The sea frothed against the cliffs. A churning torrent of ashen grey water, ropes of kelp and slick grey stone.
The ship neared the jagged coast. The water a torrent in overcast day. A storm was coming. A chugging Peddler galley from the south searched for a the port. It had escaped Cascadian Pirates and sea dragons off the Mexica coast, shown by scars across the metal on its starboard side.
The craggy cliffs was marked with a huge stone plaque. A seaman’s marker. It had taken the galley most of the morning to find it. A hundred feet above the sea, its runic symbols glowed like coals in the wind. A symbol for vessels to approach.
As they neared, Captain Gustav could see how the entrance opened up, almost invisible along the cliffs until in just the right position. His purple coat billowed in the wind, cut in the Franco fashion after his father’s ancestry.
The huge opening was like an immense dragon throat.
“Take us in!” called Gustav.
The tunnel swallowed the little chugging galley.
A string of lamps bolted to the tunnel roof was their only guide. The water grew blessedly calm within the tunnel. A canal, stable and unsurprising. After the adventures at sea, the Peddlers were thankful.
Gustav smiled. Finally. The end.
Eventually, the tunnel opened into an underground port. Dozens of stone or wood docks full of galleys, scooners, tugboats and even a titanic shipping cruiser. The cavern walls layered in box-like structures; warehouses, offices and pubs. The old Dwarven architecture with tall pillars and dragon gargoyles. Electric blue lamps illuminated the subterranean harbour.
At the end of the wharf were a trio of goblins awaiting their delivery. In the galley’s hold carried deep treasures of sapphire, rubber and gold. As well as a caged and sedated serpent from the south.
There was a reason dragons had pursued them.