World Trees & Worms
3/24/2026
Worldbuilding and storytelling, based loosely around my favorite place in the world.
Every seed is a soul. And every soul at some point spreads roots. Many find their way into earthen vessels and thread packed clay into muscle and bone and sinew. Roots give way to heart and lung and nerve and consciousness, and it is beautiful.
Some seeds find deeper root. Among the deep and old things, they burst into waking and their great vines color the wild, wondrous corners known only to fools and adventurers.
Deeper still, every dozen worlds or so, a seed finds an uninterrupted path to the Hearth: a roiling spring of liquid fire. Usually these natural fonts of magic exist in a cycle of pressurization and explosive release onto the surface. But if a seed taking root is able to tap the stream and harness the terrifying forces at work– well, you get Monsters like Babakai-Yon.
Barely listening, Telemetrr cleared the underbrush and made it up the last boulder between them and the view that their mentor motioned to. The youngster's eyes took a moment to adjust and recognize the sight: the textured, ashen wall that dominated their vision from so very far off in the distance was in fact no wall. Its breadth spanned the majority of the horizon; its endlessness climbed to the cloud line and through the gaps in it they could make out branches and leaves, looming above both their heads and stretching until the fog conspired against sight.
Awe-struck was not the word. Telemetrr was visibly shaken as their guide and mentor squatted to match their eye-line and raised a finger toward a section of the miles-wide trunk. The melodic cadence of Ipa’s words drew the stricken youth back into their body,
Settle. You can see them, yes? The Eaters. They bear the World Tree no ill will, they burrow and consume because it is their nature, not unlike young Eranas skipping their reading before an expedition. Let this knowledge quiet your fear.
The child’s mouth quirked at the gentle rebuke as their mind struggled to make sense of the sight before them, and just as the question began to take shape, Ipa continued,
They bear us no ill will either, as you shall soon see. But elephants need not harbor malice for ants to prove a fatal threat, so too is it for us and the great worms of Yon.
Your grandsire third is said to have been the first of our people to enter their tunnels and return, and respect for him is the only reason you still accompany me as pupil. Perhaps now, with the necessity of your training and our methods laid bare, arguments on your studies will find their end. Week's end will find us at Yon's roots and your trial will begin in earnest. Steel yourself, little one.
The pair covered the next few miles together in relative silence, Telemetrr’s complaints about the steppes, their backpack, the ritual, and even the dried rations they carried all giving way to awestruck wonder at the storied beasts of bedtime legend manifested in flesh -however stone-like and impossible- before them.
Mid-way through an explanation of how gravity worked differently near the world tree, Ipa’s cadence sharpened ever so slightly and her voice rose a half octave. Changes that would be innocuous to strangers put Telemetrr on alert and they glanced at their mentor for confirmation– she’d already drawn her slingshot and a flashnut cast a dull blue light on her mahogany skin. She was scanning the treetops to the east as she continued her lecture on Greatworm physiology and why they seemed weightless as they tunneled in and out of the world-tree.
The winged screechers alighted from nests and perches, twenty-strong, soaring toward the fumbling youth with wails and cries that the stories did not adequately warn of. Before Telemetrr could load their own projectile, Ipa’s flashnut struck the leading bird with a crack audible from their position 30 meters away and it exploded into a brilliant flash accompanied by a shower of sparks and bioluminescent pyrotechnics.
The giant corvids’ attack cry strangled off and their dive immediately ended as their wings pumped and carried them away from the pair. They rose and regained formation high above, thinking better of what still looked like an easy meal.
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World-Eater - Colossal worms, with skin like stone that exist only to consume from the world tree. Tunnels and orbits the mile-wide trunks and canopies, heedless of all else. None has been able to study close enough to explain their origin or existence.
Mythic Bastionland
40 Vigor, 10 Clarity, 18 Spirit, 15 Guard, 4 Armor
4d6 Accidental Trample (Blast), 2d20 Consume
D20 Systems
150hp, +10 STR, +10 CON, +5 WIS -5 CHA
Resistant Skin (-10 damage from non-magical sources, advantage on saves) | Shakeoff (15 STR/DEX or 10d6 Damage) | Consume (20 STR/DEX/WIS or Restrained, Blinded, Trappled, and 4d6 damage per round. 20STR to escape)
EZD6
25hp. Immune to non-crits. 3 Boons to Strength and Resistance.
Roll 3 to maintain footing/grip. 2 damage if trampled. If eaten, roll 6 to escape. 1 damage/turn and bane to all attempts.
An exercise in word-building and distant cousin of Ordin Willowbrim's Journal, from a far-off corner of the world.