"I guess it's the color of marrow. Kinda." Astraden scrutinizes the naga, kind of zoning out on the threats-trading and other conversation. When Carina brings up Bucknard, though, she pays attention. "Ah, yeah, that was the whole point of this thing huh? He was a wizard. Stuffy, presumably. Human-sized? Any chance you saw him, Sruggut? We don't have much time to chat."
"Also, you may have thought my friend was lying, but we might indeed give you some teleportation magic if you help us out here."
"Okay, new theory," Astraden whispers to Eben. "What if it's just alternating different textures? Soft, hard, soft. Next room we'll face like, a snake made of metal."
They'd try, and they'd fail.
"Well, thanks for your hospitality, Sruggut." Carina says after clearing her throat. "We haven't exactly had the warmest welcome here."
"By the way, did you, by any chance, happen to remember a gentleman named Bucknard that supposedly came here?"
[dice=Diplomacy?]1d20+18
[dice=AP Boost]2d6
Sruggut frowns. "Bucknard...Bucknard...Why do I know that name?
"Ah!" Its eyes light up. "The wizard! The wizard! Agh, that has been...twenty years? Or close to! I dwelt on the upper level, then, studying in the Halls of Knowledge. And we had a visitor. A curious old man with a heart full of hatred and fear, driving all but the greatest foes back and blasting the rest into oblivion. He called himself 'Balakarde', but I knew he was lying about his name, just as you are, 'Korush'." It lets out a choked chuckle. "The ruins were more deadly, then—many creatures dwelt outside the ring, or so he said. He never descended into the lower levels of this ziggurat. Just kept to his shelter, and visited on occasion to ask me questions."
It gestures with its head towards the nest of books. "He gifted me with potent arcana, and promised to help me escape from this prison if I told him what I knew. Hkkk!"
"Okay, well that's interesting to know. What did he do when you told him?"
"I guess he lied..."
"Hkksst!" The worm naga's eyes narrow to slits. "He listened, and took notes, and returned day after day...until one day, when he asked me a question I should not have answered!" It retches and spits out a vile mass of dark phlegm. "As soon as I told him, his skin went pale, and he flew off. I never saw him again."
Sruggut peers at the party with dark, empty eyes. "You will not betray me like that, will you?"
Tanith remains mostly silent while the others interview the talkative naga. He didn't trust the creature but he also couldn't help but pity it.
"Why aren't you like the others?" Tanith finally asks. "They seemed hungry or just mad. Why are you the only one working to escape this place?"
"I mean, for the record we did meet a worm naga that was willing to be helpful, earlier," Astraden reminds Tanith. "But yeah, we definitely wouldn't betray Sruggut 'like that.'"
"I have always been a mighty sorcerer, even before we were 'changed'," Sruggut says proudly. "I have mastered the magics to sustain upon a feast of the arcane. And that has made...all the difference.
"For the others, the earth's bounty has been their eternal feast. Tell me, wormfood...have you ever looked closely at the dirt beneath your feet? It must feel strange to you. Porous, perhaps. Squishy. Squishy. But have you looked closer at it?"
"What, you mean the weird soil inside the obsidian wall? Yeah, it's spongy. I tried bouncing up and down on it, but even that was more gross than fun. Made squishing noises."
"Wouldn't want to eat it, no."
"And the ground outside... it feels so wrong. Like it's... well, like it's dying."
"The worms of the Wormgod sift through that earth. They wriggle around your feet now. They are everywhere. Infinite, sustained by the power of the Wormgod. Food, for the desperate." Sruggut lets out another horrible choking laugh.
"How can an infinite number of worms exist in a limited area?" Farrukh wonders.
"It has been two thousand years since...our binding. This accursed Obsidian Circle has kept us trapped since then, and since then, they have had nothing to eat but the worms. But the worms have remained. They do not feed. They do not breed. They simply are. Always. That is how, Korush."
"Okay, and what's your kind's relation to Kyuss? Stands to reason it was because of your affiliation with him that you got locked in the circle too." Astraden has moved a little closer, now, but still not entered the worm naga's room.
"Oh, we were his servants," Sruggut says. "His favored arcanists, though his true power was always rooted in the divine. At the apotheosis, we were those gifted with this new form of life. And when the Ring was placed, we were bound with the rest."
"Ah, past tense. So you're no longer his servants?"
"Some are still. But he left us a long time ago. Here to rot." The look in Sruggut's eyes is utterly alien. "Here to stay."
It suddenly cocks its head. "So, did you say you have teleportation magic?"
"...Yes, we can teleport. Out past the ring, if that's what you're really asking. Does it pen in any of Kyuss's 'servants' that try and teleport over it on their own? How, exactly, did Kyuss himself leave? We know he was imprisoned here and at some later point a dragon broke off the top of the spire... was that it?"
"So we've seen 'flashes' of the past. Things like the celestials sealing this ring, whatever that...thing was that seemed to mentor who I assume was a mortal Kyuss. Could you explain those? Where they come from, and exactly what they mean?"
Carina lets the others do most of the talking.
...I'm not sure it'd be a good idea to let her out of here...
"...Yes, we can teleport. Out past the ring, if that's what you're really asking. Does it pen in any of Kyuss's 'servants' that try and teleport over it on their own? How, exactly, did Kyuss himself leave? We know he was imprisoned here and at some later point a dragon broke off the top of the spire... was that it?"
"You are...close." Sruggut's voice is distinctly uncomfortable. "The ring came after...but Kyuss wasn't exactly, erm...I don't...Much of it is blurred by millennia. I have spent years seeking to develop a teleportation spell in my blood, but necromancy has always run too strong. If I could teleport, I could escape, for my bond to the Wormgod runs weak. You will take me from this place? Beyond the Ring?"
"So we've seen 'flashes' of the past. Things like the celestials sealing this ring, whatever that...thing was that seemed to mentor who I assume was a mortal Kyuss. Could you explain those? Where they come from, and exactly what they mean?"
"The apotheosis of Kyuss," Sruggut says simply. "After Kyuss...after he...after that, the celestials came, with the weavers, and bound the rest of us away. And so we lingered, gathered around the Spire like coals and embers around a smothered inferno. The memories linger, too. Shadows of the past, bound as surely as we by the will of the Harb...Harbin..."
Its eyes screw up and it lets out a hoarse shriek. "I cannot speak to it! Nor his ascension! The horrors of that day...He holds my tongue like a pair of hot tongs! The Fountain holds the shadow you seek, but its price is steep. Steep. Steep." It shakes itself, as if shaking off flies.
Carina scratches her head, rather puzzled and disturbed. "Um... okay. What is this Fountain you mentioned? And where is it?"
"East of the Writhing Chamber, where you entered from." Sruggut seems agitated. "But you shouldn't go yet. What if you die before you're able to teleport me out?"
"Then you're stuck here until someone else comes along. I have a feeling, with the Age of Worms approaching, that there will be others seeking either answers or power here. Others for you to bribe into freeing you. When we take you out of here, we're going to keep tabs on you to make sure you aren't fulfilling some secret aim of Kyuss, and we can't easily do that when dead. It would be irresponsible."
"Harbinger of Worms?" Eben finishes helpfully for the struggling naga. "We've heard of it. 'Weaver of woes, traitor to its race, friend to the master', was the exact description."
"Is that thing still in charge down here? That's the 'it' that you can't speak of? Basically, Harbinger got your tongue?"
"Mm." Sruggut gives a sort of half-nod.
Astraden's forehead furrows. "Wait, Eben, something you just said reminded me of something. Sruggut, you said the things with the celestials who raised the ring were 'weavers.' Is that what they're called, or is it a metaphor?"
"It might be. It is also what we called them." Sruggut blinks. This time, his eyelids close sideways, though the sharper-eyed adventurers are positive they closed normally before. "Spell weavers, helping to tidy a tangled web."
"Huh. Do they have six arms and look kind bug-ish?"
"You think they're the same as that lich we saw in the vision?Wait, yeah, that's it - 'Weaver of woes' - that's not wholly a metaphor either, is it?" Astraden asks Eben. She turns to Sruggut. "Is the Harbinger a lich?"
"Well, if it's a 'traitor to its race', and the weavers were helping the angels pen in Kyuss and company... yeah, it stands to reason that its possible."
"Weaver of woes...weaver of woes...Why does that sound familiar?" Sruggut doesn't appear to have heard Astraden's question.
"Well, it was the Apostolic Scroll that called it that. You ever meet whatever it is that serves as its brain?"
"Oh, yes. I read a copy of those once. They're still in circulation?"
"Hey, I asked you a question. Is the Harbinger a spellweaver lich?" Astraden reminds Sruggut. "It probably sounds familiar because it's a pun. A really, really s%~$ty pun."
Sruggut's head lowers in what might be a shrug. "What is a lich? A miserable pile of ambitions inside a magic box. Take away the box, break it open in holy judgement, and what is the lich, really? Can you still call it a lich? What is a roast boar if you remove all but the apple?"
"That's a little strange. So the Harbinger . . . doesn't have a magic box?"
Astraden looks back up to the fork in the corridor. "We should probably get going. We laid down a lot of spells before coming here, and we might as well make use of them before we leave. What's down that corridor heading east?"
"The Fountain," Sruggut says, looking at Astraden like she's an idiot.
"Wait, you said the Fountain corridor was by the exit. I'm talking about the corridor just up there." Astraden points at the corridor. "There's a drop-off."
"Oh! You speak of the Sea of Worms. I have never been there."
"Oh, I don't know why not. That sounds like an incredibly pleasant place to visit on a bright summer day..."
"With a boat. That flies."
Carina shivers.
"What kind of price does the Fountain ask?" Cuetzpalli asks Sruggut.
"I do not know. Only that it is steep. Potentially fatal." The worm naga squirms, clearly agitated. "Before the apotheosis, it was filled with a deadly poison, kept for special rituals honoring our lord. The worthy would drink and survive, and be gifted with the to-be-Wormgod's favor. The weak would die, and be raised to join his legions as undead soldiers. My throat burned for weeks after drinking, but I of course survived. But...I do not believe it is as it was, now. But the shadow always lingers over the fountain."
"Hmm. Eben, you're the one who wants to stick a worm in his ear. You think we should try drinking from the fountain, when we get there?"
"I don't know that being 'gifted with Kyuss's favor' sounds like it's worth the risk, honestly."
"Here's a hint--it's probably not."
Feral
