Wyrmling of the Mudmouth

The Messenger Beneath the Surface
Filed under: Mirecourt Entities | Warnings & Omens | Mutable Constructs
Contributor: FDG Field Archivist No. 9
Last updated: May 2025

Overview

There are many ways to offend Lady Wyr—by breaking a pact, by discarding offerings, by uttering her name without reverence.

Most who trespass against her never realise their mistake.

Unless, that is, they are visited by the Wyrmling of the Mudmouth.

A creature childlike in form but not in mercy, the Wyrmling is a temporary construct of swamp-life and purpose. It does not judge. It does not explain. It only delivers.

Appearance

Size: Roughly that of a human child aged 7–9, but drenched, distorted, and always hunched or crawling.
Body: Formed from silt, moss, worm-castings, marsh-sludge, and crushed snail shells. Its texture is slick and oozing, held together by will and water.
Hair: Strands of wet root and black pond-thread. Sometimes trails bracken or cattail fluff.
Eyes: Hollow sockets filled with dark water. Small wriggling shapes sometimes seen within.
Voice: Cannot speak aloud. Its only vocalisation is the wet gurgle of draining mud, like thick liquid through pipes.

It travels on all fours, or slithers upright like a sapling attempting balance. Leaves wet trails wherever it passes.

Abilities and Behaviour

Message Delivery:
The Wyrmling carries warnings, accusations, or instructions on behalf of Lady Wyr. These are never spoken, but appear as:
- glyphs traced in mildew on walls
- worm-trails in spirals or runes
- messages made of snail-shells or flattened reeds in shoes, cups, or bedsheets
- dripping notes pressed between damp pages of old books
Mud Animation:
In times of threat or rejection, the Wyrmling can summon mud-creatures—clumsy but strong figures of muck and grass, used for protection or intimidation.
Sunlight Disintegration:
If exposed to direct sun, it melts into dirty water and scattered worms. At dusk, it reforms wherever its last glyph was read.
Follows Guilt:
It is drawn not to names, but to unspoken guilt and unconscious offense. You may not know what you did—but the Wyrmling does.

Folklore Signs and Omens

Bathwater Omen:
If your bathwater will not drain, and smells faintly of pond-weed or algae—a Wyrmling has passed through your plumbing. Check the base of the tub for written warnings.
Teapot Mud:
Tea brewing cloudy and black despite clean water may contain marsh-silt from another realm. Do not drink. The Wyrmling has delivered its message. Seek the nearest fen and apologise aloud.
Children’s Drawings:
Young children near marshes have been known to draw or mimic the Wyrmling, even if they haven’t seen it. Watch for sketches of root-headed children or worm-covered dolls.

Role in the Mirecourt Hierarchy

Though not a singular being, the Wyrmling is a recurring messenger construct created from the swamp itself, infused with intent from Lady Wyr or, rarely, from the Mud-Queen.

It is not alive in a conventional sense, but many believe it carries the fragmented memories of those who drowned before speaking truth.

It serves a unique diplomatic role—bridging offense and consequence. Those who ignore the Wyrmling are often found later covered in leeches… or unable to speak at all.

Behavioural Pattern (Documented)

Emerges at night or during heavy rain.
Slips into homes through pipes, drains, and hollow logs.
Delivers the message, then watches until acknowledged.
If disrespected or harmed, may mark the offender permanently with marsh-blisters or unnatural stillness.
Vanishes into any standing water.

Summary for Field Operatives

Trait	Detail
Threat Level	Low unless ignored or harmed.
Signs of Presence	Mud in teapots, glyphs in shoes, worm-trails in bedclothes, drain failures
Containment Risk	Moderate. Disintegrates easily but reforms. Cannot be killed—only delayed.
Engagement Advice	Acknowledge the message. Do not speak aloud in its presence unless you intend truth. Cleanse with rainwater and burning rosemary if affected.

Quote from Field Report #039 (Rochester):

“I found a child-sized smear of mud across the ceiling. It spelled my name backwards. I rinsed the bathtub and a message scrawled up the mirror: You forgot what you promised.
I haven’t gone near the marsh since.”
—FDG Field Note, 1993