Whispers murmur through taverns, streets, and even into the wild places, speaking of the Eldritch Consortium and its mystical meddlings.

Some speak of an ancient tome they have obtained and deciphered, and its hints of something buried deep beneath a hoary, lightningstruck sea.

Others speak of an elite group of miners rescued from the dangerous Underside of Thera to complete an important mission for the Consortium.

Still others speak of the storms over the Sea of Despair calming for the first time anyone can remember, and the witch-woman who tamed sea and sky.

More whispers strain of strange plants floating in the sea's waters, things never before seen by fisherman, pirate, or sailor.

They speak of a trail blazed through the foothills northwest of Galadon by a wake of necromancy, and how supplies now move to the Sea through the South Daerien Settlement and Dagdan.

And no whispers need be murmured of the mystical island which now floats above the surface of the Sea, its massive weight somehow borne by a tiny orb.

And now, the whispers still, and the sound of a pickaxe striking stone on the hard sea floor seems to ring through land, sea, and air - a beckoning call to both the curious and the wary.