Adventures happen when they happen

"So... we're stuck."
Prophet smiled sheepishly. "Yeah."
"You know," said Lank angrily, "when I agreed to camp out here, I was under the impression that it was because we could leave at any moment. Not," he added emphatically, "for exactly the opposite reason." He smacked his hand against the rock and dirt blocking their exit. Behind them, Whisk was quietly hyperventilating. "God-dammit!" The other two flinched. "So, what do we do now?"
Prophet shrugged. "I dunno."
Lank sighed. While not particularly brave, he was at least realistic. "Well, we may as well see about this mutant serpent thing. It may give us a clue." They went back downstairs to the central chamber and took the left-hand passage.
It was, indeed, a mutant. Much smaller than a Serpent, but much larger than a Centipede, it coiled and writhed in a shallow basin set into a similarly-sized chamber. It was long and tubular, like an ordinary snake, but in places it was knotted or bloated, and its dark purplish skin was rough, gnarly and rotted. Its face appeared to be crushed inwards. The trio stared at it for awhile. "Is it dangerous?" asked Lank.
"It doesn't appear so," remarked Prophet. "While it is obviously a Serpent of some sort, it's markedly different somehow. Perhaps it will not behave like the others."
The serpent's eyes flicked towards them. For a second it ceased its limp thrashings. Lank stepped forward to the rim of the basin. "Hello," he called out. "What's your name?"
The beast raised its deformed head towards him. "Thhh-laaa-ikk," it hissed between bloated, toothless lips. Then it curled back onto itself.
"Oh my God," said Lank, stepping back. The other two flinched. "It's Slaik." Seeing the others' confusion, he explained. "He was before your time. Before mine, even. One of our intentional creations, much like the Velocarachnid- and, similarly, it seems to have gone horribly wrong." He shook his head. "We used to create monsters for our entertainment. How many others are lost here somewhere, twisted against us? White Dragon? The Ice Angel? Iox? God, can you imagine..."
"Will you stop-" Prophet composed himself. "So. This character is one of ours. And it has something to do with the Serpents. The question is, how can we use this?" They individually thought for a moment, imagining horror after horror. "Maybe it's like the werepyre stories. Kill this one, the original, and all the others die."
"No!" cut in Whisk. "We can't kill it. It's one of ours, and it's not evil. Maybe Darkmother's just taken its image."
"Not to use an overpopular line," added Lank, "but to both of you: maybe that's just what they want you to think." He paused to let this sink in. "We don't know what's going on. We're just going to have to take this one step at a time."
By this time Slaik had grown still, breathing gently. It was asleep.

Still feeling bleh. Eh, whatever.
A lot of trauma. A lot of stress. The R key on this keyboard is still only working two-thirds of the time. Whatever. Headache still going strong.
In need of hugs.
Finally getting pills down unassisted. Bleh. I hate it, but... but what? I don't know. Maybe it'll all be worth it.
Seems everyone's getting sick right about now. A few bugs going around. Well, Spring just around the corner.