A starving tribe of Stem Rams were called out to by a divine voice deity that claimed to have formed their isolated land.
It proclaimed to them that it was the living network of stems that sprouted from the Fungal Core. It desired to liberate them; it wanted to have them leave their dark bubble and control the world outside it.
The group ventured to the desolate land that the god's cap covered.
Just west of the mushroom's base, the tribe constructed a camp of worship. They named it Stems. It grew over decades.
Every year, the mushroom called for a sacrifice. They gave their youngest child to the stems. It wrapped around the screaming infant, consuming it. After a hundred years, a beast was born from the stems. It was an extension of the deity itself. Stem Origin was born.
The body of their god had arrived. It stumbled forward. The faithful built a stronghold to protect it, labyrinth-esque tunnels shielding it from the world.
It taught them how to decorate their armor with the lavish gold gifted to them by their god.
Now that it had settled into the world, it asked for one thing: fresh bodies.
Stem Ram tribes on the edge of the Fungal Plains would make do. Each month, the fanatics set out and raided the camps of the uninitiated. They brought back bodies and fed them to the stems. As they were digested, the mushroom would stretch its stems out further than before.
Centuries of this bloody cycle passed.
The tribes had enough. The normally disagreeable tribes banded together and raided the Stems village. They slaughtered the Stems' warriors, their women, and their children. Their god emerged to defend them, yet...
It was burned to a crisp by the tribes' warrior. The high priestess was beheaded. The unfaithful shunned those who followed the deity. Many of their brothers and sisters submitted to the tribes’ influence in order to save their own lives.
A sect of extreme loyalists did not give up. As the tribes took over their own holy village, the dedicated's bloodline stayed faithful. They maintained their church. Deep within, the high priestess' revival waited for them. Now one with the mushroom, the undead priestess leads the Stems' fragments forward.
The forgetful elderly and developing young of the combined colonizers were snatched by the fallen faith. For decades, they were sacrificed from within the underground catacombs. When their deity's killer fell, they abducted his body and welcomed him into the mushroom's welcoming embrace.
The stems grew further and further. They tore through the plains, through the wilds...
The divine had a plan. The constant feeding had given it new tools.
A force from the plain beyond set upon the tribes' original homes: the Volva. It burned them and scorched the earth beyond repair.
With each and every one of their settlements burning down, the 12 tribes were now forced to be stationed within the confines of what was once the Stems home.
When the time was right, the Stems' faith that had been forgotten by the sands of time rose from the dark and into the light. The faithful mocked the banishment of the eldritch being that threatened the tribes. The cult's new name was embraced by the tribes as a thanks for their salvation; They were Stem's Origin.
It was not long after that the tips of the stems made their way to the abyss and pulled beyond the veil. WAshen that happened, Stem's Origin fell into the shadows once more. They were instructed to wait and watch.
The aliens arrived. Their god warned them to be careful. The aliens filled the streets of their land, degrading it further than the invasive tribes had already done. They innovated the once pure nature of the Fungal Core into a sprawling city.
Centuries went by. The catacomb's cult converted lost Stem Rams into their ranks. The divine mushroom, watching over the kingdom that had been made underneath it, proclaimed that the aliens had served their purpose. It was time to use what they had been given.
Their high priestess elected a passionate man whose mission was genuine. A social war between Stem Rams and aliens was incited. It all mounted in one pivotal moment: the group that once comprised of the 12 enemy tribes' leaders, the same that took their land and defiled it, was embraced by their god. Stem's Origin's puppet rose to control all on the island.
The man, Count Ahsonov the Great, punished the aliens that had tainted his deity's land.
Their plan had worked. The high priestess' god no longer needed the followers. As the years passed, wisdom's light was extinguished under the shade of the new city.
With every addition to the catacombs, the mushroom could make out more of its future. The uncertain fog of time it lived in cleared as its land spanning stems spread further.
The hateful count grew old. Their god elected another.
The high priestess would go on to carry on Stem's Origin from one leader to another. As one puppet was foreseen to fail, another was reached out to by the holy duo.
The god assured the corpse that the time would come where they could shed the aliens' continued influence from their holy land and unite all of their race under its beautiful divine light.
And, once all the rams were in the same flock, the outer universe would become theirs.