The Shattered Coil

Gharu'ndim

Sho

Viamontians

Ispar History

Auberean History

Texts

Rumors

Part One

The Eye of The Sleeping One had opened in less time than it took to gut a Moar; Morgluuk and Torgluuk had seized the opportunity for their race. Hundreds of years of servitude and abuse would be rectified by fulfilling the greatest prophecy of the Burun. They would cross the vast Pide and destroy the matron saints of the Fiazhat race, a race that for several millennia ruled the surface of Bur and brought the burning lands to cover the face of the world.

They had acted swiftly when the coil shattered and the whir of the endless tunnel hummed to life. Torgluuk, at the prodding of his brother Morgluuk, called to their clutch, promised them glory beyond the endless tunnel and incited them to the point of frenzy. Volunteers poured forth from the youngest of the clutch, some no more than three years from their shells, and they were sent in large squads into the tunnel.

Since the Eye had opened, most of the clutch had taken to swimming beneath the waters of the swamp and moving to the mire’s edges, where the Eye would dry the muck into a soft crust. There they would rest, placing mucor stumps between their lips and draining the intoxicating juices. Mucor only gained its potency when the Eye drew across its hood. It was a delicacy enjoyed by all Burun, and one that had been missing for one hundred and twelve years. During all that time the Ruuk had been bereft of this taste.

During their years beneath the world’s face, the Kukuur had developed a method to grow the mucor in underground caverns and achieve the same effect upon the mushroom that the Eye had on the surface world. Since the Eye had last closed and wept, they were the only Burun to have access to the tasty concoction; they were loathe to allow any other Burun to enjoy the taste. Mucor was the most sacred of the fungus that The Sleeping One had gifted to the children of Bur, as was evident by the change that happened when placed in direct view of the Eye. Kukuur elders believed that the strength of the intoxicant was too great for an ungifted shaman to control, so they restricted the intake of the mucor’s juice to only the most eld: the six masters. The Kings of Bur’s clutches.

Of course, mucor was stolen on occasion by wily and unwise Ruuk youths. Those who were not indoctrinated to the way of The Sleeping One would fall into spasms that collapsed their lungs and ate their insides clean. Those who were given over to The Sleeping One’s art would sometimes die in horrific throes as well, but more often than not they would achieve a euphoric state that made them nearly insensate.

Cultivated or properly harvested mucor had quite a different effect. Some remembered the proper ways to cultivate and harvest the potent mushroom; others relied on the teachings of those with the memories of prior lives to cut the fungus for them. Torgluuk was one who remembered. The lives he had lived in the past ran strong within his veins and soul; the gifts of The Sleeping One had only enhanced those memories and abilities. He had taught his clutch to harvest correctly many years before, and this auspicious time was the first that the clutch had opportunity to put his teaching to use.

In the two passings of the Eye since the endless tunnel had opened, there was only one death from a poorly harvested mucor, though many instances of euphoria had been recorded. Torgluuk took great pleasure in that fact. It meant that the teachings of the only noble Kukuur he had known were true. A mentor, Tkrowerk, had once told him that splitting the mucor along the center of the shaft before snapping the root clear of the ground and tapping the top of the hood would drive the spores into the juice, where they would dissolve into the fluid and bring the euphoria. He had taught this to his clutch and it turned out Tkrowerk had not lied.

Upon reflection, Torgluuk realized, the events of the past two passings of the Eye had been Tkrowerk’s legacy. Tkrwoerk had taken Torgluuk under his tutelage some eighty years prior. He taught him the black rites of soul shredding, and the ways of the fungus. He taught him the language of the Fiazhat, explained how the Kukuur kept control of the massive hulks, the Guruk and how they kept the Ruuk firmly under their control. Tkrowerk was a Kukuur who saw corruption within the hierarchy of the Kings, he wanted change and for that insolence he was struck down and soul-shred. His memories and knowledge lost to Bur, all save that which was passed to Torgluuk. Often Torgluuk wondered how much of that knowledge had been passed to him.

In the violet glow cast by the endless tunnel, Torgluuk now sat in contemplation. No others were present, and he cast his thoughts to Tkrowerk and the things that he had told him of these days.

All things that are, are gifts of The Sleeping One.
The bomutur slug that dwells in the stomach of the swamp
that grows into the stinging wasp that dwells in the mire
comes from The Sleeping One, as does the Moar who hunts our kind.

We cannot forget that the Fiazhat, perhaps our greatest enemy,
came from The Sleeping One.
They were our brothers once.
They were turned and twisted by the their foul gods and forgot
to honor The Sleeping One and have no doubt suffered
fates worse than the shredding of the soul.

I know that I shall not be present when the endless tunnels open again.
I know that you shall be, little Torgluuk.
You and your brother shall lead the first war parties through those gates.
I have seen you there at the opening of the way and the opening of the Eye.

There will be a time of no weeping, but it will be short-lived.
Betrayal will tear through your clutch and some will call to the Kings.
In their folly they will find death, but you shall have immortality.
You will stand beside giants who rival the strength of the Guruk,
you will walk with beings of cunning near that of the Ruuk.
and you will sup with a race of beings whose avarice is unmatched,
even by the Kukuur.
I have seen one other that will stand beside but its image is unclear.
Its purpose is very clear, to be the Eye for all the worlds.

You, little Torgluuk, will have what no other Ruuk will ever have;
the secrets of the Kukuur.
The knowledge of their corruption, and the strength to recall that
at the beginning of all time we were here to worship The Sleeping One.
Remember, little Torgluuk, revere the Eye and know that it is one of many.

The Kukuur Kings have heard the whispers of our ancient brethren’s matrons
and have damned us all.

“What choices will I face?” Torgluuk asked to the air.

“Choices that will bring glory and immortality to our clutch.” Morgluuk peered at his brother over the rise of the outcropping upon which Torgluuk sat. As he came into view, Torgluuk saw the mud shell that covered his body.

“Did you draw from the sidelong mucor?” Torgluuk asked.

“No.” Morgluuk leapt into the air and landed in a crouch; the mud shell cracked and splintered apart in several areas, exposing his deep purple flesh beneath. “I felt it best to keep my wits about me. My savages are also partaking only of the properly harvested fungus. We are aware of the Moar moving closer. Three packs, underburrowers and breathers. Not the same fire breathers with talons of ice that were coming before. There are a great many more now. They hear the call of their mothers.” Morgluuk’s tongue shot from his mouth suddenly and snagged a bomutur wasp from the sky. A mystical charge sputtered as the wasp was quickly tucked into his gullet. “We need to call the clutch together. There has been no word from those who crossed the vast Pide.”

“Yes,” Torgluuk nodded in agreement and tapped the edge of the koruu koruu fungus. At once a brilliant blue light appeared beneath its hood. Above them the Eye of The Sleeping One drew toward the horizon; soon night would fall and darkness would consume the land. “I have already Pined the truth of why they have not returned.” It was a lie, but Morgluuk was none the wiser. “The Sleeping One tests us. Any who pass through the endless tunnel will not return until the gods beyond have been swept clear. Only then can we return to Bur and claim our rightful place over the Kukuur and Guruk.”

Morgluuk’s mouth twisted into a wide grin and exposed his rows of jagged teeth. “I am pleased. How soon before we pass into the tunnel, brother.”

“Soon, Morgluuk. First we must make The Sleeping One’s desires clear to the clutch. Then we must make preparations to alert other clutches. We cannot stop with this temple alone. Our subterfuge will not last and then the Kukuur will follow us and try to strip the victory from our talons.” He rose slowly and stepped to his brother. “Can you and your savages manage more bomutur for a feast?”

“Do you think we cannot?” Morgluuk challenged. Torgluuk placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“See it done my brother. Tonight we discuss our plans for the conquest of another world.” 

The meal had been satisfying. In the muck, the entirety of the clutch waited for their leaders to stand on the branch of the muloo tree and speak of what would come next. Ugluur was among them.

Ugluur was a soothsayer who often led some of the younger chosen of The Sleeping One in chants, prayers and song. He respected the ways of the Kukuur and the hierarchy of Bur and had reviled the decisions made by Morgluuk and Torgluuk since the tunnel had been opened. He knew that Morgluuk held more sway with the Shaman than a lowly savage ever should. In the interest of self preservation however, Ugluur had wisely kept his thoughts silent. There was no reason to earn the ire of the leaders while zealotry was so rampant amongst the clutch.

He sat in the swamp crouched to his ears. The water was cool and chilled the heat that coursed over his flesh. Unlike so many others within the clutch he had decided to not waste his day caked in muck, sucking down the juice of the mucor fungus. That was the province of the Kukuur and he had seen the seizures that gripped the fool who had tried to harvest the mucor and failed. He waited in silence. About him there were other soothsayers and several warriors that would protect him should he speak his mind. They thought much as he. He had quelled their tongues and saved them the wrath of Morgluuk’s savages but this night would decide whether he could help them longer or if he would need to let them suffer the fate of returning to The Sleeping One’s mass.

Several moments passed and then Morgluuk made his way to the outcropping. From there he leapt to a vine and swung into the air, flipping twice and landing on the branch of the muloo tree without a sound. He crouched there and spoke.

“We have spent hundreds of years beneath the girth of kings grown fat on the power that flows so freely through them. They have kept us as the bomutur wasp keeps its young; beneath the scum of the swamp, away from the seats of power and legend. We rot here on the outskirts of Bur, while they sup on the fattest fruits of the yola tree and enjoy the protection that our weapons, claws and teeth afford them from the Moar. We have suffered for hundreds of years, brothers; but no more!”

The clutch cheered and croaked in assent, chanting Morgluuk over and again. Praise was given to The Sleeping One and thanks for the return and opening of the Eye. There was a palpable rapture washing over the crowd. For a moment Ugluur felt it too.

“The Sleeping One has called to us and we, The Clutch of Tkoruk Guruul, have answered!”

Another rousing burst of cheer spread through the crowd. This time Ugluur could not fight the desire to cheer with his clutchmates and soon he found himself chanting Morgluuk’s name in unison. Their voices spread through the night and they knew that if there were Moar stalking them this night they would think twice before entering the area of Tkoruk Guruul.

Morgluuk raised his arms and hushed the clutch. “Brothers have already passed into the endless tunnel and we wait still for their answer. My brother, Torgluuk, has heard the whispers of discontent.” Ugluur glanced about him quickly, had he been discovered? A chant rose discounting Morgluuk’s statements and Ugluur joined in emphatically. His head swam and he realized that there had been something done to the bomutur flesh. “That discontent will end this night!”

Waves of chanting broke out in unison again. Ugluur sank beneath the surface of the mire and swallowed a large gulp. What had been done to the bomutur? Could it be the harvested mucor? Thoughts rang through his head with such speed that he thought he might scream. The warriors who he once thought would defend him with their lives now chanted for Torgluuk and Morgluuk with such vigor that he feared they might turn on him for suggesting they fall silent. They may yet know that he meant to subvert their claims and bring word to the Kukuur. He shook his head beneath the surface of the swamp and blinked twice before surfacing to hear the cheering fall to a dull roar as Torgluuk walked to edge of the Tkoruk Guruul Temple and raised his arms.

“Clutchmates! We have been gifted with an opportunity to prove ourselves the greatest of the races of the Burun. We are at the center of prophecy and we must heed the will of The Sleeping One and recognize that he has cast his Eye upon this clutch, above all others!” He paused but kept his hands raised. The gesture signaled that he needed silence. “Brethren have walked through the endless tunnel and have not returned. This is true. But what we did not know, we now learn.” The crowd listened with intensity, but Ugluur was clearing his head. He mumbled spells beneath his breath and forced the drugged meat from his body.

“The Sleeping One desires the eradication of the false gods who scarred the surface of Bur and allowed the corrupt Fiazhat to rule the world in our stead! But this test is one that we cannot fail, or our souls and our bodies are forever lost beyond the tunnel on the world of the Fiazhat gods, across the vast Pide.” Silence still. Ugluur felt his body purging the poisoned meat and felt his faculties returning. “Brethren, this is our task. We must split our clutch.” Murmurs sprang up here and there, but a quick hiss from Morgluuk silenced those foolish enough to protest. Ugluur’s mind was nearly whole again now. “Some will accompany Morgluuk and I to the Clutch of Yurko Utaal, the rest will pass through the tunnel and establish a home on the world of the usurpers. There you will await our arrival. We shall join with the Clutch of Yurko Utaal and make our way back to the tunnel to join you; then as one we will overthrow the gods who would destroy Bur!”

Torgluuk dropped his hands to his side and the clutch erupted in a frenzy of cheers, chants and croaking for several moments. Ugluur hopped from the safety of the swamp into the vines of a nearby toluu tree during the reverie.

“What of the Kukuur?” Ugluur called. The clutch fell silent. A low growl could be heard coming from the muloo tree. There, Morgluuk bared his rows of teeth toward Ugluur. “Will they be told? Or will you have us defy our masters and purchase the shredding of our souls?” Angry croaks began in the crowd and Morgluuk crouched to leap toward Ugluur. Torgluuk raised his hands, and all fell silent. In the darkness, none could see who had called out this challenge. Ugluur felt his heart beat faster and knew that his breath had quickened, but he felt vindicated that he had made the stand. If The Sleeping One saw this as his final moment, so be it.

“The Kukuur have stood atop too many Ruuk corpses; they have made the Ruuk shoulder their frailty and inability for too long. This,” Torgluuk gestured to the violet glow of the tunnel, “is a sign of The Sleeping One: the sign that we, the Ruuk, are his chosen. We will heed this call. The Kukuur will learn of this in time and may well pursue us through the endless tunnel.” Torgluuk paused and Ugluur considered his response. As he opened his mouth Torgluuk began again. “But what will they find?” Torgluuk paused briefly and then spoke in a deliberately syncopated rhythm “A world in ruin!” Torgluuk’s hands dropped and the teeming mass of the clutch leapt as one. Ugluur shifted uncomfortably in the vines, preparing to leap away quickly. “We will go to the home of the Fiazhat gods, we will bring the cleansing life with us and we will overrun all that world has to offer! There will be none who survive! We shall scour that world clean, we shall boil the entrails of Bur’s enemies and sup on their souls! We will prove that the Ruuk are the true rulers of Bur and chosen of The Sleeping One!” Torgluuk’s last statement was so loud that the Kukuur very well may have heard it thousands of miles away.

Madness overtook the clutch and Ugluur watched in awe and horror. Never in his days had Ugluur seen such lunacy. Weapons were drawn and slammed against shields; his clutchmates leapt from the swamp base into the trees and danced as if possessed. The sound was deafening: a torrent of splashing water, bone against hide, voices raised in alarming unison, chanting for Torgluuk as if he were The Sleeping One. The cacophony did not dull; it rose to crescendo and threatened to wane time and again only to begin crashing like the tides of the great sea once more.

Ugluur leapt from the safety of the vines away from the Temple of Tkoruk Guruul. He leapt into a nearby moluu tree and heard the bone sword drawn behind him. Morgluuk had given chase.

“Where do you mean to go, soothsayer?” Morgluuk’s voice was thick with the threat of murder.

“I will warn the Kings and they shall come to crush this insurrection. You are mad with power, you and your brother,” Ugluur spat back. He was not afraid of Morgluuk, or so he told himself.

“Ha! Your innards will feed the swamp this night and I shall hunt your eggs and spill their contents. I will make that my makeshift casting of the soul-shredding,” Morgluuk challenged. He leapt to within two branches of Ugluur, but Ugluur stood his ground and drew his sickle and shield.

“You will do no such thing.” The voice was Torgluuk’s. In the swamp behind them, the teeming mass of Burun chanted, screamed and sang to The Sleeping One and to Torgluuk and Morgluuk. “Ugluur will leave here with his head, heart, soul and innards intact, my brother.” Morgluuk gnashed his teeth and clamped his jaw tight. “Go join the others, Morgluuk. I will return shortly.”

Morgluuk pointed his sword toward Ugluur briefly, then leapt down toward the maddened crowd.

“Why, Ugluur?” Torgluuk asked.

“You are a shaman, not an elder. Only elders can interpret the will of The Sleeping One. You overstep yourself!” Ugluur replied.

“I say you have let the King’s poison enter your head so that you do not think for yourself.”

“Think what you want, zealot. You go against the very order of all there is and expect that you shall live! You are the biggest fool that the Ruuk have ever whelped and you shall be the undoing of us all,” Ugluur protested.

“So you say.” Torgluuk crouched and remained very calm.

“I could kill you now and end this madness,” Ugluur threatened.

“You would make me a martyr, damn your soul to nothing and drive that mob through the tunnel as one. My eggs would hatch with the knowledge of my lives, but yours… my brother would find them and drink them. You would be given the pitiful end.” Torgluuk shifted to a more comfortable position. Ugluur inched closer. “If you so wish to end my existence and spill my innards to the swamp I will not protest.”

“You’re mad.” Ugluur shook his head in disbelief.

“What you call madness I revere as enlightenment.” Torgluuk moved back to a crouch. “I have spared your life this night, Ugluur. But I cannot save you. You are dead even now, though you know it not. I promise you, my brother, you will know all there is to know about the Kings and your place before your soul is stretched thin and cast from all there is. That choice is yours. I would have bled by your side and stood with you in victory against our enemies on the other side of the tunnel.” Torgluuk shook his head and Ugluur felt the rage within him giving way to fear. “Go. You will need this night. I will need to appease Morgluuk by letting him set hunters on you. They will be weaker, but still able to skin your hide.” Torgluuk moved along the vine to Ugluur and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ugluur lowered his sickle as Torgluuk approached. “I am sorry that it was you this task came to, brother.”

With that, Torgluuk turned and dropped from the vines and into the swamp below. Morgluuk embraced Torgluuk when he landed and they were swept into the mass of celebrants dancing in the mire. Ugluur spat down at them in defiance and sheathed his sickle. He then turned and bounded through the vines, northward toward King Browerk.