The next morning troupe broke camp in the waterworks and headed northeast through the deep underground. Magnus led the group through a cramped, single-file fissure that descended ever deeper into the earth, snaking and doubling back on itself before opening into a larger cavern. There, they discovered a black pool of crystal-clear, cold fresh water – an underground aquifer untouched by sediment or salt – before pressing onward beneath the massive eight-foot diameter pipes that loomed silently overhead. The roar of a waterfall grew louder as they walked, and soon they found themselves back at a familiar outflow where the pipes dumped water into a stream cutting east to west through the stone.
Rather than wade through the long, chest-deep stretch of near-freezing water that had tormented them before, the party chose a different path. The Duergar guides, Wilda and Rayga, were dispatched ahead to scout the original enclave, walking directly into the stone in the manner of their kind. The party made camp at the edge of the waterworks, setting guards to the east and north, and settled into the uneasy rhythm of heightened vigilance and grinding boredom. After what felt like an eternity of meals and watches, the Duergar returned with welcome news: the enclave was empty and safe. Ravenna then spent the better part of a day and a half weaving her teleportation magic, ferrying the group in shifts – along with chests of iron rations, casks of water, and flasks of oil – until every last member of the party stood safely within the enclave’s walls.
September 20, 7762
The resupply was a relief after their grueling days underground. Crates and casks had been stacked and waiting, and the party restored two full weeks of provisions before turning their attention to the next obstacle. It was then that Rayga and Wilda made their position clear: the deal had been to reach the cache, and the cache had been reached. They were done. Rekha Mar-Khabazza pressed them, relying not on silver-tongued diplomacy but on the weight of his presence and the goodwill the party had built with the Duergar people. After some terse negotiation, a compromise was struck – Ravenna would teleport the guides to the entryway bridge, and in exchange, the Duergar would translate their knowledge of Thulmur into a map that would trace the route to a chimney stair away to the southwest before parting ways. One of them knelt on the ground and traced the path with a gnarled, clawed hand, revealing that the southern chimney was far more direct than the northern ones.
Ravenna made several trips, moving the party in shifts to the southern span of the great bridge deep within Thulmur. Magnus, Furlbrow, Solarin, and Arlaina arrived first and crouched in the dark for eight long hours as the rest of the group plus the two Duergar were ferried in. Once they arrived, the two Duergar guides faded into the stone and were gone. It was during that vigil that Magnus heard it – guttural cries echoing from the far west, followed by the clash of arms and then a series of thunderous cracks and brilliant flashes of lightning that lit the distant canyons like a storm. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, there was silence. Total, absolute silence. Arlaina wasted no time, weaving a glamour over the group that made them blurry and indistinct to any watching eyes, instructing everyone to stay within five feet of her. She maintained the concealment through multiple castings until Ravenna finally arrived with the rest of the group. As the party moved off the bridge and into the southern avenue, Arlaina threw up a sweeping illusion behind them – the image of a massive avalanche blocking the bridge – to buy time against whatever had followed them from the west.
The party entered the southern end of Thulmur through a pair of shattered doors, squeezing through one at a time into a grand entryway lined with columns. Rekha Mar-Khabazza moved first, bullseye lantern sweeping the darkness, and found the hall abandoned and picked clean. They navigated through Duergar doors and spiraling staircases before emerging into a broad avenue so wide that even their lanterns barely reached the walls when held at the center. Magnus and a Kima crouched to examine the floor and found the familiar scratching of skeletal footprints – some booted, some bare bone – wandering aimlessly across the stone. Most were weeks old, but buried among the random wandering were deliberate, straight-striding tracks that spoke of purpose rather than aimless haunting.
The party pressed south, moving briskly rather than cautiously, trusting speed over stealth. At a junction to the south, Kima identified a 20-foot-wide thoroughfare where ordered skeletal patrols had passed as recently as three days prior. The group crossed the intersection without stopping and continued east along the avenue toward the chimney. It was then that the air changed. A chill settled over the group – not the cold of stone or water, but something arcane and deeply wrong. Arlaina and Arlaina Lorsong both began to show signs of distress, wrapping their arms around themselves as though fighting off a cold that came from within. Ravenna recognized it immediately as a void phenomenon, the same draining presence they had encountered in other cursed places, and the realization did nothing to ease the tension.
Ravenna and Magnus moved ahead to find the limits of the arcane phenomenon, walking steadily forward until the oppressive drawing sensation peaked and then began to fade. They found the edge of the phenomenon and sent Lokni back to tell the others to run – flat out, as hard as they could, straight through to where Ravenna waited on the other side. The casters sprinted, but the void was merciless. Rekha Mar-Khabazza was hit hardest, the drain tearing through him like a wave, and he went down mid-stride, collapsing onto the stone floor. Solarin and Naisha grabbed him and dragged him forward, and in the chaos of being hauled upright, he lost even more of his power. Arlaina Darkmoon also fell, crashing hard, and had to be carried by Lokni and Furlbrow until the phenomenon finally released its grip. Ravenna had offered to restore Arlaina’s drained energy through touch before the sprint, but Arlaina had shaken her head with quiet ferocity – she would rather limp along depleted than allow anyone to lay hands on her.
Standing alone in the dark at the peak of the void drain while the others recovered, Magnus swept his lantern across the walls. There were no secret doors, no obvious mechanisms – but when he looked toward the southern wall and then away, he caught a glimpse of something at the edge of his vision: green filaments drifting in and out of the stone, the same eerie phenomenon he had seen in the pocket region locations. He noted where it was and said nothing, returning to the group as they gathered themselves and pressed on.
The rest of the walk was quiet and anticlimactic. The party passed beneath a vast chamber their lanterns couldn’t fully illuminate and ignored it, driven by urgency. They arrived at last at the door to the chimney and found it stone-welded shut – the Duergar had fused the entrance closed with the same mastery over rock that defined their entire civilization. Two imposing Duergar statues in massive plate mail stood in alcoves on either side, staring regally into the dark. Magnus and Kima scouted south, finding a T-intersection with fresh skeletal tracks and a side passage leading to a small crypt filled with fused stone caskets, each bearing the carved visage of the Duergar interred within. The northern door of the crypt also led to the chimney – and it, too, was sealed shut.
Back at the primary entrance, Ravenna stepped back a safe distance and unleashed a powerful transmutation upon the stone-welded door, dissolving it into fine powder. The destruction of the door triggered a hidden trap, and a fireball detonated in a twenty-foot blast that singed eyebrows, scorched the air, and made breathing difficult for a breathless moment. When the dust and heat cleared, the way into the chimney stood open and the troupe simply walked in.
The chimney was a perfect stone rectangle, approximately 120 feet across, with a ten-foot-wide spiraling ramp corkscrewing up the interior walls and vanishing into darkness far above. The air was utterly still and silent – no dripping water, no settling rock, nothing. Magnus used his enchanted boots to leap across the gaps where the ramp had crumbled away, fastening ropes that Ravenna then animated to move and tie themselves, creating secure crossings for the rest of the group. The party moved steadily upward, using mountaineering techniques and magical ingenuity to bypass collapsed sections and blocked passages. Eventually, they found a small alcove off the main shaft and made camp there, resting and recovering their strength. The final push to the underside of the Upheaval – and whatever waited beyond it – would have to wait until morning.