The Worm

The town of Micelcomb

       The world can be kind. The world can be beautiful. But the world can also be rough, agonizing and full of pain at every turn. It is a well-known fact for the people of Micelcomb that death can hit as fast as a storm and as unexpected as the forest. But despite the surprise hidden behind every soul passing these days, there is one thing that the people of Micelcomb can always count on. – Or rather one man.

          You see, the town and residents of Micelcomb seem to have been struck with misfortune in the last decade or so, with all the raids done by assassins fighting the local lord’s small group of soldiers for his coinage and fine leathers, or with the trade carts being pillaged every so often on the Twinning Road, and even with a strange sickness that, rumors say, has been unleashed in the vicinity by a pair of druids who didn’t really understand how rituals work, and destroyed the crops leaving many folks famished during winter.

        As one might expect, the aftermath of all these events meant that a lot of people found their demise and while nothing else seems to have been repaired or constructed anew, the local graveyard has definitely seen improvement. An extension was needed and everyone in Micelcomb, from priests to blacksmiths and tradesmen, wanted to have their close ones buried close to home, so the nearby part of the forest has been cut down, residents gave their coinage and more and more space for graves started to appear. The air around Micelcomb, mirroring the events within, also became grim and dull. People expected only the worst outcomes from every situation and some ended up so paranoid and mistrusting that they warned off visitors by saying that Micelcomb “is the land of Agror’s return”.

         Of course, no sane man actually believed that the mighty Agror - Senior of the Underworld, prophesied to be “the one who will populate the world with monsters”- will return in a lowly, God-forgotten, peasant city like Micelcomb, but visitors also had a feeling of unease whilst being there, so they all chose to stay away. - All but one.

The arrival of The Worm

         It was a night in summer’s eve when the lonely path towards Micelcomb was being pounded on by wet leather boots. A sweet, much needed rain quenched the soil, making the roads slippery but the field greener, and a warm steady breeze made grass blades sway in beautiful synchronicity. Amongst the cedar tree shadows that danced on the city’s massive gate moved the slender figure of a man who only seemed concerned about protecting his brimmed hat, which he kept partly hidden under his cloak and very close to himself. Upon being asked what his business in Micelcomb was by the city guards, he quickly shoved some tarnished, seemingly official papers under their noses, muttered ‘I’m here to take care of the dead’ in a low voice - coming more from the brimmed hat than from his covered mouth - and he continued to make his way towards the graveyard where, in a small, cracked tomb - despite the persistent warnings that residents gladly provided over the course of a few weeks - he created a dwelling of his own.
            This man is nowadays known as The Worm and, as the people of Micelcomb have come to learn, he is an unusual bard who always appears where grief sips in through cracks and tears cannot be contained. At first, no one knew what his profession was since they’ve never heard a note or a hum coming from him, but they believed he was a sort-of undertaker who only ever seemed concerned with the appearance of the graveyard. Day and night he would be seen decorating the stones with wind-chimes of his own creation, turning graves into colorful mushroom farms, making sure that candles where lit every night, and even and even mending with a single touch the now faint and forgotten names on the old gravestones by the willow. He really did, as he said, ‘take care of the dead’.
             But he took care of the living too.

The Worm helps out

          About three moons after his arrival in Micelcomb, the Worm stumbled upon a weeping woman, unable to contain herself with tears as she was shivering and wailing on a lonely market street. She was madly asking people to bring her daughter back, who apparently had drowned that afternoon in the nearby lake. He approached the woman and, without making eye contact or uncovering his mouth, he asked her promptly ‘If I give you 10 more minutes with your daughter, do you promise to make them worth it for her?’
          The woman stared blankly back at him and nodded silently, not fully understanding what he meant by that question, but she proceeded to follow him as he suddenly started heading towards the lake. Once there, the woman heard a whisper coming from him, telling her to be silent while the man started walking slowly around the edge of the water, dragging his fingers through the damp reed and grass. Another faint whisper told her to ‘come closer, wait, and not be afraid’ as he got to the part of the lake where a half destroyed stone bridge, that used to lead to the Peak Manor where the Micelcomb Lord lived, could be seen barely holding its few remaining stones together. He then opened a patchy satchel that was tightly kept at his belt and brought out a flute. It shined as the moon decided to turn its attention towards it, and it appeared to be made out of polished bone. Runes of no known language where scribbled all over the instrument and as the Worm touched it to his lips, they began to glow spectral blue. But that was not all...
         As one poet of Micelcomb put it later

‘The most eerie fact,
Was that from his hat
A blue worm lashed out like a sword.
And from the hat’s old up-turned brim,
With a proud, yet silly grin,
The worm’s soothing voice could be heard.’

           When nostalgic notes started pouring out of the bone-like flute, flowing through the air, and embracing the sweet words that the small blue worm uttered, the duo seemed to be playing more for the dead than the living. And the dead heard it. No soon had the sound reached the weeping woman’s ears that a blurry, white figure started rising from the depths of the lake, slowly making her way to the shore. When the woman saw it, she threw herself on the ground, shaking uncontrollably and muttering apologies and promises to her daughter who now appeared before her, one last time. The figure stood silent, listening carefully and caressing her mother’s head all the while and as its final moments approached, she whispered ‘I love you’ to the woman and a ‘thank you’ to the bard as she descended back into the lake.
           That night the residents of Micelcomb found out more than they expected about their new graveyard dweller and since the blue hued worm was the talk of the town, people named the unusual bard, ‘The Worm’.

A quirky personality

         The days that followed were not easy, neither for the man nor the worm, since opinions among the people were that he is either ‘working with dark forces’ and the worm ‘is a product of experimenting with evil’ which is why the bard cannot speak anymore or that ‘he is a blessing, sent to the people of Micelcomb to nurture their aching hearts and offer them some peace’ and the worm ‘is the gift given by the gods through which he can carry out his holy mission.’ Many residents were curious of his nature and gave him a chance once or twice to open up and talk about himself, maybe even share a story or two from his interesting although eerie life. But seeing as he never uttered a single word and the blue worm was mostly keeping to himself, and disliked being engaged in conversation, curiosity eventually died out and people decided that, despite his abnormal nature, the town needed him and they would not have it any other way.
         It was rumored at some point – by a group of travelers who said that they have met the Worm before - that he ran away from his previous establishment, a place where the arts of lyrics and music where being studied, leaving behind nothing that would let one understand anything about his nature, but a ripped page from what seemed to be a personal journal. The piece read ‘A fragment. I’m just that. A piece of the one I once was. I’m scattered and forgotten, sad and lonely, miserable and cold. The rest of me has been burnt, with anger and ignorance. I was always close to the fire, but now I let myself succumb to its fiery anger. And yet...I feel cold. Therefore I shall...’. The rest of the page was burnt much like the rest of his belongings.
       To the few that Igor, the blue worm, granted words to in sort-of regular conversations, it further revealed that a worm’s purpose is to be ‘one of the caretakers of our earthly bodies, making sure that we humans all return to the soil that we have risen from’ – a belief that it shares with the bard which is why they became friends and companions. No one ever found out where the worm came from, or why does it have that ghostly color, not even how it speaks, but it is known that its voice brings one closure and a sense of relief that nothing else could bring. For you see, it is in those moments of grief and agony when one realizes what the true purpose of the song is. The song manages to inspire people to try and live without regrets, to think twice before taking action in case death is right around the corner, and maybe to mourn others more because they too were important. The Worm is both dreaded and loved at the same time, since you dread him because you don’t want to need him, but you love him when you actually need him. And everybody experiences a loss where they feel the need to speak to the deceased one last time.
         Since his arrival, he took it upon himself to protect the citizens of Micelcomb, although never has he been asked to do so, nor thanked for his bravery, and thus he has fought many a foe that reached the town’s borders - mostly through clever scheming and planning. He warded the entire city from evil forces and kept both thieves and underlings from entering the premises.

Trust issues and battle tactics

         From time to time he used to fight along a knight or adventurer in hopes of establishing a friendship, but since his last partnership with an impatient barbarian, he decided that it was better to keep his hobbies and beliefs to himself and continue to offer trust to everybody while receiving none from others.

          He had met the barbarian while he was on a quest to destroy a small werewisp colony that had settled near Peak Manor, since it had fallen to ruin and the area has been deserted for a while. He found Staark, the barbarian, tasting his surroundings, from bush leaves to moss and tree bark, in an attempt to track down the FLYING creatures.

         At first, Staark was confused as to why the blue, delicious-looking worm was talking funnily to him, but - after being warded off by the bard when he attempted to eat ‘the shimmering thing’ – he decided to instead befriend the seemingly knowledgeable worm that had stopped him from being poisoned by some mushrooms he was about to taste.

         The bard managed to find the werewisp’s nest and – by keeping the barbarian focused on an illusory firefly so that he would be silent - ambushed the creatures, hastily creating a dark and green sparking cloud above the colony and sending down sharp, bone-like daggers towards them, injuring most and trapping them to the ground unable to fly. Staark then proceeded to smash the beaten up werewisps with his large mace, helped out by a fury he built up while not being able to catch the illusory firefly. After the battle the bard proceeded to burn the remnants of the nest with a potion he had created by mixing different species of mushrooms and herbs, and held a ritual, aided by a mellow tune played expertly on his flute, to listen to the last thoughts that the werewisp colony had to share.

         All the while, Staark the barbarian could not contain himself with boredom and could not see any reason or meaning behind the bard’s rituals. There are not many those who see the true purpose of the Worm, and since on the way towards the nest, the barbarian had already been through a cleaning and caring of the former Lord’s sons’ gravestones, who were buried near the nest, a session of herb gathering and foul smelling potion mixing, and through an entire conversation with the ghost of a deer from whom the worm asked for information, he couldn’t even imagine how much time he would have to lose on a more lengthy adventure with the bard.

         Therefore, naturally, the only idea that came to Staark’s mind, was to leave – while the bard was still listening to the final words of the werewisps.

         The Worm was of course deeply hurt upon returning all the way back to Micelcomb and discovering that the barbarian had already left town, so he decided then and there that only his purpose alone was important and that only they, him and Igor, understand how crucial it is to help humanity in this way.

The Worm nowadays

         Everybody needs him, but no one ever understood that he is not here for the living. He is a care-taker of the dead, making sure that no one leaves their mortal life alone and feeling unimportant. He is the one to whom the dead speak their final words. Their final regrets. Their final thoughts. And The Worm is always there to listen.
        He now roams all over the continent, not just in Micelcomb, making sure that no passing soul is forgotten and mending the broken hearts of those still fighting to be alive. So if you’ve never heard of the famous Bard who can always be seen walking the last road along the dead, playing haunting yet soothing tunes from his boney flute embellished with words spoken by a blue worm with eyes like rain and a voice like thunder, then you are one of the lucky ones - For it means that you have not yet experienced a loss that made you yearn for the services of The Worm.