PUT ICE IN URN
You lower the black icicle into the depths of the urn.
The air grows colder still, a biting wind seeming to pour from the gaping mouth of the urn to whistle through your garments and crystalise your breath. Icy condensation lends a shining hue to the statuettes of the temple walls.
Bitterly cold now, the air grows so that your very breathing is faltering. With a creaking sound cracks open in the ceiling above, trickles of water spreading to freeze instantly upon the walls.
The stone walls of the temple sound out a terrible creaking moan against the spiralling cold which pours from within the urn. As water pours from the now gaping cracks it freezes into stark crystalline sculptures of ice, obscuring the venerable temple frescoes of Orthanius, god of fire.