Chapter 3: The Darklake

You open your mind to the divine channels of power and sense nothing. Whatever she is, she isn't undead, fiendish, or celestial in nature.

Fang continues to sleep, snoring in his hammock. Bildaweer and Georges are equally asleep. The active crew poles the keelboat around, coming over to a small dock outside the shack.

Sweet travelers, could you spare a place on your craft for a lonely stranded widow? I've been stuck here for so long, and I long to see other pleasant creatures. You've no doubt been burdened by the dark denizens of this place? she says in a voice that is song-like and pleasant to the ear.

You look but see no boats. Give me a perception to try spotting a ring.

You notice that she, in fact, does have arms.

When my husband died, gods grant him peace, my sister and I moved here to escape from the pain. She died some years ago, stranding me on my own in the middle of this fetid swamp of a place.

I don't have much, a few dresses and some mementos. Anywhere but here. I hear that Gracklstugh is nice, or can be. Perhaps Menzoberranzan. Really anywhere.

The lady smiles and heads back into the ramshackle hut, emerging a few minutes later with a tattered bag stuffed to the brim.