my bug idea - a parasite that lives in the cold regions. if it is in you, you are often
very cold, usually not dangerously cold, but perhaps fingers and toes could get frostbit.
You don't just feel cold, you ARE cold. The parasite takes your heat and uses the energy
to make chemical bonds. Later, when it is without host (if you die or expel it) it will
break those bonds to keep itself warm enough to live until it meets another host.
snowpeople will keep these things without host, so they are very depleted, and then use them
as posion or put them inside of a arrow/bold head - its their version of poison because there
are no or very few poisonous animals in the cold regions of the world.
WHAT DO THEY LOOK LIKE? they should be small so they can be hidden in food and arrows.
how to remove them? maybe if you put finger in fire they will go to the warmth and then die
(they are unintelligent and simply follow heat, so they normally go to the heart, armpits,
and groin areas but can be fooled by fires.
maybe the bugs can be crushed and ingested (taste hideous - make a roll to not throw up - cant try again same day) as protection against cold? (not very effective though, because we dont have exact right enzymes to break their heat-storage chemicals efficiently)

Perhaps Sir Orin is running diplomacy for two tribes of snow people so they will guide him
to the pillar. One tribe poisons him... other guy grabs his hand and holds it into the fire.
he resists, but then begins to feel warmer.

(abbreviate the below?)

Time flitted by, and I was unable to continue my journey. Had the snowfolk (NAME?) not taken
us in I fear Furtham and I would have perished in the cold winds. Yet little good it did us
to sit and wait in the SNOWFOLK'S underground caves under heaps of wool blankets and Bulral
skins with chattering teeth. Nothing they do could keep us warm. Our hosts assumed we would
recover from our frostbite and illnesses naturally if fed and allowed to rest, but they
became worried and summoned a mystic when this was not the case. I remember being apprehensive
upon seeing the mystic, but was frigid and desperate. He sat down next to the fire and
stared at me for several minutes before he closed his eyes and began to hum. With his eyes
still shut he motioned for me to approach him. He took my hands in his, as if to read my palms.
And then he thrust my hands into the flame, and he held them there with an unnatural strength
as I cried out in pain and tried to pull my hands back. He made me watch as my fingers began
to shrivel and blacken. I remember waking with the memory of this event, and of the pain. I
looked down and saw both of my hands were bandaged. I rose to curse my guest for my treatment
but stopped; I wasn't cold anymore.

-excerpt from the journal of Sir Orin of Veda, Knight of the Chalice, detailing his infection
by Therads and the painful extrication process.

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