Smoke rose from a bowl of flaming incense and slowly coalesced into the image of a stone building decorated with a red awning. Druev Myslavi, the dark-skinned Human who had been sitting by the bowl muttering incantations for the last ten minutes, snatched a sheet of paper from the journal of one of his companions and dutifully sketched the building with a charcoal pencil. When he was done, he took a bite of a magically-enhanced Goodberry, the only nourishment he'd need for the whole day, and used some of the juice to provide some color to his drawing.
Druev had been lighting these morning fires since the day he became a Druid in the grasslands of his home, but not until now, when he reached level 7, did he receive a clear omen from the use of Divination. Maybe it was the particular mix of incense he used this morning: Druev had used most of the contents of his herbalism kit after the first couple of weeks in the Underdark, so he had supplemented it with roots from the ancient Dwarven ruins, plants from the Deep Gnome city of Sjungasten, and fungus from the Myconid kingdom. Today's development reassured him that he hadn't been lugging the kit around for nothing.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Druev addressed the party in his deep thickly accented voice. "I have asked the old gods for help in finding the tailor shop that manufactured the fabric used to make the red glove that was found at the scene of the crime..."
Druev paused for a breath; that was a lot of exposition for one sentence. A high tremulous voice emerged from what would appear to be an empty crate resting peacefully on the ground, but which was really Thrick, Deep Gnome Illusionist: "Yes, the theft of the Ruby Arcanabula."
"We all know what crime we're investigating, Thrick," piped in the irritated voice of Lady Elizabeth Black, Human War Cleric of the Red Knight. "Let Druev finish."
"I have divined that the shop looks a little something like this," Druev finished, brandishing his drawing.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Lonovan Geshaught, the Halfling archer, who currently looked more like a deep gnome, thanks to the disguise kit he had just finished applying. "Score one for nature magic." (He was part Ranger after all.)
"Now, if we're done with all this chanting and arm waving, let's get going," grunted Urgen, the hulking Half-Orc warchief as he slung Sunbrand, his greatsword, across his back.
"Of course," agreed the perfumed High Elf thief Lady Althea Glanandell, hopping nimbly to her feet. "Now it's just a simple matter of marching into the foreign quarter of Erath Belan and finding this building amongs thousands."
Erath Belan: the city of the Drow. It was here that Druev and his companions started their journey through the Underdark, having been enslaved by the wicked Dark Elves and forced to fight in their gladiator pit for sport. Well, that's how it started for Druev and his three taller companions: they met the two shorter ones after their daring escape. Now they were returning as part of a mission that would hopefully end with their safe return to the surface world.