"Do they seem to want anything? Like, are they trying to settle somewhere and you're in the way, or do they want your stuff?"

"So far they've been assassinating political figures and former adventurers, for the most part. Magic items and valuables have been taken from those killed, but more in a casual looting-the-dead sort of way than anything that would indicate resource scarcity."

"Huh. Prepping for a war, maybe?"

Durnan nods grimly. "I fear so. If they are, they're going about it the right way; the Lords' Alliance is reeling from the losses they've suffered in recent weeks, and our military forces are largely engaged elsewhere. This is why we must stem the tide at the source. If the drow retain free access to Undermountain, a war would be untenable."

Nod.

"Now, as many of you know, this inn is built around one of the stable entrances to Undermountain: a magical well that descends thousands of feet down into the depths of the ever-changing labyrinth. But I don't intend to send anyone into Undermountain unprepared. That would be suicide. I'll offer you what advice and equipment I can. In fact, I think it might be a good idea if-"

The door to the basement swings open, and a fireball bead streaks out and detonates in the middle of a cluster of civilian patrons. Three drow saunter into the room, a priestess and two swordswomen, followed by a handful of ashen-skinned duergar.

"Foul drow! You dare to attack my inn?!" Durnan roars, drawing a longsword from his belt.

"Your inn, your city, your race... all will fall before the Valsharess, fool!"

"Ice Spear." Let's skewer that cleric before learning her favorite evocation.

The priestess is duly skewered; she screeches in pain and falls to the floor.

The swordswoman on her left sprouts blue-feathered arrows in four locations including her neck; there's a burst of electricity, and she topples to the ground.

Jojo is abruptly no longer sitting down but instead is pummeling the second swordswoman, his fists glowing with a soft golden light that leaves burns on her purple skin.

Deekin is... humming a strange little tune to himself. The tune fills Belmarniss with a feeling of power, a feeling of precision, a feeling like her body will do exactly what she tells it to do. From the looks of the people around her, it's not lying; the various inn patrons and staff are putting up a shockingly competent show of force against the duergar minions.

Wow, Jojo seems like a good Haste target? She hastens him.

He's so fast. He hops off the now-unmoving swordswoman and weaves through the shrinking crowd of duergar, felling them rapidly.

Once the duergar are taken care of, Durnan raises his sword. "Adventurers, to the well room! We must secure the entry!" He charges down the stairs to the basement, followed by the three adventurers.

(A white-robed surface elf priestess is channeling positive energy over the wounded and dying, such that they are no longer wounded or dying respectively. There appear to have been few actual casualties thus far.)

She heads downstairs. "Why did you build an INN here," she says, not really expecting an answer.

Durnan does not have time to explain why he built an inn here, no, though the explanation probably makes perfect sense at least to him.

The well room is... weird. There's a railing separating the part of the room with a floor from the part of the room without; the floor has an outcrop containing the eponymous well, a large elevator-bucket that descends into a deep pit which can be sealed off by a convenient lever. There are several bodies on the floor, guards in the uniform of the Lords' Alliance. There are also several more drow, currently having the living hell beat out of them by an incredibly fast mouse-man and a pissed-off innkeeper with a sword.

After the invaders have fallen, Durnan goes to seal off the pit with the lever. "I don't know how they got in," he mutters. "It should have been sealed, the guards know to pay constant attention, and how did they get in without raising the alarms, anyway? At any rate," he says, turning to the party, "I need you all to guard the well room while I-"

A beholder rises up past the cliffside from behind him and shoots him with a beam that freezes him in place.

Garrus shoots it several times, and it retreats whence it came. "We have to follow that thing before it gets away!" he says, going for the lever.

Belmarniss feels, perhaps unusually, inclined to agree.

"Y- waitasec check yourself for enchantment!"

Garrus looks very confused for a second-

then he looks at the lever again-

then he slowly backs away.

"Okay! That was bad."

Deekin squints at Durnan, then sings at a very particular pitch, and the effect holding the innkeeper in place shatters audibly.

Durnan starts moving again. "Argh! I- thank you, Deekin. Is everyone alright?"

"Think so."

Durnan dusts himself off reflexively and exhales. "Thank you for stopping him, Belmarniss - I have no doubt that this was planned in advance, that you all would have run into some kind of trap or ambush. I'm going to re-engage the magical defenses that should have already been in place, call in some guards to stand watch, and stay right down here to make sure those defenses stay in place."

He goes to fiddle with a panel set into the wall, and a transparent sheet of force covers the sheer drop. "There. That's got an antimagic field below it - no beholder is getting up that way again. Though there hasn't been a beholder this high up in Undermountain as long as I can remember - the invaders must have brought it with them."

"Why did you build an inn here."

Durnan shakes his head ruefully. "Adventurers love coming to Undermountain. And where there are adventurers, there's money to be made. You have to understand, there hasn't been so much as an escaped kobold from the place in a century - this kind of, of overflow is completely unprecedented."

"If you say so."

Deekin makes a note in his tome, which has reappeared. "What can you tell Deekin about Undermountain, while everybody wait for new guards?"

"I suppose I'm as much an expert on the place as anyone can be... short of Halaster himself, of course. I can't tell you what to expect to see - the layout and inhabitants change, not constantly but frequently enough that foreknowledge is close to useless. One thing I do know, however, is that while you can find anything from goblins to gold dragons in Undermountain, things trend more dangerous the deeper you go."

"How we get out once we in there?" Deekin queries, scribbling away.

"Well, you can return to the well's terminus and I'll pull you up. There's not many options besides that, given teleportation is nullified within the dungeon."

"Teleportation not work?"

"Yes. Any magic that takes you from one place to another, even traveling by the planes, is completely forbidden by Halaster's magics. Only his own devices - shimmering portals that take you from one part of the dungeon to another - work inside that place."

"Thanks," Deekin says. "That all Deekin needed to know."

"Portals're trustworthy?"

"I wouldn't call anything in Undermountain trustworthy," Durnan warns her, "but yes, while their destination is unpredictable they will reliably transport you to a different portal's location rather than, say, disintegrating you."

"I like nobody getting disintegrated," Garrus comments. "That's a positive outcome for me."