Wormer waited in the bowels of the undead beast that had captured him, bouncing around as the creature moved ever forward. He waited and he thought, as that was the only thing he could do as he waited for whatever was about to happen to him. He thought of his past and his current present situation and all the decisions he had made that had led him to this point and wondered if it had been worth it all.

Well, there wasn't a lot to put forward as evidence of his choices being good ones. As his own clan had cast him out, and the rest of his kind wanted nothing to do with him unless they needed his creations to help them for whatever reason. To add to the list of evidence that he had made bad life choices, he was now in some kind of patched-together undead worm being carried off to who knows where to have probably unspeakable things done to him.

Though despite all of this evidence that he had made bad life decisions Wormer knew if he could go back and do it all over again, he still would have created the parasitic worms that had gotten him exiled. As he had done what needed to be done back then, though if he could go back, he probably would have planned the initial attack on the undead kingdoms underground a bit better.

Though just as Wormer began to think about how he could have planned his assault on the underground better, his undead prison stopped. He lay there at the bottom of what would be considered the thing's stomach, wondering what would happen next when the thing leaned forward, causing Wormer to slide forward.

"While I wonder what will happen next." Wormer stated sarcastically in a bitter tone as he got off the disgusting undead flesh that the sudden movement had caused him to fall into. As if in answer several roots suddenly burst down into the stomach and carried him out. "I wasn't being sarcastic!" Wormer shouted out in protest.

In a sudden rapid moment, Wormer found himself going from the guts of a giant undead worm one second to being held up by his limbs by the same undead worm's roots the next second. Though Wormer found his attention focused far more on the giant skull seemingly staring down at him despite having no eyes rather than the roots holding him up by his limbs.

For a long moment there was silence, the kind of dark, foreboding silence that made Wormer think that this was his execution. Then he looked up and noticed the smog that covered this place of the undead was swirling rather intensely, and unless he was imagining it, the smog was getting closer. Which was bad, though whether it was worse than the pure necrotic presence the skull gave off was the debatable part.

Though as time passed and nothing happened but the building of necrotic energies around him, Wormer found himself wishing something would happen already. Though much to his dismay, something did happen and terrified him more than anything had in his entire life. As the skull covered him in its necrotic presence, covering him in a thin layer of necrotic power.

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"My name is Maxwell, ruler of this realm of the undead." Maxwell stated through his necrotic presence that was covering Wormer. "You have attacked part of my realm, and I would know why." Maxwell said to Wormer firmly, demanding he give a reason for his unprovoked attack.

Wormer found himself on the back foot as he hadn't expected the undead to be intelligent or have a hierarchy of any sort. Though he managed to shake of his suprise and respond. "I was paid to attack you by the grass clans, and seeing as most undead are mindless, I was not aware you had any intelligent undead among you. Therefore I wasn't trying to attack a new kingdom but a few mindless undead." Wormer said back through the weird necrotic bubble he was in.

Wormer was watching the skull hopefully, as it seemed he was in some type of strange hearing. So he figured if he could prove he wasn't aware of an actual kingdom and thought he was attacking just some rabble undead sitting around, maybe he would be let go. Though considering he was being held by the undead, that might be wishful thinking.

"Well, you might not be aware of what you were truly attacking; you attacked all the same." Maxwell stated simply. "Therefore you must be punished to serve as a precedent for the realm, and so you will serve the smog root fist until you have worked off whatever you would have been paid." Maxwell stated simply, and before Wormer could reply, he was taken back into the undead worm by the roots.

So once again Wormer found himself waiting, though this time it was much shorter. He was soon spat out of the large undead worm into a large empty cavern with hundreds of roots in its ceiling. Wormer looked around for a long moment, wondering what exactly he was supposed to do.

Then all of a sudden a few of the roots above him came down and wrapped around his head, blinding him, but soon he had a new type of vision as he saw room in the way the roots did, and to add to the strangeness, the roots began to speak to him. "Yes, invader, you will aid us! Make our creations even better than before!" The interconnected smog roots above him said almost screeching with enthusiasm.

As Wormer saw what the smog roots could do for his work and they saw in turn what he could provide through the connection from the roots wrapping around his head, both sides saw the start of a beautiful relationship. To show results for this new symbiosis, they first had the undead worm, a combination of hundreds of dead worms and other parts, fall apart to provide them with the material they needed.

"Now let's see if we can get my taboos to finally be as brilliant as I hoped they could be." Wormer said he was filled with enthusiasm at the possibilities the new relationship could bring. Well, the deep smog roots were just happy to have new forces to add to their army that they could use to defend the realm even better and greater than before, proving their worth to their creator and ruler, Maxwell.

In next to no time, a stone slab was put at the bottom of the chamber, and parts of worm, root, and stone were skillfully combined to create the first of what would be a legion of taboo creatures. Soon it would be clear to all of those of the underground that all of the underground would belong to the armies of the smog root, though not even the smog root knew that. Now they were merely being happy in having something to show off to their creator.

While Wormer would not realize it, this would be something of a prison sentence for him, as was assigned by Maxwell; it would turn into something else. It would become something far greater for him to give him back what he had lost, and for that he would always be loyal to Maxwell, though that is a tale for another time.