"Calm yerselves!  No need for all the fussin'!  Just tell us what yer problem be."  Garmus barks at the ruffled Avowed, hands on his hips.

"Ah! My friends! Perfect timing. This book: A Deep and Creeping Darkness, came to Candlekeep with another group of adventurers, given to them by a villager who found it among her grandfather’s old possessions. Her grandfather—a traveling bard in his youth—claimed to have written it. Though appearing to be nothing more than a combination of diary and penny dreadful, the book satisfied the requirements of a unique work to grant that party entrance to Candlekeep. It chronicles the death of a mountain village called Vermeillon by slow, unknown means. According to the text, following a terrible accident in the platinum mine, survivors and other villagers began disappearing. Eventually Vermeillon’s population all vanished or fled, leaving the village abandoned."

"It's all in the book! This is a fascinating discovery! We'd like to hire you to look into what happened at Vermeillon!"

Ysabell had a thoughtful look on her face as she listened to the Seeker's tale.  "I'm not sure..." Ysa began, "We've only just returned from a rather exciting trip and I haven't had too much time the past few weeks to research a cure to the blight I've been sent here to cure."  Turning to her friends, she continued, "That being said, I'm not opposed to assisting in return for gaining seeker's aid in my other duty, plus whatever else my friends may be interested in as well.  Does the diary give any conjectures on what may have caused the disappearance?"  

"No! That's why we need your help. And curse you say? We might be able to help you with this cure you're looking for, should you help us." they say, sweetening the deal. Eralynn is facing the other way, apparently looking for someone, hopefully.

"That sounds amendable to me.  How about the rest of you?"  Ysa asked the party. 

Spotting Eralynn clearly looking for Yalerion, a mischievous grin spread across her face as she added, "I think my friend here would be interested in visiting some of the art libraries as well as learning a bit from one of your seekers.  I believe his name is Yalerion?  I remember her mentioning how she wished to learn more about his research."  

Spotting Eralynn clearly looking for Yalerion, a mischievous grin spread across her face as she added, "I think my friend here would be interested in visiting some of the art libraries as well as learning a bit from one of your seekers.  I believe his name is Yalerion?  I remember her mentioning how she wished to learn more about his research."  

"Ah, Yalerion is a frequent traveler and scholar - he comes here on occasion, usually spending his time in the upper libraries." one of them explains. "I believe we can arrange access to the art libraries."

Eralynn bounces up and down on her toes, but you're not sure what she's more happy about.

"If he breaks her heart I'll break his legs."  Garmus grumbles under his breath.  "Ya can count me in Ysa."  He says, giving her a nod.

Raastin rolls his eyes and follows. "Last time, this led us to the Shadowfell. I hope this book is all about cupcakes and sweet wine."

"I wouldn't get yer hopes up.  More likely moldy bread and sour ale."  Garmus says, clapping Raastin on the back.

"Here is the book. Good luck!"

You are handed the book. It's bound in black leather with “A Deep and Creeping Darkness” embossed on the thin spine, showing minimal signs of wear and tear other than a few pages creased through carelessness and a spot here and there. The work is neat though not flawless, containing notable spelling errors and ink blotches. Obviously, this is not the work of a professional scribe.

A Deep and Creeping Darkness tells the tale of a mountain village whose residents went missing over the course of several months. The book presents a series of vignettes allegedly collected from “those who were there”: survivors, traveling merchants, and (in secondhand accounts) residents of nearby settlements. It is unclear whether it is a fictional tale, folklore, or history. The content seems factual, but the language is extravagantly dramatic.

Vermeillon, established after settlers discovered a platinum vein in the mountainside, did a booming business in both the raw ore and the refined metal for around a decade. Due to the rough terrain and the harshness of the climate, the village never grew large. It intermittently hosted a succession of traveling merchants who came to the village for a week or two, sold and traded their wares, then left again. The nearest civilized settlement was three days’ ride on horseback down the mountainside. The inhabitants named in the book include Mayor Lei Duvezin, a kind and talented dwarf smith named Tormun, and his wife, Blenyss.

Seventy years ago, an explosion rocked the platinum mine, collapsing the tunnels and burying workers under tons of rubble. Sixty miners were underground that day. Over thirty of them died in the initial collapse, and the instability of the tunnels made rescue of the others slow and dangerous. The miners who survived the collapse were trapped for days or weeks before they were rescued—or perished in the deep, alone and terrified. Sixteen came out alive. Eleven were never found.

In the wake of the catastrophe, another horror plagued the village as people began to disappear, starting with the survivors—not all at once, however. One or two would vanish in a single night, then a tenday might pass before the next disappearance. These unexplained disappearances terrified the remaining miners. After all the survivors either disappeared or fled, other villagers began to vanish. The villagers tried to protect themselves by sleeping with weapons and taking shifts on watch, but nothing changed. Traveling in groups didn’t help, since a companion might vanish while even briefly out of sight.

With no one willing to keep the mine open and the disappearances leading to fears that Vermeillon might be cursed, merchants and other travelers stopped visiting the village. The end of the patchwork story claims that the village is still there, though whether anyone inhabits it is a mystery. The volume’s writer muses over the decline of the village, speculating about the fate of its inhabitants. They wonder whether it would be worth hiring adventurers to see if anything remains of the village—particularly the platinum ore.

Sketched on the back of the last page is a rough map of the village’s location, with directions from the closest mountain town, called Maerin.

"Certainly an interesting tale..." Ysa mused after skimming over the book.  "Could be an invisible monster deep underground awakened after the explosion who began feeding on the villagers one by one.  Or maybe they loosened a barrier between realms and the villagers became trapped on the other side.  Or maybe..." Ysa continued for a time, unless stopped, spouting off random morbid suggestions on what could've happened to the town.

Yalerion could be seen off in the distance, walking from one building to another. Eralynn jolted and her heart could be heart literally pounding in her chest. She wanted to cry out, to call his name, to wave, just to say hi, but she couldn't. In a matter of moments, he dipped into another building and was gone. The disappointment in her face was so tangible, it could cut the atmosphere. Since going mute, her facial expressions were comically amplified to assist in conveying silent messages, like a actress, or a comedian, doing impressions.

She turned back to the group and tried her best to refocus and pay attention to what Ysa was saying.

Ecko didn't care about a reputation, but he recognized the use in gaining access to the books he so loved. And there was certainly one interesting one provided. Like a child eagerly listening to its favorite show, Ecko's eyes widen in excitement at the tale. It was only after the tale finished that he realized it was an actual story and not some outlandish, made-up entertainment novel. Oh, well. "Did they have bakeries?" Ecko asks with utmost seriousness. 

Regardless of the answer, Ecko's eyes twinkle at the word 'platinum'. Kenku were similar to crows. Shiny baubles and trinkets were studded along Ecko's armor and gear and hoarded inside Ecko's rucksack. "Those all sound equally fun, Ysabell! And gruesome. Either way, it's worthy of investigation. What isn't? If the town's been there for a while, I'm certain a visit to the art gallery can be spared," Ecko quickly rattles in an amalgam of voices. 

Eralynn looked at everyone expectantly. She did certainly enjoy a good mystery, almost as much as she wanted Yalerion to kiss her. Of course, she was down to go.

"A haunted mine?" Raastin shrugs. "Why not?" Like Ecko, despite his feigned hesitance, Raastin is intrigued by gaining access to more books and more knowledge. Also, he pondered what opportunities lie within that mine that could produce coin. A few interesting baubles for his father's shop would allow the man to live comfortably throughout the winter months. Additionally, the half-elf was interested in learning more about what happened to him in the Shadowfell...the strange urges and tingling feelings. Perhaps an adventure would offer some opportunities. "I'm in."

Sketched on the back of the last page is a rough map of the village’s location, with directions from the closest mountain town, called Maerin.

You all do some quick pastry shopping, hop on horses provided by the Avowed, and decide to head out. It took three day by horse to arrive to Vermeillon.

The village is eerily quiet. Plants and wildlife have overtaken the crumbling houses. Leafless vines climb rotting walls, birds and other small creatures nest in the exposed rafters, and gnarled trees protrude from the fallen roofs of a few buildings. The overcast sky adds an air of oppression to the scene, seeming to envelop the village. Take a look at the map. Places of interest are noted.

Glancing at the map, Raastin points to the large building (V3). "Makes sense we'd find folks three. Looks like a town hall or gather place."

As Garmus waits for the others to decide where to go he looks around the area.  "Almost as bad as the damn Shadowfell."  He murmurs to himself.

V3 MAYOR'S HOUSE

As you guys walk through the town, heading to the Mayor's House, you can see things from the corner of your eyes, but when you go to look - nothing is there. Eralynn, while not as frightened as she was in the Shadowfell, is on edge, looking around as you walk. She looks a little worried.

This grand, two-story brick house has fallen prey to time and the elements like the rest of the village, but it remains in better shape than the smaller houses. Heavy wooden double doors are flanked by dark windows, and chimneys anchor the building at each corner, their masonry crumbling. In front of the house looms a wide, leafless tree. Its gnarled branches reach toward the clouds like twisted fingers, and its rough bark is pockmarked with large knots and beetle holes.

What could of happened here?

"Everythin' round here looks like it's ready ta crumble to the ground."  Garmus remarks as the group comes up to the house.  "We startin' in this big building?"