Nodding at Szasa's suggestion and finding no other way out of this area, Tarn goes back downstairs and scouts the way further down the unexplored corridor.
To the east () you reach another compartment of retainment cells almost identical to those where the wraiths found you. You get the same deathly chill, and hear their ghostly whispers as you get closer...leading you to think perhaps taking a different route is best. Also oddly, there is no black mass protecting the portal to that group of cells.
Heading north instead, you turn another sharp 90 corner and eventually reach another book repository, similar to the one you burned earlier. But remember how there wasn't a necromancy section? Here they all are. This entire wing is dedicated to necromancy. There is no giant tome here like the Principae Antiquus, but easily more than 300 works are cataloged.
If touched, they are found to hold experiments after the introduction of the 'Battery'...here actually referred to as the 'Writhing Battery'. From its description, it sounds like the thumping noise source you've been disturbed by.
Works are titled Life Energy and How to Control It; Sweet and Salty: Vitae from the Young and Old; Heard you thought I was Coming Back and so on...again, these works are likely quite priceless to the right collector. They discuss how to prolong life (and in some cases, how to prolong unlife).
A blue chalk arrow points at the southern archway and black mass, with that same silly Orc B and the constellation of the Tears of Selune. Another corridor continues west.
"Again, let's spread out and look for any tomes that have odd crystal-like symbols on the cover as there were in the other library. They will likely be the necromantic version of the tomes that we destroyed before. Also, bring any tomes that talk about the battery in them over here as well." Szasa indicates a table that she will be working from before starting to look through the shelves herself.
Finlogan Produces Flame on his staff ready for the book-burning, while pulling tomes off the shelves one at a time and kicking them into piles of symbol and non-symbol.
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"I have some healing still available".
On Falko>> Cure wounds at Level 4 #1
WIS Save or 1/2
On Szasa>> Cure Wounds at Level 4 #2
WIS Save or 1/2
Daryl will help in the searching.
Investigation
Daryl, you come across one entitled The Primordial Breath: Walking away from That Good Night which seems to suit your needs...
The party collects a large pile of offending books and ponders setting them ablaze. If knowledge is power, humanity is about to get a lot less powerful.
Slight of hand
Tarn simply walk over to the south wall with its corresponding orcish letter and silky black door. Leaning a shoulder against the hard surface and running his dagger along his fingernails to clear out the usual dirt and grit, he watches as the others scurry about piling books and readying them for the torch.
Szasa is going to start doing research on how to destroy the Writhing Battery can be destroyed.
Szasa, most of the writing concerning the Writhing Battery is the type of inane and hyper-erudite wizard ramblings that make you like to smoke a f&#$er.
However, the pragmatic tone of one author stands out. This High Nala Kirtap of Temporal Prime, as he names himself, mentions early on an alternative designation for the battery which also serves as his title: The Dark Obelisk. It seems to be a copy of a report or dissertation prepared which was presented to a governing Council as rhetoric for action...
"Every world I've known has its own version of the legend of Worm-that-Walks. If scholars look deep enough into the history of their lands, they may find references to great periods of arcane study or even a purported 'enlightened time' in which society and culture hit heights before an inevitable collapse. I believe now is such a time for Toril."
"Many of these stories include references to newly discovered power sources and powerful fonts of arcane might... In truth, these events are often due to the Worm's promises of might and lore. While the Worm cannot enter the world directly, his agents work tirelessly to bring aspects of his prison -- the Dark Obelisk known as the Writhing Battery -- to powerful mages and sorcerers in the hope of finding a way to release him once more."
"Kyuss has long been entombed within the Dark Obelisk, but this prison has moved several times over the eons. Only one portion of the Dark Obelisk is present in a world at any one time; the bulk of it remains deep within the Tarterian Depths of Carceri."
"It is certain that agents of the Worm -- not to mention the Worm himself -- are granted phenomenal and dire powers when in proximity to it. The environs surrounding any portion of the Dark Obelisk are festooned with dead bodies, squirming insects, foul green worms, and groups of Spawn of Kyuss..."
"The presence of Kyuss and the Dark Obelisk is often a portent of terrible things to come. Insects are more aggressive and plentiful, undead are drawn to the area, and Kyuss' horrific Spawn can often be found in great quantities. These new necrotic effects you are witnessing are only made more and more potent as the Dark Obelisk brings in more faithful followers, it siphons this additional energy from the strands of healing magic itself."
It concludes with a rather emotional appeal to clergy of the time to take action before their divine connections are completely withered away.
Religion
Daryl works extra hard looking and gathering texts, so perhaps nobody will notice that he kept one of the texts.
"We can always come back here and burn these if desired, but right now I think we need to find that terrible thumping sound. Forward think you"?
Lindaer/Daryl, you've not heard of 'Kyuss' but there is something familiar about 'Worm-that-Walks'...like an old wives tale spread about by gravekeepers or scholars of the necromantic arts. There's always talk from those experienced crypt delvers about how some zombies are just plain harder to kill than others...how their wounds close up as fast as you can hack them apart. And how can you tell? By the worms that infest them.
If this Kyuss is in fact a god dedicated to spreading undeath across the Realms, it must be a truly evil deity indeed...yet somehow it has remained so obscure as to be unrecognizable by name. Although now that you think about it, you have come across a cult or two that seemed unusually worm-themed...but you always thought they were talking about dragons.
"What?! Don't your northern schools teach the basics of library use?" The goblin asks with genuine surprise when Szasa asks him to try and search the stacks for a specific set of tomes. "Tsk...tsk...tsk...I knew things were bad here in the north, but I thought for sure Khadi was wrong in how bad things are. My goodness even a commoner first term underling at any academy is able to perform basic library research." He goes on to mutter, shaking his head in wonder as he begins to systematically walk through the shelves.
"Ahhh...yes." He says comparing a couple of the ancient tomes. "These people used an ancient form of the Falconi system. Not quite the same, but comparable enough." He points to a series of small runic letters and numbers printed on the spine of each book. "See. Subject, author, and publication date. Subjects divided into a variety of subcategories alphabetically." A hand rubs his chin as he stops and thinks for a moment. "Let's see. Necromancy, religion...or maybe philosophy...what was the name? Kyuss, yes. Hmmmmm....symbols and iconography. No. Maybe under ceremonies? Or artifacts of power. Let's see...."
He continues searching to see if anything comes up that fits what the sorceress is looking for.
"They do, oh mighty Kalimshamite, but then again I never went to school. I was too busy burning things to the ground. Besides, it's good for you to contribute."
The Zakharan mastermind read like you've never seen (nerd-alert), obviously a genius of the highest caliber. Sometimes inference lead to insight, and at other moments during the research a simple serendipity emerged as a result of being in the right tome at the right time. Needless to say, after collating a few stacks of notes, Tarn is able to piece together a fantastic story of squirms and murder...the sources are quite dark, often the recorded last words of virgins who were live sacrificed by fire or disembowelment in some ancient ritualistic divination. Communion with devils filled in the gaps the virgins left behind, as more than a few Netherese were willing to trade souls for this information. Still, what results is hard to believe, yet seems fitting in some strange way:
"Before the modern empires were established across Faerun, the gods were old. As powerful and often capricious beings, these deities developed wild personalities and were unrestricted in the exercising of their powers. Some gods were wise and careful, and others were more carefree in their explorations, Worlds were bound by common faiths, and many deities found that they were worshiped by different names across many cultures and civilizations."
"But these were not idyllic days by any means. Deep rifts had already begun to form in the familial structure of the gods, and resentments were growing to boiling point. Some deities, like Amaunator and Bahamut, sought to protect the mortal souls where other deities, like Shar and Tiamat, wished to control the mortals. And there were some outliers like Kyuss that felt that the worlds were all existing in a lie: that life and death represented change; that change was the ultimate nullifer; that only in undeath could true power and divinity be reached."
"Using rituals that have since been lost (purportedly by intentional acts) to even the gods, Kyuss turned himself into an undead abomination. His most faithful followers soon followed suit but unlike the fledgling liches that had begun to emerge across worlds like Faerun, their transformations had nothing to do with magic – they were perverted divine beings, with only the smallest of divine sparks but powerful nonetheless. As such, the other gods instinctively knew that their privileged positions were imperiled and they had little time to form and execute a plan of action to control the meteoric rise of Kyuss amidst their various pantheons."
"Only by setting aside their differences and confronting the Worm that Walks were the gods able to defeat Kyuss, but they were unable to destroy or kill him. They could only contain him, and to prevent his return to power they trapped his essence in a massive artifact known as the Dark Obelisks. This artifact was then shattered and its fragments were scattered across the many worlds the deities oversaw For a time the gods could rest easy; they felt that their troubles were at an end as their erstwhile brother’s power was safely torn asunder, never to be rejoined. Each fragment of the Dark Obelisk would hold but one aspect of Kyuss. Though each are powerful in their own right, it would be truly terrifying if multiple aspects joined together as one."
"But in time, the mortal races began to explore and became inquisitive. They found several fragments of the Dark Obelisk. Kyuss' divine essence railed against the ancient prison, and these fragments became known as Writhing Batteries due to their rhythmic thumping and the intense arcane energies that it possessed. The mortals found ways to harness this energy and, as they say:"
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"[At a date that seems to be several hundred years before the Empire’s tumble] fragments of the Dark Obelisk were discovered deep in a dwarven mine. One of those fragments was relocated to [what looks like the area that would in time come to be known as Moonsea] and as the Netherese arcanists worked with the artifact they began to refer to it as the Writhing Battery. They crafted potent magical items but did not fully comprehend the consequences of their actions. Each time they drew power from the Battery, Kyuss was able to install a small portion of his own essence into the world. And when the gods tremble, no good can come of it."
The final pieces of the puzzle are much less clear, but it seems that in their haste to vacate the facility, the Netherese sought to use powerful enchantments that called upon the divine favor of Amaunator and combined them with the might of their mythal and the lost arcane school of chronomancy...but of course all things fade with time. Obviously, these wards are failing, and Kyuss stirs once more...*thump thump thump*
"Well....s#$t."
"A very apt summary O destroyer of cities." Tarn says to Szasa after his research is finished. Rubbing his temples, the goblin suddenly looks very tired his skin pale and ears drooping. But soon enough his goblin spirit kicks in, that unknown spark of energy, determination, chaos, instinct for survival, who knows what it really is. But it is what has always kept his people going and allowed them to survive despite being weaker, smaller, and generally less well thought of then most peoples of the world.
Carefully closing the last book, the goblin steps away from the table and looks back toward the southern doorway and its black shroud.
"Indeed my good Falko. It's time we found this Writhing Battery of Kyuss and put a stop to its constant thumping before it is too late."
He then marches toward the door, drawing his rapier. With hand poised to touch the shroud, he looks to make sure all are ready, then touches it and steps through the arch.
"Ya, I think it's about time."
"And scholars wonder why the Netherese Empire collapsed. Mystra outlawed these magics for a reason."
"Master Tarn, after we finish with Kyuss you should consider sticking around and civilizing the goblins of our region. You could improve the lives of millions of people." The hierophant suggests.
Without looking up, Szasa answered Falko's question, assuming it was for her: "She didn't outlaw all magic because that would mean outlawing herself. It would also take away the only real weapon that mortals have against things like demons and dragons."
The black mass whooshes away revealing another array of retainment cells here...and again the creepy skincrawling feeling of a malevolent sentience watching you through the walls. The air is notably a few degrees cooler yet still damp and almost sweaty...if a corpse could sweat. And again you could swear you hear whispering from one of the cells down the way...
Szasa walks through the cells and and says "There are probably more ghosts here, but we should free them if we can. This place is not a good place to leave a soul untethered, and their tortured existance is cruel enough."
Szasa, you get about halfway through and suddenly to your right inside the cells is a pair of small children (older girl and younger boy) playing something resembling dragonchess. They have very dark skin, almost like a drow, but are thinly translucent around the edges "Sssh. Quiet. Don't look at it...there's a monster in our house." The little boy freezes in terror...they seem to be referring to you.
"I'm not a monster." Szasa whispers out of the corner of her mouth, but loud enough for them to hear. "I keep people safe from monsters."
Seeing the cells, Tarn immediately backs away, ignoring any voices or other things he may or may not see.
"I'd rather not tangle with more of those foul wraiths. Not when we've got bigger fish to fry." He says gesturing up toward the ever present thumping.
"I agree with Master Tarn."
Daryl is overcome with sadness at what is unveiling itself here, but his steadfast determination to get to the thumping is only further enforced by the knowledge uncovered by Szasa.
He simply grunts and keeps plodding forward.
Realizing that the way forward will just bring them back to where they entered the pyramid, Tarn reverses course and heads east down the longer corridor.
Rounding the northeast corridor, you come again to another set of ominous stairs. From the floor here you can spy a foot on the landing just before the staircase doubles back on itself and leads into the ceiling.
The thumping is much louder here and is obviously coming from directly above...a palpable sense of dread clutches your hearts, seemingly as real as someone ringing a bell directly in your eardrum.
"LET'S HEAD UP AND FINISH THIS!" Szasa shouted over the noise. She then took her place in the middle.
The leg on the landing turns out to be just that: a leg with no body attached. Its covered in the highly stylized light blue tattoos of Red Wizards...and the now quite familiar pock marks of Kyuss' worm spawns. The light husks crunch underfoot as you take stair after stair...
10 minutes pass, you are deep within the stone of the inverted pyramid with no end in sight. The thumping is all around now, through the walls, reverberating in the hand rails...surging through the veins in your temples.
30 minutes pass and you are still climbing these damn stairs. All but Falko (who in the final analysis does have the most spectacular thighs) feel like their legs are about to turn to jelly. Some might take to shoving things inside their ear holes in an attempt to prevent the sound of the thumps: some honey comb, a wad of parchment, or spare baby carrots from yesterdays rations. But regardless of the audio solution the vibrations creep through you, asserting its existence here...denying yours.
Finally after 45 minutes you reach the summit. The last few stairs are covered in worms smashed into the corners and edges of the stonework, some of the half smashed ones still wriggling. The clouds you saw from down on the sands are within reach overhead, and roil like storms accelerated through time.
They hang like a haze overhead, uncaring of the structure here: the walls only reaching about 15 ft before disappearing into the thick, dark clouds. You are on some kind of platform though with a single open edge looking down over the sands. There is an elvish word written right on the edge in blue chalk.
The doors to the east however are bulging outward towards you, but held shut by a thick black iron rod that has been inserted into the stonework handles. Worms are being crushed around the edges of the door and below it, essentially being turned into a foul-smelling slurry...slowly pushed along the floor and slurping down the stairs. The entire visage pulses in time with the horrible rhythmic thumping noise. The left door has been inset with a flaring holy symbol of Lathander, and the right door has been inset with a flaring holy symbol of Amaunator.
The black iron rod, though, provides a small spark of sanity and safety when you lay your eyes upon it. For perhaps the first time since you set foot in this facility, you may have finally found a sign of safety. Or perhaps it rather has some wicked enchantment on it that simply fools you into thinking so.
"What the...!? Eeeww! #$^&!" Tarn hollers at Falko snatching his hand away from the barbarian's sweaty thigh. "Loremaster's grace, I'm a married goblin. Surely you'd be more interested in Szasa's opinion of your bulging, sweat covered thighs." He adds frantically rubbing his hand on his threadbare pants to remove any barbarian cooties.
Upon reaching the summit he eyes the bulging, ooze generating, holy symbol flaring, barely held in place by a meager piece of metal, doors with a skeptical, worried eye. "That doesn't look good. Not good at all. I hope we aren't too late. I left my god-killing knives back at home."