Thousands of years ago, a group of brilliant iksar druids sought a power unlike any other possessed by their people. They tapped into a deep, ancient power that drew on a very different aspect of nature.
This power is the root of decay – truly a mixture of nature and shadow power. Where most natural power gives energy and life and growth, this power sucks it away. Some powers of wardens and furies draws on this in small doses, but none plunge straight into it the way that these iksar did.
They might have had the world at their feet if the nature of the magic hadn’t slowly drained them of their mental power. They fed more and more on it, and as they did, they lost more of their mental acuity and of their physical form.
Soon, they had little more will or reason than fungi, and their bodies had grown to resemble their intellects;ashen skin covered in slime-like glaze. A small growth, protruded from their head, and as time passed, it swelled and swelled until it resembled a mushroom cap.
Today we know these beasts as the sporconids, and they dwell in the much near Dragon Drool Lake. Though they may resemble giant mushrooms, they have a measure of sentience, and an undeniable power at their finger tips. Fortunately, they don’t have the guile to harness this power fully.
And so we see what can result from harnessing a power that is not fully understood. What might have been a world devastating force became the idle plaything of a childlike, simplistic race of swamp dwellers.
Should the sporconids ever once again realize what they have in their hands, and find a way to apply it fully, all of Norrath might be on their knees before them. Fortunately, they would need an intellect magnitudes greater then their own to do so.