Trevek and his two companions lead the group a tavern to buy them a drink. The Foaming Mug was built as an inn to house foreign guests visiting Blingdenstone. While its supply of surface foods and beverages is not expansive, the rooms are sized for human sized guests, with comfortable beds and two separate hot springs used for bathing and relaxation. Many svirfneblin frequent the inn’s taproom after work, keeping the place lively. The tavern serves Darklake Stout, an ale that the svirfneblin purchase from duergar traders in Mantol Derith.
Trevek and his two guard companions, who were all off duty when the gelatinous cube came through, sit at a large table in the Foaming Mug with the company. The company is drinking for free, thankful for the assistance. “Been a few of them recently,” one guard says. Tappy, the inn and barkeep, when she hears the story, won’t take the guards money or yours. “As it happens, all the rooms are vacant, and fine folk such as yourselves are more than welcome to stay the night. It’d be an honor.” She covers the bar with finger food, and pitchers of stout never seem to be empty.
There are seven other patrons in the foaming mug, all local svirfneblin, four male and three female. A striking looking woman is standing on a small stage to the left of the bar, facing the door playing a small stringed instrument and singing softly. Baern tries to join in the tune on his harmonica, but the woman stops playing and stares daggers at him. He shrugs an apology, and she resumes playing. When she finishes and passes around a wooden bowl, she stops in front of Baern. “Wasn’t trying to be a dick, but the pickings here are meager, and I don’t want to split it with you. I need the coin.” Baern nods, “No problem, I just wanted to make music.” She smiles, “Maybe we can play some later?” She grins, “That money, I will split with you.”
After collecting her few coins from the patrons, smiling at the small gem Obie tosses in, the elf comes over and asks to sit. “I’m Talia,” she says pulling up a chair. “Did you come here by ship,” she asks hopefully? Baern nods, “That we did.” Talia smiles, “My friend and I seek passage to Mantol Derith, is there room aboard your ship for ten more?” Baern startles, “Ten,” he looks around and sees head shakes. “With us and the crew, I don’t think we have the space,” he says sadly. “My friends are out looking for passage, we’ll find something.”
She tells a story about just seeing a mass migration of myconids led by a huge one named Basidia with a blue cap. Her party made it to Neverlight Grove only to find it awash in awash in demons and death, the light and life fading from the once gorgeous cavern. “How did you come to Blingdenstone,” Crab asks? Talia grimaces, “Underwater. We thought it stealthier, less likely to run into trouble.” She pales and her eyes widen, “There are things down there,” she shudders, “It was horrible. I wish I could forget what we saw. I don’t like the water breathing, and resting in water made he feel slightly wonky, like I didn’t really rest.” She is a pleasant conversationalist, and very charming, and is clearly enjoying herself. That she is gorgeous does not hurt.
Tappy Foamstrap, a bored deep gnome female, runs the inn. The company’ arrival is the most exciting thing that has happened in months, so she peppers them with questions about their lives and adventures, pushing free drinks and food on them for being the sort who would run to the rescue of guards. “I’ve no guests at the moment, and you are more than welcome to spend the night,” she offers. At first, this seems to be how the evening will play out. She happily talks about her people and their city. “We’re miners, gems mostly, but there’s many a fine metal and stone smith among us, for sure, for sure.” They hear how the drow invaded a century ago and drove them out, and it is only recently the svirfneblin have returned. “We learned some hard lessons, and if the damned drow returned, most of them will die before ever reaching the gates,” she grins enthusiastically at the thought.
Baern and Talia play together for a set, but the customers, having already paid for music once, are cheap and do not put in much. Baern tosses a gold into Talia’s bowl, “I didn’t give the first time,” he says and she nods, “I know,” is her smiling, sarcastic reply. The conversation goes all over the place, but no one talks of the surface. Mostly of the other places they have been in the Underdark, Gracklstugh which no one enjoyed.
Later, the company will discuss the small snatches of overheard conversation: “Blingdenstone’s ghost problem is getting worse,” which sounds terrible. “Wererats? I don’t know,” the man replies. Locals are divided as to what to do about the wererats living in the southwest caverns. Some want them out, while others propose an alliance of mutual defense. “Did you hear about the svirfneblin caravan returning from Whiteshell Mines? They ran into a parade of dancing myconids. Through their rapport spores, the myconids told the gnomes about a ‘wedding celebration,’ which is strange considering that myconids don’t celebrate or have weddings.”
When the time comes to think about bed, despite the offer of free rooms, the company thanks Tappy, and the guards, wishes them well, and leaves the Foaming Mug headed for the docks. They wind through the maze entrance leading to the main gates, and pay a silver each to ride the elevator. There is a steep road that winds up the thousand foot cliff, but no one wants to walk it.
Nine surface dwellers are walking up the road from the dock towards the elevator. A sec0ond ship, larger, a cargo vessel, is docked next to the Whisper. Baern stops a human with a goatee who is carrying a very large toad in a sling on his chest. “You must be Talia’s crew,” he says offering a hand, “I’m Baern.” The man shakes the offered hand and replies, “Cocova, at your service. You’re the ones from the Whisper?” Baern nods, “Yes, did you book passage on the other ship?” The man nods, “Yes, your captain said the choice would be yours, but we’d be in the cargo hold.”
“We heard you ran into Basidia and some myconids,” Baern says leaving an opening. Cocova nods, “Oh yes, that was quite a sight. Very large fellow, blue cap, sombre, but maybe that was just the circumstance. They were fleeing the Neverlight Grove. We had heard of some weird wedding was going to happen and met them fleeing.” He shudders, “We pressed on to the Neverlight Grove. It was overrun with demons. We’d been told it was a place of incredible beauty filled with light and life.” His eyes mist and he has to calm himself with a deep breath or three. “No more. Demons ravage the living, and snuff any light but the glow that putrid, swelling giant fungus too huge to comprehend.”
“Best of luck in your travels,” Baern says, and the two groups of adventurers pass in opposite directions. Reaching the dock, one of the kuo toan sailors on deck runs below and the captain is on deck by the time the group is coming up the ramp. “I was starting to think you were staying in town,” Brorb says. “We thought about it, but even in a city with no drow, seems safer to sleep on the Whisper.” The captain nods and accepts this with obvious pride. “She’s a good ship,” the captain agrees, “serving us well.” Tammuz asks, “Is the passenger back, the elf?” Brorb nods, “She was only in the city for two hours or so, came back a long time ago.” Nodding the group heads below, “Cast off when you think it best, captain,” Baern says.
Down below, magical stones make it bright and cheerful as Crab unloads the bag of holding. Using the alchemy jug, they pour out the quart of oil it can provide daily. The Whisper casts off and the ship sails quietly from the dock and is swallowed by the darkness.
Eruption – hot bubbling tar and noxious, flammable fumes erupt from beneath the water. A huge bubble burst and nine tar ghouls are expelled and begin walking across the tar. The lights of Blingdenstone fade and then are gone. The sailing is quiet, and nothing troubles the ship. The anchor is dropped and watches are set. With an odd number, one person gets the night off, and Baern enjoys a peaceful night of long, uninterrupted sleep. The night passes quietly, and nothing disturbs the ship or crew.
The following day the ship sets out again, but before lunch something is spotted covering the water. The captain dips the back end of a boat hook in the stuff. “Tar,” he says sniffing. The sounds of thick, gloppy bubbling comes as there is some sort of tar eruption welling up from below. There is a sulfur smell to the air, and soon people are coughing. The Whisper turns to port, and Tammuz spots some sort of flaming bipedal tar creatures moving around. Others that are not on fire can be seen as they move in front of the flaming ones. “DROP SAIL, ROWERS TO THE OARS,” Brorb shouts sharply!
Obie, Vorkath, Crab and Krrathuun grab oars and begin pulling in reverse as the captain calls, “BACKWATER!” He spins the wheel, and the ship turns and then there is a grinding thump as she runs aground. “FULL SAILS, ROWERS FULL AHEAD!!” The ship slowly begins to pick up speed. The flaming creatures never get to within a hundred feet of the ship. However Tammuz sees that there are some flaming footprints, but they don’t last long. The tar burns but not well. The creatures stop at the edge of the tar, unable to catch the ship. Clumped together, the burning ones manage to set the tar beneath their feet on fire and there is a huge WHOOSH of steam as the burning things meet the cold, dark water.
The rest of the day’s travel is quiet. The captain makes good time sailing to port around the tar field. They drop anchor many hours later, set watches and pass a quiet night. More oil flasks are filled from the jug, dinner cooked and eaten, and eventually sleep. Crab has the night off and spends an extra hour packing and unpacking the bag of holding.
The morning is quiet, but around midday a low rumble fills the air, makes the water ripple and creates strange square looking waves. Huge rocks fall from the ceiling making enormous sounds. The ship is rocked by larger and larger waves. “TIE YOURSELVES DOWN,” Baern shouts his performer’s voice cutting through the rumbling. Ropes are tied around waists and secured to the railing or a mast. “TIE A ROPE OFF THERE,” he points to the bow, “OTHER END ON THE MAST,” he turns and repeats his orders. Soon there si a long rope amidships from bow to sterns for people to use to move around the ship. A huge wave breaks across the deck a short while later. The rumbling, rockfall and waves go one for the next three hours leaving everybody rattled.
The Whisper sails on for several more hours in silence. Hearing a fish jump, fishing lines go into the water. Krrathuun begins pulling the fish in. Suddenly the water begins to boil. Taking a knife, the fisherman cuts the line, “Fucking quipper,” he says and points. Small fish, less than a foot long, with orange bellies and mouths filled with sharp teeth tear apart whatever it was Krrathuun caught. “Rather lose the hook than three fingers, those little bastards are nasty,” he says. The captain decides to drop anchor by some tall stalagmites emerging from the water to port. Buppido enjoys his night off while the rest stand watch. Another quiet night passes without incident.
Within an hour of setting out the following day, Tammuz hears sounds, and spots an armored keel boat approaching from behind. “SHIP, DEAD ASTERN AND CLOSING,” he calls out pitching his voice carefully! The heads of armored duergar poke above the armored bow. “ROWERS TO OAR,” the captain snaps! The crew lets out full sail, and rowers pull, but seem to not be able to get into a rhythm. The duergar give chase, one of their number firing flaming crossbow bolts at the Whisper, but none of his bolts reach the ship and drop hissing into the black water. Vorath and Obie are handed flasks of oil, and they hurl them at the duergar and the ship, setting both on fire. Crab drops a moonbeam into the front of the ship so they sail through it. Oars stop, the sail catches fire and the screaming of burned duergar begins. It is surprising how quickly they are lost in the darkness.
After this, it is a quiet day’s travel across the Darklake. Two thirds of the way through the day a bar of slack sand blocks their way. Turning to port, the Whisper sails along a black sand beach eventually seeing the red glow of lava to starboard. A volcanic island, looking fairly new has pushed up from below. It is huge and takes them several hours to go around. Not wanting to camp there, they sail for two hours out of sight of the glow before dropping anchor to rest for the night. Eldeth enjoys the night off, struggling to read one of the weird books in Undercommon found in a tomb.
Things go great for the first two hours of Crab and Baern’s watch. Then a slap of water against the boat, and a waves comes across the deck. It rises, forming watery pseudopods until it is as tall as Obie. The elemental creature, a water weird, strikes first and grabs Crab. The druid, caught off caught, is restsrained by the thing, and it lifts her off the deck, and turns to the rail. Baern reacts quickly casting dissonant whispers that cause psychic damage to the elemental. As it freezes in psychic pain, Crab draws her sword and Dawnbringer flares into sunlight as she cuts it deeply and breaks free of its grasp. The water weird flees from Baern, compelled by his spell. As it dives over the rail, Tammuz tears it apart with necrotic damage from his weight of a thousand years spell. It hits the water and is gone.
During the morning preparations (breakfast) the ship suddenly swings around sharply. “Strong current,” captain Brorb says, “usually means a whirlpool somewhere close.” Topside Tammuz’ sharp eyes see that a whirlpool has opened, and the ship is being pulled towards the edge of it. “WE’RE GOING TO GO FULL SAIL, CRAB DO YOUR WIND THING, ROWERS PULL WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE. IF WE CAN GET ENOUGH SPEED, WE CAN DIP INTO THE CONE AND GET THROWN OUT. TIE YOURSELVES DOWN!“
Sails are set and rowers get in position, Crab readies a gust of wind. The captain points and the anchor is raised quickly. Rowers strain with all their might and the Whisper leaps into the whirlpool, the captain steering her down into the funnel. “ROW!!!” He points to Crab, “WIND!” She casts her spell, and the captain steers the ship, cutting at just the right moment and fairly shooting out of the whirlpool. Soon the rush of wind and sound of the water is left behind, and there is only darkness. Until a red spark appears overhead, moving this way and that, before turning and coming directly towards the ship, growing larger and larger.
The red spark resolves into a batlike creature with faintly glowing reddish skin beneath fine fur. Huge ears, and larger claws make it truly hideous. The mouth opens and the sound that comes out batters the air, and the ears of everyone nearby. Obie, Vorkath, Tammuz and Eldeth all drop to the deck stunned. The echoing cry rings in every ear. Swooping in low, the creature rakes at Vorkath with his long claws, but they fail to sink into flesh. As it passes by, Baern faces it, and begins his dissonant whispers, psychic pain searing the thing’s brain, causing it to flee from the diminutive bard in terror. The red spark speeds off and is lost from sight in a moment.
“What the fuck was that,” he asks, looking around and seeing half his companions unmoving? They are resistant to non-violent methods of waking, but one by one, the come to, shaking off the creature’s stun. All of those who succumbed can still hear the sound in their ears, although no one else does. They are forced to live with ringing screams in their ears, maddening until it is gone after sleeping. Sleep, is not in the immediate future, though.
Four horrible looking creatures with long claws, and tubular heads with yellow eyes and sharp teeth climb over the railing and attack. Some strange form of aquatic ghast. They attack silently, two of them striking before anyone can react. Claws rake Vorkath, and teeth snap against leather but don’t penetrate goliath skin. Another goes after Eldeth, driving the dwarf backwards with the ferocity of the attack, claws and bite striking deep, but the thing’s poison is shrugged off by the sturdy dwarf scout. Tammuz unslings his merrow dart gun and fires a spray at the two to starboard. One dart hits each, and both of them freeze, paralyzed the venom on the darts. Facing only two active attackers, the remaining ghasts are cut down quickly. The paralyzed ones are beheaded, and the corpses tossed overboard. There follows a long hour of deck scrubbing to remove the splashes of green-black blood.
Slowly phosphorescence on the walls and ceiling begin to light this part of the Darklake. In the distance a huge stalactite descends from the cavern’s ceiling, plunging into the dark water. Lights can be seen from windows carved into the stone. There are levels and staircases illuminated by soft points of amber light. “Mantol Derith,” Captain Brorb says with satisfaction. A few small craft are on the water, mostly not using sails, but oars or poles.