After a long while, the party came to the bank of the River Styx. They could see motes of light swirling and floating through its rapid, relentless waters. The strong, unpleasant odor of the river reached their noses, making them dizzy. After gazing at the river for a few moments, they realized that the lights were not “lights” at all, but rather partially incorporeal forms of the souls that had been lost to the river over eons, whether it be through a broken oath, sworn on the river, or dying in the river itself. The party realized that the river was far too great to cross, and after experimenting with a log, Alm watched as the river began to undo the very essence of the wood itself. Recalling the warning from Ostur that “The waters of the Styx are both sacred and incredibly dangerous,” the party decided to seek out another way across. Alm produced coins and other valuables, and called upon the river itself, asking for a guide to help them cross. For a long while, nothing happened, but then, just at the edge of their vision, a light could be seen. A dark wooden boat was traveling down the river, towards them. In the boat, a cloaked figure was paddling with an oar, which was itself wreathed in flames. The lone rider had eyes that glowed as fiercely as the sun, though with none of its warmth. The party felt shivers go down their spine, for one by one, they began to recall the legends of the River Styx. It has long been said that a ferryman roamed the waters of the river, guiding souls and travelers, but often for a steep price. It is said that this ferryman was tied so deeply to the river that indeed he might be a part of the river. This ferryman exuded an aura of such power, contained an unknowable essence and being, so potent that the party felt inclined to bow or kneel.
Finally, the ferryman approached, his hood still drawn, no face visible, aside from the glowing yellow eyes. He set down his oar and lantern, and spoke in a rasping voice, audible through the winds themselves. He informed the party that his name was Charon, and that he would be able to help them cross, indeed, they would not be permitted to cross without his direct aid. He told them that they must part with either an object or item of great emotional sentiment, of great memory, or, if they did not have such a token, that they must pay with a great memory itself. For just as the River Styx takes memory and thought, so too does he. Each must pay their own way, for each soul is a single traveler. Charon does not make deals, nor does he cut bargains. The fare is his to set, and he informed the party that they must pay the toll of the ferry, or turn back from the way they came. So long as the Great River flows, so too does he, and so long as a single soul exists in the multiverse, so too does he exist.
Alm presented Charon with the first magical potion that he ever created, a rather weak and diluted brew, but one that marked his first venture into craft and creation. He had kept it all this time. Charon took the potion, and plunged his hand into the river. As he did so, Alm watched the vial slowly grow translucent, until it had completely faded, its very essence consumed by the rushing waters of the River Styx, and thus, by Charon himself. Charon informed Alm that his toll was paid, and that he was allowed to enter the boat to cross. Next, Quatre stepped forward, and offered a silver locket and chain, which contained images of herself and her siblings, each of them preserved in their own way, in memory. He accepted the locket, and plunged it into the river, as it too vanished into the water, forming a small mote of light, that traced the same lost path as the souls in the river. She was allowed to pass. Relia stepped forward, and brandished an Elvish dagger, with a refined hilt and worn blade, the very first weapon given to her by her father. Charon took of the dagger, and placed it into the Styx, where it too was consumed and made into a mote of lost light. She was allowed to pass. Crow approached Charon next, and looked longingly at what he held in his talon, an arm ring, which was given to him by the family that he holds most dear. Charon took the ring, and placed it in the all-knowing, all-taking waters of the Styx, where it was made into water itself. He was allowed to pass, some comfort in knowing that it is far better to have lost the token and kept its meaning, than to have lost the meaning and kept the token. Finally, Odom stepped forward, and he produced a green tome, old and worn. He held it out to Charon, his first spellbook, the one that had guided him for so long. Charon took of the tome, and placed it too into the river, where it was unmade and made hollow. He too, was allowed to pass. As the party crossed the River Styx, an enormous creature, a dragon of the river itself, a Styx Dragon, rose from its depths. It released a horrid blast of steam and vapor, only slightly less potent than the actual water, onto three of them. Alm’s mind began to cave in, the vapor from the Styx breaking his most basic understandings and memories. However, before the dragon could act further, Odom stepped forward, and channeled the full spirit of the Silver Dragon, Dersir, who had claimed him as heir. He said “Stop! I am Dersir, the Silver Dragon. Leave.” The party was shocked to see the Styx Dragon bear an expression of recognition...hesitation, even. After considering that Dersir was not truly dead, the Styx Dragon told Odom “Do not come to these waters again,” though it was clear he was not speaking to Odom, but rather something behind, or next to, Odom. Throughout this ordeal, Charon did not seem the least bit interested or concerned. Finally, the party reached the far edge of the river, and travelled into the second layer of Pandemonium, Cocytus. While there, they suffered the most potent and violent sections of the winds. In one of the caverns, Relia and Crow found what appeared to be the remains of a once-powerful mage, now permanently mutated into an inchworm. He had been driven mad by the winds and eventually transformed into this pathetic state, having no memory of how or why he was here. Quatre took him, and poked him for the remainder of the journey. Eventually, the party came upon a large alcove, which seemed to contain a hub of interconnected tunnels, the center of which was formed of pillars, hollowed out and enormous in size. The wind seemed to whistle at dangerous and unnatural frequencies through these holes, and the sounds began to drive Crow insane, making him believe, delusionally, that he was closer to both Alm and the divine than he originally thought. After passing through this chamber, Odom found two sigils on the walls, one which read “Here Begins” and the other which read “Myriad of Gales.” The first sigil bore no clear meaning, but the second was that of a Musical College, formed by the planeswalking bard, “Catalan the Mad.” The party decide to bypass both of these, and head instead further into the plane, seeking Phlegethon. They heard cries ahead of them, identical to the ones they had heard while in the Plane of Shadow by the dreaded Black Rider, the cloaked entity that seemed to ride on a malformed and mutated mare of darkness. They quickly created a space to hide, as Odom summoned magic he had learned from Melody to create an extradimensional space to rest in.
After quite a while longer, they eventually came to the third layer of Pandemonium, Phlegethon. This was distinct in that Phlegethon is the only layer that bears normal gravity, and as such is the only layer with both stalactites and stalagmites on the discernable ceiling and floor of the caverns. They came upon a piece of black cloth, which radiated an essence of malice and undeath. Alm and Quatre recognized the symbol on the cloth as that of the Whispered One, sometimes also called the Chained God. They recalled that legends once told of a black tower, somewhere in Pandemonium, which the entity known as Vecna had constructed long ago. They decided to keep going, and leave the black cloth where it lay. After a while of draining and horrific travel, they found that a section of the wall had been blackened into stone the color of the night sky, the symbol of an ublinking eye, wreathed in flames. They recognized that this symbol is one that has been used by the cultists of Atropus from time to time to refer to the entity known as the “Dark One Who Rises” or “The Herald of Atropus.” They too, decided to leave this symbol be.
The party came to a small altar, which bore the symbol of Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead. They took from the altar, and in return placed offerings to future travelers in need of aid, as the inscription upon the stone instructed them to do. Finally, the party found a cavern that bore the symbols of Bahamut, Helm, and Kelemvor. They saw too, that the second seal had clearly been broken, as they saw the flowing black cloak of the Dark Rider leaving the area ahead.
They attempted to pursue, but were blocked by a horde of howling monstrosities, swirling, vampiric cyclones, and an entity which seemed to possess the ability to channel the Plane’s despair and hopelessness as a weapon. After a grueling and nearly fatal engagement, they managed to survive the winds and dispatch with the dread creatures. Odom divined the location of the third seal, this one having been completely broken. With a mix of optimism and horror, he learned that the third seal is located in a place known as the “Wells of Darkness,” otherwise known as the 73rd layer of the Infinite Abyss. The party summoned the last of their energy and lifeforce to flee back the way that they had come, returning to Neverwinter to inform the Order of what they had found. The Order gave them temporary housing, to ensure that they would be able to respond immediately once the Order had learned more, instead of travelling back to Hawthorne.