The closer Scourge gets to the sow, the more it can pick up on sensorium. By the time it gets to the shadowed hall outside the shrine room, it's nearly the same as being the sow. With people, it was usually just sight and sound, but since hogs don't really think about much, Scourge is getting physical and emotional information as well.
The sow isn't happy, but also isn't complaining. She doesn't like the room, or the tower, or stairs. She does like the food though. She's thoroughly enjoying some sort of bread or cake that fills the bucket before her. At the opposite end, things are a bit more intrusive. It's uncomfortable so far, but.. cake.
"Focus, don't lose yourself to the hog. And thankfully the hog isn't too uncomfortable or complaining. Food does wonders. Such simple minds they have," thinks the crouched down, muted, fungus. It has even managed to mute down his glow so that he practically disappears in the darkness.
Other senses are at play as well. Scourge knows that Persal and Lester are in the room. Their auras are no more happy than the sow's. "I have the water bucket," Persal says, and then Lester makes uncomfortable sounding regurgitation sounds. There are two plops into the water.. and then the Naga moves away and really gets sick. The odor is enough to even get the sow's attention for a moment.
Scourge is extremely glad it cannot smell at the moment. Still, it cannot help but feel awkward and uncomfortable at the moment along with those inside. "Ugh, that part I could have done without," it thinks.
Persal is bathing the stillborns. Who knows what gunk they picked up in the Naga's gullet. There are other preparations too. Bottles being handled, corks pulled.. and then the sow gets a really weird sensation: something it pushing into her, and fluid is coming out of it, but it doesn't feel like a boar. It's making her all.. loose.. and warm.
Scourge twitches. "Ugh, some sort of muscle relaxant. That is ... ugh." it thinks. It also realizes Mave likely knows what it is they're using; it may have to ask her. Failing that, Gorphat might know.
"Waste of good wine," Lester complains.
"It's too strong for you anyway," Persal says.
"Wine? Wine has never made me that loose!" Scourge thinks. Granted it has in many other ways...
The sow is starting to feel a bit numb after a while. But not at the cake end. That's doing just fine! So when the big things are pushed in, she doesn't mind as much. It still feels weird, but not alarming.
Persal's aura shows him on the verge of being sick. No wonder he had Seylen do this part. The arm has to go in so deep..
"Ewwwwww, again. But ... maybe it's just like the pony and the mare. Yeah, I'll think of it that way so I don't feel so icked," Scourge thinks, and finds a way to rationalize what it might feel line!
While the passage is numb.. the womb isn't yet. The wine didn't get past the cervix until the fetus pushed through, so now there's a lot of odd things happening and the sow grunts, and lets out a massive burst of flatulence. Persal can be heard coughing, unable to escape as he's past his elbow into the hog. "You must be a sacred hog of Gorphat.." the man complains, withdrawing his arm so that he can.. do the whole thing again with the second stillborn.
Scourge has to struggle not to laugh! "Good for you. That was deserved," the fungus thinks, terribly amused by its bit of protest to the whole situation. Though Gorphat doesn't have sacred hogs, but if it did, such a release would probably be fatal...
Several uncomfortable minutes more pass, and Persal makes washing-up sounds. "Any new candidates yet?" he quietly asks Lester. "No, my lord," the Naga replies. "There has been one stillbirth, but not a twin."
Scourge thinks, "/That was ... not as bad as when Taahira gave birth, truth be told. The concept is .... worse, but the pain was not that bad. At least then the hog doesn't suffer. Well, yet." It remains in the shadows, listening. It has to know when the /last/ shipment is to come.
"Head back after you clean up," Persal tells Lester. "I'll see to the hog. Tomorrow is the regular check in, and they always prefer that nothing sit too long."
"Mmm rotting baby, everyone's favorite meal," Scourge thinks in a fit of sarcastic grimness.
Soon the sow's lead is being tugged, and now she complains. There might still be cake crumbs in the bucket! She bites into the side of it, deciding to take it with her in case it grows more cake inside. "No, put that down," Persal urges. "Don't be a bad piggy."
And that's Scourge's cue to retreat down the hallway and out of sight so that when the door opens they won't spot him!
The door does open, and is held by Lester as Persal tries to get the sow out of the shrine room. "It was much easier getting her in there," he points out to Lester. "Maybe you should talk to it like your daughter does," the Naga suggests.
So Persal kneels down, strokes the sow's head and says, "You a good pig. Very pretty. The boys must trip over their own tusks when they see you. Don't you want to go to your special place now? There'll be more cake there."
The sow doesn't understand any of that, of course. But does seem to calm a bit. She follows the man before, and got a treat. There may be further treats if she follows again.
"Oh good grief," thinks Scourge as he listens in to such silliness. "Does anyone really fall for that?"
"Should I fetch more cake from the kitchen?" Lester asks.
"I don't want to be trampled.. just a few muffins, perhaps. If she gets stubborn we can throw one where we want her to go," Persal says, and the Naga slithers off towards the kitchen on the floor below.
"She isn't that big. I know a much bigger hog," Scourge thinks a bit smugly. Still, I suppose for an old man she is large! It waits in a side hallway for the serpent, sow, and Persal to pass ... then waits a bit longer before he resumes following.
It does take both men to wrangle the hog down the stairs and back to the pens. "Will there be a battle tomorrow?" Lester asks once they reach the little fighting pit stadium. "No, not tomorrow," Persal replies. The sow is gotten down the ramp (she likes ramps better than stairs) and put back into her cell, along with the remainder of the muffins. "Just two more," the old bat sighs. "Goodnight, Lester."
"And those may not be required. I just have to follow this one to its final destination and what happens to it ... then slip in a poisoned pawn so to speak and take them out," Scourge thinks as it paces about in the shadows of the battle arena just outside the pens.
The Naga leaves, heading further down to use the old stable entrance to the tower. Persal lingers a bit, probably catching his breath. Then he begins to make his way back towards the upper levels.
Scourge slinks down to the lower pits where the hogs are typically caged, curious to see how the hog reacts to it now. And no, it will not feel parts of itself to them! More that it may try to communicate with the beast.
The sow sticks her snout through the bars and flares her nostrils at Scourge. There's definitely a sense of recognition. Animals don't think in words, but the symbols seem to suggest a name: Noisy Truffle. Her own self-image may as well be Queen.
"Uncomfortable? Bloated? Worried?" Scourge asks of it in rapid succession to see if it understands word-based questions.
The sow gronks. "I had cake," she seems to respond. "All of the cake, all for me."
"The cake is a lie," Scourge replies.
"I eat lies. Lies taste good. I want more," the sow replies.
"There isn't any more, I don't think. Do you know where you are going?" Scourge inquires, "Where the others went?"
"Going?" the sow asks. "Will there be more noisy truffles where we go?"
"I don't think so," Scourge admits. "I don't know where it is yet. I expect you to tell me."
"How tell you before here is there?" Queen replies, getting more sophisticated in conversation. Pigs are clever though.
"You might have heard from others!" Scourge thinks as it shrugs its wings.
"What others?" Queen asks, and looks across to the boars in the far cells.
"The ones that came before you. Oh... never mind. How is it being pregnant?" Scourge asks instead.
"Fun. Can eat lots more. Boars stop bothering me," is the reply.
"Doesn't the last bit of it hurt?" Scourge inquires.
"Not after first one," Queen claims. "Over quick. Then suckling. Then love. Love love love. Babies love Queen."
"Ah, well, yes," Scourge says, "I suppose I should be going and leave you to your muffins."
"Angel is returning," Queen advises. "I smell her."
"Right, time to go!" Scourge thinks as it heads out of the area quickly. It has to get back to her room and shift before she arrives! Otherwise ... there may be some explaining to do.
A suss of the situation puts Trystle and Seylen several floors above - they used the 'front door' of the tower. So there should be time for the shift.
So a hurried dragon thing makes its way back to Trystle's room and inside. Once inside it flops down on its 'bed', and disappears into shadow. It has to fast shift, so things might be a little uncomfortable and weird ... but it is still better than scaring the girl.
There's that midway weirdness again, where the two forms briefly interact. And by the time the shadow has withdrawn, the door latch is rattling. It shouldn't be rattling.. Trystle knows how to open a door, after all. She's just having some difficulty at the moment. But she does finally remember which way it opens, and staggers into the room with a big grin on her face. "Oh, Bertrum!" she says, and flops-hugs onto the boar. "I had fun. Real fun. It was.. fun.." she mumbles into the thick strip of hair along the boar's back.
The boar is a bit off-balance when the hug strikes, so over the boar tips! It lands with a grunting thud and with Trystle laying on top of his side. It's short legs flail a bit as it snorts a few times. It might be the hog declaring this is undignified; but can a hog feel undignified?
"I've decided to run off with the gypsies," Trystle says. "I will sing and dance and wear bright clothes and pick pockets and flirt with everyone. I'm sure there are gypsies that come through Babel. There must be.."
Boartraum snorts and shakes its head. "No, your father is trying to make things right. Do not run yet..." the boar thinks as it manages to roll upright without squishing the Eeee.
Trystle sort of flows bonelessly off of Boartraum's side. "But.. then I'll still be living in the tower. And he'll make me get surgery, soon as he has the money."
"Surgery?" Boartraum wonders, head tilting.
"My nose.. or throat or something.." Trystle says. "The bit that makes me snore. He says my snores can cause migraines in Eeee."
"But that wouldn't change who you are," the boar thinks. "Is that so bad?"
"I'm afraid of doctors," Trystle says, staring at the ceiling. "And what if that's what makes my voice special? What if I can't talk to hogs if I don't snore? I'd have to.. make friends.."
"You have already made friends, haven't you?" Boartraum thinks. "And I don't think it is what makes you able." He still intends to have Cyprian examine her if he gets a moment to ask him.
"I could just find a deaf boyfriend," Trystle claims. "I drank something tonight that's supposed to relax my throat. So.. if I don't snore tonight, then I've found a solution. It does mean getting drunk every night though."
Boartraum noses Trystle in the side for that. She doesn't seem drunk, but then she is always a bit weird.
The nudge releases a monumental burp from the girl. And that smells of alcohol, certainly. It's probably relaxed more than just her throat. It also makes her giggle.
Not to be outdone, Boartraum burps too. Unfortunately ... from the other end.
This makes Trystle laugh wildly, and even roll onto her belly. "You are soooo competitive!" she declares.
Boartraum's reply to that is to lie on top of Trystle. Granted not all of his weight, but enough to pin her to the floor.
"Heeey, no funny stuff," Trystle says over her shoulder. "I'm too smashed to appreciate it." She burps again.
Boartraum sits down, a bit heavier.
Trystle burps much louder, and for longer. "You're gonna squeeze the fun out," she accuses.
Boartraum grunts at her, drools on her forehead, then clambers off. He goes back to his pile of blankets and settles.
The girl groans, and pulls herself up to go flop onto her bed, clothes and all. "If anyone tries to wake me up tomorrow, eat them," she asks her roommate.
Boartraum dutifully nibbles on her toes.
And Trystle kicks and curls her legs up against her chest. "No nibbles.." she mutters, already fading a bit.
"Good. She's already sleepy ... which means I can go follow the sow delivery now. And if she does have a hangover, she'll be asleep for a long time," Boartraum thinks as it gets up to sneak to the door and let himself. out. He'll shift in the area. Not risking doing it here in other words.
The arena is quiet, since the only living minds down here are the hogs and Trystle - and Scourge, of course. It knows the moods of the others in the tower, but they can be tuned out, more or less. Most are asleep, after all. Even the sow is asleep.. but it might not be a bad idea to dose her with fresh spores. They don't last forever after all.
And so Scourge does sneak down into the pens so that it can puke, metaphorically speaking, on the sow! There's a fungus among us.
Queen snorts in her sleep, drawing more of the spores into her sinus, conveniently next to her brain. It isn't clear what she's dreaming about, but there is a good chance it involves baked goods.
And then Scourge looks to see if it can hunker down and hide in a pen to wait for those who will come collect her. "There was probably an easy way to do this," it thinks, "But I always seem to do things the hard or weird way."
There's a big pile of loose straw, no doubt to replace the dirty straw in the pens with each day. It could certainly cover Scourge. Maybe composting is relaxing to the creature?
Into the straw goes the dragon thing! "And now ... waiting. Good thing that's easy for fungus to do," it thinks as it settles in, shifting about a bit to ensure that it is completely covered.
Time passes strangely for Scourge. It doesn't sleep, after all, but clearing the mind lets in bits and pieces of those around it. A mosaic of hog dreams and Trystle dreams. These blend in odd ways, which is why Scourge thinks of a pig-headed girl doing a made-up dance that is mostly spinning around in a many-layered skirt.
"Great, I'm going even more crazy," comes scourge's more lucid thought in an otherwise very odd mental state. "At least when the General and I destroy each other that will end."
Eventually a waking mind approaches. It's Persal Hortus again, who couldn't have gotten very much sleep in just a few hours. He enters the pen area and opens the sow's cell so he can attach a lead to her collar. Then the bag of muffins is deployed, as he waves one near her snout (but not in lunging distance - he doesn't want to lose a hand after all). "Wakey wakey, pretty baccy.." he chants.
"Bacon? Not a nice thing to say," Scourge thinks as its mind returns to some sort of coherency. "I guess the handoff is soon; he's come for her..."
The sow rouses and grunts her complaint, but that is forgotten with the offering of the muffin. It's a crunchy ones.. probably has beetles in it. She's up on her feet and more willing to follow the old man after that. Or at least follow the bag with more muffins in it. At least Scourge which route they'll be taking to the ground.
Which is good because Scourge has to give them a bit of a head start so that it can remain hidden. The less the old man knows, the better. He's already at risk from contact with the Barsunala. Contacting Scourge would only make things worse at this time. Or at least so the dragon thing figures. Only after a few minutes pass does Scourge finally rise and follow after.
He arrives at the outer door before anything has actually happened, aside from the Nagas with the wagon having arrived. This time they have a Rugrhat in the back as well, while they try to coax the sow up into the wagon. "There will be at least one more shipment after this," Persal is telling them.
Scourge looks to see if it can slip outside and hide while the others are distracted. If it seems like they might notice, he'll wait. But if it has a chance ... it'll take it!
Since it's barely dawn (or late-day by the Babelite standard of 'the day starts in the evening'), the Nagas are still wearing sweaters. Like all cities, Babel runs non-stop, but different parts of the day tend to be dominated by different species. The cooler mornings are usually when Fnerfs are busiest. As such, the reptiles are a bit slow at the moment, and while one is focused on securing the sow, the other is focused on Persal. They may not even be capable of being aware of anything else at the moment, and since daylight is just kissing the tops of the towers still, there are lots of shadows to hide in.
So ... out Scourge slithers, keeping low to the ground as it makes its way towards one of the larger and deeper shadows to nest itself in. "Now it is just following them and the various handoffs," it thinks.
Tulani is also out there somewhere.. but Scourge doesn't sense her yet, since this pick up is earlier than the previous one. The sow is finally secured, and the bigger Naga takes up the Dromodon's lead and starts to tug it along. The smaller one nods to Persal, and says they will check back in a few more days. Then it has to hurry a bit to catch up. It unslings the crossbow from its back to hold it at the ready - in case of bandits, probably. Persal slumps a bit, and then shuffles back into the tower.
"It is almost done. You may soon be able to relax," Scourge thinks. It once again waits for a bit to let the serpents get a bit ahead before it moves. When it does finally move it is to take to the air and move from tower to tower that way, gliding between them at a safe distance from that which it trails.
There isn't an issue of losing sight of the wagon (which does go into artificial tunnels made of precariously stacked debris) since Scourge knows where the sow is in relation to itself. This makes it much easier to remain hidden. Which becomes more important as the Nagas head for the edge of the city, beyond the bowl and into the hills.
"Heading for the mists then, likely one of the outer ruins," Scourge thinks as it now has to drop low and slither through the vegetation and underbrush of the wilder lands outside of the city
Indeed, the first destination is a familiar one - a small ruin along an overgrown road. One that Alptraum has used as convenient transformation spot when traveling between Temples. And one time for dragon-trysting with Tulani. It's a wonder that didn't cause it to collapse.
"Hah. I think everyone uses this spot," Scourge thinks as it hunkers down in the distance. There should be a hand-off here if things go the way it has been explained and determined. There may be more still, but this is the first so that the possession chain is broken up.
There are definitely others waiting in the ruin. Scourge susses two people, and after the Nagas take the wagon inside, it soon departs along the old road again, this time escorted by a pair of Fnerfs. As before, there's a big one - who in this case has replaced the Dromodon, and a smaller one armed for defense.
"Ah fnerfs, I remember the large fnerf that Nikky had a crush on," Scourge waxes in thought while the exchange is done. Like before, he waits a bit for them to get moving before he starts the slow slithering after them in the brush and shadows. He also affords the ruins a wide berth to be safe.
This is the time of day when most Eeee are least active. Vartans generally keep to the city, so it turns out to be the best time to be traveling out in the open in sunlight. There are more ruins along the way, and places where the road seems to vanish completely. The final transfer takes place just outside the Valley of the Mists, along a much better preserved ridge road with an old outpost. The transfer doesn't take place inside though, since Eeps are notorious for nesting in ruins near the Valley. The wagon stops there, and the sow is brought down to a pair of Eeee in rather nondescript uniforms. The transfer is already inside the mists themselves, if not the Forbidden Zone proper - Alptraum knows what happens when men who've spent a lot of time in the Mists try to leave it.
"Ah, yes, the crazed and possessed ones ... the ones that will die horribly now if they leave. Lovely," Scourge thinks and sighs. Soon it has to follow the hog into the mists. It is pretty sure it knows their destination, that horrible fortress. The question is what they will do with it.
The wagon is turned around and taken back along the way it came. It's mid-afternoon now, but in the Mists it's always twilight. The pair of soldiers feed the sow something, and Scourge can feel the numbing effect through the spore-link. The sow goes where she's led, without putting up a fuss.
Which is important, since she's being taken into the Forbidden Zone.
"Drugged. Wise honestly. It would go mad in the mists. Maybe I did already," Scourge thinks grimly as it is on the move again and soon finds itself disappearing into that shadowy twilight.
The Mists don't hold any madness for Scourge.. just that unnerving sense of comfort. The landscape is alive to its senses, where the differences between plant and animal, flesh and spirit are blurred and even smeared across one another. To the eyes, the place is oppressive and gloomy and alien however. The path is initially familiar.. but the hog wranglers turn off of it near a wobbly moaning crystal tree-with-eyes-and-beaks formation.
"Another way? Not for fortress?" wonders Scourge. It focuses on the hog more than the landscape to avoid feeling too comfortable here. It does not want to find this place a home and get stuck here too.
The terrain changes, becoming spongier (and fleshier) as the path dips down. The mist is thicker here, in what seems like a bowl-shaped depression. There is something up ahead that seems massive to Scourge's sussing, but also spread out. It brings to mind a candlestick on a doily.
"Is this some sort of disturbed tree of dead children ahead?" Scourge wonders as it slows a bit, but continues ever onward. It focuses on the area now, on what is alive and what might be watching, as it still pursues the hog. It is fairly certain the hog is going to meet a grisly end soon enough in an effort to extract its ... cargo.
There's a hazy sort of life to the area, so it may be more spirit-based than physical. There's also a third person ahead, next to the wide base of the tree. Scourge is under the branches now, which spread out like a ghostly canopy over the bowl. It isn't clear just what the person at the tree is.. or if they are somehow part of the tree itself. "Who approaches Gol-Sotot, the Tree of Turnings, the Roots of Unlife," the figure demands. It isn't speaking Eeee or any other recognizable language.. but the words are clearly understood nonetheless.
"We bring fresh Soul Empty Ones for the glory of Gol-Sotot," one of the soldiers claims. The guardian of the tree, or priest, or whatever bids them to approach. Now there's motion in the tree itself.
"What is this? Why do I feel this is ... bad?" Scourge wonders as it moves as close as it dares before settling down to listen and watch. "Empty, right. I could have ended up this way too given my circumstances."
The sow is presented, and the guardian places its.. hand(?).. on her head. "These are acceptable," the figure proclaims. "The transaction begins." Two glowing vines descend from the canopy, and pass right into the sow without seeming to disturb her flesh. They withdraw holding the two stillborns, carrying them up into the canopy again. The hog appears to be unharmed by this.
This ... surprises Scourge. It expected the sow to be eviscerated on the spot; that does seem to be the way of the General and her cronies after all. Scourge now looks upward at the canopy, wondering just what is within.
Two more vines drop down, these much thicker and each with a large, translucent pod at the end. The pods lay on the ground and then burst open to reveal.. srinalas. Apparently grown from the dead infants. There's nothing there to suss. The two soldiers pick up the women and drape them over the back of the hog. "Gol-Sotot is pleased," the guardian says. "The purity of flesh, uncorrupted by spirit is a gift. Use it wisely."
Scourge honestly feels sick. It doesn't particularly believe in any religion, no matter what it is involved with and yet this horror and abuse of the dead is wrong on so many horrible levels. It makes its skin practically crawl. If nothing else, this has to be stopped.
The soldiers are leading the hog away now, using it to carry the not-dead-or-alive Lost.. presumable to the fortress, to host shoggoths.
"And they will likely dine on the hog there. I think I have seen enough," Scourge thinks. It starts to back away from the tree ahead, then trace its own path back out of this horrible place. Its mood is grim, but what was seen was not entirely unexpected. "How do I deal with this? How do I stop this creature? Does anyone know what this creature is?" the dragon-thing ponders. More questions and never enough answers.