Call this species complex, Sapiosporia myconidae.
The lifecycle begins with the eurhiza. This mycelium grows upon a substrate — soil and decaying logs or corpses suffice, but its favorite home is energy-dense coal deposits in the underdark. A eurhiza cannot move, only grow, and when such growth is not sufficient to bring it to food, mates or spore dispersal sites, it births forth mycomeres.
Each mycomere has three principle anatomical forms. First is the somacarp, the fruit body, the raw flesh and chitin sculpted in the eurhiza’s design. Second is the noorhiza, the root-will. These highly developed hyphae may shrink or grow taut to animate the somacarp, and through the conveyance of hormones and electrochemical signals, support cognition. Moreover, the noorhiza can ‘meld’ with any other noorhizae, connecting to one another as intimate extension of a unified cognitive network. A collective of mycomeres is a mygama. Third is the gametangia, a collection of gamete-bearing hyphae eager to fuse and form zygotes. Being borne on hyphae, gametangia can be threaded anywhere in the somacarp; thus it is common for all of a mygama’s mycomeres’ gametangia to be kept together, so they may be fertilized at once.
Only eurhiza possess the means to digest food sources to sustain itself and allow synthesis of fungimel, a honey-like secretion dense in sugars. Fungimel is the exclusive source of nutrients for mycomeres; most mygamata include an ‘omere acting as a vascular siphon which can ’drink’ the liquid from their eurhiza. Once drunk, the fungimel enters an ’omere, the sacchorumen , serving as a simple stomach-equivalent, populated by primitive yeasts. It is then fermented, the energy conducted throughout the somacarp via the noorhiza.
Mygamata possess sensory structures to help them navigate the world; their sense of smell and touch is as a rule extremely keen. Some eurhiza know how to produce audioceptors, photoreceptors, and true lens-based eyes (in order of increasing rarity).
Mygamata need not be born of a single eurhiza. Two eurhizae may each specialize in producing mycomeres for a particular purpose, and craft a mygama bearing both of their gametangia. There are benefits to a division of labor, as well as to investing in a single larger agent versus multiple smaller agents, and finally this may be a locus of sexual selection.
When this sexual selection leads to runaway evolution, as it often does, the result is a myconid. A ‘myconid’ is a collective of thousands of melded, cooperating mycomeres. Some of these ’omeres act as little more than hardened support structures, while others are optimized for generating force through pneumatic pressure, while still others are advanced sensory faculties or pheromone secreters.
When mygamata become this complex, a reality becomes apparent: somacarps do not regenerate. A eurhiza may sculpt in redundant fallback tissue, but eventually every mycomere must succumb to wear and damage. But not at the same rate, and just as it is better to repair a vehicle than craft a new one wholecloth, so too here; thus each myconid is a little ship of theseus.
To maintain its collective body, every myconid is a gardener cultivating fungus. Except in desperate times, eurhizae do not grant their mygamata replacement mycomeres. Mygamata must grow it themselves. This, of course, requires the cultivation of pseudorhiza. But first understand that, we must discuss how new mycelia are born.
Translating rhizogamy as ‘sex’ is biologically accurate, but gives the wrong connotations; the social context is entirely removed. Sexually, mycomeres have three characteristics: their lineage, their polarity, and their copula. Incorrectly, these three might be translated to species, sex, and gender, respectively. But Sapiospore myconidae is a species complex, and the division of labor is so complete that not all mycomeres in a myconid should reproduce; they may be outright incompatible, or lead to hybrid sterility or outbreeding depression — thus the effect of lineage on rhizogamy. Furthermore, mygamata are composed of multiple genetic individuals, and hence are heterthallic to prevent self-fertilization. Yet it is better to refer to these as mating types, rather than sexes, for S. myconidae are isogamous — there is no sperm nor egg, only gamates.
Finally, in service of these two concerns and as yet another locus of runaway sexual selection, myconids have highly derived copulatory ‘omeres that grant access to the gametes; often, this is in the form of a ’lock and key’ design, where the copulae of different lineage cannot fit into the grooves of one another. Otherwise, copulae may require or desire tacile or pheromonal stimulation before allowing the exchange of gametes. This intercouse may be likened to a secret handshake or rulebound gameplay. The copula may be lined with noorhiza, making mygamy (melding) simultaneous with rhizogamy.
After completing an act of rhizogamy, a mygama then selects a site to construct a ‘root-womb’ in which to sporulate. It then tends to the sporeling, cultivating it into a mature mycelia.
Truly, the difference between a eurhiza and a pseudorhiza is in part socially constructed. A eurhiza is an vast, elder mycelia, while a pseudorhiza is a meager, transient thing. The difference is that a pseudorhiza serves to foremost grow into the mycomere that a mygama desires. Then it must become that mycomere, its hyphae atrophying, its noorhiza adapting for embodied existence, for it has no future as a mycelia — it will not be cultivated further.
After several cycles of rhizogamy and pseudorhizal regenerations, the mygama goes from being formed of its eurhiza’s flesh (or fung, if you will), from being a genetic clone, to being its child, and then grandchild, and soon the relation becomes quite distant indeed. A mygama that grows “old” (though it’s ‘omeres are always young) may become orphaned by its eurhiza. It may seek to ’marry into’ the care of another eurhiza, but the ultimate natural endpoint is seeking out a substrate sufficient the mygama may birth its own eurhiza. Culturally, this may take the form of elder myconids being ‘exiled’ to found new colonies.
The common bodyplan of myconid has threefold symmetry, like three inverted pyramids stacked on top of one other. Still, there is no canonical ‘look’ for a myconid, as their bodies are endlessly flexible and chaotic, expressing their individuality and fitness.
Typically, the topmost pyramid is the head. The ‘base’ of this inverted pyramid often resembles a mushroom cap, and the faces, well, faces. Each face has a trio of eyes, and central vibrating membrane for producing sound for communicating with to those outside of melding range, and a mouth. The faces are divided by stipes running along the line of the pyramid. Where these meet the cap, they continue further still, extending out and branching above the myconid, forming what might be likened to antlers or antennae or, well, mushrooms. These are the primary olfatory sense of the myconid. Within the head lies aggregated masses of noorhiza in a soup of fungimel, the seat of the myconid cognition.
The middle pyramid is the torso. Three manipulators (call them arms) emerge here, enabling the myconid to interact with the world. Each arm typically has one hand with three fingers and every hand has a mouth. A heart equivalent exists within the torso, pumping all manner of fluids through vascular tissue.
The basal pyramid is the core, or abdomen. Three legs emerge here, forming a tripod for optimal stability. A myconid’s fastest gait resembles a ‘crutch-walk’, but it may amble forth one leg at a time, often with two facing forward (this way, it may be at first mistaken for a biped). The most important ’omere of the core is the root-siphon. Eurhiza often live in the earth, and a myconid may stand above it and plant their root-siphon into the ground so that they may commune with it.
Myconids possess mouths on each body segment, and each mouth in addition to serving as a sensory modality (for licking something is the truest way to apprehend it), is also a means to conduct rhizogamy. In order, these acts might be thought of as ‘kissing’, ‘handholding’, and true sex, conducted between two root-siphons; this is the most intimate act, for it resembles the connection between a mygama and its eurhiza.
Myconids need their eurhiza, not just for sustenance, but for guidance. They may be likened to parent, teachers, advisors, or commanders. The simplest way to view the split between myconids and their eurhiza is that myconids are tacticians, and eurhizae are strategists. Myconids are quite able to solve immediate problems, but are lost without a eurhiza to direct them. Myconids know how to live, but it is the eurhiza that knows why to live. And for this, another way humans have understood the relationship is to say that a eurhiza is the myconids’ god.