The Fungimentalist spawn had failed, for now. The culture above was simply too unruly for them to be more than a minor consideration. Whilst our Bryophytist ways meant that we had little hope in the Euground, we had been able to lodge ourselves in the little niches up Auvreground and expand from there.
It had been a vicious war spanning many decades. Previously, we had lived in relative peace, sticking to our own turf as it were. Then, for unknown reasons the Funguys assaulted the Dæmbildres, attacking their very way of living. The latter were only able to hang on so long, but in the resulting chaos we did manage to sneak in and strengthen the wall holding back the flood.
To our disgust and horror, the Funguys eventually slayed then consumed the Dæmbildres down to the bone. It was not a gorging upon flesh, but a steady, repulsively delicate, hyphaetic consummation.
During this ghastly feast it dawned upon us that the wall had in fact been of more benefit to the Funguys than to ourselves. We knew that the wall was now little more than a spiritual morgue for the Dæmbildres, so after the long winter we took the difficult decision to allow the wall to break, battering and dismembering our brave souls holding it together.
The flood came with a dreadful inevitability, but enough of us hung on to survive and rebuild. Now we flourish, so to speak. Even amongst ourselves it is something of an uneasy peace, but we survive, and many millennia longer do we hope to continue.