A win-try storm does e-ver blow u-pon the heights, of frost-ed-stone and an-cient cairns and dark-est nights, That is the do-main of hi-de-ous I-tha-qua, ab-om-i-na-ble, an-cient, hun-gry I-tha-qua, And while an-cient tombs hold ri-ches for he-roes new,  T’is a fool that for-gets that the Ice takes its due. – The Alexandrine of Winter’s due (Author … More [Actual Play] Lost on Carcosa Pt. XVII: The Ice takes its due