The Murmuring Depths
The journey into the Hollow Depths is not measured in leagues or lanternlight. It is measured in the quiet erosion of certainty. The Murmuring Depths, first and most stable of the layers beneath Eldareth, form a vast threshold. This is a place where surface memory lingers but begins to blur. These upper reaches are defined not only by their structure but by their atmosphere: winding caverns, blackwater rivers, and hollowed-out cities shaped by civilizations that once fled the world above.
Ancient stone tunnels spiral through the dark, some widening into vaults veined with glowing minerals, others narrowing into crawlways consumed by fungal bloom. Rivers run deep and strange, winding beneath impossible bridges. In these depths, entire cities slumber within the stone, forgotten by time but not by those who still claim them. The air hums with a quiet pulse, as if the rock itself remembers.
Despite the danger, the Murmuring Depths remain the most stable and inhabited region of Eldareth’s underworld. Law persists here, though its shape is unfamiliar to surface eyes. The Vroth’Kari are master builders, shaping citadels from resin and stone with impossible precision and a deep understanding of harmonic balance. The Thal’Ruun tend to phosphorescent groves and thorn-wrapped hollows, guiding growth in silence and pruning decay without ceremony. The Threz’kathar weave cities from silk and shadow, hidden deep in the dark, yet their influence stretches far beyond the caverns they inhabit.
These civilizations do not rise through open conquest. Most endure, their legacies shaped into stone and silence rather than etched in scrolls. The Vroth’Kari and Thal’Ruun hold to balance and preservation, shaping their realms with patience and purpose. The Threz’kathar, however, are different. Like spiders cloaked in shadow, they seek control through subterfuge, manipulation, and quiet dominion. Though they dwell in the dark, their webs stretch toward the surface, their influence felt in places where their presence is never seen.
For all its stability, the Murmuring Depths is not without peril. Though civilization clings to the caverns, it does so amidst constant threat. Veilwings drift silently between pillars of stone. Ropers lie in wait near collapsed walkways and forgotten staircases. Cloakers glide overhead, their shadows bending before them. Gloom Stalkers, stone moths, and grimlocks all stalk the tunnels. Myconid colonies pulse with strange spores, speaking in visions. Kuo-Toa gather in isolated enclaves, their rituals untouched by time. Even here, under the shelter of stone, safety is an illusion.
Yet the Murmuring Depths remain inhabited. There is order in the dark. There is history that breathes through walls of fungus and stone. And there is a quiet understanding among its people: survival is not about escape. It is about remembering what the surface has forgotten.
The Inhabitants of the Murmuring Depths
Beneath the weight of Eldareth’s crust lies a realm that still remembers. The Murmuring Depths are not barren but shaped by those who call it home. In their silence and architecture, in their presence and their absence, three peoples define this place.
The Vroth’Kari move through echoing halls with deliberate purpose. Their cities rise from cavern floors like sculptures grown from the earth. Resin and stone are bound together with an artistry that resists collapse. To speak with them is to feel out of time, their thoughts moving in patterns older than language. They build for permanence and balance, and their minds hum with vibrations few others can hear.
Where stone gives way to root and bloom, the Thal’Ruun keep watch. Thorn-armored, and silent, they stand in the glowing wilds beneath the world. Their forms blend the blood of ancient surface kin with something deeper, something buried. They do not speak often, and when they do, it is with weight. Their groves are not peaceful. They are held in tension. The Rootwardens prune decay and protect that which endures. Their guardianship is unshaken. Their fury, when summoned, is absolute.
Deeper still, where the stone begins to forget warmth and light, the Threz’kathar reign. Their cities are carved into cavern walls and suspended over voids, latticed with obsidian bridges and silken walkways that catch the torchlight like webs. Towers rise in impossible spirals, adorned with cruel beauty and purpose. The Threz’kathar do not build for comfort. They build for control. Every structure is a statement, every path a test. Power flows through bloodlines and whispered alliances, held in place by ancient matriarchs and the unspoken threat of reprisal. Words are currency, secrets are weapons, and betrayal is simply another move in a larger design. To enter their domain is to enter a court of venom veiled in velvet. To leave unbound is almost unheard of.
These are the peoples of the Murmuring Depths. They do not beg the surface for recognition, nor do they rise with banners raised. Their world is older, colder, and built to endure. The Vroth’Kari and Thal’Ruun preserve what the surface forgets. The Threz’kathar reach upward with quiet intent. None rush. Stone is patient. And stone outlasts all things.