KC's Age of Worms

Game Master Kobold Catgirl

"Aren't they those things Spiny's Six is named after?"

"Well, we're named after a SPECIFIC one, because his owner was really uncreative, but yes."

"Oh?" Tanith says, interrupting the trail of kisses he's planting up Carina's naked thigh. "Are you sure that's not my usual scent? It could be the smell from the container the goblins gave me to preserve the dragon hide."

"I--" Carina starts before she takes a sudden sharp breath. "--yeah, I'm sure. I know what you usually--oh my--smell like. And vinegar isn't--aah--it."

"I know you've got your own stuff you're making, so no rush, but if you could whip up those weapon blanches when you've got a chance? I've got a little bit of everything here..."

"Oh?" Carina looks the ingredient bottles over and sets them on the desk. "Yeah, I think I can make those with these. Shouldn't even take that long, really."

She immediately starts getting out flasks and a burner from her kit and gets to work...

Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Adamantine*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (10) + 26 = 36
Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Adamantine*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (10) + 26 = 36

...in fact, she's managed to complete the two doses of adamantine blanch before Eben has even left the room. "Heh. Thought so."

She spends the rest of the week crafting the rest of the weapon blanches he asked for.

Going by daily progress here, so Check x DC / 7, if my math is right.

Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Ghost Salt*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (16) + 26 = 42
Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Ghost Salt*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (4) + 26 = 30

Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Cold Iron*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (10) + 26 = 36
Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Cold Iron*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (14) + 26 = 40

Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Silver*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (16) + 26 = 42
Craft (Alchemy) *Weapon Blanch: Silver*: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (2) + 26 = 28

I think one of us is misunderstanding how the Craft rules work.

Adamantine weapon blanch has a price in sp of 1000 gp. Those two checks you made each result in 36 (the roll) * 25 (the DC) = 900, so two rolls of 36 produce 1800 sp's worth, which, divided by 7, equals 257 sp—not nearly enough to complete the blanch.

Ghost salt is even more expensive. You need a total sp result of 2000. (42*25/7) + (30*25/7) = 257 sp.

Cold iron is pretty cheap. You need a total sp result of 200. (36*20/7) + (40*20/7) = 217. You successfully complete one dose of cold iron blanch with those rolls.

Silver is super easy. You easily complete the silver doses (you got quadruple the needed result).

Swift alchemy lets you create alchemical items in "half the normal amount of time". In this case, I gather that allows you to roll twice per day.

Either I'm hugely missing some aspect of alchemists I can't find, or my best guess is you forgot that you need to meet the price in sp, not in gp.

Ghost salt, at least per d20pfsrd, has a cost of 20 gp, same as cold iron. Admittedly, its listing is kind of weird there, lacking both a DC and a reference, so I could have been totally off in my purchasing price if it's just inaccurate. Let me know what the actual cost is otherwise, and I'll adjust my remaining gps accordingly.

...oh.

I have a habit of misunderstanding them, it seems. I forgot to meet the price in silvers, not gold pieces.

Non-magical crafting rules are generally terrible. I thought you house ruled early on to make it actually functional.

Per RAW a suit of full plate takes an expert armor smith something like 6 months. Those dragoncraft cloaks will take something like a year.

Archives of Nethys puts the price at 200 gp. I'm guessing one of the sources typoed, but which one?

Non-magical crafting rules are generally terrible. I thought you house ruled early on to make it actually functional.

Per RAW a suit of full plate takes an expert armor smith something like 6 months. Those dragoncraft cloaks will take something like a year.

For bigger items crafted by NPCs I generally assume multiple smiths are collaborating on it, or they otherwise have access to tools and resources that make it go faster. A lone PC craftsperson takes longer, but you get to save money. Chillax. :P

Archives of Nethys puts the price at 200 gp. I'm guessing one of the sources typoed, but which one?

Well, that is TWICE the price of an Adamantine Weapon Blanch, so I would assume Nethys is wrong on this one. 20 gp is on par with all the others (same price as the Cold Iron one).

Ghost touch is a pretty important property, just like adamantine blanch is. Keep in mind all adamantine blanch is good for is overcoming DR. Incorporealness is like the best DR (not even enhancement bonuses can do more than slightly mitigate it). No, I'm inclined to favor Nethys on this.

Plus, have you seen the PFSRD entry? It doesn't even give a source.

So I actually made the cold iron & silver blanches first. In that case, Carina will spend the rest of her time making the requested ghost salt and adamantine blanches.

I'm not upset. Just pointing out one of the silly nonsensical quirks of 3.5/Pathfinder.

Edit: I believe the blanches come from the PFS field guide. I have the book, I'll check.

Edit 2: They are 200g each.

Yup. Page 48, according to AoN.

Okay, I've officially used up my patience with the crafting rules for the month, so I'll trust DCat to work out the rest now that this is cleared up.

And for the record, Feral, I'll consider making house rules if a new character ever pops up who wants to craft more than an acid flask or two. Keep that in mind for Tanith's replacement! ;)

For the Ghost Salt blanch, I'm going to use the Archive of Nethys value for SP: so, that's 2000 SP of progress to shoot for. Also I'm going to use the DC for crafting adamantine blanch because I just want to get this silliness over with.

And you know what? F~&& it, I'm just going to take 10 for the rest of the Ghost Salt blanch. At 128 SP per day, it'll take another 15 days for a second Ghost Salt blanch.

4th of the Richfest Festival (June-July), Year 595 — Day 93 of the campaign.

Halfway into the third week since the group's arrival, as Carina is just finishing the first dosage of the complicated salt recipe (as it turns out, the ectoplasmic remains of incorporeal undead are quite hard to come by, and may not even actually exist outside of laboratories. Fortunately, Carina has a laboratory), the party receives word from Celeste: Manzorian's return will be delayed just a week more. According to Celeste, "Some aurumach rilmani tried to detain him for...reasons, and he got stuck recovering his spells on the Outlands. Time passes really slowly over there. He was about to plane shift here when he messaged me, so he should be back home in a couple weeks."

Richfest is the third of the Greyhawk Calendar's four festival weeks. Celene is full once again and high summer officially begins. Midsummer Night (Richfest 4) is the one night of the year when both moons, Celene and Luna, are full; all lycanthropes are active during this time, and things of great portent are likely to occur (depending on the positions of the wandering stars in the lairs of the Zodiac). [Richfest is also the time of the Summer Solstice, and holy days for Pelor and Rao.]

Some time over the next ten days, those who have commissioned new gear have it delivered to them.

It is nearly three more weeks before the group again hears word.

12th of Reaping (July; it is now High Summer), Year 595 — Day 108 of the campaign (hey, it's been over a hundred days since you went to the cairn!).

It is late evening, and Eben and Rodrigo are returning from a visit to the Free City. They find the entire party waiting for them, with Cymria tapping her foot at the front. "Finally," the elf complains. "Where have you two been? The archmage is back and he is waiting!"

“We were visiting the Free City. It’s not like we’ve been waiting for him for weeks or anything....” Rodrigo complains back. “If you’re in such a hurry, lead the way.”

Having succeeded at burdening Carina with weeks and weeks of work during which she'll be hunched over beakers and flames and only come down late in the day smelling of alchemical ingredients, Eben spends the ensuing weeks trying to achieve his real goal of seducing Tanith.

Okay, no, but really, if I'd realized how insanely long those took I would have just bought them directly. I mean, it was only saving me a couple hundred gold. Sorry, Carina! Thanks for your hard and stinky work!

Oh, and deducting a further 180 gp from my savings, then.

Eben returns from the Free City outing with a spring in his step. Being yelled at by Cymria isn't quite enough to bring him down. "Relax. He's an archmage. If he really wanted to know where we were, he'd have found out. And probably sent something really frightening to round us up and bring us back. Actually, that could have been a great way to impress my date..."

Cymria scoffs. "Fine, whatever."

Tenser's Castle can be reached by a half-mile-line stone causeway. Cymria nods to the others, then starts walking.

When the goods arrive Tanith looks them over briefly in secret. Excited to see everything is there, he waits until the party's gathered for dinner to spring the surprise.

"Before Rodrigo and I get started on the second bottle, I wanted to give you guys something", the big man says while dragging the still corked bottle of wine from the aasimar's grasp. "I'll be right back."

Excusing himself, Tanith departs for his and Carina's room. A few minutes later he returns but dressed in new clothing (or as much clothing as the Kordite normally wears). His meaty hands and big feet are clad in a glossy black material and an almost knee-length kilt of similar make is wrapped around his waist. The dark material looks thick and rigid when he's still but becomes supple and almost fluid when he moves highlighting every curve of the huge suel's muscular physique. Wrapped around his broad shoulders is a midnight black cloak which appears airy and diaphanous on the inside but, from the rear, it's opaque and angular scales become visible when the light hits it at the right angle.

"After I got the goblins to butcher her, I had them preserve the hide so I could get it tanned later. When we got into Magepoint I took the leather to a craftsman in town and got some things made for everyone. I was worried they wouldn't be finished in time but they showed up this morning", he says indicating the large crate cradled in his arms. "Everyone sit down, it's time for presents! People normally give out presents for Richfest right? I'm sure I heard that right."

Resting the heavy container on the ground, Tanith begins digging items out.

"This one's for Eben", he says presenting the bard with a long sleeve that's open on one end and made from dark glossy semi-translucent material. "It's made from some of Ilthane's wing membrane. Gloremiah, the leatherworker, said it was a quiver cozy! You needed one of those right? I honestly have no idea what a 'cozy' is."

"And these are for you two", Tanith says offering Astraden and Farrukh each a scabbard made from a similar material. One is incredibly narrow, suited for a rapier or saber. The other is clearly shaped for Farrukh's weapon of choice. "I know your godfather's sword is really important to you. I thought you should have someplace special to rest it when it's not in use", he says to Astraden. "And I'm sure the Wind Dukes will appreciate us caring for their stuff", he adds with a nod to Farrukh.

"You don't really have any weapons that I've seen", the big man explains after pulling a short but broad satchel from the crate and dangling it in front of Rodrigo. "So I had Gloremiah stitch together a coin purse for you. Now your money will be protected from acid!"

Last he unfurls another cloak, similar to the one Tanith's already wearing but a bit shorter and much more narrow.

"This one's for you Red. It's not really your color (either of them) but it'll protect you. And it I think you'll look great in it", he adds with a lecherous smirk. "Sorry about the vinegar smell. I really thought you wouldn't notice and I didn't expect it to stick to me for so damned long."

***

"He's ready for us?" Tanith says in disbelief. "And he's really here? Are there any special rules for meeting an archmage?"

Farrukh belts on the scabbard.

"It's surprisingly smooth." he marvels, running his fingers up and down it.

"Now I wish I'd gotten you something back, this is pretty great Tanith."

---------------------------

"I'm pretty sure etiquette calls for you to give him the hardest hug you can possibly manage, Tanith. Just squeeze him really hard."

"I'm pretty sure etiquette calls for you to give him the hardest hug you can possibly manage, Tanith. Just squeeze him really hard."

Tanith cracks his knuckles and rolls his powerful shoulders. "Got it!"

"From the one archmage I've known?" Cymria puts a finger to her mouth, thinking hard. "Don't criticize his table manners. Don't compare Mabwick's Planar Encyclopedia favorably to The Aramiah Treatise: The Ins and Outs of the Planes. Don't point weapons at him (he hates that for some reason). The Circle of Eight is a touchy subject. He has a weird phobia of tiny dragons, so don't put any of those near them if you like them un-incinerated." She starts counting on her fingers. "Don't criticize his teaching skills or mention how his most promising pupil went off to live in a dingy mining town to prop up some worthless relative. Don't eat food with a dagger (he's a huge hypocrite about the 'table manners' thing I mentioned earlier)."

She seems to be getting into it now. "Don't call him 'Manny'. Don't call Mordenkainen 'Mordy', either. Actually, no wordplay about archmage names. At all.

"Don't make comments about how the playing field between warriors and magic-users is unbalanced; you'll trigger a huge argument. You can swear, but he doesn't like it when other people swear by specific gods' names unless they actually worship those gods. Don't ever talk about the moons. He...doesn't like to talk about the moons. Bards are okay, but no songs by that one bard..." She snaps her fingers, trying to remember. "L. Minstrel! None of his work. Manzorian doesn't think that's real music. No yelling in his ear, no dog-earing his ancient manuscripts, no flying around the castle..."

She trails off, frowning. "I mean, most of these aren't huge. He probably doesn't even realize half of them bug them." Cymria smirks. "But, well, it's my job to notice things."

Feeling astoundingly exhausted from the long, arduous process of refining adamantine shavings and ghost remains into weapon blanches (and shooting Eben at least one dirty look over dinner as a result), Carina just blinks in surprise as Tanith unveils the gifts he got the party.

"Wow..."

"This one's for you Red. It's not really your color (either of them) but it'll protect you. And I think you'll look great in it."

Carina takes the offered cape and puts it on with a smile. "Great. Now all I need is a chainmail bikini and I'll look like I've stepped off the cover of a cheap fantasy pulp."

"Sorry about the vinegar smell. I really thought you wouldn't notice and I didn't expect it to stick to me for so damned long."

"I imagine you'd have been more successful if you bathed some more." She playfully pokes his chest.

Or at least didn't insist on plowing me senseless every night.

...actually, that idea sounds horrible. Scratch that.

"Seriously though, I'm still an alchemist. I might've been huffing more than my share of dangerous fumes lately, but I can still recognize vinegar when I smell it."
------------------
At the mention of hugging the archmage Manzorian, Carina just facepalms and says "Tanith... no. Just... no."

Farrukh Al-Khatel wrote:

"I'm pretty sure etiquette calls for you to give him the hardest hug you can possibly manage, Tanith. Just squeeze him really hard."

Tanith cracks his knuckles and rolls his powerful shoulders. "Got it!"

"Oh!" Cymria raises a finger. "Almost forgot, kinda important. General all-purpose archmage tip: They are insanely, unhealthily paranoid. I once saw Manzorian shoot down a bird that flew too close to his head. With a meteor swarm."

She doesn't elaborate on whether or not this means a hug is out of the question, however. She leaves that open for Tanith to decide for himself.

"From the one I've known?" Cymria puts a finger to her mouth, thinking. "Don't criticize his table manners. Don't compare Mabwick's Planar Encyclopedia favorably to The Aramiah Treatise: The Ins and Outs of the Planes. Don't point weapons at him (he hates that for some reason). The Circle of Eight is a touchy subject. He has a weird phobia of tiny dragons, so don't put any of those near them if you like them un-incinerated." She starts counting on her fingers. "Don't criticize his teaching skills or mention how his most promising pupil went off to live in a dingy mining town to prop up some worthless relative. Don't eat food with a dagger (he's a huge hypocrite about the 'table manners' thing I mentioned earlier)."

She seems to be getting into it now. "Don't call him 'Manny'. Don't call Mordenkainen 'Mordy' (they both really bug him). Actually, no wordplay about archmage names. At all.

"Don't make comments about how the playing field between warriors and magic-users is unbalanced; you'll trigger a huge argument. You can swear, but not by gods' names. Don't ever talk about the moons. He...doesn't like to talk about the moons. Bards are okay, but no songs by that one bard..." She snaps her fingers, trying to remember. "L. Minstrel! None of his work. Manzorian doesn't think that's real music. No yelling in his ear, no dog-earing his ancient manuscripts, no flying around the castle..."

She trails off, frowning. "I mean, most of these aren't huge. He probably doesn't even realize half of them bug him." Cymria smirks. "But, well, it's my job to notice things."

The corners of Farrukh's mouth lift up ever so slowly at hearing a laundry list of things he can use to annoy Manzorian. He tries his best to hide it.

At the Richfest feast, Eben accepts his new bit of quiver bling with pleasure. "Wow, I never even knew I needed one of these, but check it out!" he says, slipping the cozy over his quiver. (Of course he brought his quiver to dinner. Why wouldn't he?) "That is one badass looking quiver now. And I'm sure it'll help prevent routine wear and tear too! Thanks, Tanith!"

---------now----------

"Ohh. Good thing Astraden and I de-petrified that fairy dragon, then. Um. Does he have any strong feelings about tiny dragon heads that originally were a part of a much bigger dragon?" Eben points to his back, where he has contrived to mount the talking dragon head atop his newly black dragon themed quiver.

"moon is not your friend...bigger dragon, dragon...oh gods I am a fop..."

The group proceeds along the bridge on foot. It's a short walk before they arrive at the fortress.

A single human guard sits before the gate. He's currently in the middle of eating some sort of pie, and doesn't notice Spiny's Six until they're right in front of him.

"Oh!" He stuffs the last piece of pie into his mouth, then stands at attention. He looks between the party and the gate, then nods and scampers off. He waves up at someone, and the gate swings open as easily as if it had been freshly greased.

"Come, come!" he says, darting behind the group and ushering them onwards. "In! And within!"

The group is taken through the courtyard, where a strange sort of garden pulls away to reveal the white stone path, and into the beautiful central tower. Although far from ostentatious, the fortress and its keep speak subtly of great wealth and power.

Since they came to Magepoint, Rodrigo and Eben have felt their magic heightened slightly. But here they can actually feel currents of arcane power rippling through the air and even the fortress themselves. They are entering the lair of an archmage.

The guard politely gestures for the characters to proceed into the study, quietly taking up a position a few feet down the hall from the entrance. His skin and cloths begin to take on a grayish consistency, and within moments an identical stone statue stands where he did.

This long, airy chamber has a high ceiling and generous adornments. A deep blue carpet covers much of the floor. The walls are thoroughly covered by a wide range of paintings, each depicting a different exotic locale or dangerous region. The paintings are rendered with extraordinary skill, and seem almost like windows looking out on remote locations around the world. Several overstuffed chairs sit throughout the room,and at the far end looms a massive antique wooden desk, its surface a tangle of scrolls, books, statuettes, stone tablets, quills, vials of ink, and an expensive dragonchess set, its pieces arrayed in mid-game.

And behind the desk sits Manzorian. The archmage's age is hard to gauge—his hair is a soft white, but his posture is youthful. He wears colorful blue silks. A vaguely disturbing staff hangs next to his chair. He is currently in the middle of utterly devouring some sort of cooked fowl, and doesn't seem to notice the adventurers as they enter.

Sitting in the corner of the room is Agath, the current director of the temple-library. He nods to Spiny's Six.

Manzorian.

"Oooh, this place is tingly!" Rodrigo comments on their way through the fortress. He does a double take when the man turns into a statue. Amazing!

When they enter Manzorian's office, Rodrigo returns Agath's nod. He waits politely for the archmage to look up from his bird.

"Mr. Manzorian?" Carina offers a curtsy to the archmage before taking a look around for a possible seat. "Thank you very much for meeting with us today--we have an artifact that we would like to show you."

"Hello!" Farrukh says cheerily.

"How did you enjoy your Richfest? I know you were traveling somewhere, but at least the moons were really nice this year weren't they?"

Manzorian shrugs at Rodrigo and Carina, but does look up from his food for a moment at Farrukh's question. He scowls. His mouth is still full of what looks to be chestnut-stuffed goose.

~I was in Arcadia,~ says a deep voice in the adventurers' heads. The archmage swallows. "I did not see the moons."

He goes back to his meal.

Astraden receives the new scabbard with a grin. "Now I get to stab Ilthane every day! Thanks, Tanith."

She takes the opportunity to show off some of what she's been working on with Tanith. "Ostane cela noḱ go izgori na zemJata," she says, touching Carina's clavicle. The alchemist feels her exhaustion (from working on Eben's potions) briefly ebb.

She holds up her mask. "Temperance is a sin," she intones, and the group feels vigor and something like a mental chuckle pass through them. "These ought to help keep us from getting stuck out of fights so often," she explains.

When the group visits Manzorian, Astraden keeps quiet as they walk down the hall, carefully watching her surroundings for signs of traps and hostile wizard forces. "So ALLUSTAN was this guy's favorite pupil? Better be on guard."

She pulls a sheaf of papers out of her pack. "We've got some notes Eligos wanted you to read. To make a long story short, the Age of Worms is coming." She drops the partly bloodstained package on a pile of scrolls, within Manzorian's reach if he stands up.

It was the notes that was the primary purpose of the consultation, right? Though, Eligos should be with us, so he doesn't really need the notes??

Like Rodrigo, Eben does a double take when their escort turns to stone. Unlike Rodrigo, he is less impressed and more horrified. "Did that just... guys, is nobody else..." Not seeing anyone else react in the fashion he expects, he tries to keep it in, but nevertheless the first thing out of his mouth to the archmage is: "Do you just... petrify all your servants when you don't need them?"

"Yes, yes." Manzorian takes a bite out of a leg and starts chewing it hurriedly. He eats like a starving animal. ~Eligos gave me his recollection already. By the way, I appreciate you reincarnating Eligos, but it would have been better had you held off. Agath here,~ he gestures with the bizarrely clawed goose leg, ~could have simply resurrected him without any need for tiresome species shifts. Of course, you weren't to know that.~ "Mm."

He swallows. "Regardless. If you have anything besides those notes to share, now would be a good time. Any clues or documents—or anything you have not told Celeste and Cymria—would be quite welcome. And please be quick. Celeste's and Allustan's enthusiastic endorsements—not to mention your much-appreciated rescue of Marzena—" He takes a bite again. ~—have persuaded me to hear you out, but this is quite an irregular privilege to bestow upon unknown adventurers. I have many individuals and collectives vying for my attention. I am, as they say, an excessively busy man.~

He swallows and pauses at Eben's question. "Tsk. Certainly not."

Carina's hands involuntarily clench into fists as she hears Manzorian's voice in her head.

Calm down. He's not Zyrxog.

"Very well. We've retrieved a fragment of the Rod of Seven Parts. And we have good reason to believe that it's connected to the Age of Worms & Kyuss." She nods at Farrukh. "We wished to speak with you to learn more of this rod."

"Farrukh, would you kindly show him the rod piece?"

"Sure." Farrukh shrugs and pulls out the rod piece.

He presents it, but makes sure to keep a grip on it.

"Well, if getting stuck in slow-time planes is a common occurrence, your business is understandable."

Astraden glances at one of the wall hangings - a picture of the great land-bridges, rivers, and pillars of fire of Ysgard, intertwining in a knot so complex that it strains the eyes. "Nothing else about the Age of Worms, no."

Did my Knowledge (religion) check about Kyuss have a result? Might've missed it in my harried catchup.

Rodrigo keeps his mouth shut. This guy's kinda a dick. I guess that comes with the territory. Wonder if he can hear this? He waits for the mage to offer more information.

~Interesting.~ Manzorian lowers the drumstick and seems to scan the item. "The largest fragment of the Rod of Law. That is quite the find."

He seems to note Farrukh's caution. "You needn't worry. I am not a thief—what an adventurer earns in their ventures does not belong to anyone but themselves. Unless the undead from the robbed tomb track them down. Reportedly, that is a legal gray area in the Free City."

Despite his assurances, he reaches out towards the rod, eyeing it intently. "It is indeed connected to the Age of Worms. The prophecy predicts that several major magical artifacts shall surface in the months before the end, in fact. The Black Blade of Aknar Ratalla, the Tome of the Black Heart, the Obsidian Eye, the Dread Forge, the Bindings of Erivatius, the blade Excalipoor, and, of course..." He gestures to the fragment. "A fragment of the Rod of Seven Parts. I'm sure that more are to come."

I asked for a clarification on what you were looking for, Astraden.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

"That's...interesting. Any idea WHY so many will be showing up?"

Also, "Excalipoor"? I thought that was just a Final Fantasy thing.

I think it's when you find Excalibur in someone else's garbage. ;)

"The shift between Ages is not some minor birthday party." Manzorian goes back to eating. ~Mind you, this does not indicate that these artifacts have a role to play in the realization of the Age of Worms itself. Only that their appearance marks that the time is near. By the same token...~ He swallows. "...Well, perhaps I should not ask."

"Well, I'd hate to break it to you, sir, but we have reason to believe the Age of Worms is walking right up to our doorstep." Carina sighs. "Have you heard what happened during this year's Champion's Games?"

"Mm. Yesh, yesh." Manzorian waves a hand. ~The Age of Worms is on its way. That's quite obvious to anyone with an ear to the ground, which, sadly, leaves us in the minority alongside the worms. Doomsday prophecies are quite run-of-the-mill, but the Age of Worms can be traced back over two thousand years. It does not change. It does not evolve, or get reworded by cultists eager to shift it to suit their own agendas. It is a constant.~ He swallows. "More importantly, predictions it made have begun to come true. As you have seen yourself, Spiny's Six."

"And what does all that mean?" Tanith asks, finally speaking up for the first time after a lengthy internal deliberation on whether he should take Farrukh's advice or Cymria's. "For you and us? For the world?"

"The Age of Worms is foretold in a prophecy that speaks of a comic apocalypse, an age of death and writhing doom. It's a doomsday scenario. If it comes true, it means you, I, and everyone we care about will be trapped in a nightmarish new multiverse. Bear in mind that these are not human ages. They are not confined to the Material Plane." Manzorian grimaces, then shuffles a large hunk of duckflesh into his mouth. ~A darkness approaches. If or when the Age of Worms does arrive, everything you care about will change. Forever.~

"Yeah, even I got that part and it all sounds really f$+#ing bad. Raknian had his own small-scale version planned for the Free City after the Games. My question is: What do we do about it? Knowing s!!$ is only half the battle. My friends and I have been lucky enough to keep stumbling into the fools aligned with this prophecy but we're punching blind out there. If we coordinated our efforts we could get a lot more done."