[Not so much a story but just information on Cave Worm's and how they were originated!]


Plague finds his father and Take Root together, deep in conversation. Even so, Buried Alive cuts himself off mid-sentence with a soft apology to his companion and turns his sightless gaze towards his son.

"Come, join us."

The Greater Cave Worm
See also: Cave Worm, Death Worm, Really Big Worm Thing

It is not only the Zikwa and their bats that dwell beneath the earth; many a strange variety of creatures slithers and crawls in the dark. One such being is stranger than most and features heavily in Zikwa lore; The Greater Cave Worm.

A large insect that can reach two metres in length. Unlike the smaller worms that dwell throughout the caves, the Greater Cave Worm has a multitude of small clawed appendages that carry it through the underground with a surprising swiftness. They can scale vertical walls and can sometimes be found hanging from the ceiling, weaving silken egg sacs.

"I’m a father now," Plague explains after the pleasantries are through, shuffling a little with embarrassment but mostly with pride, "I want to know more about where you come from and about… us, I suppose."

Take Root smiles and Buried Alive is nodding in slow appreciation.

"Anything in particular?" The older Zikwa asks.

"Anything will do. The first thing that comes to mind."

Incapable of sight, they communicate with the world around them in much the same way the Zikwa do, with a keen sense of smell and the ability to sense temperatures (though to a much finer degree than the ungulates they share their caves with). They also sport two long antenna and have absolutely no trouble navigating the pitch black.

Though rarely seem in daylight, they come in a wide variety of colours, with younger worms tending to be dull and the older ones vibrant in their patterned displays. Where, how or when they’d show this off to anyone (considering they themselves are blind) is unknown.

In fact, most of their patterns and behaviours are still much of a mystery, but the Zikwa accept their presence as works of the Motherfather.

"The cave is warm and wet and though death is something to be celebrated, once the spirit is gone, there is only the flesh left behind and that soon begins to rot."

Plague looks slightly nervous about the lore his father has started to tell but Buried Alive is smiling as he speaks and Take Root has closed her eyes to listen intently.

"Some of us, those who felt their time and had the desire, travel to the surface and nourish the Swamp with their bodies, but for the rest of us, we who have been born below ground, also end it there. Not so much now, I suppose."

The last spoken in wry amusement, considering their position on a damp, grass covered knoll in bright sunlight.

"But the MotherFather has her ways and so she sends her worms to us."

Plague shudders.

The Greater Cave Worm exclusively eats dead and rotting flesh. When they catch the whiff of a new carcass, they swarm en masse and within a few days all that is left are bones. They are the cleaners of the cave and their leavings help nourish multiple types of fungi.

"As the spirit is set free, so too is the body."

"By worms?"

"Yes, the Greater Cave Worms."

"Though we also call them Death Worms." Take Root supplies helpfully.

"H-How big are they?"

Buried Alive shrugs and Take Root answers.

"Not exactly big as much as long. The biggest are sometimes two Zikwa lengths long, but most are half that much and they're rather slim."

"And you just let them eat the bodies?"

"Of course." Both of the older kin seem genuinely surprised by his revulsion. "The Death Worms are sacred."

"And they make great companions too." Take Root says, her eyes lighting up fondly. "It just takes time to earn their trust and grow worthy of one."

While the Greater Cave Worms have a tendency to ignore everyone as they go about their business, including their own species, some will occasionally take a liking to particular Zikwa and proceed to follow them throughout the caves.

It’s impossible to know exactly how intelligent they are and they rarely respond to stimuli, unless it’s in the form of food. You can’t teach them tricks and they’re hardly a warm, fluffy companion.

They make up for it with dogged loyalty and a powerful defensive response when their charge is in danger. Jaws usually used to tear away dead flesh, will dig into an enemy and refuse to let go. The claws on their many appendages are equally deadly.

When angered, they secrete a particularly pungent and very unpleasant odour.

"I’ve heard," Buried Alive says thoughtfully, "that some of them have been seen coming to the surface recently. I was about to tell you, Take Root. Thus Plague’s arrival was quite fortuitous."

"I would like to see one again," Take Root stares into the distance, as if hoping one would crawl up out of the underbrush. She has not gone below ground again since her arrival up top.

Plague would rather not think about them anymore.

"How about a new topic?" He suggests.

"Ah yes," Buried Alive grins. "Some of the funeral chats seem appropriate. Once I am gone, I hope you will sing one for me."

"Oh, o-okay."

There are many songs and stores about these Death Worms; of their creation, of how the Motherfather made them from the earth and touched them with beauty and then sent them back into the ground to safeguard the last of her children. They are good omens, guides in the darkness, carriers of the dead, guardians of the dwellers beneath and the Zikwa treat them with fond reverence.