Plibble drops the spear and shortsword he was carrying with a startled piscine yelp, and dives under the water, surfacing on the other side of the boat and clinging to its hull.

Galingal watches the giant spider disappear and then looks over at Lia and nods. 

"Clever," Galingal finally says to her.

When the new packages fall from above into the water, Galingal nods at Plibble and points at where they went. He has no sense of urgency for the package that made a sound. One more mouth to feed out here didn't interest him but maybe they had something useful.

Before Galingal manages to convince the nervous KT to go retrieve the package, or Stena gets a chance to command either Plibble or Neth to get it, the current brings the trio of silken bundles up against the side of the boat, and Jimjar and Buppido haul them over the side. The derro draws his shortsword and runs his tongue along his teeth as he glances to Stena.

One of the packages gives a soft moan as it hits zhurkwood planking.

Galingal looks at the moaning package.

He moves over and taking a dagger, cuts open all three packages.

Stena tries to scrape away the thread as she turns to Buppido and says,

"Jimjar is going to open them. Ye stand ready if the package gets aggressive."

She turns to Pibble,

"Get what ye dropped and keep at it."

She looks around at the water,

"Where is Neth? What did he find? What is he doing?"

As she is complaining about Neth she'll move closer to Lia and say quietly and sternly,

"Well done."

She'll move quickly away to monitor that her orders are being followed, slipping into invisibility.

Neth is bobbing nearby, head cocked and smiling at Stena. He tosses a sword into the boat and dives for more.

Buppido gives a nod, and Jimjar moves to assist Galingal in slicing open the bundles. The first seems relatively hollow, but gives off a clanking of metal, the silk parting to reveal shrunken grey skin, white beard and hair of a dead duergar, his armor hanging loose against the skin that has fallen loosely back against the underlying skeleton. He seems to have been drained of fluids. The second is much the same, another dead, consumed duergar. The third package, the one that has moaned and twitched, they save for last.

The sight that comes out of the silken package is not a pretty one, though given the circumstances things could likely have been much worse. As things stand, the clearly human figure wrapped within the cocoon was at least alive, almost frantic breaths now escaping that he was freed, even if green eyes stare forward almost dulled. The fact that he seems on the older side certainly didn't help the initial impression, at least some of the wrinkles on his forehead more a sign of age, rather than any spiders having dragged out his vitality. In fact, many features seemed like they were just "his" rather than having the spider to blame.

The elder has long lost the hair on his scalp, all that remained a dark gray goatee on his chin, once well trimmed, but in the process of growing out, the shape of his face sharp, even a bit bony on the cheeks. His pale complexion is at least partially to thank to the situation, although it does seem like that would get much better after some time, either. Were he not so pitifully tied up, he might have struck an imposing figure still, surprisingly tall despite his overall lanky stature. The thick overcoat covering him going down all the way to his feet, and would have made him appear broader than he actually was. Now, with large parts of the outfit torn, that illusion would have been broken even had he been standing rather than laying. The man lays there for a few moments just like that, as if stuck in a deep dream with eyes wide open. Only after a few moments does he blink, and do eyes begin to dart around, as if only then realizing he's being watched. He opens his mouth to speak, dry lips and tongue rasping together as all that comes out is a pained croak. Perhaps at least some of his gaunt features could be attributed to prolonged dehydration.

Buppido looks to Stena and raises a bushy eyebrow.

Stena sighs and says in common, quietly to Galingal,

"Get him some water. He's a human so he isn't from down here. Maybe he's got a way up."

She turns her attention to the weapons and armor they've recovered.

She'll ask in undercommon as she sorts,

"Buppido and Jimjar, how are yer kind treated by the duergar in the city?"

Galingal retrieves some water for the old man and helps him take a few sips.

"Who are you?" Galingal asks after a few moments.

As Stena congratulates Lia, she still seems engrossed in some kind of concentration. She holds the spell as long as she can. She raises her hand to her temple, the effort clearly causing her distress, like she has to mentally live the creature’s torture… But she tries to either make sure the spider thinks better of coming back or… doesn’t think much of anything ever again… ((9x rounds of d6 damage, unless it’s clever enough to work out what’s going on… ie, up to 26 (9d6 extra damage) before the spell fades)).

Afterwards, Lia collapses with the effort to her knees, not really taking in much of what they’ve found.

((Lia doesn't feel the spell end prematurely with the creature's death, so it seems like to still be out there somewhere.))

Lia breaths heavily, collapsed on the deck… “It’s still out there… Somewhere…”, she says, almost to herself, breathing hard and barely able to hold her head up with the strain of it all. Her dishevelled hair falling in damp strands over her face. She lingers there, panting, for some time trying to get her breath back.

The man let's out a soft groan, slowly his sensibilities seeming to come back to him. Even if all those sensibilities are screaming to him how wrong things are. This isn't how things should be. His eyes dart around for a moment in panicked flurry, faded green eyes turning into an intense spark for a moment- Which then cut to an abrupt halt as his body starts working properly again, and judging by the intense grimace and hand raised to his temple, the first thing his body is telling him is about the terrible headache.

Through squinting eyes he slowly continues taking in his surroundings, now one by one appearing to scan everyone, mostly looking confused. But when the water is offered, he accepts it almost instinctively, taking a few greedy gulps, tense posture seeming to relax the slightest bit. His voice is hoarse, but he sounds almost jovial as he responds.

"Oh thank you. Thank you. I'm," he starts, but then seems to choke up, a thoughtful, worried frown coming over his face.

"I'm..." he starts again, but still fails to find the right word to utter over his lips. At least some distress is apparent over his face, as hands begin slowly patting down his overcoat. He seems uncertain about what exactly he is trying to find, even if hands manage to instinctively find the right pockets.

"...Where are we?" he finally utters. A light squint yet again. "Do I... Know any of you? I don't think I do..."

"About how they treat everyone, wary distrust, only valuable as customers. Though I bet they'd be willing to find value in non-customers as slaves.", Jimjar chimes in.

Buppido wrinkles his face, "Derro and duergar live in Gracklstugh, but they have their parts, we have ours. They make sure we know it's their city though."

The human pats himself down, finding assorted bits and bobs that end up in overcoats with deep pockets. A dingy white handkerchief, a faded blue one that is a bit stiff. A small ball of string, handful of nuts in their shells and a smooth green rock. In one of his inner pockets he feels a large book, an embossed leather cover smooth and bumpy beneath his fingers.

To Jimjar and Buppido she just nods.

"Typical duergar."

To the water recovery crew,

"One more trip, Lia says her spell ended and the spider might come back to finish this one up."

To the man in common,

"Ye were spider food until about thirty seconds ago and now ye're a guest on our...boat."

When he starts patting himself down,

"Slow down there, no sudden movements. Check him for weapons."

She expects someone else to check while she interrogates,

"Ye don't remember how ye ended up in a spider's web dangling over the Darklake? What do ye remember then?"

"Hold tight there Slim, just sit tight and let me make sure you're not packing anything that is gonna make Stena put an arrow in your head. She'd be the one who's voice you're hearing. Bet you're just here to make friends, probably just visiting with that spider while you waited, but until we get that sorted, let's not have any surprises,  yeah? Name's Jimjar, by the way.", a cheerful deep gnome says as he approaches the human and pats him down, pulling out the book from an inner pocket, and a dagger from the belt. "I'll just hold onto the dagger for the moment, if you don't mind."

Looking around, the newly liberated spider-food sees a rather dilapidated houseboat that is crewed by an assorted mix, beyond the deep gnome, a rather wild-eyed fellow of some sort of dwarven blood stands nearby, watching closely with shortsword drawn as the unseen voice barks out orders. The shadow elf who brought you water stands nearby, a dour expression on his face. A silvery skinned woman with pale hair seems to be recovering her breath, and a young face with pale skin and hair peeks out of a window. The lighting is dim, and getting dimmer as the last remnants of the web burn away, plunging the boat closer and closer towards darkness.

A few more moments of work from the dive crew, and an assortment of gear makes its way over the side of the boat, before you are joined by a humanoid fish, and a fellow with bald head and curling horns a tiefling. 

The deep gnome who introduced himself as Jimjar tosses the book back to the human. It's maybe a foot across in the long dimension, and shy of that in the short way, an inch thick or so. The human can make out a glint along its spine, and some across the cover, but it's getting too dark for him to make out more details.

Galingal watches the human for a few moments as the light from the burning web fades.

"You don't know name? Don't know where you are?" Galingal asks the newcomer. "Where come from?"

Galingal rubs the scarred raven tattoo on his cheek while he thinks.

"Should dump this one at next island we find," Galingal suggests to Stena, quietly enough so that Lia can't hear.

"Ah- Sorry," he starts, sticking his hands up at the warning of sudden movement, hands just awkwardly hanging around as they don't know what to do. At the questioning of Stena does he furrow his brow. Right after mumbling to himself something along the lines of "No, I don't think my name is Slim..."

"Darklake... Series of connected lakes in the underdark. I... I know what that is, but... It doesn't feel right. I remember the open sky. Shelves of books... A library, I think? This sweet girl, bringing me tea, but... What did she look like..?"

He grimaces again, one hand raising to his forehead and kneading.

"Goodness... My head. I... I don't remember. I'm sorry. But... You saved me, that much is obvious. I am in your debt. Maybe I just need something, to help me remember-" 

He pauses as Jimjar pulls out the book, soon fixated on it. When finally passed it, his hands caress it as if it was a lost lover, before slowly flipping it open to the cover. He raises his other hand slightly, a ring visible on it, mumbling a few strange words under his breath. In the next, when nothing happens, he seems confused, even though he doesn't even seem certain WHY he seems confused. Squinting as he tries to read the book without it.

Neth, unaware of what’s happening on the boat, continues searching for more recoverable equipment before he decides to surface. 

Investigation (?) 9

As he surfaces, he hears talking on the boat and perhaps a voice he doesn’t recognize. He pauses for a moment, unsure of how a stranger would make it on board.

after a moment he shrugs it off. He’s sure it’s fine, and climbs onto the boat happily. 

Lia slowly recovers and comes back to herself. She stands, looking out towards where the spider departed, out where the last embers of her fire are dying across the huge web.

She stands there a second, unties her hair, prestidigitates her hair and face and hands clean, before tying it quickly back up.

Looking slightly tidier, and more herself, she turns and wanders back across the deck to see what all the urgent chatter is about. 

She watches the new arrival struggle to read his book in the growing dark, “Need a light?…”, she asks, quietly, and uses prestidigitation again to create a brief (instantaneous) spark with the click of her fingers before it quickly fades away, just to show that she can creat light if it’s wanted.