Welcome, traveler! You can rest here, at the basecamp. I'm the keeper of this place. The Trisunken Speleological Society is in charge here. And they also manage the underground network. Here, do you want to eat something? I was just making a plate of beans in a pan.

Yes, even if it doesn't look like it, there's a vast network of abysses around here, under the mountain and the hills. There used to be mines, in very ancient times, though. Only a portion of them has been explored. Look at this map I drew over the last month—nice work, huh? Yes, when you don't have much company, you can dedicate all your time to exploring. There aren't many people around here.

The great, honored, and crowned Speleological Society of Trisunken has its base a bit further downstream. Here we have some outposts that we use as starting points for explorations in this section of the mountain. We don't often get visits from travelers, so make yourself at home. There's room for everyone, and if you want to lend a hand... we could use it.

What? How many of us are there? Right now, I'm the only one living here permanently. There's Rainolf, who's based in the village further downstream. It's about 1000 palms lower than here. It's... a ghost town, do you know it? Ha, I doubt it—it's pretty hidden, and the paths are mostly overgrown with vegetation now, except for the few that Rainolf uses. There's a tower that sticks out in the thick of the woods; if you saw it on your way up..

You can stay in that shack over there. There are various beds and stuff that nobody has used in ages. Here, this is a map of the base camp—those are the water sources, and here's a stack of firewood for the fire.

I need to go now. See you at the camp.

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Caves breath with winds that wander deep within. Awakening their hollow hearts to hum like wooden pipes, where breath becomes song through stone embrace.

A clarinet lifts light and keep upon the ear, while a bassoon groans with bass profound and slow. Each shaped by form, each voice a world apart. So too these caverns, carved by time's slow hand, resound in tones as diverse as their design.

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