"Let's check it out. We can always circle around to the west again if there's nothing interesting."
Cuetzpalli enchants his sword again, and then casts his mirror images.
He follows the others, ready to rock.
This immense cavern is filled with a horrific sea of writhing green and the nauseating susurrus of millions of slimy bodies slithering over each other. There is no floor—the hallway falls away to the undulating surface of an immense lake of green worms. The rippling surface lies about five feet down from the floor of the passageway, while the ceiling rises to a vault out of even Astraden's darkvision sight.
Low islands protrude here and there from the wormy expanse, and additional passageways extend out of the sea and back onto solid ground in the wall opposite and in the walls to the left and the right.
Two spelletons/wormcallers stand on ledges above the lake. As they see the party advancing, they hiss and spring into action.
They each cast spells and begin walking on air, moving closer to the party. As they draw near, each performs a quick gesture, seeking, fairly predictably at this point, to bind a partymember's movements—in this case, Cuetzpalli's.
Cuetzpalli freezes in place.
"Bleh, BORING. Eben, you got a haste spell in you?" Astraden asks.
"Yeah, but these guys would just counter it with a slow right away, same like I do to them whenever they try and haste themselves or slow us..." Eben says, craning his neck to look over the heads of those in front of him. "ooof, not a lot of floor in there... anyone that air walks or flies over the worm sea (actually, that's hardly even a pond, really), just be cautious because remember they can dispel magic. Don't want anyone falling into the wormpond!" As he speaks, he shakes his bow and clicks his rod.
"And remember, silver's what gives these guys a bad day!"
"That's why I was thinking haste, actually. Then we can move quickly enough to stand over the outcrops. But no worries."
Astraden powers across the open air, stepping on puffs that briefly materialize into solid cushions. She arrives to hover above one of the smaller rocks, and looks down at the worms below with distaste.
With a quick gesture Tanith calls one of Kord's lesser servitors. With another he prepares to counter the spellaton's spellcasting.
Carina nods at Eben and moves out to one of the islands in the worm sea, taking aim with a bomb and throwing it.
The bomb blasts into the wormcaller, and the smell of molten metal fills the air.
"Nice one, Carina!"
Farrukh moves to float over the ledge near the one furthest away from everyone, and hits it with two quick strikes.
Farrukh smashes his klar into the wormcaller's chest, punching in the breastplate in the process.
The wormcaller up against a wall by Farrukh hisses and steps back, releasing twin spells—a quick spell of paralysis, followed by thin ribbons of cutting, painless shadow. Farrukh dodges out of the way.
The other spelleton casts no quickened spell. Instead, it looks down towards the sea and begins to speak in an ancient tongue. It pauses, looking almost puzzled. It cocks its head. Nothing appears to happen.
"I have no idea what you're saying, but it looks like targeting you was a good idea..." Carina mumbles as she launches more bombs at the southwest wormcaller.
Eben dances on air across the wormpond as one of the wormcallers begins, well, calling something from the depths instead of casting more spells. "That can't bode well, whatever it is..." he mutters. Doing his best to imitate the sepulchral tones, he tosses some Flan in himself.
He takes up position hovering above one of the outcroppings and gives the speaker spelleton a (perhaps unwarranted) smug look. Punctuated by a silvered arrow in its face.
"Hah, I thought spelleton was a better name. You can't even call worms!" Astraden tells the one whose call seems unanswered.
As she raises her mask in her free hand, Astraden says, "Whatever you're trying to summon, it can't be nearly as scary as . . . THIS." A flash of laughing energy surrounds her and quickly pulses out to catch the two spelletons, giving them a taste of what they will be when the cursed ground has been cleansed and their ancient bones have rotted into the soil and grown to new life.
Cuetzpalli rages, growing his wings and chaotic mien before flying over to one of the stone platforms and slashing at the wormcaller next to it.
(-4 AC)
"I have no idea what you're saying, but it looks like targeting you was a good idea..." Carina mumbles as she launches more bombs at the southwest wormcaller.
Carina's bombs continue to blast into the spelleton, further damaging it.
The badly-injured wormcaller gazes upon Astraden's symbol without fear, but the other cringes back, hissing. The fearless wormcaller has only seconds, though, before Cuetzpalli hacks it in two.
The wormcaller screeches and flees, walking downwards and vanishing beneath the sea of worms.
Astraden splits off her double as she senses the wormcaller's fright. "Okay, I think that solves that. Unless y'all want to explore the rest of this complex RIGHT NOW, I say we go back and talk to some dead. It takes a little while."
As the cleric air-runs back over the sea, she says (a little out of breath), "Also, we should figure out who's going with me when I take Sruggut out. I can only take two others, besides the big worm naga. Maybe Eben and Cuetzpalli? That leaves a couple healers in the party that has to fly up alone, but makes sure I've got a heavy hitter with me in case Sruggut deceives us. Also, if the air walking somehow expires while you're going upwards, Carina and Farrukh have their own flight and she can give it to Tanith."
"I want to go with you. If he turns on us, I can fight blind a lot better than anyone else, and maybe can deflect a hit or two off of you." Farrukh says as he zips over and concentrates for a moment.
"Alright, you should take Cuetzpalli's place, then. Unless I missed it, Eben has no means of flight on his own, and I don't want to burden Carina with two people to keep aloft," Astraden shouts as she jogs over the worm swarms in the main room.
As the group recovers from their short battle, a strange sensation stabs into their minds.
In the past, when the members of Spiny's Six have felt a telepathic presence, it has always manifested as the sense of verbal words. Whispers, shouts, murmurs—without true language, but still as if there were a speaker. This is the first time it has manifested not with the feeling of sound, but with sight. Images flash and scroll through the adventurers' heads at a seizured rate, almost too fast to even consciously register. As the images flow, a strange understanding comes over them.
They are being communicated with.
The 'words' are uttered through images of parting mists, of alien, many-winged birds descending upon a ruined tower, and of several images of the group. All are from a clear third-party vantage point. Someone gazing from the other side of the great chamber above, watching the group on the stairs; someone looking over Cuetzpalli's shoulder, across the gaping pit, towards Astraden; someone watching as the adventurers, along with several animate objects, cluster around a fountain of green worms. Eben is quicker than the rest to recognize the latter, as he alone has seen the Fountain of Green Temptation without its illusive coverings.
Alone, the images are random and meaningless. But together, they form a simple sentence.
~ So you are the visitors. ~
Carina starts moving back to the entrance to the room.
Astraden winces at the images flashing in front of her eyes, turning to face the Sea of Worms. "And you're the thing we keep seeing. Spellweaver lich, right? But past tense?" she asks.
Another flood of images. A red 'X' painted on the side of a boulder in what appears to be drying blood. A series of water clocks, all in different locations, and one the size of a building. The image of a generic gray-clad traveler making his way down a dusty road. Several images of tomes. The image of the Spire itself, followed by a vision of writhing worms.
~ On the contrary. I am very much in the present. ~
"Hm. That's concerning. But you don't want to like, fight, or anything, right?" Astraden tries sending back an image of a boot stomping some worms.
Many of the same clocks appear, but they have moved forward significantly in time. The enormous one has been shattered. The moon climbs through a starless sky.
~ We will see. ~
"So... what were you? Kyuss's mentor?"
"Well, I surmise that you can telepathize to us anywhere we are in here, since your figment appeared all around the place. Hope you don't mind if I ignore you while I focus on a spell," Astraden says, already turning in midair to face westward.
A positive torrent of images comes in response to Eben's simple question. The "spellweaver" glimpsed in visions, half-skeletal, clad in tattered green robes. The man the group knows as Kyuss standing at the temple entranceway, gazing toward the point-of-view. Two pink, hairless cats, each perfectly identical in pose and appearance. One cat lying dead, the other lapping at its blood. The familiar sight of him being shown the first Kyuss worm, though from a different perspective. Kyuss standing over an evidently dying man as green worms squirm through the latter's body. The same gray traveler as before, now standing at a crossroads. A glimpse from the point-of-view of someone kneeling on the ground, clutching at a bloody wound with three pale hands. A strange, many-colored disk. A moment later, another image comes of the disk, which is now turning dark and bears a wide crack. The sight of a strange black spire, which Eben alone can recognize. The water clocks. The moon spinning around Oerth countless times, passing through numberless phases and eclipses in the span of seconds.
~ Kyuss and I had alike interests, but differing motivations. I was a sort of mentor to him, I suppose. I showed him a part of one possible path, which he embraced. But I did not school him in any sort of religious concept for his works. Those were his own design, and he has reaped a true bounty. I...have claimed less, and sacrificed much, to arrive here and now. ~
Several more images come, but slower, now. A raven, its head cocked, staring at several leaves intently. Under one of the leaves, the adventurers can see a piece of bread. The colorful disk from before, now wreathed in colors. And Astraden herself, raising her symbol above her head to cast some sort of spell.
~ What spell are you casting, Astraden, if I may ask? ~
"Like Astraden said, she's in the middle of ignoring you. But it's not a state secret or anything. She wanted to speak to those well-preserved corpses you have laid out in the other room. See what their version of history might be. Because the version I'm seeing..." Eben's voice rises to a sharp yell at this point, "Was that the 'path' you set Kyuss on led to everyone in Kuluth-Mar being annihilated. So what's your version of you guiding Kyuss to murder and steal the souls of a hundred thousand people or so?"
Carina doesn't really have anything to offer at this point. She's too busy fumbling with her bombs and preparing for the worst to happen.
"What, you can't read our minds? Interesting." Astraden air-walks westward through the entrance chamber. "I'm gonna be talking to the dead, yes. Though, that's only slightly different from what we're doing now," she says to the quiet air of the corpse room. "Did Kyuss betray you, per se, or were you just swept up in his greater schemes close to ascension?"
"Like Astraden said, she's in the middle of ignoring you. But it's not a state secret or anything. She wanted to speak to those well-preserved corpses you have laid out in the other room. See what their version of history might be. Because the version I'm seeing..." Eben's voice rises to a sharp yell at this point, "Was that the 'path' you set Kyuss on led to everyone in Kuluth-Mar being annihilated. So what's your version of you guiding Kyuss to murder and steal the souls of a hundred thousand people or so?"
A pause.
Several more images flash through the group's head, though they come rather slowly. The clocks. A setting sun against an empty city. The bodies in the northwest chamber.
~ We may speak later. ~
Then there is nothing. The images cease to flash, and do not return.
"Okay."
Astraden quickly finds an air-sitting position above the floor. Hovering, she begins chanting, imploring Olidammara to find the flesh-memories of the preserved corpse in front of her and to give the body temporary life to speak.
After ten minutes, the body twitches. Its eyes open, gleaming with silver fire. Its mouth opens, awaiting questioning.
Carina grumbles as her protective spells run low.