V I L L A G E M U S H R O O M S



"Did She know?" The deeply tanned acolyte pushed aside the dreamlike fronds that crossed the path and held them for me to pass.

"No, She could not have -known-, my child. Not in the certain sense of the word. Precious few of the gods possess the Ayar-given prescient mind that our Lord enjoys." We stepped over the line of gems scattered on the ground representing the River Zaphar. It is always curious how the workings of this realm choose to represent things from our plane. "She could have suspected. Perhaps even hoped. But known? No, I think not."

"This be it?" The pretty Jaruvian furrowed her brow in disbelief as the peculiar structure came into view.

Misshapen, metal sheets had been pounded thin and tacked to upright beams of what appeared to somehow be sand. Skeletal birds and colourful clouds moved freely in and out of the building through yawning holes in its exterior where large sections of the metal sheeting had been stripped off. Serving as a roof, a single massive boulder rested impossibly atop the flimsy walls.Opposite the roof, a foundation of solidified shadows.

"Just so. This is the Village of Eleusis."

Upon entering the building, we were immediately presented with what we came to find. Pregnant sacks filled the room in towering stacks on stubby, wooden platforms to keep the stacks off the shadowstone floor. Row after row of stacks piled all the way to the boulder ceiling. Hopping awkwardly between the stacks, a strange crone was crooning words into the coarse sacks before moving them to new stacks. My companion fingered the beads in her hair nervously as the odd woman approached a stack near us. Up close, you could more easily make out the permanently shadowed half of her face.

"She began appearing this way when the madness took her from the Wyrm of Worlds. Do not fear her, she cannot see us and cannot harm us here."

The acolyte relaxed and asked about the sacks. "These represent the villagers. A bit of an exaggeration, yes, but I do suppose they have swollen in number. However, every swell eventually breaks when it meets the shore." Almost as if on cue, one of the stacks toppled over, narrowly missing the old woman.

We walked to the nearest stack and I drove my boot knife into one of the pale, tan sacks and sliced through the coarse fibers. A cascade of barley spilled out and among them, wriggling black specks. Seed beetles, and almost as many of them as there were grains of barley.

"That...be disgusting." the acolyte remarked as she crushed one of the beetles beneath the toe of her boot.

"Indeed, there is useful stock within the village, but it is riddled with parasites. This is the doing of that crone, the beetles swarm to her."

"How have the villagers not noticed?"

"They have, but too late. It is a result of her handling them as she does all of her mushrooms." The eye on my brow snapped shut and we were transported back to the Prime, the noxious fumes of the cavern welcoming our return.

"How be that, Keeper?" she questioned.

"She feeds them shit and keeps them in the dark."

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Daedalan, in the year 890 AF.