Nymeria, Hanni, and Shapiro made their way west from the small town. The fishfolk village wasn't far, but without Theresa's magic light, Nymeria had trouble adjusting to the dimness, relying only on the faint glow of phosphorescent fungi. She walked slowly and carefully, a bit out of her element.
Shapiro, on the other hand, had no such worries. Sulpharlo might have lied to him, but she had at least been generous with his blessings.
If nothing else, she'd granted him True Darkvision—so powerful he could see as if it were daylight even inside magical darkness itself. That made environments like this trivial for him.
He marched confidently ahead, though at Charles' insistence he had to keep pausing to wait for the pair behind, growing visibly annoyed at their slow pace.
They weren't in any rush, so they plodded along steadily toward the village.
After a short while, they spotted a patrol of kuo-toa wearing battered scale armor coming down the path. Trailing behind them were several gnomes bound in ropes—obviously freshly caught slaves.
Seeing this, Nymeria frowned, uneasy. Still, this was the Underdark, notorious in textbooks as a haven for evil races, and there were more important things to focus on, so she suppressed her disgust, pretended not to notice, and kept walking.
But as she caught sight of the fishfolk patrol, they noticed her crew as well. Seeing well-dressed surface-dwellers—and a dark elf—the group quickly encircled them, the leader, a fishfolk with distinctly feminine features, blocking Nymeria's path and barking, "Who are you?"
To Nymeria's surprise, the kuo-toa spoke passable surface Common. Her huge, round eyes lingered on Hanni—clearly, the dark elf was the real source of her suspicion.
Hanni puffed up her cheeks, clearly annoyed. The kuo-toa seemed to think she couldn't understand Common, but, courtesy of the ongoing "Comprehend Languages" spell, Hanni understood every word and was fuming.
"We're guests from the surface," Nymeria said steadily, tugging at her collar in nerves, but speaking clearly. "We're here to buy a boat. Are you from the boatmakers' village?"
The kuo-toa's hostility eased, and she lifted her huge fishy head with a touch of pride. "You stand before the only Chosen of the great 'Deep Father,' future mistress of Sloebdollop, the most powerful kuo-toa priestess in all the Underdark—Blopblupin!"
"Blop… Blupin…" Nymeria struggled with the strange, burbling name, then leaned close to Hanni and whispered in Elvish, "What's her deal? Why so many titles?"
Hanni shrugged. "No idea. Some people think if they pile on enough titles, they sound more impressive."
Nymeria nodded, but couldn't help but mutter, "And their names really do sound weird—like blowing bubbles."
Hanni explained patiently, "That's how it works—the kuo-toa are named after the first sequence of bubble sounds they make after hatching, then add a suffix from the deity they worship. It's random, but that's the kuo-toa way."
Nymeria thought to herself: for creatures called "humanoid," their cultures could really be outrageously different.
But she didn't want to get drawn into the kuo-toa's bizarre drama, so she said directly, "I'm looking for the boat seller—a human man with white hair, and two human women from the surface. They came here to purchase a boat."
"We're here to join them. We brought gold to help pick one out."
The kuo-toa looked her up and down suspiciously. "I haven't heard of anyone like that, but they could be in the village now. Still…"
She glared at Nymeria and Hanni. "Why is a surface-dweller consorting with a dark elf?"
Dark elves clearly had a bad reputation in these parts.
Nymeria bristled at the hostility and was about to snap when, suddenly, another fishfolk came dashing up the road, calling out in Undercommon, "Hey—!"
"Blopblupin!" The panting fishfolk called out, gasping. "The great Deep Father—he's manifested!"
He was out of breath, each word harder to get out. Kuo-toa, with their fish-like physiology, have gills for water breathing but no sweat glands—they regulate their temperature in water. On land, even a short run leaves them overheated and exhausted.
When Blopblupin heard the news, her eyes lit up: "The Deep Father! He's come at last! The blood sacrifice is almost ready—the Deep Father, oh, Deep Father, he must be rewarding my piety!"
She shrieked in fanatic glee, leaving Nymeria and Hanni to exchange speechless glances. They'd only come to find their friends and buy a boat, but all they'd seen was one delirious display after another.
Without another word, Blopblupin tore off toward the altar, completely forgetting about them. With no better options, Nymeria tugged Shapiro's sleeve and hurried after her.
Shapiro narrowed his eyes, quickening his pace. The fishfolk village wasn't far, and soon the three entered it, doing their best to ignore the overpowering stench. Shapiro glanced around grimly and muttered, "If this goes south, we may need to take drastic measures."
Hanni grinned from behind, "Like what? Massacre everyone?"
Nymeria flicked Hanni's head and scolded, "Don't be ridiculous! We don't resort to violence just because a business deal falls through!"
Hanni grinned again, unfazed. Shapiro's lips curled in a faintly cruel smile. "Depends how reasonable they are…"
With that, the trio arrived beneath a massive altar, following the crazed fishfolk priestess. Not only did the fishy stink intensify, but there was now a heavy, nauseating aroma of blood—Nymeria had to keep wrinkling her nose to fight off a wave of disgust.
Standing on tiptoe, she peered up. The altar wasn't flat, and she could see a number of cauldrons filled with thick, dark blood.
Her mood soured further—was this just some cult's lair? Maybe putting them down would be a public service.
She noticed Blopblupin didn't dare ascend the altar herself; instead, she knelt before it, babbling strange syllables in a trembling voice, "Oh, great Deep Father! Thank you for answering my call—please guide your children, bring us true salvation!"
As if in answer, a gentle white light blossomed atop the altar, soft and saintly, almost holy. The fishfolk fell deeper into her ecstasy.
Hanni jumped back, startled. "No way—did her prayer actually work? Are we really about to witness the birth of an Evil God?"
Shapiro's hand drifted to his scythe. "If so, I don't mind putting down a newborn abomination."
Hanni shot him a look. "Wow, confident much? That could be a new-born god!"
Shapiro scoffed. "In terms of combat power, most evil creatures born from kuo-toa worship aren't even as strong as a wizard who's mastered 6th-level spells."
"The only time anything close to a legendary spellcaster emerged, it ended with the kuo-toa being purged from the surface world altogether. Surely you've read that."
Hanni chuckled. "Didn't think you knew all that. Impressive! Thumb's up!"
Shapiro only grunted in reply. Nymeria remained silent, gazing at the gentle white light above the altar, feeling an odd sense of familiarity.
Hiss…
When Priest Charles purified demonic corruption in the sewers of Liberl Port, hadn't the same kind of white light appeared?
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