Skullport
The replacement of his temporary bindings with iron manacles mentally transported Kuhl to another place and another time. One far deeper and darker than even the second level of a place called Undermountain.
Velkynvelve. The Underdark.
A place he'd escaped. He'd vowed never to let anything similar happen to him again. Yet here he was, underground and shackled once more. A measure of despair overtook him and he looked to Sky, fearing her thoughts might run along a similar path and that she might need his reassurance. But her gaze focused on whatever inhabited the body of Meloon Wardragon - or rather focused on his feet.
"Those boots are mine," she growled, tail lashing. "Give. Them. Back."
Their captors had, naturally, taken their weapons and magic items - including Dawnbringer. An empty silence occupied the spaces in the half-elf thoughts usually filled by her voice in his mind. Kuhl hadn't realized how reliant on her he'd become, not as a weapon, but as a reinforcing presence that supported and sustained him. He stared at the sheathed hilt of the radiant blade on the belt of the dark haired human imposter, Hadyn, and still felt the connection, but the distance between them was too great for communication. When they'd first encountered Dawnbringer she'd sent her telepathic voice beyond the confines of the tomb of Brysis to any who passed nearby in the Underdark. But that was a product of the faerzress magic in the vicinity and as she'd become more attuned to the half-elf, her communications became more and more private and linked directly to him. And only when on his person.
Hadyn had fiddled with the sentient sword, but she would not ignite for him. The half-elf realized then why the false Meloon had not used his magical axe, Azuredge, during their journey through Undermountain. The enchanted axe, like Dawnbringer, had rejected its new bearer.
"Nothing is yours now cat girl," The giant of a woman, Nadia said. "Nothing. Not anymore."
It isn't cat girl…" the tabaxi started, but a hard jab of the woman's staff into Sky's stomach cut her response short.
"If I say it's cat girl," Nadia said. "It's cat girl. Just like if I decide I want your pelt for a coat, I skin it off you and wear it. Everything that was yours is now ours. Including your lives."
Sky straightened, recovering quickly, leather armor probably having absorbed most of the blow. Her golden eyes narrowed and her tail lashed. She flexed her manacle-bound hands, exposing her claws and tensed muscles to lunge. The staff of the woman she faced off with lifted in response.
"No Sky," Kuhl called out.
He tried to move forward, but the strong grip of a bugbear pulled him back.
"Now is not the time," he said as another bugbear and a human of the Dead Eyes watch post seized the tabaxi in a rough grip between them.
"There will never be a time, half-elf," Nadia said, turning towards him.
She then cocked her head, bright blue eyes glittering in the torchlight from the swath of darkness painted across her face.
"Or maybe there will be," she said. "I do like that stare you're giving me half-elf and that of your cat girl. I don't want to see you both wasted as hosts for Nihiloor's pets."
If that was meant as an insult to whatever was inside Meloon Wardragon and his fellows, they didn't react. The bearded warrior, dark haired human, and dwarf watched with the same muted lack of emotion they'd displayed since they no longer needed to pretend. Kuhl now wondered how he ever mistook them for human and dwarf. In hindsight, all the signs of their deception had been there since the Yawning Portal.
"I'm going to request you both be used for entertainment instead," the giant of a woman continued. "Ever had your head bitten off by a roper?"
The bugbears and rough looking, face painted men and women of the Dead Eyes watch post grinned with amusement at their leader's statement and looked at each other knowingly.
"Ah…?" Kuhl said, confused.
"Well, since I still have a head," Sky said, pursing her lips in thought and claws retracting as she dropped her manacled hands. "I don't think so. Maybe?"
"We'll take that as a no then," Nadia said, makeup blackened lips twisting in amusement. "To which I say, first time for everything."
This brought rumbling laughter from her Dead Eyes and shared glances and tense expressions from Meloon and his companions. The giant of a woman turned to Esvele and gave a mocking little curtsy.
"And don't worry my lady. It isn't our first time escorting a noble through Undermountain. No one loves rutting around in the filth of a place like Skullport more than the high-nosed."
Lady Rosznar's head lifted from her despondent study of her shackled wrists. Her eyes were dazed, confused, as if her mind still struggled to come to terms with her captivity. A spark of life kindled in them now.
"You've escorted nobles?" she asked. "Did you ever escort my brother? Kressando? He is missing."
"No one uses their real names, lady," Nadia laughed. "You all want to muck about away from the prying eyes of your noble peers. Or else, why Skullport?"
"You could escort me," Esvele said, standing straighter. "I can pay. For myself and my friends."
She nodded at Kuhl and Sky.
"None of that," the woman said, shaking her head and lifting the butt of her staff just below the noblewoman's chin. "You've no power now. Nothing to negotiate with. If the Xanathar chooses to extort money from your family's coffers for you, he'll tell them how much, where, and when. Your only two choices at the moment are obedience or punishment."
"You dare to…"
Anger colored Lady Rosznar's cheeks, but the end of the staff tapping against the bottom of her chin silenced her.
"That is your only warning," Nadia said. "Ready to be docile and obedient?"
Esvele nodded, jaw clenched and fists bunched.
"Good," Nadia said. "She learns quickly. It's surprising really. Usually the highborn ladies need a good beating before they understand. More so even than their little lordling men."
She looked at Kuhl and Sky again.
"Either of you try anything," she said. "You so much as talk without us asking a question, you won't be punished at all. It will be the noble who takes a beating while you both watch. Understand?"
A pleading look from Lady Rosznar had Kuhl nodding in acquiescence. Sky took a little longer.
"Cat girl?" their captor prompted.
The tabaxi hesitated, then sighed, seemed to diminish in on herself, and also nodded.
"It is good you threaten them to stay quiet," Meloon said. "Sound travels far in Undermountain and can attract unwanted visitors. But gags work better than threats."
"They're still an option," Nadia said. "One we will use if needed. But we have a long walk ahead and I prefer them breathing normally and not needing we Dead Eyes to half-drag them along."
"We?" the bearded warrior asked, shaking his head slightly. "We'll need a few of your band to secure the prisoners. But you are not needed. You can remain at your post here."
"I have reasons to return to Skullport," the woman said, with a shrug of her broad fur clad shoulders. "And will make my own report to the Xanathar."
A tense silence followed where Nadia and the Meloon creature stared at each other, with the bearded warrior relenting first.
"Very well," he said.
It was a long walk. Long enough and fast enough paced that the half-elf found himself breathing hard and actually having a stray grateful thought to Nadia for not having her prisoners gagged. The first part of their journey was through the ancient halls of the long gone dwarven civilization. Their footsteps echoed down long corridors and through pillared halls with defaced reliefs carved into the walls and stone supports.
In one of the latter, stirges, horrid monsters resembling a cross between large bats and oversized mosquitoes, attacked. The small swarm dove down from the dark recesses of an upper stone gallery with a dirge like humming, grasping with appendages ending in sharp pincers and slashing with long, needle-like probosci. One stabbed into the shoulder of the bugbear holding the chain linked to Kuhl's manacles. It fed for only a moment before Nadia ripped it free and slammed it several times against a stone pillar. Gorged blood ran in rivulets down the carved relief from the smashed pulp of a creature.
"Frozen bitch of the icy north!" the giant of a woman cursed. "I thought Nar'l destroyed this colony by sending a fireball up there!"
"Some survive and breed," the bugbear growled, clutching at his injured shoulder.
"Now we have to drag that stringy haired drow bastard back down here again to finish the job," Nadia complained, catching and crushing another flying creature. "It's always something! Trogs, hobs, oozes, hooks, something! Keeping a path clear in Undermountain is impossible!"
Any hope the stirges would be enough of a distraction to allow for an escape fled as their group quickly made their way across the pillared hall to the corridor on the other side, yanking on the chains of lagging prisoners and waving flaming torches to beat back the swarm as they did.
They descended a long stairway soon after that and, though no proclamation was made, Kuhl suspected they'd reached the third level of Undermountain. Now they no longer traversed the remnants of a dwarven empire, but caves and twisting tunnels that reminded Kuhl of the Underdark. The air was damp and cool, smelling of water and earth. Gravel and river type rock crunched and shifted underfoot as they walked. He heard the river before they came to it, its gurgling announcing its slow passage through the darkened realm. They stopped on the shore and silver coins clinked as the false Meloon dropped them into one of his own outstretched palms. There was something ceremonial about the way the bearded warrior did it and the way he held his pose expectantly.
"Might as well gag them," Nadia said. "Won't be walking much from here."
A strip of cloth was shoved between Kuhl's teeth and tied behind his head. Wide eyed looks were exchanged as Sky and Esvele received the same treatment. The half-elf had actually grown accustomed to the modified breathing necessitated by the gag by the time the boat and ferryman in tattered gray robes appeared.
The hooded figure swayed, back and forth, back and forth at the back of its craft, plying its rear mounted paddle-rudder in a motion seemingly far too effortless to propel the boat upstream. But move it did, turning on the calm waters to approach the bank where they waited. One passenger already stood inside, looking lonely and forlorn as the only one other than the ferryman on the water craft - a disheveled and beaten drow male in a chain shirt bearing a short sword.
For Kuhl's part, he focused on the ferryman as he got a closer look at him. Empty eye sockets stared out from a white skull from under the hood and the hands gripping the oar were skeletal. Back swept horns on top of the skull, only partially concealed by the hood, revealed the skeleton to have been a tiefling in life. The members of the Dead Eye watchpost drew weapons as the boat neared.
"Has that drow lost his senses?" Nadia asked. "Is he just going to get off and let us capture him? Remember, do not seize him until well after he leaves the boat. Bad things happen to those who interfere with the business of one of the Mad Mage's ferrymen."
But the false Meloon held up a hand and shook his head.
"He is one of ours," he said.
Weapons were lowered and the boat bottom scraped against the gravel as it came to rest on their shore. The drow stepped off.
"I am Zaibon Kyszalt," he said, addressing the bearded warrior in the same flat tone as the imposter humans and dwarf used when not trying to disguise their nature. "Escaped prisoner returning to the Auvryndar enclave."
"Meloon Wardragon," the false Meloon intoned. "Of the Gray Hands. Guide to those wishing to enter Undermountain. Returning to Nihiloor."
Lady Rosznar gave a scornful and bitter snort through her nose at that description.
"The drow watch the river downstream from here," the bearded warrior said, a question in his tone.
"I traveled under a spell of invisibility, the dark elf said. "But it has worn off."
Zaibon and Meloon stared at each other for a moment, seemingly in unspoken communication. Then they both nodded and the drow maneuvered past their group to proceed up the tunnel while Meloon moved to drop his handful of silver coins in a bag hanging from the tall prow of the boat. The ferryman raised a bony finger and beckoned them onboard.
"Skullport," the false Meloon said.
"Nihiloor's pets make my skin crawl," the face painted half-orc holding the chain to Esvele muttered quietly as they boarded. "Promise me you'll cut off my head if one ever is inside me."
"I promise more besides," Nadia hissed back under her breath. "I will kill their master if that ever happens. My Dead Eyes are off limits."
Kuhl noted she did not say that threat loud enough to be heard by the three 'pets', who were still ashore and the last to board.
With ten passengers the deck was crowded and the three prisoners were shoved back to sit closest to the ferryman. The robes of the skeletal figure smelled of must and rot and, if not for the gag, Kuhl would have breathed through his mouth to lessen the smell. He shivered and hugged himself from the necrotic cold radiating off the undead pilot, manacles clinking as he did. It was strange to turn his back on something so macabre, but no stranger than standing shoulder to shoulder with an ogre skeleton. He'd done that during their escape from Sloobludop - adding his strength to speed Hemeth's peculiar watercraft out into the deeper waters of the Dark Lake.
This thought brought an image of Demogorgon - the giant, oily tentacled, double simian headed, demon prince rampaging through the kuo-toa settlement appeared for a moment in the half-elf's mind's eye. He shuddered, then pushed the memory aside. That was something he did not wish to relive in detail - though he did remember Jhelnae had rewarded him with a kiss on the lips for his efforts. So, it wasn't all unpleasantness. She'd also kissed Derendil on a furry cheek and this brought a smile, just a partial stretching of his lips given the gag that was tinged with sadness. But the cursed elf playwright was now in the better place of Arvandor and reunited with his sister.
"I'm back under that most excellent canopy again, Derendil," Kuhl thought, looking up and remembering some words the quaggoth spoke as they rested during their travels. "A majestic roof. A brave overhanging firmament of countless tons of stone."
On either side of him, his two fellow prisoners huddled closer for warmth, even Sky, which was unusual for her given her fur. The body heat they shared in return was very welcome. Time passed in this matter, the boat rocked and bobbed, and in some areas the walls of natural stone narrowed and the current quickened, but the ferryman always unerring guided them and they returned to wider and slower sections without incident. The half-elf briefly wondered how the ferryman propelled the boat upstream in these areas of stronger and faster current. Then again, the undead pilot and the craft were created by someone called the Mad Mage. Did it really need to make sense?
They passed other tunnels opening onto the river. On one pebbly beach the half-elf thought he caught a glimpse of a trio of spectral figures in seafaring garb wandering in circles out of the corner of his eye, but when turned to look, there was nothing. On another occasion the other passengers of the boat tensed as they moved past a pair of ledges on either side that were perfect for an ambush. Sky nudged him with her elbow and pointed with manacled hands and Kuhl spied crouched drow behind cover aiming hand crossbows. These they lowered after seeing the skeletal pilot and let the travelers pass unmolested. Not even dark elves, it seemed, wanted to interfere with the ferrymen of Halaster Blackcloak.
Eventually the River spilled them out onto an expansive cavern lake. Not as big as the Dark Lake of the Underdark, but still massive. Even with his dark vision, Kuhl could not see the ceiling. An island fortress, high walls lit with watchfire beacons, stood at the center of the lake, the structure nearly built to the edges of the landmass. A column tower rose from the fortress, full height lost to darkness, but likely rising to the unseen ceiling above and lit windows revealing it to be hollowed out and inhabited.
Their undead ferryman guided their vessel towards a gap in the walls resembling a large maw, beyond which was a small inlet surrounded by wooden docks with sections repaired and replaced with zurkhwood. Bugbear and human guards atop the wall watched as they passed below. The appearance of a boat piloted by a hooded, skeletal figure was apparently a common enough occurrence that it only warranted bored study. Red scaled kobolds and unkempt pale skinned humans working the docks helped them disembark, one by one.
Kuhl was again reminded of Sloobludop, but in the kuo-toa settlement they'd faked being prisoners. Now the bindings were all too real.
"Nadia the Unbent," a kobold dock worker hissed, giving a smile marred by a scar from a slash that had almost taken an eye. "Back for Blood and Fortune? You in?"
"Mite Scarnose," the giant of a woman greeted. "Always looking for information to improve your odds, aren't you?"
"Always," the little creature agreed.
"What's the activity?" Nadia asked.
"Not much on the actual game," Mite said. "Lots on whether there will be enough prisoners to form a full team of eyes."
"We always find some in Undermountain," the giant of a woman pulled Kuhl forward by the chain. "What do you think about this one?"
"Were-bear?" the little creature asked, hissing voice rising in hope. His shoulders slumped at Nadia's shake of her head. "Boar? Wolf? Rat?"
The Deadeyes leader responded negatively to each of the kobold's inquiries.
"So, your basic muscled brute," the kobold sighed. "Not going to change the betting lines much I'm afraid."
"Her?" Nadia asked, jerking a thumb towards Esvele. "And before you ask, no to all."
"Roper food or pit spike fodder then," Mite said, shaking his head. "Within the first minute."
Lady Rosznar glared in response, tilting up her chin and looking down her nose at the little creature.
"Good scowl though," the kobold amended. "If looks could kill, she'd be deadly."
"How about that one?" the leader of the Dead Eyes asked, pointing at Sky.
"Interesting," Mite said, reptilian eyes studying the tabaxi.
"What is it?" a pale skinned human dock worker with greasy gray hair and missing teeth asked. "Some sorta cat girl?"
"Rrraxxxi," Sky growled through the gag, golden eyes narrowing and tail swishing.
"Cat girl," the leader of the Dead Eyes confirmed with a grin and a sidelong glance at Sky.
"Rrraxxi, Rrraxxi," the tabaxi insisted, but was ignored.
"None of them are bound for Blood and Fortune," Wardragon said, voice cold.
"Just having a bit of fun," Nadia said, shrugging. "No harm in a bit of speculation. Builds anticipation."
"Anticipate something else," the bearded warrior said. "Let's go."
The workers who had gathered began drifting away from this potential confrontation including the scarred kobold. But the giant of a woman merely shrugged.
"We'll see how it all plays out," she said.
The three prisoners were led up a set of stairs to the fortress courtyard and then to a sturdy iron gate, currently open wide and leading to a long stone causeway spanning the water to a ramshackle town beyond. Kuhl was again reminded of Sloobludop. The kuo-toa settlement had been built primarily of woven reeds, somehow built into rickety towers with plank and rope bridges in between them.
Skullport seemed just as haphazardly constructed, but more sturdy as the buildings were mostly of wood, apparently salvaged from the hulls and masts of sailing ships along with zurkhwood additions and reinforcements. Whenever possible, sections of the vessels were kept intact for the construction. Sterns and prows jutted out of otherwise rectangular buildings and masts with crows nests and riggings supported suspended plank walkways between the structures in two rough levels over the ground. Lanterns hung from everywhere and everything and, combined with the light shining from portholes and former ship stern windows, fought a losing battle against the smothering gloom of the great cavern.
A group of bugbears traveled across the causeway, back toward the fortress, but moved aside, giving Nadia deferential nods as she passed. From the height of the causeway, the half-elf saw a large structure on the shore of the lake. With the light from the settlement interfering with Kuhl's darkvision, its purpose was cloaked in shadow. He only got the impression of a large arena.
They entered the town, a warren of streets through tightly packed, haphazardly built buildings, with a maze of rigging supported catwalks of repurposed wood and zurkhwood above. The smell of fish pervaded the market area just off the causeway. Lantern and torch light reflected off subterranean catfish, mussels, and shellfish displayed on beds of ice, presumably magically conjured. Mostly human merchants and customers, many with an obvious mix of orc blood, watched as Kuhl and his companions were led by. But a colorfully tattooed tiefling male and an uninked snake person - serpent head, humanoid body, and slithering lower half - were also present, leaning against the wall of a dingy two story shop named Skin-Deep Tattoos.
The gazes of the onlookers in this market square were hard eyed and held no concern or surprise at seeing manacled and gagged prisoners being led through their midst. The half-elf suspected no help to escape would be coming from the inhabitants of Skullport.
The smell of fish receded as they left the market, replaced by the general smell of damp stone and garbage and refuse. Nearby a woman emptied a slop bucket into a sewer opening and rats scurried up to lick the remnants on the metal grate. A kobold and goblin cackled madly to each other as they carried a small cask labeled 'Wrymwizz' out of a distillery. Street buskers performed in front of a two story dive of a building called the Hobbled Lamia, which seemed busy despite its condition. The female hobgoblin played a lively tune on a flute accompanied by a dark elf male on a string instrument. Kuhl remembered awakening as a prisoner in the Underdark and Ilvara telling him of a drow instrument called a Vazhan-do. He wondered if the instrument the dark elf played was one of those.
"Those flame-skulls make my skin crawl," the half-orc holding Esvele's chain muttered as they approached the buskers.
A skull wreathed in flame did watch the musicians, floating so motionless that Kuhl had mistook it for just another light source at first glance.
"Nihiloor's pets make you skin crawl," the bugbear bearing the half-elf's chain said in a low voice. "Flame-skulls make you skin crawl. Everything make you skin crawl. Glad I have fur."
"Not everything," the half-orc said back. "Just those two things. Oh, and Shun Shurreth's eyes."
"Spider eyes," the bugbear said, shuddering and nodding as they turned a corner. "Play dragon ante with once. Can't tell where eight spider eyes looking."
The building across the Hobbled Lamia was a one story warehouse business. The dirty sign above the door, which hung on two uneven lengths of chain so it was crooked, read 'Four Winds Shipping'. The paint on the sign was so faded the sailing ship pictured was barely discernible and looked like it was falling off a waterfall because of the tilt of the sign.
"So," the half-orc whispered as they made their way. "We've got full purses. Drinks at the Flagon?"
Esvele huffed through her gag, likely because she was the source of those full purses.
"No matter how many coins you give for drinks," the bugbear said. "Bartender is no chance as mate for you."
"Why?"
"It obvious she hate Xanathar," the bugbear whispered.
"So?"
"You work the Xanathar," the bugbear said with an exasperated sigh. "Also, maybe bad mate. Her half-drow."
"Why is a half-drow maybe a bad mate?" the half-orc asked.
"Maybe drow mother," the bugbear said. "Which mean, maybe drow mother-in-law for you if mate."
"Fair point," the half-orc said with a quiet chuckle. "Forget her then. That is what I like about you, Nikk. Always seeing the pitfalls I don't. Still, drinks at the Flagon are good quality. I'll buy you one once we drop this lot off."
"Jaw hurt from punch," Nikk muttered with a slight pull on Kuhl's chain in revenge against the half-elf for delivering that blow. "Stabbed by a stirge. Blood sucked. Maybe just get rest."
"Oh, come on," the half-orc said, quickly lowering his voice back to a whisper when Nadia glanced his way. "Just one drink."
"Last time you say that we wake up in lamia's bed," the bugbear said. "Tiptoe out carrying clothes. Lucky be alive. My sister say, you bad influence."
"Smart female, your sister," the half-orc said. "Hard-headed and practical. Nice fur too. So, what are bugbear mother-in-laws like?"
"Stay away her," Nikk growled.
The building on their right made Kuhl slow with surprise, but a yank of the chain by Nikk reminded him to keep pace. The one story building held a clock on the roof with a large hourglass in the middle. Based on what he could surmise from the design, it seemed the hourglass would rotate when the sands ran out and this would trigger gears that would turn the hands on the clock face above. The sign read Clockwork Wonders and visible through the dusty windows were two deep gnomes working on a big metal sphere roughly the size of the stuffed beholder in Old Xoblob's shop or the zombie beholder he'd seen more recently.
The group passed between yet another run down tavern called the Dizzy Drake and a three story building unusual for its good condition named the Mizzen Mast. A double sided standing placard advertised, 'No Boat too large or small' and shipwrights worked on a craft just inside the open bay doors that looked a lot like the boat piloted by the skeletal ferryman.
Foot traffic congested as the thoroughfare narrowed between an unyielding stone edifice that rose toward the unseen cavern ceiling above and a building, but all the other walkers hurriedly moved aside for their group. The manor ahead was the first masonry building Kuhl had seen in Skullport. It might have once been grand, but only shards of broken glass remained in its windows and black scorch marks and a collapsed roof showed the signs of a long ago fire. Strange that in a settlement of rickety buildings primarily built of reclaimed wood from ships and lit haphazardly by torches and oil lanterns, it would be the building of stone that burned down.
As they rounded the fire gutted manor, the Guts and Garters came into view. It had been built as an inn, but had been converted to something of a fortress, with a sturdy, iron banded, zurkhwood door and bars over the lower windows. A pair of bugbears stood on either side of the entrance.
"Guarding door," Nikk grunted to his half-orc friend. "Easy work. My sister say, no drink, save money, bribe bosses for easy work."
"You'd be bored," the half-orc said. "Without gelatinous cubes, wererats, and stirges to clear out, what would you do with your time?"
"Stand around. Look mean," the bugbear said, passing between two of his fellows doing precisely that.
The interior held a rather commonplace tap room, smelling of greasy food, sour ale, and pipe smoke. But the table arrangement was strange. An empty space had been left in the middle with a symbol painted on the floor in red. The same circle pattern with spokes radiating out of circumference found at the Dead Eyes watch post and on the zombie beholder. Tables were gathered near the walls on either side, crowded with drinkers, dicers, and card players, but only a single small table was positioned near the far wall. Kuhl got the impression of an audience chamber where a king or noble would receive petitioners with the far table in the position of the throne.
And behind that table-throne, sat a stocky, bald, gray bearded dwarf and a thin middle aged woman wearing spectacles. Her quill scratched audibly as she wrote on a sheaf of papers. Another dwarf - bare chested, brown skinned with black hair and matching beard - stood near them. He was ridiculously muscled and his missing left hand had been replaced with a crossbow. A man and a aged half-elf woman stood in front of the far table on the circular symbol. He favored one leg and could seemingly benefit from the cane the half-elf leaned into.
"With regards to the alleged attack," the gray bearded dwarf said. "After careful gathering evidence by way of getting the victim to drop his trousers for all to witness…"
Coarse laughter came from the rough looking men and women drinking, dicing, and playing cards at the table,
"We rule that one of Ulvira Snowveins' blink dogs did undeniably bite the victim," the dwarf continued.
The man stood straighter, weighting both legs a little more evenly.
"But with regards to damages from lost wages for inability to work at the docks," the dwarf said. "We find Snowveins' claim that her dog bit the victim in the midst of a failed burglary of her pet shop convincing. So we further rule damages awarded to Skullport from the so-called victim for wasting our time. One bout, Blood and Fortune is the sentence."
Cheers and jeers came from those seated at the tables while the punished man wailed in despair.
"That won't be necessary," the elderly half-elf said. "He tried to rob me, got bit, what is done is done."
"The damages are not to you, Snowviens," the gray bearded dwarf said. "They are to us for time wasted, as I said."
"You can't have me in Blood and Fortune," the man begged. "My leg! The dog bite! I can't run or move well. It will be pathetic. Not entertaining for the crowd at all!"
"A good point," the dwarf said, stroking his gray beard in thought. "Noska, take the petitioner to get some healing, then throw him in his cell."
"Yes, Ahmaergo," the bare-chested dwarf, Noska apparently, said, advancing.
It turned out the bite victim could run fairly quickly even with his injury, just not as fast as the muscle-bound dwarf or as fast as a couple of onlookers from the table could get up and seize him. He was caught up and dragged out the door whimpering.
The dwarf's attention, Ahmaergo he'd been called, shifted to the newcomers.
"What is going on here?" he asked the false Meloon.
"Delivery of these three to my master," the bearded warrior said.
"Then get about it," Ahmaergo said with an indifferent shrug. His grim expression lightened, just a little. "Nadia, back for the game? You're a day early."
"Better early then late," the giant of a woman said. "I came to report, and had a suggestion."
"Pull up a chair," the dwarf said, with an inviting gesture. "Quietude, get Nadia her usual."
Having been dismissed, Meloon led the remaining group towards a stairway down at the back corner of the tap room. At the bar a tiefling filled a tankard from a cask, turning in time to give the procession a sullen look as they headed down to the cellar. A large open trapdoor in the middle of the cellar floor accessed another staircase spiraling downward with the steps lit by wall sconces holding magical flame with no fuel source. One by one they descended, the captives led by the chain leashes linked to their manacles.
At the bottom Kuhl found himself in a rectangular passageway, around fifteen feet wide and similar in height. The same type of wall sconces as the stairwell lit their way. Following the bearded warrior's lead, they proceeded down the tunnel until they came to an unusual stone slab of a door to the left. It was circular and around eight feet in diameter, but Meloon ignored it and continued down the passageway. Another similar door came into view as well as a turn of the corridor to the right. This time, the door was chosen and stone hinges ground as Meloon, Haydn, and Cobble pulled the portal open with obvious effort. To the right, Kuhl caught a glimpse of another room where another zombie beholder, face painted with the same symbol as the one at the Dead Eyes watch post, floated along with four other beholderkin spheres. None of them responded to the sound of the grinding stone from the opening of the door or from the group going through the door and heading down the curving stair downward beyond.
At the bottom of the stairs, a door similar to the others led off to the right and bright light came from a tunnel opening to the left. But their group continued to another set of curving stairs, this time headed upward. This time the two false humans and dwarf pushed on the stone door to swing it outward into a large pillared promenade.
"All the eyes here make my skin crawl," the half-orc holding Esvele chain muttered quietly.
A myriad of eyes were carved on all the pillars, all different shapes and sizes. There were a lot of them, but they did not seem especially disconcerting or eerie.
"That four," Nikk the bugbear whispered back. "Nihiloor's pets, flame skulls, Shun Surreth, and carved eyes pillars."
"Four," the half-orc agreed.
As the group walked down the promenade the gazes of the carved eyes seemed to follow them. The hairs on the nape of the half-elf's neck rose and now he understood what the half-orc talked about. Thankfully they only passed a couple of the watching columns before Meloon led them to the left down another corridor.
Before Kuhl could breathe a sigh of relief from being away from the scrutiny of carved stone eyes, a smell reached him from up ahead. Having visited Sloobludop and traveled with Shuushar, fellow escapee of Velkynvelve, he placed the smell immediately.
Kuo-toa.
The smell increased as they advanced down the corridor, soon becoming an overpowering reek that he was forced to breathe through his nose because of the gag. The floor grew sticky, clinging to his boots with every step. Sky made a distressed yowling sound. She wore no footwear, her boots having been stolen and now worn by the Meloon imposter. The tabaxi had walked miles upon miles in the Underdark barefoot with no complaint until she obtained her magic boots, but walking through this thin layer of translucent sticky slime barefoot would be disgusting.
The corridor opened into a large hall and the half-elf gorge rose seeing a cast aside picked clean bone on the floor. It wasn't the only one, bones littered the area. Seven kuo-toa, fishlike humanoids Kuhl had first encountered in Shuushar, his fellow prisoner of Velkynvelve, leapt up from various positions in the hall and gathered in front of an iron portcullis in the far wall. Based on the weapons they brandished - spears, nets, and one bearing a staff with a metal pincer at the end - they did not seem to be pacifists like the half-elf's kuo-toa traveling companion in the Underdark.
"Ooop! Ooop! Ooop!"
The gargling chant of fishlike creatures was so loud it echoed off the chambers walls.
Esvele made a retching sound and her manacles clinked as she brought her hands up to her mouth. The corpse of a partially eaten dwarf lay in one corner, a gaping hole at the crown of his forehead where his skull had been cracked open. With a rattling clatter, the iron portcullis rose and the kuo-toa quickly fell silent and parted.
"My pets," a telepathic voice slithered in Kuhl's mind. "You've returned."
The four tentacles at the chin of the creature now standing at the doorway previously blocked by the portcullis writhed as it telepathically spoke.
"And not empty handed."
The sunken eyed gaze the mind flayer gave the prisoners was full of intense interest and hunger.
"Now that I think about it," the half-orc holding the chain to Esvele whispered to his bugbear companion. "It is really five things."
You made it to the end of the chapter! Thank you! I know this is really long. I realized around half way in I should probably cut all of it and just have the prisoners next appear in the presence of the mind flayer and skip the journey there entirely. But After 3000 words I refused to give them up and kept going and going, my mind saying, "This is crazy. Just cut it all and start in the presence of the mind flayer and give a brief summary of the journey as a flashback…" However…I also listened to an interview of Joe Abercrombie and he was talking about how he could not tell if something was working or not during the writing process. He pretty much hates all of it and is convinced what he just wrote is 'career ending'. Then, after a few months has gone by and he is doing his 2nd draft run through he is like, "Actually, this is not as bad as I thought…" when I was listening I was like, "That is exactly what happens to me as well!" So at this point, I can't tell. Is this working or does it need to be chopped? Not that this work is meant to be on a seasoned professional like Abercrombie… Oh, and I know I am totally destroying canon here. I wrote a mix of 5e and 2e with my own additions. Skullport, in the current time line, is a shadow of its former incarnations. Full of empty buildings and inactivity. As a player who played through 5e Skullport I can add it is also very boring. My DM had even bought some extra quests on the dmsguild and it still was really unsatisfying. Note that I do not blame this on the designers. Having read blogs I see that what they envision is often not what appears in the published stuff due to 'necessary evils' like page count limits and other corporate edits. 2e Skullport is very 'problematic' as the entire economy is based around the slave trade. The intention, I think, was that the players would disrupt this trade as part of game play. But it could really derail an entire campaign as the players fight a protracted battle against slavers instead of going through Undermountain. I get that. But 2e was also more vibrant with colorful characters and wackiness. So, I grabbed some of the flavor and I really wish I could have experienced some of that as a player. I don't think it is a coincidence the game fell apart soon after Skullport. My DM is now running people through Curse of Strahd, many with the same players, and they are having more fun and have no desire to return to Undermountain (that game meets on a night I could not attend)