BUG WORLD-------

What is Bug World?

Bug World is a realm where insects, crustaceans, and other arthropods rule in lieu of regular
mammals.

These bug-folk have have formed complex civilisations, cultures, and mythologies,y and have done so
despite living in a world of astonishing violence. Young bug-folk are warned with tales of monstrous
flying beasts that see by sound, screaming behemoths of bristling quills, and legends of foul beings
crawling from the ocean to consume whole cities. Many a foolhardy adventurer, having scoffed at the
warnings found in fairytales, has met a grisly end at the beaks, claws, and jaws of such creatures of
supposed myth.

There are factions of the Wasp Hordes, once united under a grand leader, now fractured among his
sons. Beetle clans, such as the Stag, Rhino, Scarab, and Bombardier, abound, many of whom were
once united under the banner of a legendary warrior. Ants, being the most populous of the intelligent
races, rely on their empathic connection to the Hive to achieve great works, while beehives that
worship fire field flame- spewing pyromancers in their eternal wars with their hornet enemies.
Termites build the grandest of mega structures, granting refuge and allowing bugs of all races to live
within them in peace and safety.

Amidlong the swamps dwell the Leechfolk, that are considered among the world's best healers, while
tending to herds of giant toads and crustaceans and they offering treatment to whomever stumbles
upon their mobile clinic-barges. Ascetic Mantises that follow strict religious and martial lifestyles and
preach mantras to curb the cannibalistic hunger that plagues their race, while others embrace their
nature and become wandering vagabonds.
The Fly societies have begun a rapid expansion into industry and chemistry after being grantedshared
the esoteric lessons of Alchemy byfrom Bombardier beetles. The neurotic and meticulous roaches
have become the backbone of many cities’ and cultures’ workforces, covering the jobs crucial to
keeping cities ticking over. The tiny pseudoscorpion scholars travel the world gathering knowledge
and tales, bringing their wealth of loreknowledge back to the grand libraries within Mantis- run
monasteries. Spiders of all kinds occupypopulate many walks of life, their subspecies once united in a
powerful force until the assassination of their leader.

The bugs of Arath are roughly divided into the Feral, the Civilised, and the Monster.

Feral bugs are as we might imagine them to be in everyday life:; simple- minded, almost robotic in
behaviour, and with little intelligence or thought beyondfurther than their most basic of instincts. These
feral bugs make up the common animals, livestock, and quarry of Arath, serving as livestock,
companions, or game to be hunted. For example, snail caravans guarded by Weta- riding Beetle
Knights are not an uncommon sight, and within the prosperous Branchtowns the ever trendy Butterfly
people have made pet fleas and leafhoppers essential fashion accessories.

Civilised bugs, while sometimes resembling their distant feral cousins in formdesign, demonstrate
clear sentience and higher thought, creating great civilisations and cultures from their troublesome
beginnings. While the history of civilised bugs is a riotous one of much bloodshed and war, the
machinations of ancient rivalries forever scarring their lineage have been eclipsed by the glimmer of
unity found within the disparate races and species. The days of the primal race wars, where bug
consumed bug and the dark blood-arts spreadcrawled across the lands, are but a painful memory for
the old and a cautionary story for the young. A newer, brighter culture is now commonplace, where
Sspider can stand side by side with mayfly, roach and mantis in the face brink of a dangerous world
they all must contend with.

Having punched through the simple age of stone and bronze, civilised bugs are beginning their
journey into the revolutionary world of gunpowder, alchemy, waterwheels, and windmills. Along with
this new technology, business, commerce, and a complex economy haves seen bug culture flourish.
bBut, with these developmentsit, other problems have arisen.

With inter-political factionalization within the bee, ant, and termite communities, murderous fossil-
worshipping woodlouse cults springing up along the coasts, malefic fungusal-spreading cicadas
appearing, and the fury of the Great Wasp Horde looming, danger threatens the very stability of bug
society.

The final group of bugs isare that of the Monster. These bugs are those feral creatures that for some
reason have grown to huge proportions, their size, bulk, and propensity for violence making them an
ever- present danger to civilised society. Many a mayors might find themselves having to employ
specialist monster hunters to rid their towns or villages offrom a roving Gargantua-Worm or dispatch a
Sand King that has begun eating caravans.
Races
Hornets
The Paper Empresses and their lineage generally have a bad reputation for previous transgressions
against the Bee Queendoms. Expert carpenters and paper-makers that keep themselves to
themselves, the majority of hornetkind have also found acceptance from their printing and book
manufacturing processes.

Hornets have a dislike of fire and fire mages, something that brings hornets and bees into contention
when the subject arises. A nomadic offshoot of the hornet species was responsible for rallying a huge,
united army of independent flying species that swept across the world, leaving nothing in their wake.
Thankfully, the remnants of this horde have become divided into infighting, but many a Bee will talk
about how the world is on the brink of collapse under a hornet’s claw.

In the last few decades, after a partial eclipse of the sun predicted by the Butterfly Conductors, a
strange trait has been found in newborn hornets. Patches of brown and yellow colouration seem to
collect sunlight and, with it, generate a current. These strange hornets have been heralded by the
Butterfly groups as ‘Light-Blessed’. Further investigation into this odd trait has led to these unique
hornets' being taken as apprentices at a young age and trained by Butterfly Maestros to control their
current, unlocking frightfully effective electric powers. While these ‘Light-Blessed’ are few in number,
the mutation is occurring drastically often in the young, and it is a commonly whispered being that the
line of the Paper Empresses lineage itself has more than a few ‘Light-Blessed’ inheritors itself.

While some races distrust the hornet people because of these historical trespasses, hornets
themselves work well together with most other swarm races other than bees, whose empathic abilities
interfere with a hornet’sthe natural hornet senses.
Bees
Bees are a generally industrious race of hive builders. Their natural ability to forge perfect hexagons
grants them leeway to build structures with far thinner and lighter construction than any other group.
Almost all bees are birthed by the Ruling Hive Queens. These matriarchs are revered as demi-gods of
motherhood by their subjects, something that is typically kept quiet around other bugs, especially
those of an openly religious bent.

Bees hold a race-wide grudge against Hornets for the ancestral raids of times past. This attitude is
reinforced by their Queens and royal family, who have handed this enmity down from mother to
daughter, keeping the old hate smouldering. Ancient ancestral evidence has put forward the
controversial notion that bees were once derived from a homogenous empire of species, fragments of
frescos depicting both bees, hornets, wasps and other similar races living together.

Any race or government, particularly Ants, with hive tendencies finds it easy to get along with Bees
due to the common ground produced by empathic connections, an ease particularly enjoyed by Ants.
Along with this empathic connection, all Bees are capable of vibrating their bodies at high speeds,
which they use as a method of simple communication to groups of other bees. When sustained, bees
can also greatly raise their own temperature, forming the root of their famous pyromancy abilities.
Though very energy- intensive and noisy, thise heat generation allows any bee to become a potential
pyromancer. Although a rare occurrence, other bugs can learn pyromancy, but they are limited by the
need to must first generate the heat necessary for starting the spells by some other means. With the
advent of Fly Alchemy this has become easier than ever, and more than one Hive Queen has looked
upon this with fear and anger.

Since Beehives are both monarchies and theocracies, bee criminals are also branded as heretics
when they break the law. Except Ooutsiders,: they are merely considered regular criminals.

- Hexagon motif in formalised structures, shields, designs etc. Good building defenses because
they are angled well
Moths
The moth people are demure Magic users. Moon and dust worshippers with powers that increase
relative to the phases of the moon. In old age they fly off towards a bright light considered a Nirvana-
like final journey. Slow, ritualistic magic favoured over showboating. Respects Butterflies but potential
for religious schism. Most Moths are Lunarian, though as a flying species, a few living in the outskirts
and mixed communities worship Oznus. Some are hardcore racist to flies and others are just as bad
but try to not talk about it.
TO DO
Moth noh theatre
.>Where there is Light, there is Dark, and there will always be Light in the Dark
>Night and Day are reflections of one another
>We are the People of the Moon. The Moon shall always light your Path.
>Dust is but a fragment of Creation. Bend the Dust, and you can bend Creation.
>Life has many journeys, but you must be the one to set them in motion.
>Death is but a final Journey, one that takes you to the Light of the Moon

>Core tenets of Lunarian, taken from the journals of Crulace the Seeker

Crulace the Seeker was a Luna Moth during the Times of War (When civilized Arthros were still
forming nations and Empire's, and there were brutal race wars between various species). He was a
spiritual moth, and often contemplated the mysteries of life.

>He would often leave his home, in an ancient Oak tree, to go on pilgrimages. He would follow the
winds, taking to the breezes and letting them guide his path.

>On one of these pilgrimages, he was carried far by the winds. He looked upon the land, seeing the
shadows of the trees and mountains contrast with the light of day.
Crulace watched as the Sun set and the Moon rose. He saw the creatures of the nighttime forest
come alive, just as villages came to life as the sun rose and the Moon set.

>The breeze started to slow, and Crulace landed in a forest he had never seen before. He stopped to
eat, and rested for a while. When he woke, he was in a circle of moonlight.

>Crulace flapped his wings a bit, stretching them in preparation for the journey home. The dust like
scales of his wings scattered in the moonlight, and he was mesmerized by the swirling patterns. The
Luna Moth flapped his wings more, creating swirls of dust and beautiful patterns.

>When the dust would start to settle, he would try moving it again, creating swirls and patterns.
Crulace spent much of the night with the swirls of dust. He was fascinated with it. He had discovered
that certain patterns would produce strange effects. One pattern created a spark of flame, another
created a beam of moonlight. Crulace noted all of this in his journal, along with the realization that the
dust in the world must be some part of Creation to make this happen.

>As he learned, Crulace found that the Moon strengthened his magic. As there was a long-standing
worship of the Moon by Moths, as the egg from which the Goddess hatched and used to create the
world. For the Moon to empower him, Crulace deduced that the Moon was the source of the dust and
its magic.

>Crulace traveled far and wide among the Moth folk, teaching his newfound knowledge to his people.
He gathered some followers, known as the Seven Moonbeams.
>These eight Moths revitalized worship of the Moon and brought it's magic to their people.

For years, the word 'Necromancy' has been associated with d angerous Cicada cults, crazed
insects that spread decay and fungal infection. But more recently, this word can be heard among
hushed whispers in Moth society. The best guarded secret the Moths keep is the Death's Head, a
strange, spontaneous characteristic some Moths are born with very rarely. Regarded as taboo, the
most superstitious moths often killed or abandoned these younglings upon birth, or upon hearing of
the birth of one, rallied for their banishment or execution. Cities and more civilized settlements have
been moving away from these practices, but the taboo remains, the Death's Head Moths often live
alone and are victims of prejudice.

These superstitions are not entirely unfounded, however. Death's Head Moths have a strange and
unexplainable capability for Necromancy, innately skilled at animating empty shells. Thanks to their
reduced prosecution, and wanting to move away from the connection to the Cicada cults, Death's
Head Moths have been banding together in founding and trying to legitimize a new school of magic,
the School of Necromancy. This new school is focused on death rituals, that call upon the memories
of the deceased, and hexes that drain a foe's strength and weaken them. The ability to animate empty
shells is not forgotten, but is often used as a last resort, seeing it as a disrespectful practice. Typically,
the animated shells are connected to the memories of their last host. More than mindless slaves,
these shells mimic their movements and act according to their habits.

The fight against prejudice, coupled with the taboo practice of Necromancy makes life rough for the
Death's Head Moths, but slowly they find their place in Moth society. Their professions range from
street witches to historians to investigators, their knack for the dead and gone a great boon to their
work.
Butterflies
Like moths, butterflies are an inherently magical race whose powers grow and shrink with the
movement of the Sun. Eager to impress others, butterfly magic is visually stunning often incorporating
astounding sound and light ornamentation for even the smallest of feats. This inherent desire for show
has made several butterfly thaumaturge particularly famous, finding patronage for their wondrous
skills in many high court councils.
Idea: since moths have Noh, butterflies could have something similar to Kabuki, since Kabuki’s
flashier and more eccentric than Noh, and butterflies tend to be flashier than moths. “
Topic: Caterpillars? Any special raising process? How intelligent are they in this stage?
“What is the point of a good spell, if there's no one to see it? What is the point of beauty if
there's no one to enjoy it? I think it's clear this is a universal truth, all good things must be
appreciated. If my technique is good, I want at least the Lord, Oznus to see it, and witness it,
and see it is good. Out there in the sunlight, is where I shall cast my spell, for it to be seen by
him. It would be a pity if I would cast in vain, wouldn't you agree?
-Hyperio Vance, Royal Maestro of Light

Butterflies are usually found only in small peer groups and are often criticized by other races as vain
and haughty due to their hesitancy to interact with more common bugs. While this stereotype has a
grain of truth, many butterflies choose to travel and learn about the world outside of their close knit
cliques.

The Monarchs have been the ruling family of butterfly society for a few centuries now, but they exist
as an aristocracy, despite what the name implies. Petty, but competent, they divide their time being
apt rulers, and unspoken rivals. Monarch Simona and Monarch Mirabelle are vying for the right to rule
the capital, in expectation of their wizened father's death. To the public eye they are loving sisters, but
those in the know can tell their squabble over the succession could turn ugly soon.

The Monarchblades, the overfunded butterfly elite guard, find the use of most melee weapons
barbaric with some officers citing bladed weapons to be especially cruel, stating that they would not
wish a life without flight to their worst enemies. The compunction against certain types of weaponry
has lead to only a small group being wield, mostly ‘for show’.Regardless of the moral complaints,
glaives and swords have proven to be decisive weapons in the claws of flying soldiers and so butterfly
legionnaires are expected to be have some skill with such weapons albeit with a focus on complex
artistic flourishes rather than basic technique.
Ants
Ants are the most populous race. They form industrious hive civilizations which - as expert builders
and agriculturalists - become economic powerhouses. They get on well with most every race,
particularly bees, and often invite others to live within their hives.

Ants are known for their natural instinct for cooperation. Alone, an ant is rather weak and insignificant.
But even just two ants working together become a force to be reckoned with.

Ant nations form caste systems that determine their place within the hive. After larvalhood, an ant will
"graduate" to caring for other larvae, and then to maintaining the inner hive city, then to farming,
defense or trade. The highest caste is the nobility caste, who are born into their positions. These ants
take part in a complex social game between nations to solidify relations and form new colonies.

Ants are one of the smallest races, being even shorter in height than flies. Despite this they can carry
immense weights, which helps in mining and construction especially.

Biologically male ants are rare. They are born only into the nobility caste as princes, and become a
part of the courtship process between ant nations. They spend their lives courting foreign princesses
in hopes of creating a hive of their own.

Unlike other nations, Ant hives name their countries after their currently ruling Queen, whom they
greatly revere. Each ant has an empathic link with their queen. They feel their queen's presence,
mood and subtle guidance at every moment, and vice-versa. The strength of this connection can vary
ant to ant, with select few even holding telepathic links with their queen, with whom they can
communicate to directly. Their empathic link weakens the farther an ant is from their queen, so an ant
leaving their hive's territory is uncommon - though not unheard of.

When ant ant loses their connection with their queen, these ants become known as queenless. It's a
difficult process that some ants won't even survive. This can happen in two ways. The first is when
their antennae are damaged or removed - which can happen by accident, or as a part of their
punishment when an ant is exiled from their hive. The second is if their queen dies.
Ant queens can live for a few hundred years. When queens die, one of the princesses will typically
assume control of the nation's resources and rename the kingdom after herself. The last generation of
a Queen's ants will then become a Queenless generation. Those that survive their grief will have the
choice between continuing to live in the new queen's rule or to strike out on their own. Queen deaths
are typically followed a sizable exodus of queenless ants into surrounding areas, which can shift the
economic climate.

Though individual ants have their own unique and distinct personalities, they are still affected by their
queen's. Queens can also still suffer from psychological illnesses that plague common insects, which
then influence the culture of her hive. Though such cases are exceedingly rare, they are well
documented. The most commonly known instances are: Queen Forliah, a paranoid queen who
directed her hive to slaughter every foreign insect within her walls in a single night and then closed off
their borders for over a hundred years; Queen Nymth-Al-Yen, whose depression caused her hive to
grow apathetic and sullen, allowing the roach mobs and fly guilds to bleed resources from the nation
until the queen's suicide some years later; and Queen Altaethix, whose violent insanity drove her hive
to brutally conquer all surrounding ant nations until she was assassinated by one of her princesses.

Ants found outside of their homelands will commonly be found in crafting professions - most often
professions requiring some cooperation, such as carpentry or mining. Though relatively few ants find
themselves in more violent professions, the sheer numbers of their populations mean that ant
adventurers aren't terribly uncommon. Typically these souls are queenless ants, or ants looking to find
artifacts, resources, or glory for their homeland.

Termites
A culturally insular group of hive-states varying in customs and laws. Collectively, they are
opinionated but provide essential services to other races such as metalwork and smithing. Termites
are the main mining and excavation experts that trade rare ores with other groups and helps ants with
fungus farming and bees with construction as architects. They are in the process of digging up the
remnants of their history which indicates something terrible happened at one point. (cicada
apocalypse). Termites have been prone to blaming societal problems on unrelated species influence
but as a race get along with each other due to the empathic hive connections. Termite Queens have
the longest lifespans of all bug races. As such, they often outlive their spouses and remarry often.
Indeed, some Termite Queens are truly ancient, and the oldest one, Queen Isapt, is even said to have
met Khepri himself in her youth. The older ones can be senile, however, and may not remember
events in the proper order or relevance.

Grasshoppers
Happy-go-lucky creative race. Well known for their natural musical abilities and their propensity for
drinking. This fondness for drink sprung forth after the grasshoppers accidentally created the first
alcoholic drinks. Founders of a kicking based martial art similar to Taekwondo. Related cousins to
Locusts and Cicadas who they try to distance themselves from as more sophisticated and civilised.
Their jovial nature makes them welcome company in many social situations, but their friends and
comrades may end up bemoaning the recklessness that they excuse as just “quick thinking” or
“getting caught up in the moment.”
Expert metal workers, their arms and armor are sought after throughout the land. The few
Grasshopper settlements that are permanent build around a grand forge and an even grander
brewery. The grandest of these forges is deep within the earth, run by a host of crickets, with the
Grasshoppers as guards. Closer to the heat of the heart of the world, this forge is said to produce
weapons and armor that are “created more pure” than any other.
Those grasshoppers that do not settle down on a forge instead take to the nomadic life like the
Locusts, bringing speed, dexterity, and kinship to those who hire them.

Grasshoppers have their own code about them, a sense of honor that most will find hard to put into
words should you ask them. The laws of the land don’t come first to them. Instead, they place the
word of both friend and foe alike in high regard, expecting one to always stay true to it. In return, a
grasshopper will never go back on his word, and those that do are shunned by the rest of their race.
While an inclusive race at times, especially those that settle around their forges, should one earn their
trust they will have earned a companion for life; one who is willing to give their life for yours, and
knows that you will do the same for them.
Pseudoscorpions (Book Scorpions)
While it has been long debated whether it was the Wasp or Mantis that invented and perfected the
creation of paper but it is quite well known that it was the Book Scorpions that invented written
language.

Before paper became widespread the Book Scorpions, once called Demi-Scorpions for their
superficial resemblance to the larger deadlier scorpions, they recorded their writings on clay tablets.
Some of which, ancient as they may be, are still legible as they hang in Librarians and Colleges.

Their keen minds and skill at writing and record-keeping make them valuable as assistants, archivists,
teachers, mages, alchemists and even philosophers in the rare individual. Where ever there is a need
for keeping records, whether it’s a grand court of a kingdom, in the secretive meeting halls of the
Roach crime families, or a humble Mantis library-monastery you can be sure to find at least one Book
Scorpion diligently filling out page after page of information and records.

Book Scorpions are born and raised with their parents, taught to read, write, and the simplest of
cantrips and spells to help offset their diminutive size and mediocre strength. Nearly every Book
Scorpion, upon coming of age, sets out to travel the world for several years. It is rather rare for a Book
Scorpion to remain in the same town or city they were born. These travels are almost always paid for
with their services, hitching rides with merchant caravans or armies as logistic keepers.

Rarely there are Book Scorpions that feel the pull of adventure that calls to so many other races.
These few will search out the most prestigious (and shockingly dwindling amount) of mage
academies, honing their spells until they feel prepared enough to join either an adventuring party or a
mercenary army. Their small size belying the arcane might they are able to unleash or the
enchantments they can place on their allies’ weapons and armors.

Locusts
The Locusts are physically large and imposing, much larger than their Grasshopper cousins, though
not as massive as the Scorpions. They make fierce warriors and apt scouts. There are occasional
Locust shaman or witch doctors, but many are leery of them, especially other locust who fear that he
may become a demagogue and gather too many of his kind in one place.

The Locust people are nomads, but not by choice. They are nomads by necessity, for a civilization
composed solely of their people could not thrive. The more Locusts that gather in an area, the
stronger their hunger grows, rumours that this is a result of an ancient and ancestral curse placed
upon them eons ago recounted now as a common cautionary tale.

With the discovery of “Talms Record”, an ancient set of scroll discovered by accident in a walled up
cavern, this tale was given historical credence. These scrolls tell that ‘The Hunger’ was placed on the
locust people after the Council of Six betrayed the Desert King Thrixxir Quir, the first and last king of
the Locust.The scroll goes on to describe how after uniting his people during the old wars, and making
allies of both the Scorpions and the Beetles, the Council of Six, driven by their private hungers and
urges, mustered an army against Thrixxir Quir's command to besiege his allies, the beetles, who the
Six had grown envious of for their fabulous fabrications beyond the skill of any locust smith.
 “Furious at this betrayal, Our Lord rallied the banners of the few noble houses and wandering
desert clans that had resisted the temptations of greed and gluttony while still remaining loyal
to Him, and for many months He made battle with the legions of the Six, driving them to
starvation in the desert.” - Excerpt from Scroll 5 of Talm’s Record

Talms Record describes how at the end of the third month of Thrixxir Quir’s war waged upon the
traitors, he was finally encircled and utterly outnumbered. Starved and maddened, the Six's armies
had already began to cannibalize their dead in their desperation. When the degenerate legions
descended upon the last loyal Locusts, the stars themselves are said to have aligned and as the
traitors devoured the loyal bannerbugs Thrixxir Quir himself cursed them for all eternity, that

“...should they ever muster behind the banners of false leaders and untrue kings, that this
hunger should return and plague them forever, that they may know shame and guilt eternal.”

While these scrolls may have been simply an ancient recounting of a parable describing the dangers
of cannibalism, beetle archives have accounts of a “desert king consumed by his people” and even a
small number of scorpion sandstone statues dated as having been carved during the reign of King
Thrixxir

Locust avoid each other because of this ancestral mythos, but some believe that should a righteous
lord of all locusts arise, a reincarnation of Thrixxir Quir himself, the locust people may become a great
nation once more.

Until that day comes, they are wandering swords, fighters for hire. Skill-less and stripped of culture,
they are a displaced people, though they are a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Such is an
individual locust's speed and mass that he is easily the equal of a smaller race's heavy cavalry, and a
charge from a formation of them can break even the most steadfast of ant phalanxes.

Locust nomads adorn themselves in beads and silks, their natural chitin thick enough for them to
eschew most heavy armours, lest they interfere with their flight and charges. They prefer to wield a
heavy lance or glaive in their upper set of arms, and typically dual wield a pair of smaller weapons in
their secondary hands for skirmishing after being bogged down in a phalanx or after having their
wings clipped, but it is not unheard of for them to wield bows, or more recently, black powder rifles
bought from fly merchants. They adorn themselves with terrifying warpaint to break enemy morale
before the charge is even complete.

Cicadas
Viewed with suspicion due to their naturally mesmerising song abilities. Musical but a little obsessed
with the passage of time and destiny, Cicadas see portants in pure happenstance. A dangerous
deathcult consisting of mostly Cicadas has arisen that most of their race desperately want to distance
themselves from. Gets along with some species but most religious groups eye them carefully.

Stick Bugs (Hidden People)

The Hidden People are a perfect example of isolationism; far removed from the troubles of other
Civilized Bugs such as the political conflicts between Bee and Hornet or the academic
discord between the Lunarian Moths or the Heliomancer Butterflies. The Hidden People, or more
commonly known as Stick Bugs, have disconnected themselves from most of the world for the
sole reason of achieving the state of Pure Phantasmal. From birth the Stick Bugs are told of the Art of
the Phantasm and tales of the hidden spirits that surround them and influence their
daily lives in strange mystical ways. The Phantom Druids give high praise to these spirits; the spirits
being Stick Bug ancestors that have reached the phantom plane. When one of these
druids has gone far enough in his or her life they may enter into the phantom realm garnering

The young are trained into either Phantom Druids (the highest order), protectors (warriors that defend
their home tribe), or caretakers (lowest order, those that lack stealth work in
the fields or build tools). Those that are raised as Phantom Druids are put through rigorous trials,
strenuous studies, and exhausting physical training. The young Phantom Druids in
training must be both one in mind and body in order for them to pass the final test of (name of the test
still pending), in which the young druid must not be seen by the watchful eye of
the Sky Hunter by essentially becoming invisible and blending in (dragon, big ass bird). Once the
young have passed this final trial a ritual is held in their honor by the leaders of the
tribe and by the Phantom Druids, this ritual is to initiate the young into full fledge Phantom Druids and
as a symbol of the passage of childhood into adulthood.

The protector caste on the other hand is trained in the stealth of the kill so that they may become the
silent guardians of their tribe. A protector may start off training as a druid but
somewhere during their druidical training were most likely noted for their strength or prowess with
weapons, therefore the leaders of the tribe assign the young Stick Bug as a protector.
To some young Stick Bugs this is acceptable, but to most it is an unwelcome challenge that hinders
the journey of transcendence to Pure Phantasm. The protector caste may still engage
in the Art of the Phantasm but reaching the state Pure Phantasm for them is more arduous since they
lack the time to meditate and to study the old stories of the ancestors. These
protectors go through similar tests that the druids endure, but more orientated around combat and
hunting; the final trial for the protectors is the Trial of Courageous Strength. In this
final trial the young Stick Bugs must work as a team of six to bring down a large beast, usually at the
discretion of one of the tribe leaders. Once they have killed their quarry and have
passed the final test the whole tribe has a large feast in honor of the newly made protectors.

Finally are the caretakers, the backbone and working force of the Hidden People. The caretaker caste
is the most numerous of all the castes in a single tribe consisting mostly of those
that lacked the ability to either become a druid or protector (some protectors decide to become
caretakers, albeit a rare occurrence). Typically this caste is known for upkeeping the
infrastructure of the tribe by growing crops, assembling homes and buildings, and making/fixing tools.
The young caretakers are taken under the care of the masters of either crafts,
farming, or architecture. For years like their higher caste brothers and sisters the caretakers are
trained into their various tasks in order to create a working and functioning society
that supports the Phantom Druid's ascension into Pure Phantasm. Unlike other societies though that
may at times mistreat workers in an unequal manner the higher caste members of the Hidden
People treat their caretaker brothers and sisters with the same amount of respect as any other Stick
Bug.

The few Stick Bugs that do interact with the world outside of their home tribe are typically either
protector bugs dissatisfied with home life or Phantom Druids that seek to spread their
spiritual phantom teachings to the unlearned. These Stick Bugs that enter general society usually end
up as spies or even assassins for nobles and wealthy bugs. Most bugs do not know of
Hidden People and their ways, but those few that have learned of Stick Bugs know to always look
twice at twigs and leaves. Some merchants with knowledge of the Hidden people have tried
to find the villages and tribes in order to bring trade to these strange reclusive druids but have either
become forever lost in the foliage or returned with their voyage fruitlessly.
The Mantis monks know the most about the Hidden People, respecting their concealed nature and
spiritual outlook.

"We do not hide our secrets in the mere shadows, but before your very eyes in the sunlight." -
A travelling Phantom Druid to a Lunarian scholar.
Beetles
The Beetles are not one species, rather many disparate clans that span Arath. Each
clan has its own traditions and history. Despite these differences, there are several
things that unite these clans. These clans have a strong warrior tradition, and it is not
uncommon to see these large insects as travelling warriors. The Beetle Clans also
share a single faith, worshipping the Horned Father and Shelled Mother. Many
Beetle-folk follow the path of a Paladin, bringing the justice of the Father and
protection of the Mother to those without it. The last and greatest unifier of these
clans is the Beetle King. The Beetle Kings trace their roots to Khepri, a great warrior-
king who united the Clans under his benevolent rule. King Khepri grew old, his final
wish was that his exoskeleton be removed and forged into armor for his successor to
wear. The Beetle Kings have worn this nigh-indestructable armor into battle time and
time again, and to see the armor in battle is to see Khepri himself protecting his
people once more.
-Trilo
Leechfolk
Living in either swamp villages or in coastal villages the Leechfolk are for the most part a peaceful
species. They subside their parasitic habits on alchemically sedated toads and also harvest the giant
horseshoe crabs natural to the swamps and coasts for their healing blood and great carapaces which
are exported for mainly Chitinmold. Incredible healers and doctors the Leeches are valued by many
races, their homes one of the few neutral grounds various races may meet peacefully. Their incredibly
refined palate allows them to take a sample of blood and literally taste whatever diseases, infections,
or parasites the donor may possess, allowing them to plan out their very specific healing treatments.
Typically the larger villages will have a “spa-mansion” where their patients can rest in comfort during
their treatment. Many leech villages only request that healthy visitors donate as much blood as they
can before moving along.

Leechfolk have a ancestral history mired in a complex structure of purposefully reinforced ignorance
that scholars of Leech-culture have found incredibly frustrating. Young leech are taught a simple,
cutdown ancestry based on the morals of important historical figures that reinforce their cultures
altruistic behaviour yet do not touch upon the far stranger truth. Some independant archeologists have
suggested that ancient Trilobite carvings show leech-like figures held in elaborate cages structures
and have put forward that Leechfolk themselves may be the last and only surviving ‘servitor’ race of
the ancient Trilobite people. Leechfolk have intensely dismissed this as pure speculation.

Roaches
The Roaches are an odd group. Lightning fast and very hardy, they seem well suited to all sorts of
active and even dangerous professions despite an overwhelming majority being found in cities and
towns where they work as civil servants. As the saying goes, "A disorganised Roach is like a muddy
Roach. They don't exist."

Roach controlled settlements are something of a rarity. Most live with and work for other groups of
bugs, filling in positions that other less meticulous bugs dislike or avoid. Because of this most bugs
and groups are at least neutral towards Roaches, although some do find their obsession with personal
cleanliness to be irritating.

Most of the black markets are run by one of four major cockroach crime families, families whose
influence goes back so far that historians have lost track. They are highly protective of their business,
and few outside of the families are ever allowed into any part of the production or distribution process.

The four major families are the Carlione, which primarily deals in pure, high quality drugs, the Cante,
who control many facets of the entertainment industry (extending to both cultural and carnal
entertainment), the Taero, a family of arm dealers more than willing to back both sides of a conflict,
and the Rezae, who sell pheromones (either farmed or alchemically manufactured) of various types to
various species. All of the families prefer not to interact with each other unless absolutely necessary,
and will gladly betray one another if the opportunity presents itself. These cartel families avoid other
species, save for the flies, who all but the Cante deal with due to the flies aptitude for alchemy, in the
form of drugs and weapons.
Flies
As one of the most ubiquitous race, flies found themselves as an underclass, relying on in some
cases the very refuse of other bugs to simply survive. It was only until the revelation of alchemy that
flies found their true calling.

By first learning and then modifying the previously secret art of alchemy they have monopolised,
discarding the ritualistic, yet functionally useless elements to instead focus on alchemy as a pure
industry leading to the breakthrough of mass-producing blackpowder which had been a jealously
guarded secret of the beetles. The alchemical practices of flies has seen a massive expanse of
alchemical tools and equipment, as flies innovate further with little regard to the inherent dangers of
their profession.

Flies now hold the forefront of the alchemical industry and as such have greatly profited to some
races chagrin. Much enmity between flies and beetle society has grown as fly alchemists increasingly
disregard the traditions and faith practices historically associated with their art leading to some beetle
priests flat-out refusing to treat injured chemists.

Class is viewed as a very important social aspect to fly-folk with Mayflies and Mosquitoes at the head,
usually taking the roles of industrial leaders or master alchemists and below them the Houseflies and
Bluebottles forming the middle and lower classes. Flies can fulfill nearly any role in society but most
can expect to find particular success as tradesmen, economic managers, bankers and gunsmiths.

Flies find common prejudice with Butterflies and Moths, the reasons stem mainly from their recent
proclivity to use alchemical means to fulfil that which magic tended to accomplish but also the time
worn lower class status held by Flies in general. These prejudices range from a shallow dislike of fly
appearance by Butterfly sorcerers to the institutionalised racism within sects of the Lunarian
Priesthood actively attempting to remove fly culture from areas. Historically, the underclass status of
Flies had seen them segregated to outside the walls of major cities but there still remains in some of
the current Moth controlled cities a dedicated Fly ghetto which is something of polite embarrassment
when other, more integrated bugs question its existence
Mantis

Much like the Spiders with whom they've found a strange friendship, the Mantis race was once
ostracized for their predatory nature, but has since found solace in their unique philosophy. Not every
mantis is a follower, but they all adhere to the basic tenets of the Learning, a philosophy and lifestyle
that puts a focus on self-discovery, particularly with regards to the nature of one’s instincts.

Mantises live in small settlements, where they live away from the troubles of politics and urban life.
Not all are content with the easy life though, and many travel the world to seek thrills, or to satisfy their
curiosity. More orthodox members of the race would think them foolish, but quests for knowledge are
fully endorsed by the Learning. Mantis towns and settlements are typically led by their spiritual guide,
whom they call the Master. Masters are those adepts of the Learning who have selflessly dedicated
their lives to the guidance of others. ‘Master’ is an honorific used by those seeking to learn from him,
and is not an official title in any form. Masters would object to be called so by non-pupils, in fact,
believing it to be needless protocol, unnecessary for casual conversation.

Mantises are typically given to the pursuit of peaceful activities, like arts and crafts, but the Learning is
a philosophy that avoids conflict, not violence. Masters are always talented martial artists, and adepts
are strongly encouraged to learn at least basic self defense techniques, but it is rare for them to
content themselves with just the basics. Seeing it as a healthy outlet for instinctual and destructive
behavior, Mantises are given to sparring, and some major conflicts have been resolved by way of
simple fistfights, although full-contact, or armed duels are rare, and often seen as shameful activities
for all involved.

“Violence is not always instinct, yielding is not always sensible.”

-The Master’s Proverbs.
Scorpions

A Militarily inclined and serious species, used to hostile living conditions, scorpions are dedicated to
the craft of war. Scorpions make excellent leaders and natural warriors yet suffer from overzealous
martial pride and a penchant for unnecessary violence.

The scorpion people are rigidly divided into bipedal and quadrupedal favouring gaits, the bipedals
forming cities whereas the quadrupedal becoming a nomadic people. Both groups farm small tortoises

Scorpions are stubborn and naturally argumentative when challenged, even more so when the touchy
subject of their beloved mythology is debated. One such argument was ignited between two tribes of
jungle and desert scorpions over the correct walking gait of their species and the legend associated
with its differences.

The following is the extract of recovered Scorpion religious text which caused such anger when
discovered:

“Our people were as kings, striding on two, conquering all before us. Our shells gleamed with
starlight and our claws clipped down those that would see our ruin. Yearning more our king
coveted the softwing priests power and so stole away their essence. The devil eye of Rhun
thrice-encircled left a mark upon his body, his bloodline growing hunched and stooping in
supplication to the night sky and Rhun-most-cursed. Look not upon them for they are
bedevilled and lowly. The brand of Rhun betrays their curse”

This addition to their origin myth threw old scorpion society into disarray, those finding their
preference for four limbs to now be tantamount to heresy. The debate raged with alternative
translations proposed, mistranslations becoming attributed to poor understanding and eventual
violence was sparked between first scholars and later entire tribes, some leaving the jungles in exile
of their bipedal brethren.

After much bloodshed this minor civil war fizzled out, its participants rage burning out after the
legitimacy of the text was brought into question by a visiting mantis scholar. Instead of abandoning the
notion though, the story has simply been added to the more esoteric fables of the scorpion religion
and as such scorpions still find the subject of much contention

Scorpions work well with spiders, understanding the naturally dangerous nature of their species and
embracing it with control and discipline. Scorpions have an intense hatred of moths yet share the
strange ability to glow a pale blue under a full moon commonly associated with Lunarian magic. The
ramifications of this are unclear.
Spiders
For millennia, civilized bugs feared spiders and with good reason; spiders hunted the wilds where the
roads would fade with disuse, and knew no culture, living in solitary. They were hostile to all
creatures, cannibalistic in nature, and worked on instinct alone. Big or small, even a naked spider,
without the primitive tools they used to hunt, was deadly and best faced in company. All civilizations
conducted great efforts to drive them farther away from their cities and towns, but two centuries ago, a
small group of mantis scholars decided on a different direction, trying to apply their beliefs to these
feral creatures. Even among other scholars they faced stark skepticism, mantiskind some of the most
often affected by spider attacks and encounters

With much effort, they managed to capture some of them, and discovered joyfully that they were in
fact capable of conscious thought and of learning, and within a few generations, this method managed
to incorporate a wealth of spiders to many civilizations. The reception varied, and prejudice is
common, but incidents are far and between, and spiders are well on their way to a complete
integration. This is not to say that they have found their place in society easily. While spiders are
relatively common military members, many are hard to discipline and seldom reach positions of
authority (and never in more prejudiced settlements). More peaceful spiders find a lot of work as
tailors, but with no shortage of supply, only the most remarkable craftsmanship is rewarded, most
spider tailors are small time and live in relative poverty. Spider trackers are prized, but are usually
taken to the most dangerous reaches of Arath, and while the pay is good, the risky endeavors end
with their lives eventually. Towns and smaller settlements often employ them as hunters, where they
enjoy the full benefits of the community.

Spiders have no real culture of their own and are accessory to other species, their entire identity a
recent development. Their reception has been varied with mantis society being the most tolerant,
moth and butterfly society the most prejudiced, and fly society being a special case where spiders
enjoy citizenship and find the industrious cities to have great opportunities for work, while being even
more marginalized than in butterfly and moth society. They suffer no hunger, but are usually forbidden
from going outside, and their dwellings must be specially marked, and often live in unofficial ghettos.

Once shunned and banished from Arthro society for their predatory instincts, spiders have recently
reintegrated into in small communities as productive and valuable individuals. While they are not
known for their communal friendliness, spiders can often be found providing essential building,
weaving and tracking services to the highest bidder. Spiders have found allies with both mantis and
scorpions, the mantis showing via philosophy and meditation ways to curb their basic instincts and the
scorpions demonstrating the powers of self-control. Some species of spider have devolved to their
predatory nature and are greatly feared.

Even today, feral spiders exist, and every year many spiders abandon civilization to live in the wilds
like the olden days, disenchanted with their marginalized living, at least as many as feral spiders are
converted to civilization every day. The efforts of the specialized schools of the Learning have been
doubled, but their work appears to be endless, and with donations and funding decreasing as more
question the need for even more spiders to be integrated, this effort may eventually cease completely.

Civilised spiders often demonstrate their nurturing side by raising small frogs as pets, the excitable
amphibians bred for their protective nature and energetic disposition. They are commonly given as
companions to young spiderlings, the frogs being highly protective of their charges will either begin
croaking loudly to attract the attention of the parent or launch themselves at an assailant to buy their
charge time to flee if the Spiderlings are under threat. Some spider species such as the Tarantula go
so far as to specialise in frog rearing, training their pets into powerful mounts for elite spider dragoons.
Crabs
Considered an oddity in Arthro society, crabs demonstrate an affinity with the sea, building their small,
rough villages on coastlines to filter feed and hunt aquatic life. Crabs are well known for their maritime
knowledge and physical strength yet are also known for their enjoyment of colourful bric-a-brac which
they adorn themselves with. The larger and noticeably less intelligent of their species are used as
construction and war machines. Crabs are natural allies to shrimp who provide essential maintenance
services. They have also found allies with beetles, some crabs becoming aquatic law enforcers, and
the coastal dwelling leeches they herd feral crustaceans with. Crabs also have knowledge of the
monstrous creatures such as the Great Isopod and Abominable Yeti Crab.

>hermit crabs are exceptionally frail and thus use the shells of sea snails as armor
>hermit crab sorcerers are some of the most powerful mages in the ocean, capable of conjuring
destructive tempests
>a council of hermit crab sages could theoretically create a large enough tsunami to wipe out most of
the Carapace Coast, though it would be against their strict code of noninterference with other cultures
>fiddler crabs often make crude shoreline settlements based around clam ranching
>despite their fearsome appearance, fiddlers are cowardly and their claws are largely used for mating
purposes
>a reclusive species, ghost crabs only come out of their burrows at night, and often poach other
crabs' livestock
>few even know that ghost crabs exist, as their natural camouflage makes them nearly impossible to
detect if someone does not know what they are dealing with
>Mangrove tree crabs are druidic tenders of their holy trees, zealously guarding them from all
intruders
>Though harming a mangrove would incur their wrath, passage through their territory may be bought
with an offering of meat, which they cannot easily acquire

Shrimp
Shrimp are the common aquatic worker race, organising undersea society and agriculture. As farmers
and builders, shrimp provide both food and cleaning services to their crab allies in return for protection
and defence. Shrimp have also found allies with some species of fly notably the Mayfly and Damselfly
who regularly pay for larvae protection services from shrimp creche managers.
Shrimp are by and large kindly and mercantile, always happy to make a trade and have a pleasant
chat.

>This is not so for the Deva Shrimp, also known as the Peacock Mantis (although more gentile
Mantises will abhor the comparison).

>Few sentient creatures of [WORLD NAME] are as alien and implacable as these Mer, or as deadly.
As the Dragons, those avian horrors, are feared and legendary upon the land and air, the Deva rivals
such creatures as the Kraken and Leviathan, for even those creatures are but animals, mythic and
powerful though they may be.

>What drives the enigmatic shrimp to acts of horrific violence none can say, their martial orders
amongst the most deadly in the world. Some say that they see Invisible horrors in those eyes, and it
has driven them to madness. Coastal death cults maintain that it was enlightenment, not madness,
that these dread monks have been driven to.
“>I see it now...the stars have aligned and the ritual complete. I had spoken with the Mountain and
with Khepri, who told me of ascension, and Hotek, who showed me many paths. I have lost my eyes
and yet I see all the hidden machinations and invisible toil that this hollow shell of creation sits upon.
Five circles of Indomitable chaos, order, time, element, and dream. I thought this plane was the sixth
sphere.The sixth sphere, the underpinning of creation. The Spire of the universe. Oh how terribly
deluded I was, madness and idiocy I took for knowledge poisoning my mind. This world is nothing
more than a battle ground, the arena in which the forces of the spheres gird against each other, our
wild minds creating gods and demons and Angels and Devils for every rock and broken twig, and
endless army for them to use as pawns. O' Misery! Cruel Epiphany! But it is us who are the greatest
pawns. Tools for which they manipulate and toy, use and abuse. And all the while this sick parody of a
plane is torn asunder whilst the spheres attempt to gain supremacy...the future bleeds into the past
and the past become our future, the linear path of time made into a horrible circuit. Order and chaos
lock their battlefields in abhorrent stagnation and send the world into hideous mutation. The material
realm is eroded by the world of dreams and our deepest dreams, fears, and lusts are made manifest.
This world is not OURS. It is THEIRS. We are but FOOD for their hidden armies. I...I...I feel my very
binds loosening...the universe rejecting me like a sickness, I am become a cancer...I lack the will to
ascend through enlightenment, and I have not the will to ascendancy through violence. The shadows
stalk me...the animals watch me...the very earth is undone under my feet and the air cuts me like
razors..I will be undone. I will be torn asunder.. WILL. Remember this. Do what I cannot. Should you
attract the eye of the Other, do not falter. Do not go quietly into that crushing oblivion. Do not let your
cowardice envelope you and crush you under its embrace. Should you read this...should you know
the nature of things...You must fight.

>Kill or be killed.

>-Excerpt from the hidden journal of Barnum Türle the Hermit, carved upon his own carapace.”
Lobsters (The Mer)
Lobsters, also known as Mer especially amongst arachnids, in warmer climes have more in common
in with the beetle Kingdoms and the scorpion nomads, save their demeanour is generally more
upbeat and mercantile than their deeper cousins. These reef lobsters have a duality between the land
and sea similar to crabs with both small coastal provinces and larger, more sprawling, reef structures.

Patroklosus III, the current Lobster King of the reef, no longer resides in the palatial residents of their
tropical islands having grown too large to comfortably or safely fit in most buildings. Instead upon his
insistence a great vessel was constructed to hold his vast form taking with him a small cadre of
assistants and guards. This royal barge still roams the sea often stopping at coastal lobster towns
allowing the now senile Patroklosus to monitor for any would-be usurpers that have grown mighty with
age in the hope of challenging them in combat. In his absence, Diraknos, his first born son, acts in his
stead where his inexperience and penchant for the ‘highs of life’ has lead to more than a few
problems, mostly centred around bastard children and infuriated husbands.

Mer within the open sea do not live up the legends that their land born brethren have attributed to
them. Narrow thoraxes and hourglass abdomens are replaced with horrible carapaced bulk, sweet
mandibled faces supplanted with alien combed maws. The cold weather Lobsters have much more in
common with the Centaur? raiders of the desolate sands and mountains than exotic half piscine
maidens. These brutish and desolate creatures ravage any ships in their territory, and their nomadic
nature makes avoiding them nigh impossible. Even more concerning is their growth, which doesn't
cease until their death, some elder Mer reaching tens of meters in length.

Assassin Bugs - A quiet race, the mysterious assassin bugs originate from far flung territories as of
yet not fully explored by bug society. Their habitat is so dangerous that in order to simply survive they
have been forced to become mere shadows, rarely noticed and rarer seen. Hidden among the most
secluded of groves, the Assassin Bug people live tentative lives, perilously close to being consumed
by the jungles they reside in where one false move can mean the death of not only oneself but that of
those around you. This has left them distrustful of outsiders who are viewed as clumsy and reckless.
The rare instances of Assassin bugs being spotted in regular arthro-society has all seen them being
described as shady and dangerous, taking jobs that others find too immoral to consider.
Domesticated Creatures / Common Feral Bugs
Snails - Commonly used pack animals that despite their slowness, can carry incredibly huge amounts
of material. Often used by ants, termites and other construction species to carry weighty building
materials. Snails’ natural hardiness makes them good pack animals and as a result can weather
difficult terrain with ease. Snails struggle in deserts where they can become desiccated without pre-
moistening.
Slugs - As a close cousin to snails, slugs can be found all over the world. While some breeds are
used as an alternative haulage system by bug races (mostly swamp dwellers) the more popular
breeds are far smaller having found a niche as common house pets. Despite this, a number of luck-
related superstitions have been affixed to them such as in the south where pure black slugs are
thought to bring bad luck to those that step on their trail or the commonly held belief in swamp
tradition that a poorly treated slug can curse a household unless a dish of scraps are left out on
weekends.
Aphids - A stock race often bred or their delicious honeydew sacs and rich meat. Ants and termites
have an established business of aphid rearing and their honeydew is often used to brew many
different beverages and foodstuffs. Aphids are often the target of bandits hoping to steal them away
for their own means. There are two main breds of Aphid farmed. The Wooly Aphid for its rich fleece
and the larger Sugar Aphid for its meat and dew.
Wetas - Specially bred for their size and pliability, wetas make excellent mounts and strong military
steeds. Capable of biting through even the toughest carapace and armour they make formidable
creatures and many a legend feature brave bug - knights riding upon their noble Weta steeds.
Millipedes - The domesticated millipede make excellent baggage trains, their forms able to carry ten
times the amount a snail can and with excellent speed. The reason they are not used as much as
snails is due to their stubborn temperament and the long time it takes to train them for suitable use
Centipedes - Whereas millipedes are stubborn but tamable creatures, centipedes are downright
aggressive and uncontrollable. Favouring the dank jungle climates centipedes are fiercely territorial
and many variants have deadly venom with which they paralyse and kill intruders.
Horseshoe Crabs - House-sized horseshoe crabs are herded and cared for by coastal living
leechfolk. Not only are they great sources of building materials, their dome shells forming the frame of
many leech buildings, but of special interest is these sea arachnids special blue blood. This blood has
many advantageous medical properties which is used as a basis for their extremely potent healing
potions and medical cures.
Man’o’War - Once used as living vehicles by the trilobite people, the Mano'war now lives free in the
wild oceans and skies usually around former Trilobite cities. A siphonophore colony organism they
drift through the ocean trailing highly venomous tendrils behind in search of food. Only able to float
with an inflated air bladder and aimlessly following the currents they prove to be potent obstacle for
any ship unfortunate to collide with them. A strange development of these beasts (thought to be a
residual trait from their war-machine origins) are that after a certain age, the air bladder undergoes
mutation and begins producing a buoyant gas in great amounts. These mature Mano'war having now
float through the air preying on flying creatures and unsuspecting ground dwellers. A recent trend has
seen these drifting hulks caught and turned into living dirigibles and with careful pruning of tentacles
they can be turned into an effective air transportation for long distance trade and transport.
Pillbugs - Not to be confused with their intelligent but cult driven relatives, Pillbugs are hardy, slow,
and peaceful beasts. They're easily caught and domesticated, with their meat used for food and their
carapace as armor. However, in the deeper wilds, there exists a subspecies that is rather aggressive
dubbed 'dire-pills'. If they see an intruder upon their territory, they curl into balls and roll towards their
victims with intent to crush them.
Gnats - Gnats are considered a common pest in practically every city, the fast breeding flying
creatures ranging in size from beetle palm-sized to nearly the size of the sentient Flies. They feast on
practically anything they can find but prefer rotting food. Some Flies and Moths have begun breeding
them and entering them into fashion shows as "Fancy Gnats", often breeding extreme traits into them.
This includes gnats with eyes almost as large as their bodies and unable to fly, gnats with overly large
wings with gossamer patterns, gnats with stubby legs or extremely long and fragile legs. Some of the
more practical individuals have begun breeding them as hunting companions, their keen sense of
smell able to detect prey from long distances. There have even been some justice-minded individuals
that use the gnats keen sense of smell to track down murder or accidental victims needing rescue or
avenging.
Mites & Ticks - Rising to the height of fashion, both Mites and Ticks are valued as exotic living
jewelry. With some species valued as high as gemstones these rare breeds are considered highly
prized luxury goods that no self respecting noble would be seen without in some form. Recently a
radical fashion movement promoted the nobility to forgo simple pins and straps and instead affix their
pets to their bodies directly, the creatures growing fat and luxurious on the noble blood. This
movement rose and fell swiftly as a spate of illness throughout the nobility saw blood infections from
borrowed jewelry and even rumours of the complete exsanguination of a fly noblewoman who took
her hobby to the ultimate level.
Coconut Crabs - As far as Behemoths go, these are quite docile. As such, Coconut Crabs have often
been tamed either for heavy labour, or as siege mounts.
Dragonflies - Dragonflies are the much bigger and more expensive mount-bug alternative to the
Weta. Dragonfly breeders and Weta ranchers frequently argue about the qualities of each species as
a mount and are always eager to tout their personal opinions of the other.The are capable of
incredible speeds of flight and aerial acrobatics and, normally rather wild and stubborn, they can be
tamed with enough patience and skill. This is a very dangerous activity as dragonflies are naturally
carnivorous and can easily mutilate a trainer even before reaching adulthood. It is easy to recognise
Dragonfly trainers by their missing digits. Tamed dragonflies are used as mounts by the more daring
bugs, and some kingdoms have a host of these flying knights, who perform military and civilian duty
as warriors and couriers/rescue troops, the same riders performing aerial shows during times of
peace, pulling complicated flight maneuvers and weaving through each other in the air. Dragonflies
are bred for their shining, iridescent colors for-show breeds and size/speed for working breeds with
the knight houses priding themselves on having dragonflies with coloring matching their heraldry

.Mounted dragonfly knights act as flying assault cavalry on the battlefield, doing flybys with spears,
bombs, and in some cases, special long gonnes with a massive bayonet to act as a combination
spear-rifle, able to fire a shot to soften a target before going in for the stab, and then flying away to
reload or attack from another angle. Their mounts can also pick up enemy bugs with their legs or tails
and drop them from the air on top of their own allies
Antagonistic Creatures and Other Groups
Monsterbugs
Monsterbugs are similar to their feral counterparts, primordial and beastly instead of sedate these
creatures are driven by aggression, viewing civilised bugs as nothing more than another food source.

Minor monsterbugs are a constant nuisance and often the target of hunting parties where large
rewards can be won to those ridding towns of troublesome Aphideaters (giant ladybugs) or
Highwaystalkers (Antlions).

It has been argued by the highest mantis scholars that with patience and careful communication,
these monsterbugs might be subdued but all recorded attempts in history have met with dramatic
failure.

Behemoth
Where monsterbugs may destroy a farmstead before being driven off or killed, Behemoths are so
large as to be major disasters if ever they were to stumble upon an area of civilisation. Behemoths
occur in all environments and across all terrain but thankfully Behemoths are solitary creatures,
usually passive unless disturbed.

There has been only a handful of Behemoth attacks on civilised bug society but every single one
has left a cruel scar in their wake. From Ira the Spine King’s (a hedgehog) assault on the Red Hive
to Bathis the Black (an Archerfish) devouring most of the royal fleet of Saltholm, Behemoth are truly
terrifying creatures that no bug should hope to encounter.

Some religious text speak of apocalyptic Behemoths that shall supposedly herald the end of the
world. While details are mixed according to religions and location, the concurrent myth indicates
that these creatures will emerge from the Land, Sky and Sea to bring havoc to the world.

Geko Tribe
Geckos exist throughout the world, found in many environments from the wettest swamps and jungles
to the driest deserts. They exist in a large range of shapes and sizes. From fierce predatory pack
hunters to solitary camouflaged ambush attackers geckos are almost always carnivorous.

There have been attempts to domesticate the Geckos to some success, a breed barely larger than
the domesticated frogs popular to spider populations is a common sight in scorpion settlements as
pets and sometimes as food. The popularity of the Domesticated Gecko is spreading with breeders
and merchants spreading their numbers through the world.

What the world does not realize is that there is a type of Gecko that has grown intelligent, one of the
few intelligent vertebrate race to gain true sentience. These Geckos do their best to hide from the
insect and arachnid races that dominate the world, forming their secretive villages in dark jungles and
scorching deserts. Their sentience and breed originated on an island tainted and twisted by ancient
Trilobite technology and pollution, generations of hunting among the ruins causing mutations and
adaptations that lead to their eventual sentience. They are mistrustful and skittish, seeing themselves
as strangers in a deadly world that treats their kind as beasts and monsters.

The most successful home of these Geckos lies in a coastal cave system they claimed after leaving
their former island home as it sank into the ocean. There the Geckos are building their civilization,
tending to feral mollusks and cave worms they paint their pebbly hides with paints made from ground
up shellfish and cave molds. Psychotropic cave fungus is a common staple in their fledgling religion
that worships the energizing sun, drawing remarkable similarities to Wasps and their Sun God.

These Geckos are becoming more of a nuisance to the Arthropod people as they spread and expand.
They are sometimes forced to resort to theft and raiding underdefended villages and caravans though
they can occasionally be sated with an offering of food or goods like blankets or metal tools.

There is the rumour that a tribe of Gecko are being manipulated by a rogue Fly bandit-lord gathering
up Gecko tribes in a bid to stake out his own land with bandits and reptile minions.

Followers of the Mold

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dKuFE9EZ19uyZfWWMk09n7pG4JmiOnShmioMbCTz208/edit
?usp=sharingThe insidious cult of the apocalypse was first found in the outlying ant populations,
affecting any and all that came in contact with an ‘preaching’ member. Worrying instances of madness
in Cicadas and the strong of mind has led to some even worshipping the fungal monstrosities produce
from long-term Cordycep infection. Some have whispered that these creatures are linked by unholy
manner to one another in a similar fashion to a royal queen, able to see and speak as one through
individual members. Mantis scholars have found ancient historical evidence to suggest that the
cordycep infection is not something found naturally and may have been engineered at some point in
time.

The Ascendant
A strange and potentially dangerous cult of personality. Practitioners follow and promote the
teachings of Laran Sprike, a charismatic and well known Cockroach priest of note. The core tenants
of Laran’s Gospel of Song were initially a form of sky worship; Laran himself said the heavens spoke
to him directly after he pushed past the limits of flying height. The followers of Laran became The
Ascendant, after their leader took flight one day never to return, his body believed to have been
spirited away to be with the sky. While this may seem an esoteric belief system that might otherwise
be accepted, the actual scripture left by Laran states that all other forms of belief are heretical and
those that do not comply with the Ascendants beliefs must be judged under the vengeful eye of the
sky itself. Such awful ‘judging’ involve things such as staking out ‘unbelievers’ to let birds devour them
and dropping poor souls from a height towards a crushing end.

Woodlouse Sect of Return

A dangerous trilobite worshipping religious sect who revile the use of higher technology and instead
rely on strange magics from their ancient gods. They hope to summon the Great Isopod from the sea
to wreak havoc against those they deem to have transgressed against their beliefs.

Trilobites
A long dead sea race that reached the pinnacle of their civilisation through the ancient and long lost
craft of biomancy. Crab scholars have pieced together historical evidence that indicates that at some
point, the great kingdoms of the trilobite and ammonite people came to war and with it, the extinction
of both races. What is left of the Trilobite people are their tombs and the odd artifacts of their world.
Their remnants are worshipped by the dangerous Woodlouse Sect of Return but rumours are that the
trilobite legacy lives on in the insidious Cordyceps infections.

Ammonite
Along with the Trilobites, the Ammonite civilisation is equally ancient and equally dead. Unlike the
trilobites, the ammonite people had no land based structures, the only real records of their existence
remaining in the odd remains found by crab archaeologists at the bottom of the deepest sea trenches.
At some point during the Ammonite Kingdoms they fell foul by their own accord, committing the
highest and most complex blasphemy of Automancy, the creation and use of artificial life. While the
exact history is unclear, one constant story of Ammonite history is that these parodies of life destroyed
not only the Trilobites but also their Ammonite masters before mysteriously disappearing.

Grand Wasp Horde

The Grand Wasp Horde is a fearsome army of savage, hateful and extremist Wasps and Hornets who
were excommunicated from civilized bug society. Originally led by Alrak Titra, a fearsome Tarantula
Hawk Wasp, the horde is made up of various tribes/outcast societies who have unified under the
banner of the Hawk, whether by choice or by force. The main ideology of the Wasp Horde is purity,
believing that they are the superior race and that all other bug races (especially bees)are inferior and
deserve nothing but utter extermination. While they mainly operate as a roving military force, the
Wasp Horde is also known for using extreme terrorist tactics in order to get their message across the
bug world. This has led to many fearing that the Horde may be operating secretive cells underneath
bug society to further their agenda. Ordinary hornet citizens are often stereotyped and ridiculed as
being members or related to the Wasp Horde and receiving many cruel piques about their willingness
to set fire to Bee hives and other acts of violence. The Wasp Horde is currently experiencing a crisis
of leadership after the accidental self-immolation of Alrak. While still a significant threat, the Horde’s
leadership is now divided between Aldon, Purol and Renda Titra, Alrak’s sons, as differences in
methods and ideals bog down the Horde’s momentum. If for some reason they were to re-unite, the
Horde could potentially snuff out civilization. The Wasp Horde is noted to have a stronger connection
to the primal magic of the wild, druids amongst their numbers and generally of greater skill than that of
other factions. Seeing a Wasp druid manipulate a giant Venus Flytrap is a terrifying sight, and many a
horror stories about them.

Bot Flies
Mad thinkers hidden in Fly society that have abandoned their morals and ethics. They are infamous
for dissecting various races and creatures and for creating horrible stitchwork monstrosities.

Slaver Ant Colony

The Slaver Ants are a cruel colony hungry for conquest. Their location is hidden, and they usually
send out raiding parties to capture slaves, their favorite targets being the youngs of other Ant
colonies.When their numbers are large enough, they mobilize an army to conquer another colony and
subjugate its workers, but that does not happen often as they are constantly hunted down by other
colonies. In the past, the Slaver Ant queen conquered a few other ant colonies by deceiving the native
queens, but they’ve since had to rely on brute force. The Slave Ant colony is composed of one queen,
a large amount of soldiers, and an even larger group of oppressed slave mostly captured from Ant
colonies, but not devoid of other races. Other colonies would love nothing more than to know the
location of their colony as to lay siege to it.

Cordyceps Infected bugs and mutated MosquitoesMosquitos

Technology and the World
The general technological level is broad, roughly comparable from that of the Iron Age to the early
Renaissance, with some unique bug-related technologies adapted to varied anatomies. Some species
such as termites and crickets mastered the art of metallurgy given their mining monopolies and expert
knowledge of ores. Mole Cricket run blacksmiths are often found throughout Branch Towns and for
the right price even the largest Stag Beetle can be clad in steel. Flies monopolise on the need for
cheap

Finance & Currency

The universally accepted currency of the world is Gold Amber Chips. These amber chips are minted
from a specific breed of tree, its amber a distinctive golden hue that almost radiates when light is cast
upon it. This species was evidently common at some point in time but its decline has seen the
discovery of new, untapped mines as banking guilds number one priority. This base currency is very
rare and valuable and its control is held by a number of governments and banking guilds who regulate
distribution. Rarer still is Blue Amber, derived from a completely extinct tree species it is too valuable
to be turned into chips and is instead usually used as part of precious jewellry.

Currency is further divided into less rare and darker coloured ambers which, while still being
uncommon came from far more common tree species, are of less direct value with Yellow, Orange
and finally Red Amber Chips of lesser value respectively. The ratio of each grade of currency is as
follows

10 Red Amber Chips = 1 Orange Amber Chip

10 Orange Amber Chips = 1 Yellow Amber Chip
10 Yellow Amber Chips = 1 Gold Amber Chip

It is not uncommon for bugs to attempt to ply regular amber or alchemically formed amber to cheat
honest businessmen but a simple test is to shine a light through and compare the colour and
occlusion to the real stuff or an official chart. While the Amber Chip system is universally accepted,
some areas of the world also accept direct trade in bartering or rarer goods.

Most financial transactions are carried out by “The Golden Antenna”, the main guild of bankers where
financial transactions is maintained by Book-scorpions who relish the complex organisations and Flies
and Roach clerks who find the management bureaucracy fascinating.

Agriculture
Agriculture is gradually adapting itself from claw-milled flour to the world of waterwheels and
windmills. Industrious termites have found their hive-spires serving as excellent mounts for wind
power while their carefully balanced underground farms allow the harvesting of edible fungi. Termites
were the first races to include fermentation rooms to create mead and other alcoholic substances but
it was the Grasshoppers who perfected the process.
Weapons & Armour

Slashing
weapons
Due to the ever present exoskeletons of most species, cutting and slashing swords are an uncommon
specialist weapons mostly used by flying races during aerial combat where a quick slash to the wings
can end a fight instantly. There are also some schools of martial teaching that practice extremely
precise strikes with cutting swords to target joints in limbs and carapace plates.Heavy, cleaving
swords are a common sight in the hands of beetles and scorpions where the strength to wield such a
blade lets them devastate an opponent by removing limbs and smashing through carapace to the
vulnerable insides.

Blunt weapons - Bludgeoning and impact weapons are the most common category by a wide
margin. Maces, hammers, morningstars, flails, picks, heavy axes and metal wrapped staves are
ubiquitous in the same manner that swords are for us.The ability to crack and shatter hard carapace
while dealing damage with even glancing blows are invaluable.

Piercing Weapons and Bows - Bows are focused less on range and more on sheer power where the
raw penetrating power punches through shell and armour alike.For those races not strong enough to
pull a laminated full-bow or a massive great-bow, mechanical crossbows are favoured, their incredible
short range penetration bringing even the mightiest beetle down with accurately placed shots..

Spears and Polearms - These weapons have a somewhat different style of use in Arthro-society with
a focus on weight for penetration or hooks and barbs for catching limbs and equipment. Weapons like
stilettos are favoured over edged daggers by those wanting to remain unnoticed. Some races such as
mosquitos even specialise in piercing weapons, the fencing School of Transfixion teaching expert
pinning maneuvers.

Armor - Although many species have their own natural armor due to their exoskeletons, it’s not
unusual to augment this with artificial armor as well. Since many of these insects molt regularly over
their lives, strong chitin is fairly abundant, and is the most common material in armor-making. If the
molted chitin is too big to fit and be used as armor, it is ground up and mixed with glue-like resin to
produce a material called Scutmeld. The Scutmeld is then shaped into whatever form is desired.
Scutmeld is not often used in the forging of weapons, as it cannot hold an edge but sometimes large
chunks are turned into suitable ammunition for fragmentation devices.
Gunpowder- The secretive order of Bombardiers were the first to understand the bizarre
machinations of gunpowder but it is the innovations of Flies that can be awarded the act of spreading
it to bugfolk. With the increased proclivity of gunpowder weaponry and the cheapening of black
powder as a substance, devastating ballistic weapons such as stone-shrapnel mines, multibarrel fire-
arrow throwers and bug-portable rocketry are making an ever frequent appearance in regular bug
society. Some groups have specialized in gunpowder weaponry and unique weapons such as the
frightening screamer-guns favoured by the cicada panoplies or the Infernal Tongue used by the fire
bees are only the beginning of the potentials of gunpowder.

Alchemy - With the advent of gunpowder, an increasing interest in exploring further chemical fields
has spread to every nation giving rise to the science and Craft. Along with the legitimate practitioners,
charlatans promising riches out of rocks have sprung up eager to fool citizens. Alchemy has proven to
be a double-edged sword, the creation of potent medicines and distillations from plant extracts being
equally as common as the destructive arts of black-powder and poisons, alchemists trading both iin
equal measure..
Magic
Magic in this world has existed since the first bugs gained sentience. While these bugs may have
known the “truth” of how magic works, those truths have been lost to time.

Today, magic is seen as a channeling of one’s faith in something. The stronger one’s belief, the
stronger the magics that can be produced. Because all magic is now rooted in faith, it takes the form
of the faith in a way, due to the beliefs of the caster.

Most modern magic stems from a trial-and-error methodology that created a feedback into the
author's magical convictions. Those who found it natural, convenient, or sensible to use rites, trinkets
or catalysts, realized their magic worked best when casted with these aids or fetishes, despite the fact
that these were not necessary for it. One's 'ideal' form, function, and method of one's magic shapes
the actual magic casted.

Despite these limitations being mostly self-imposed, magic is not easy. The ability to shape or cast it
is not solely limited by one's imagination (although a vast imagination is still supremely useful).
Mastering the methods of one's ideal magic can make one a better magician, and their magic more
powerful, but this is useless without the raw magical skill.

Magic can be learned, but it requires practice, and does not flow naturally from oneself. In a way, the
caster is forcing magic into a specific shape, and this can be tiresome, or dangerous, and sometimes,
outright impossible without the right skill. Convictions aid this by making this shaping more natural and
attuned to one's expectations of their abilities. A skilled magician who lacks in faith will be severely
hampered, the shape of the spell too unnatural to his expectations. A magician strong in convictions
may be masterful in his methods and have all the right tools, but if his skill is lacking the effect will be
reduced (or null).

Magic is a waning practice as more and more bugs invest their faith in the more scientifically
demonstrable fly alchemy, choosing its simple processes over the the complicated and rigorous
practices required to magic
Once spoken of only in hushed whispers among bugfolk, their forbidden knowledge of malign
chemistries deemed almost unholy to the otherwise fine Beetle orders. Only after the Battle of
Stonegate were the Bombardiers fully trusted, aiding with their strange concoctions and potions to the
flagging ant legions in their defence of their Queens keep against the forces of Grammax the Ashlord..
It was then that the bombardiers revealed their mastery of alchemy and offered to share this
information with other species despite protestations from both moth and butterfly guilds. Now it is not
uncommon for even a humble ant or lowly fly to ply the trade of alchemy among the cities, offering
brews and concoctions to aid and ail.
Locations
Arath has a multitude of differing environments and locations, far too many to comprehensively list in
full. The following is a small number of major and minor locations, some even described by those that
reside there.

Common Building Features

(bee)
Now I'm picturing a bee hivecity on a plain. There's a single big hive that houses the queen and the
'royals' or 'elites', which is kind of similar to an arcology or a really big mall. Then you have six smaller
subhives, these are mostly occupied with workers and soldiers. Between the subhives and the main
hive there would be squares (or perhaps more aptly named: hexes) connected by roads. Then there
could be the residential areas for the non-bees outside the six subhives, or if the city's big enough,
twelve more subhives. Then, after the subhives and residential/commercial areas, would be the wall,
six-sided with 30-degree angles on the trellises and fortifications. These are manned by the soldiers,
with six gates allowing non-bee groundwalkers to enter, while fliers are escorted by bee soldiers to the
guard towers at the six corners for inspection. Those who resist are usually netted, or if they're
especially belligerent, blasted out of the sky using pyromancy and/or alchemically treated crossbow
bolts by the soldiers manning the walls. Not too blocky, not too high, rather a really really really large
building. For the 'technology level' we work with, an arcology like you describe would be a large city
by itself by anyone's standards, but I picture the whole thing being divided in floors, so the rest of your
idea would work, moving upwards.I don't think hexagons should be too important, but it could be an
exceedingly common architecture among hives and even buildings. If you've been to a hive, you've
been to all of them, so to speak, as they're built similarly, organized similarly, etc. Even among
different houses you could get the feeling you've been there before. Six walls, two floors at most,
every house stuck next to each other, almost the same visually.
(wasp)
I had an idea for a Wasp fortress that was built hanging from a rather large cliff-face or at its edge and
extending down. Would be a good defensive structure if the landscape is right.

Maybe the Wasp structures are smoother and resemble the real world Paper Wasp hives, the big
ones that can overtake a house or tree if left alone long enough

An Examination of Dewhall
By Alehano Solar, Temple Priest

Dewhall is a characteristic border town on the edge of the Big Green, a melting pot of culture and
peoples. Founded just over a decade ago during The Push, the town serves as a hub for frontiersmen
and explorers, while also cultivating the rich land to grow fruits and tend to large herds of
domesticated Sugar Aphids bred for eating. The graze lands and fruit fields extend about a mile
outside the town. The town's primary exports are berry wine and aphid meat, which they exchange
with neighbouring border towns in exchange for other essential supplies, and they also ship them
back into the heartlands commercially.

The town itself is centred on Dewhall itself, a great stump excavated and carved by masterful Termite
craftsmen. The hall, a single, massive room with doors and pathways leading off into branching
corridors and sections carved into the floor, walls, and ceiling, serves as the seat of the local marquis.
The Marquis of Dewhall is a neurotic, but good hearted butterfly, named Ico Nohastro, the fourth of his
name. He has only recently come into rule, succeeding his father, who financed the expedition to the
area years ago. His rulership is just and fair, but lately taxes have been inching higher and higher in
light of recent raids from Locust Reavers and Roach Bandits from the hinterlands to the north. The
taxes have been being funnelled into financing stronger defences for the town, including the newly
erected chitinmold walls encircling the houses and trade bazaars built around Dewhall.

The ever-present Alchemists Guild has recently set up a guild mound in Dewhall, lead by the veteran
apothecary-chemist Burzat-zo-Burzat, a large horsefly with a large appetite and an even larger hunger
for science. The rest of the Guild is composed nearly exclusively of novices, no more than a dozen.
They have recently been petitioning Marquis Nohastro for funding, claiming they could help secure the
town with their alchemical experiments and weaponry. In just the six short months they have been in
town, their guild mound has burned down twice already.

The two main religions tolerated in town are the Golden Mound, practiced by the unfortunate and
poorly educated land bugs, and the Temple of Lunara, which is adhered to by we, the glorious chosen
people of the moon. There is a small shrine dedicated to the Horn and Shell which often has some
stale or lost tribute laid at its rest, though there are few Beetles that pass through this town. Most of
the beetles in the border provinces make careers as explorers and adventurers, their natural size and
strength allowing them to function as a more mobile baggage carrier than a snail, and their toughness
making them formidable opponents in battle, even against the larger monsters in the Big Green. The
few beetles that remain in Dewhall are mostly sentinels upon the wall, or patrolling yeomen who keep
watch over their adopted household's lands. Many of the beetles have converted to the Golden
Mound, away from their mother religion because of economic and geopolitical relevance. There is a
mad preacher in town, a shrimp too far from the sea, that screams of the shedding of the world-skin
and the coming end times, and he is regularly jailed, or placed in stocks for disturbing the peace.

The three economic pillars of Dewhall are the industries of: aphid breeding, berry growing, and
security. Everything in town exists to supplement and make money off of these industries and the
people that perpetuate them. The aphid breeders make the smallest demographic of the big three, but
still outnumber all of the professional craftsmen in town combined. Salt miners just to the south of
town provide much needed preservative for shipping the dried meats between towns. Spice traders
from distant lands have made permanent shops in the bazaar, each peddling raw spice and cooked
aphid seasoned with their cultural herbs, providing a great variety in flavours, despite all being
founded on the staple of aphid meat. The Alchemist's Guild is working on a brew to accelerate aphid
growth.

The berry growers, who tend to the massive fruits that grow, are careful to guard their crops from the
aphids, who are mostly bred free range. Most of their job consists of checking the freshness of the
fruit, which is whittled away in slices because of its mass, rather than plucked from the stem. The
berries are nearly the size of a house-mound, and a berry tending family only needs a single berry to
thrive to count it as a successful season. Most berries find themselves eaten by stray aphids, stolen
away by bandits in the night, or munched on by wild creatures. Adventurers often lend aid in hunting
down the root cause of defiled berries. In town, wine makers and dessert cooks are the most
interested in the raw berry meat. Whereas a slice of berry the size of a plate might sell for a few
copper pieces, a slice of berry cooked and spiced and served with iced honeydew will sell for nearly a
dozen. Wine makers purchase wholesale, or own their own vines, the produce of which they distill into
sweet wines, mixed with honeydew and spices.

The security forces, the town guard, mercenary companies, and adventurers form the third pillar of the
economy. Much of the wares peddled in town are to attract adventurers and brave insects to deal with
Dewhall's problems so the townsfolk and landowners can get on with their simple, content lives in
relative peace. There are three smiths in town, and while the majority of their work is towards creating
tools and implements for the other craftsfolk and doing elaborate metalwork commissions for the
Marquise, their largest source of income is certainly adventurers and mercenaries, who are often
commissioning replacement arms and armour. They mostly work with rudimentary irons and bronze,
and while the local smiths work fast and to order, their work is paled in comparison to the Cricket
Steel imported by savvy caravaners, who also employ mercenaries and adventurers. The town's
location on the edge of the Big Green makes it a profitable place for adventurer's to travel to and rest
their head on their time off of expeditions for ruins and treasure in the great and dangerous
grasslands.

There are several large tavern-mounds, and even one that is prestigious enough to be within the
Dewhall stump itself. They make their income off of selling individual servings of berry wine and in-
house prepared food using local and imported produce, sometimes spiced if they are cheap enough
for the tavern owner to consider purchasing them at market. They make most of their income through
selling beds. The taverns outside the Dewhall sell cheap stays in communal nesting rooms, tunnelled
spherical rooms that offshoot from the main hall, where it is guaranteed to be warm and secure from
outside forces, but it is up to the purchaser to find somewhere to lay his head amongst the dozens of
other insects in the chamber. There may be a small fire in an alcove in the room, but it is more likely
that the room is heated geothermally. The prestigious "Stag's Pride," inside the Dewhall has individual
rooms and serves exquisite meals, and is composed mostly of the same staff of the Marquis' own
cooks. The Marquis owns the Stag's Pride, but the innkeeper is well treated and paid, and mostly runs
the affairs without the Marquis' meddling and keeps a large sum of the profit. That means the Stag's
Pride is straight laced and doesn't allow any funny business, and has loyalty directly to the well being
of the town, so rabble rousing adventurers are not tolerated, and will often be turned in directly to the
palace guard, a few of whom are actually stationed within the bar itself.
The other security forces such as the Town Guard and Palace Guard, are hired directly by the
Marquis, rather than drawn to the town by its promise of fortune like adventurers are. Their duty is to
uphold the law of the Marquis first and foremost, and of the empire at large as a secondary duty.
Many laws that make sense in the inner empire are simply unwarranted or cumbersome in the border
provinces. For example, many towns in the inner kingdoms are prosperous and large enough to have
dungeons for imprisoning prisoners of war or criminals awaiting trial. In the border marches, such
dungeons are nearly unheard of, with the guardhouse having maybe one or two holding cells, mostly
reserved for political prisoners. This means that justice is swift and done with once its sentence is
served. Thieves will have a hand removed, con men, their tongue. Murderers are hanged and divided
into thorax head and abdomen before being mounted on the walls as a warning to other law breakers.
This also means that many things that don't warrant such a punishment aren't even considered crimes
worth the time of the Guard, and the townsfolk must deal with such petty disputes amongst
themselves, creating yet another source of income for adventurers who simply don't have a weta in
the race of local politics.

The mercenary companies and adventurers are often indistinguishable visually and functionally, the
only difference being the size of the group. Once a group becomes large enough, it is taxed as an
entity by the Marquis, but additionally is often offered exclusive contracts straight from Ico Nohastro or
his advisers, generally rendering the taxation less trouble than it would seem, since the amount owed
is often earned back many times over by the lucrative and dangerous jobs given to them that is
outside the Town or Palace Guard's jurisdiction and outside a mere adventuring party's capabilities.
This includes jobs such as hunting down monsters larger than a Thornback, such as the River
Dragons to the south and east, or a Basilisk that has come too close to the town for comfort from the
Big Green.

Most of the townsfolk within the town are craftspeople who simply work their trade or maintain their
shop, which is often the front room of their residence mound. They wake up at sunrise, go to bed at
sun down, and work during the day at various levels of industriousness. Noon time is often something
of a siesta, where the workers will venture to the bazaar for food if they can afford it and haven't
prepared something themselves. Caravaners and adventurers have a good deal going on and can
often be found hand in hand and exchanging protection for goods.
The River Cities
The Craw people live in the Nineteen River Cities, each an independent city state of varying influence.
The River Cities are located mostly in the swamplands between the heartlands and the Big Green.
The majority of each city is wholly submerged in the murky bayou waters, but a great deal of each
River City is above the surface, easily rivalling a comparable branch town in size and population.

The Craw are largely reclusive and stay out of the politics of the world at large. They are unaligned
politically for the most part, but some of the River Cities lean towards favouring whichever other
culture has been the most generous with them. The Craw do not import foodstuffs or any basic
staples, the Swamplands provide much bounty for those who know where to look and how to cultivate
it. The Craw subside mostly off of smaller aquatic bugs and farmed algae.

The Craw make most of their trade money through providing safe passage and hospitality to travellers
and merchants, against whom they levy high taxes and tariffs. Nearly all travellers however, pay the
price, no matter how steep it is, because the alternative is near-certain death alone and lost in the
swamp. The Craw are known for their hospitality, which extends above and beyond the traditional call
of duty, travellers and merchants paying a high fee, but receiving more than what's fair in return.

The treachery of the swamps has created a demand for monster hunters, and it is a profession many
aspiring adventurers can make a living on. There are incalculable horrors lurking in the bogs and
wetlands the River Cities claim to exert influence over, and they are always needing hunting. In spite
of their petty rivalries and ancient blood feuds, each of the nineteen River Cities has agreed to host a
non-political guild composed of equal parts Craw and outsiders, dedicated to hunting monsters for
bounties levied by individual City magisters. The Monster Hunter's Guild is given political immunity
during their expeditions, regardless of the banners they carry, because the extermination of monsters
benefits the economies of all the cities.

Once every year, the Wyrm Hunt is called. The nineteen River Cities muster their standing armies,
declare a truce and ceasefire for two months, and all undertake major operations to hunt and
annihilate the young spawn of as many River Dragons they can to prevent their population from
booming. Often, one or two Dragons themselves are killed, but the majority of the hunt is centred on
killing the young kings before they can mature into the city-ravaging monsters they become in
adulthood. Despite the truce being declared, it is not unheard of for a city to guide River Dragons
away from their cities towards other roaming hunting parties to weaken their neighbours for the
coming summer, when a war might be declared. The Craw are extremely opportunistic at destroying
one another, but absolutely will not breach the terms of their truces and agreements. To a Craw, it is
better to be gutted and crucified on the surface to suffocate than it is to dishonour oneself.

The honour culture of the Craw is very particular and elaborate. The majority of the Craw people and
culture is submerged below the surface, both literally and figuratively. To outsiders, the Craw seem a
happy-go-lucky, noble folk who are well known for hospitality and luxury for their guests. Below the
surface, they are cut throat merchant princes, plantation owners, and noble families, each the
potential patron of any number of machinists, artists, and composers. The beautiful aspects of their
society, and the bounty of their services to outsiders is fuelled by the darkness under the water.
Unbeknownst to the world at large, the majority of the River Cities employ the slavery of small shrimp,
who cultivate the algae that provides the staple of the Craw Diet, the other staple being the shrimp
themselves after they have outlived their usefulness, or in some ranches, bred specifically to die.

If other cultures were to learn of this barbaric practice, it would surely sink their outside economy, and
perhaps provoke an invasion, in spite of the foolishness of such an endeavour. As a result, all but the
most flagrant of River Cities will keep this aspect of their society under wraps, and those that don't are
so deep in the swamp that they know they are virtually immune to invasion by outsiders: the swamp
would kill their armies months before they reached the city.

The peculiarity of their culture and the function of honour, is they will see and treat guests as equals,
regardless of their actual social standing, but their slaves are never seen as guests, and therefore
never treated as equals. The Craw, despite having a wide gap between the upper, land owning class,
and the lower, landless class, are united in their absolute knowledge of their worthiness as Craw over
the shrimp. This leads to even the lowest of Craw feeling a camaraderie with the highest, because of
their unification in a very much "us versus them" society.

The Craw River Cities have very little influence on the outside world, beyond some luxury exports,
such as the art created by renown Craw artists, funded by the noble plantation owning families. At
least four River Cities are in a state of open war at any given time, caused equally by economic or
honour disputes. Each River City is ruled over differently, but the majority are lead by a Prime
Electorate, a land owning noble that is elected by his peers and the common Craw equally, until he is
deposed by another vote, which can be called at any time. Because of their elected leadership, and
the sense of fellowship felt with even those above and below them, this leads to mostly stable
societies within the cities and their borderlands. The very feeling that they chose who seats the
throne, and can depose him at any time, leads the Craw to a sense of comfort, which in turn, causes
very few actual overthrowings.

The arts, and cuisine in particular flourish in the River Cities. Much of the art is stonework and
paintings that could not survive the surface world, so are gone unseen by the uninitiated and
outsiders. Their cuisine is composed mainly of spicy meat and stews, and elaborate candies and
distilled honeydew. Algae is seen is a bland staple, and is not fed to guests. Most ingredients used in
their cultural dishes are prone to spoilage, so do not see use in the world at large, which promotes
those who become enamoured with the cuisine to return and stay in the River Cities at a premium.

Branch Towns
Huge hollow log capital in the middle of a deep forest
Termite megalopolis in the desert
Scarab offshoot not-egypt city
Crab villages on the seashores
Trilobite ruins
The Blasted Zone

The Blasted Zone is one of the most stark reminders of

the Ammonite-Trilobite to still exist. Miles of obliterated
and tainted landscape stretch in all directions, the ruins
of Ammonite structures dotting the land.

The Blasted Zones are a highly dangerous area where

only the most hardy and resourceful of adventurers dare
set foot. The "natural" hazards are many, much of the
Zones consisting of half-frozen marshes and steaming
forests. Plant and wildlife suffer from constant mutations
and diseases, warping into nearly unrecognizable new
monstrous forms.

A near persistent fog shrouds the Zones, hiding much

from view and hampering scent from travelling.
Unexpected anomalies appear without warning, violent
breakings of physics or magic erupting. These
anomalies range from harmless events such as leaves
falling upwards it as violent as gravity deciding to go
sideways. Roaming pillars of fire, spheres of boiling
water or chemicals drift like bubbles through the air,
small motes of nothingness carving perfect holes
through whatever or whoever they encounter. The
hazards of the Blasted Zones are many but their
rewards are great for those brave and resourceful
enough to survive.
Relics of the Ammonites empire persist, hidden in deep
bunkers or scattered across the land. A collective of
Roaches, payrolled by Fly researchers and with ties to
the crime families, are common visitors delving into the
dangerous Zones searching for artefacts and lost
knowledge.

The mystery of the Blasted Zones origin is lost to time

but the occasional recovered information details the site
as a safe haven for the Ammonites dangerous
experiments. Several fly and book scorpion scholars
well versed in the Zones theorize the catastrophe
occurred during a Trilobite invasion leading to the violent
destabilization of a delicate experiment into what the
Ammonites called "Harmonic Wave Alterations".
(maybe consider changes so as not to be quite on the nose of S.T.A.L.K.E.R)

Groups
The Golden Antenna (up for a name change?)
The banking group and guild

Events
Time Periods
The Feral Age

It all began in the feral age when a red ant scout patrol met a termite foward camp in the grasslands
of Arthros, although small in comparisson to the great towers the termite are known for to the feral
ants it was more than a impressive fortification for then it was a very serious threat for their
sovereigntiy, they sent word of their discovery back to the nest and the Red queen promptly sent a
message back and with hundred of thousands of soldiers.
Back the termite fort word from scouts of a vast ant army amassing near their position caught all of
them by suprise, they didn't know of any ant settlement on the grasslands.
But their leader a termite by the name of Janus simply told to all workers to stop their foraging and get
back inside the fort he told to his second in command to prepare their troops that consisted in a
couple of hundreds of guards to prepare for the ants arrival and to go back to their king queen and tell
them what was happening, and he also sent word for the chief of the workers to prepare seal off the
tunnel that linked their main colony in case that if the battle was lost so that the ants wouldn't be able
to gain anymore ground and threaten their home.
When the ants arrived Janus knew the seriousness of the situation, it was like a red tide had come for
him, the ant General named Lyciana ordered her troops to stop at the base of the termite tower she
then stepped forth and started to relay hers queen message.
>To all termites that are residing within this fortress surrender now and we will give you free passage
back to termite lands if you chose to reject or ignore this demand we will assault this fort and kill every
single soul that resides within it.
And for various moments there was a great silence, until Janus appeared on the top of the tower and
shouted.
>Come and try to take it!.
And like this a situation that could have been resolved without bloodshed end up beginning a series of
conflicts that would left deep scars.
The ants sent the first wave of common infantry in order to take the towerbut they were pushed back
by the defenders another wave of infantry made the climb this time double of numbers of the first but
this attack was also reppeled, next Lyciana sent flying units to target the defenders from above and
this time they succeded the termites were forced to enter deep inside the tower and tens of thousands
of ants started to make their way inside the tunnels,but now Janus trap was set, he knew that there
was no hope for him to hold the tower with so few guards but he knew his tower he knew every nook
and cranny and he also had his workers with him and he made use of them.
Every time his troops found the ants moving into a tunnel his workers quickly worked to seal it forcing
the ants to move only where he allowed them to, for five days this went on until at the noon of the fifth
day Janus appeared again at the top of the tower helding several ants heads in his hands and threw
them at Lyciana feets.
Before she could order a general attack she saw movement in the grass behind the tower it was the
termite army with numbers doubled of hers, she saw no choice but to turn back with her army and live
to fight another day.
The first battle went for the termites but this wouldn't be the last time Lyciana and Janus met
themselves on the opposing sides of the battlefield, one simply cannot tell of their story without
mentioning the other.
Religions
Bug belief is incredibly varied and many a great philosopher and alchemist has pondered on the true
origin of bugs as a whole. Nearly every race has some form of origin myth or great epic.

The Golden Mound

The idea that all bugs came from a sacred cosmic frass-ball big ol' pile of bug poop. Golden Mound
followers poop in a box, and every week they bring that box to the local temple to add it to a big
communal frass-ball.The frass-ball is burned and its ashes used as fertilizer at the start of the Spring-
Year. Widely worshiped by the common bug, it is a humble, pacifist religion that is very accepting,
canonizing other deities.

The Divine Horn and Shell

The belief in the Horned husband and his Shelled wife. Commonly practiced by beetle-folk. Some
sects may believe that the Horned husband and Shelled mother sired the first of various Beetle races,
such as the First Scarab, Xarinthik. These First Beetles are seen as patron gods for each Beetle race.
Devout Divine Horn and Shell followers will often decorate their horns for males, and paint their shells
for females. This has lead to new fashions even among non-religious populations.

The Lord of Sky

Oznus, Lord of the Sky, is one of the most commonly worshiped Gods in the land of Arath. The
majority of his worshipers are predictably winged insects with Butterflies being among the most
numerous of his followers. Oznus is commonly depicted as a butterfly or sometimes even a multi-
colored Roc, one of the beasts that fly high above, rarely descending to the earth except to rear their
chicks and feed.

The Winds are believed to be his voice and passions unleashed upon the world. Everything from a
gentle breeze that cools a worker in a field to a gale that tears the branches off the largest of Great-
Trees. A common expression during a cold wind at the change of the seasons is "Lord Oznus must be
sighing."

"Flight is freedom", is one of their core tenets, and a worshiper that loses their wings is snubbed by
their peers and derisively pitied. Viewed as “afflicted’ by the majority of the clergy, there are charitable
drives and collections held to provide aid to these crippled few, condescension and patronizing
sentiment notwithstanding. There is however those that pity them and work to provide aid to the
crippled.

Another core part of their belief is the ascension of their souls upon death to join Oznus as he soars
eternally through the skies. Most speak of how they become the stars or join their families and loved
ones in the paradise that the Sun is a portal to. This ties in partially with the Lunarians belief that at
the end of their life mothfolk will go on a spiritual "fly-about" and ascend to the heavens.

While not officially united both religions have close ties and commonly find allies in each other when
facing a dire threat.

Priests carry a shepherds hook shaped staff that carries a prayer inscribed wind-chime. The Wind-
Chime is considered one of Oznus' holy symbols and the largest of his temples in the upper-most
branches of the Great-Trees have many of them in a wide range of sizes on display. The slightest
breeze causing a symphony of bamboo, wood, metal, crystal, chitin, bone, and any other material
they could make. A common practice is for pilgrims to craft a simple Wind-Chime from materials
gathered on their pilgrimage and give them to the temples.

Lunarians
The belief that bug-folk came from the moon and that the moon-itself is a huge egg holding the
physical form of the moth lord of creation. Unsurprisingly believed by moths but practitioners of similar
magic often convert. Lunarians make monthly pilgrimages to their temples for every full moon. Solar
eclipses are called 'Moon Days' and their most important holidays revolve around it, overseen by the
current pope/popess (always a moth), organizing feasts, magic shows, and parades for the event.
Lunar eclipses are the second most important where followers wear red. Children also hunt for red
balls and tell scary stories as tradition.

The Matriarchal Devourer

The belief that a tyrannical God King created the world, but no life, then the blessed Matriarch came
and ate him and with that energy wove all creation first giving birth to the spider race. The religious
leader of the Matriarchal Devourer is always female. Every season, locals put on a play about their
mythos. A male is randomly selected to play the God King. In the past, the actor was killed and
consumed at the end of the play, but this practice was eventually found abominable by other faiths
and changed.

Venomancer Religion to be written

The Sacred Shedding - A doomsday cult that believes this world is the carapace of a great cosmic
being (interpretation of the being vary wildly from sect to sect). They believe this being keeps growing
and shedding his carapace, repeatedly destroying the world and creating a new, bigger one. The
more extremist followers preach that the end of this cycle is nigh. Some sects of the Sacred Shedding
are trying to hasten the process of shedding by large digging and excavation projects, or causing
geological disasters with earth magic. The religion has a foothold in every species that molts their
carapace/shell, especially lobsters who do not stop growing like the cosmic being.

The Deep Lords - An undersea pantheon worshiped by many of the aquatic races. They are not
regarded as merciful, and it is believed that they expect something in return for their gifts. The
pantheon counts:

Lord of the Five-Eyed Claw, Opabinia

He is depicted as knowledge-hungry, his five eyes ever scouring for new knowledge - and his
lone claw wrests minds for the secrets they hold. He is also depicted as selfish with what knowledge
he has. Thus undersea scribes venerate him, and bugs sacrifice to him if they either need knowledge
- or need a secret buried so deep that only Lord Opabinia knows. Offerings to Opabinia are usually in
the form of a scrap of paper inscribed with a secret, burnt or ripped to shreds and eaten or a book
bound with chains, for the devout to write their daily lives and secrets in, to be buried with them and to
be seen only by them and Lord Opabinia.

Lord of the Crushing Grasp, Anomalocaris

He is depicted as a brutal warlord, his two muscular arms able to rip new trenches by their
own. He has no time for the weak, and is attracted to strength. Thus undersea warriors venerate him,
to spare them his wrath of battle, and to direct the wrath of Anomalocaris to their enemies instead.
Offerings to Anomalocaris is usually in the form of an unbroken piece of shell, clay effigies of soldiers
or warriors or a clay effigy of the worshipper, to be broken on the altar, then pieced together and re-
molded as a battle charm.

Lady of the Quilled Thorns, Wiwaxia

She is depicted as a cruel mistress, whose domain is subjugation and respect. She is
frequently depicted as clad in spiny armor, and she is known to be cowed by witful words. But should
a bug cross her, their heart will be the first to be struck by the myriad of thorns adorning her. Thus
undersea socialites and politicians venerate her, to be her first servant - so that they could subjugate
the other, lesser servants that is unworthy of Wiwaxia. In offering to Wiwaxia it is often that a piece of
meat, struck with thorns, spines or needles, is placed at the altar with in an intoxicating liquor poured
over it.

Lord of Confusing Illusions, Hallucigenia

He is depicted as a trickster and madman, whose form changes from one branching form to
another. His tendrils reach far and wide, and emit a miasma where it is said one can peer through the
veil of reality. But spend too long under his domain, and even the most steadfast bug will lose
themselves and go mad from the visions they see. Thus undersea artists, artisans and mages
venerate him - for they will go many lengths to depict what is in Hallucigenia’s domain. Worshippers to
Hallucigenia will imbibe a potent psychotropic liquor and usually embark on a psychological journey
where they will often find ‘talismans’ in the form of objects they pick up during their stupor. These
talismans can form a further object of worship
Mother of Trilobites, Marrella
She is depicted as the less cruel of the five, but in the sense that she is more passive. She is
frequently depicted as a buglike Trilobite, cradling a small Trilobite in her arms. But make no mistake -
for her domain is time. When she wants something done, it will be done. She represents both
inevitability and change. Thus she is venerated by most of the undersea population, to alleviate and
cope with the pain of death - or to stall her inevitable coming to the world. After all, the last time
Marrella ascended from the infinite abyss, it was at the end of the Trilobites and the Ammonites.
Marellas worship is a humble one, a small wooden effigy of a trilobite and a piece of favoured food is
sufficient an offering.

Classes
Warrior, Mage, Rogue, Berserker, Shaman, Assassin, Hunter, Priest (a more offensive cleric), Cleric,
Sorcerer, Necromancer, Paladin, Druid, Dread-Bug (like a Dread Knight), Thief, Bard, Death-Bug (as
in Death Knight), Strider (melee oriented ninja-like hunter), Legionnaire (tankier warrior),
Sharpshooter (sniper version of the hunter), Elementalist, Scribe, Martial Artist

D&D 5e conversion

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ws-lG--qfV4EmI4Y-WbT0WWrJkJSABz8bM_pSg0SWLI/edit?
usp=sharing

`1
Histories
Historical Figures
King Khepri
A great figure from the annals of history, King Khepri of the Beetles is remembered fondly as their first
and greatest leader, and as a warrior of peerless skill. This entry, however, is not about King Khepri,
but his death and legacy.

When Khepri grew old, he was denied his final wish: to die in honorable combat. Not wanting to be
remembered as a king who died of old age, Khepri demanded that, upon his death, his entire
exoskeleton was to be removed, and forged into a great suit of armor for his successor.

Khepri's legendary carapace now sits resplendent among the royal armoury, tended to by master
armourers to maintain its historical qualities and time-honoured features. To see a Beetle King
fighting in this ancestral armor is to see Khepri himself on the field of battle once more, protecting his
people and defeating their enemies for all time. Just as the old king wanted.

It is a common saying among Beetle warriors that the Kings of the Shell have always worn the same
face: both metaphorically and literally, it seems.

Emperor Pandinus
As the First Scorpion Emperor, Pandinus the Imperator is a figure swathed in truths and half-truths.
Well known for his brute force and tactical ability he reigned during the Unification Era where his
toughness and ferocity was legendary, rallying scorpion-kind with his indomitable figure to forge an
empire that still stands, in some form, to this day. Pandinus is also known as The Builder, after the
majestic Imperial City at the heart of his empire still standing after centuries.

Like most of the first Scorpion Emperors, Pandinus sought death in combat, and during an exploration
of a recently discovered island, it is believed by scorpion Remembrancers that he came across a
great dragon that titaned over him, with thick scales and jaws that left a bite of corrosive liquid he
eventually felled the beast at the cost of his own life. While this is questionable, the heritage of
Pandinus can be seen in the dark black scorpions who proudly trace their lineage to Pandinus
himself.

As a much beloved figure, Pandinus is often the centre of scorpion war ballads, where his (usually
grossly exaggerated) feats are spread through song, these include him having up to a thousand arms
and being as tall as ten scorpions stacked upon one another. The volatile nature of scorpions means
it is a wise bug that does not comment on the specific details of Pandinus’s legends.
Greria
Greria the Just, the first of the Scarab Paladins. She was born and raised among her fellow Scarabs,
in a tribe that suffered from Scorpion raids. When it was time for Greria to come of age, she trekked
into the desert to survive for a week and visit the Scarab holy site, an old sandstone temple, as was
the custom. Greria, after several days, was running low on supplies, was over heated, and about to
collapse from exhaustion. She had made it to the temple, however, and dragged herself inside.
Greria was struck by a dream in her sleep. She dreamed of the Scarabs in her village, and the
Scorpions that threatened them. Her dream self wandered, until it was met with a glowing light. She
saw a figure, which revealed itself to be the First Scarab, Xarinthik. Xarinthik revealed he had chosen
Graria to be an example of what it meant to be a Scarab, and to be the one who would become
mother to a million Scarabs.

He taught her what she needed to know, from how to fight to the laws that every Scarab should know.
The last thing Xarinthik did was press a heafty axe made of iron, and a shield carved from the bone of
a Horned Beast i.e. Horned Lizard

It was time for Greria to wake up.

When Greia awoke, she found that she was no longer thirsty, she no longer hungered, and felt twice
as strong as before. The weapon and shield she had been given were in her hands, with a faint glow
that quickly faded.

With her newfound knowledge, Greria set out to return home as quickly as possible, to share the good
news.

When she finally returned to the village, she arrived to a horrible sight. The Scorpions were raiding,
and the village was burning before her eyes. Greia could not stand by as the Scorpions attacked her
people.

With a yell she charged down the dune. Slave-ants fired arrows, all of which missed or hit her shield.
She attacked the Scorpion slave-driver, cleaving one of his pincers off with a mighty swing. When her
for tried to strike back, she slammed the bone shield into him, and finished him off with another axe-
swing. She turned to slave-ants and proclaimed they were free. The slave-ants fled, dropping their
bows.

Greria then turned to the horde of Scorpions, and charged them, a sense of righteous fury filling the
young Scarab.

When the scattered Scarab warriors saw Greria charging the Scorpion raiders, they were able to find
the resolve to charge with her. The Scorpions, not expecting this turn of events, tried to flee, and
many were cut down in the confusion.

At the end of the day, the Scarabs were victorious, and Greia was hailed as a hero. The Scarabs
rebuilt the damage to the village, and Greria taught them what Xarinthik had taught her. The new
Scarab Law was set down, bringing the Scarabs into a new age.

That night, Greia had another dream. Xarinthik urged her to travel to all the Scarab Tribes and teach
them the law and he'll where it was needed.

Years later she trained her children in the art of the Paladin, and they in turn, taught their children, and
so on. After several generations, the decendents of Greria who stayed with the Way of the Paladin
taught others, and formally founded the Grerian Order, the beginning of the Paladin Order that exists
in the scarab nation to this day.
Brieta
Brieta the Deliverer, Brieta the Wise, it was she who first awakened us spiders to sapience. She who
left behind the barbaric trait of cannibalism. It was she who sought out the teachings of the Mantises
and the Scorpions to help guide us out of the savage era. After traveling the world and becoming one
with the most learned individuals, rivaling even the most studious Pseudo Scorpions, she came back
to us, led us to our Grand Tree and began our society lifting all spiders to sapience from the smallest
Moss spider to the Goliath spiders, from the harmless Stilt spiders to the treacherous Widows. She
welcomed all of us and taught us truth and brought us an era of peace with fellow arthos. But then we
were betrayed by the Recluses.

Blackfeeler
>Blackfeeler was one of the most notorious lobster privateers of his time, striking terror into coastal
communities on nearly every continent.
>He was finally defeated by a courageous band of pistol shrimp who hunted him to his atoll port and
burned it to the ground
>his massive wealth was then distributed among the shrimp villages nearby, jumpstarting the
economy and giving rise to one of the richest trading empires of today
>Blackfeeler used an enormous coconut crab when he besieged the walls of New Clearwater, the
largest freshwater shrimp settlement, itself
>he managed to make of with over three quarter's of the city's amassed wealth

He's half Reef Lobster and half Deep Lobster, a la half orcs. Dunno what else he needs.

Sidd'arta the Enlightened

Suggested name for the first mantis to begin the Learning

Story Hooks
The Fly Problem
Fly alchemy has revolutionised the world in more ways than one. While it has elevated the best and
brightest of the fly populace it has in turn thrown the deeply religious groups and sects into turmoil as
their secrets and abilities are flagrantly mimicked with little to none of the ritual. Discussions are
made, amber is exchanged and suddenly trade in fly districts is slowed to a crawl by a sudden
unexpected flood. More hushed whispers as a few prominent alchemists disap
pear while others leave the city under cover of darkness. Things are getting dangerous and even
regular flies fear for their safety. Who might be behind this and why? Where does the amber trail
lead?

Mosquito Plague
Somewhere between vampires, zombies and rabies that once ravaged the land. A disease spread
through infected blood and tissue that can survive for decades outside a host resulting in small
resurgences. In most the disease results in mindless blood-hunger. In mosquitos it induces powerful
mutations and doesn't totally remove higher thought processes, leaving some planning and threat
assessment intact. Very Left 4 Dead.

Trilobite Lich
What has been awoken? This ancient monster wield terrifying magics and bizarre artifacts.

Woodlouse Map Prophet

Amongst the scrappy a raving prophet has come forth, ranting about the end times and the coming of
an Avatar of their god. He has lead a hoard of his kind out from their deep forest homes, heading for
the coast and raiding any settlement in their way. Is the prophecy real or just delusion? Do the
woodlice have a real objective or is it just opportunism? Is the prophet just an unstable louse or
something more dangerous? Who knows? Not the PCs that's for sure!

The Lone Scarab

Several days ago a Scarab warrior wandered into town. Terrified of the menacing giant of a bug the
townsfolk fled indoors. But no horrors came about. Instead the Scarab simple made his way to the
centre of town and sat atop the ton bell tower, where he has remained unmoving ever since. The
townsfolk are too terrified to approach, much less question the warrior. What is his purpose and why
is he waiting here?

Devil of the Sands

Rumors spread of a giant monster stalking the deserts. A dragon made of huge spikes that swallows
bugs whole, mercilessly devouring whole caravans, leaving only scattered crates and packs to be
swallowed by the sands. Caravans have been going missing? Could there be some truth to these
rumors? Or are they just a smokescreen for something more mundane?

Wings of Iron, Stings of Blood

This town seems quite friendly, despite the wide range of races. However, this place isn’t as peaceful
as it seems; various intels and rumors point towards the town hosting an underground criminal cell
working for the Wasp Horde! If they remain here any longer, this quaint little village won’t stand a
chance against the invasion force, thousands of lives may be lost.

Cordycep Conundrum
A portion of a large town has recently been quarantined due to an outbreak of the Cordycep
virus.With the entire population in a panic, the players are contracted to go seek out a cure of some
kind to save those who can be saved, and to stop the outbreak. Can the adventurers find the cure and
make it back in time before the city is overrun?

Wyrm Hunt
The craw people, so often overlooked and easily forgotten by the other Great Nations, are blighted
by the presence of the River Dragons (snapping turtles) lurking in their ancestral bayous and rivers.
Their submerged freshwater cities find themselves often beset by the tyrannical monsters, and
yearly call a great Wyrm Hunt, mustering the armies of the nineteen River Cites and all heroes that
answer the call, and they embark into the wild waters and muck of the swamps to bring back the
heads of as many of these great drakes as they can before season's end.

Were they to not do this, they would surely reproduce and become a problem much larger than could
be handled. The yearly Wyrm Hunt costs much in lives and money, both of which, however, come
easily to the craw people, who breed quickly and levy high tariffs and taxes for safe travel and trade
through their treacherous homeland.
Tales from the Bug World
A Trilobite Secret
By Trilobite Anon -

My name is Grex, and I will never fly again. I am a Moth Priest of the Moon and Dust. So, child, you
want to hear about how I got this banged up? Well, my friends and I were foolish enough to try and
delve into a Trilobite ruin. Velnor, our Rhino Beetle was a Warrior, bless his horn. There was Ren'thik,
a Mantis and our Rogue. Finally there was Wintha, a Butterfly and a scholar-mage.

We set out after hearing rumors of a long forgotten Trilobite city on the Great Coast, to the east. After
a week of travel, we had arrived. There were holes in the cliff face near the water, and we waited until
nightfall for the water to retreat. We entered, lighting the way with my antennae, channeling the Light
of the Moon. We should have never entered that cursed place. The first cavern we came to was full of
these terrible creatures, twisted in form and mind. They were like the Locusts or Hornet's, but they
had strange, jagged metal points protruding from their limbs, and mandibles sharper than thorns.

It took some intense fighting, but we were able to kill the swarm with a well placed flamebolt from
Wintha and some muscle from Velnor. We continued through the chamber, until we heard this wet
tearing sound. It was Ren'thik who found the source first. A clutch of eggs that those beasts had laid
were hatching. We were forced to kill the hatchlings, which had started trying to swarm us as soon as
they pulled free from their eggshells.

Further in the caverns, we were ambushed by traps. These traps though, they still make my wings
quiver. They looked like termite soldiers rooted into the rock and covered with that same silvery
substance the swarms had. It was difficult to avoid the acidic glue in the right confines of the corridor.
Luckily we made it through. I was able to heal Velnor of his burns, and we went on.

What we found was not treasure. It was not even artifacts. It was an abomination, plain and simple.

It was a great serpent, scales of pure silver. Its fangs were longer than Ren'thik was tall. We tried to
flee, only to find that the entrance was sealed off by webbing. The webbing was still being spun by
spiders. They too were twisted, with growths on their heads, growths that looked almost like the Mold,
but they were not.

The serpent struck, and Wintha was swallowed whole by the beast. With a furious cry, Velnor
charged, only to be crushed under the weight of the serpent's tail. Ren'thik tried to claw through the
webbing, but in his panic he only became entangled. The spider beasts dragged him away.

I prayed to the moon for guidance, convinced I was about to die. I think the moon was smiling on me
that day, as I spied an opening, far above. I flew faster than I ever have before, somehow avoiding the
serpent's Maw when it snapped at me. I approached the Light when I saw it. The entrance was
covered with brambles.

I forced my way through them, the thorny scrub tearing at me and my wings. I was too terrified to
notice until much later, too late for the scars to be healed. It took me a long week to return to Brenhow
Log. It took me a month before I could sleep soundly, without any nightmares. I hope nobody has to
go through what I did.
A Grandfather's Lesson
By Anon

The young beetle lay in bed, nursing his cracked carapace. He trembled with rage and shame,
cursing big-beetle words under his breath. He was in a sour mood. Another beetle shuffled through
the beads in the doorway and into the boy's room. He was hunched and old, his carapace dented and
worn. He sat on the edge of the boy's cot, placed a patient hand on his head and waited silently. The
boy's head twitched indignantly as his grandfather, holding his silence for several moments before
saying everything at once.

"It wasn't my fault! They started it! They insulted our family and called them has-beens and I only
wanted to uphold the clan's honor! If they knew who you were they would never have -"

"How many of them were there?" the old beetle said, his voice cracked gravelly and frail.

"Three" the young beetle muttered

"And they were larger than you yes?" He nodded and his grandfather flicked him below the horn.

"Silly boy, where has your wisdom gone?"

"I'm not afraid to lose a fight, grandfather." His eyes were dark and defiant.

"Lose the fights you must lose, but pick your fights when you are able."

"I won't be a coward." he stubbornly replied

"It's not about cowardice or bravery, it's about winning or losing!"

"Fighting only the fights you can win is cowardice!"

The elder shook his head. Proverbs and bites of wisdom would get nowhere with this boy. He needed
another approach to show him a better way.

Six years into the Western Sand War, the scorpion emperor Skarrus III had conquered much of the
White Dunes. The Scarabs held them at a stalemate along the western border, but they were free to
expand south. The emperor's Sixth Legion were the most brutal scorpion warriors of the empire, and
left a trail of blood behind them on their warpath. They roamed the deserts slaughtering and enslaving
any creatures that they came across.

One day, an envoy from a relatively small termite mound arrived, pleading for the help of the Scarab
paladins. But their forces were stretched thin enough as it was, and couldn't spare enough warriors to
protect the termites. Only a single scarab accepted their plea: Azir the Gold.

Azir trekked across the desert and came to the termite village. They were small creatures, with no
weapons of their own. They used their bodies for work, so there were no tools to repurpose for war.
They were ill-equipped and outmatched, and Azir alone could not defeat the Legion. But the termites
were numerous, and he came up with a plan…
Azir tracked the Sixth Legion through the desert, and met them in the dunes. He strode atop the
highest hill wielding the massive blade-horn of his ancestor, Gorr of the Fine Sand. He spotted the
scorpions in the distance and bellowed a mighty roar, gaining their attention. The legion, drunk from
desert fruit and victorious in their recent skirmishes, answered his challenge and charged at him.

They tore across the desert atop their swift arachnid legs. Every one of them larger than Azir himself,
and 70 in number. Within minutes they were upon his hill and flew up to challenge his might. But Azir
was not alone, and as they climbed the slope the termite villagers, everyone of them save the larvae
and elderly, sprung into action.

The termites had burrowed into the ground hours before, digging criss-crossing tunnels. As the Legion
crossed over their trap, they collapsed the tunnels causing the warriors to fall in. Their swift arachnid
legs were buried in sand. The termites were numerous, as I said, and outnumbered each scorpion
warrior ten-one. They climbed upon the scorpions and held them in place.

Azir lifted his bladehorn and tore down the dune, and begun cleaving through the immobile scorpions,
who were no longer a match for him. They struck with their stingers, but they were panicked and
drunk and Azir dodged them handily. Within a couple minutes he reached the bottom of the dune.
That day, the termite casualties were seven, the legion casualties were seventy.

News of the massacre spread quickly, and damaged the morale of Emperor Skarrus III's armies. This
was one of the factors that helped the Scarabs turn the tide and push the scorpions back and
eventually win the war.

"Do you see now, boy? Azir was the strongest scarab to ever live, for he honed his body to perfection.
But he also honed his mind and tactical prowess. If he had simply charged the Sixth Legion himself,
do you think he would have won?"

The boy, still wide-eyed and engulfed by the images of desert dunes and termites and scorpion
warriors, shook his head.

"And what do you think would have happened to that termite colony had he failed?"

"They would have died", he replied plainly.

"Yes, they would have. But Azir picked his battle for the most opportune moment, and his victory
against the most feared warriors of the Empire helped win the war. Do you understand what I mean
now? If you are to protect the weak and bring honor to your family, you musn't throw your life away on
battles too great for you. Nor does that mean to run from every fight you can't win. You must balance
these things within yourself to achieve the greater good."

His grandson nodded in contemplation now. He understood now what his grandfather meant. Fighting
enemies greater than yourself is great bravery, but doing so without a plan for victory was foolish. He
would fight for just causes, not for the sake of violence itself. And for just causes, one needed to win
those fights.

He hugged his grandfather before applying more repairing salve to his cracked carapace. He needed
to heal quickly.

For he had a plan.

The Testimony of Amph Tally
by Anon

"Picked up a bunch of hermits coming into town the other day. They can never stay for long
- the beach settlements dry them up fast - but they come in, peddle their wares, try and
cheat us out of some good gold to adorn their new homes, then shuffle out again. 'Cept,
this lot were different. The bloke at the front had some big ol' ruin on his back,
and a mean attitude to boot. Still, not like crabs are known for their kind
temperaments...

Claimed, rather condescendingly, and rather loudly, in the bar that he was some kinda
big shot archaeologist. Reckoned he'd liberated his home from some old Trilobite ruins
back in the sea. Told some grand tales of some tomb they'd broken into. Turns out the
Trilobites buried their dead with all their old moults. The crab had 'hypothesised' that
it was to serve them in the afterlife. They rearranged the face plates on each of the
moults so they looked like they were intact still. Grave guards or summit'. Couldn't
pay me to go down there... Sounds spooky as anythin'.
'Sides, saving your old moults is prolly something only the rich could do - I'd have to
throw mine out if'n I kept any more than my first - I mean the space alone…

Anyways, he kept pointing to his new house and saying how it used to be some part o' this
tomb complex. Now, the locals down there, some Snapper Shrimp, were terrified of the place
apparently. Reckoned there was some bad magic around it. Curses an' that. The crab blew
them off as flighty, and we all know the Snappers that get washed up can be jumpy as
anythin', but I tend to trust their instincts on that. Got to be a reason to be that
paranoid, y'know?

Thought nothin' of it. Surely the posh educated crab knows more than me. Certainly he
insisted he did on the night.

I'd think nothin' of it but next morning, me and some of the lads went beach combing.
Y'know, picking up some drift, seeing if we could prep the burrows for the next storm. What
do we find but that fancy pants new home he'd got himself. We decided not to get too near,
but very little in this world'll make a hermit crab abandon a prize like that I'll tell
you..."

- Testimony of Amph Tally, Sand Hopper, an enquiry into the disappearance of Bernhart Page,
Hermit Crab
Still as the Morning Dew
An Old Spider Folktale

Young Phallixa had wandered far and wide

Setting her web and bait.
She prepared for the grandest of suppers,
Tasty morsels to set on her plate.

But when the first sun fell and moon rose,

And her web was empty and bare,
Phallixa began to go hungry,
As the prey would not enter her lair.

For eight days Phallixa did weave,

For eight nights Phallixa did wait,
And not even a gnat dare approach,
Her emptiness, she could not sate.

And on the ninth morning she clamored,

To the Queen of the Web in the skies.
And the only reply was the laughter
Of a Mantis who had lain in disguise.

“You cry for the favor of Gods,

Yet you hunt like a spiderling new.
Come, my child, I will show you,
To be still as the morning dew.”

And so Phallixa did listen,

And emerged from the forest engorged.
To her brood she whispered the secrets,
And shared the long-hunt's rewards.
Eight gnats, twelve aphids, three flies,
From stillness she had stricken so swiftly,
And a pair of blades from a mantis
Who perhaps had been trusting too quickly.

By: SpiderAnon
Lay Low the Beast

Sothi fluttered down from the upper spires of the branch city, past the trade district down into the rot-
slums at the base of the stump that composed the majority of the bustling border town. He tightly
clutched a bundle of scrolls under his arms, careful not to drop a single one in the vertical labyrinth,
Sweetroot Point. He darted on his pale white wings past parties of opulent and fragrant butterflies and
their trailing cults of followers, and between eager fly merchants, each peddling their own masterwork
wares of varying uselessness from somewhere across the Big Green.

As he made his way through the deepest, foulest, most rotten section of the vertical town, he could
not help but feel repulsed by the squalor of the people that lived down here. But this is where his
wingless compatriots were comfortable, so Sothi made that sacrifice to his comfort. But not for much
longer. After this job, he'd be done, he could retire and become fat and rich and famous. His family
had encouraged him to join the Lunar Temples like his father and brother before him, but Sothi was
cut from a different cloth. The cloth of the warrior, red and ruddy and dragged through the mud kicking
and screaming.

He entered the tavern that his partners had virtually appropriated these past few months with their
constant and bombastic presence. The mud-caked walls of the inn revealed that it had once been an
uptown joint, back when this was the highest point the town had reached. In the past decades though,
the town grew higher and higher into the log and had left this place behind. Sothi couldn't help but feel
pained at the now dishevelled termite craftsmanship. Once, this place could have been considered
art.

Carrying a bundle of scrolls under his arm, he pushed his way through the crowded dive pub until he
reached the table his fellows were seated, or rather, the four tables they had pushed together. He
slammed the scrolls down and brushed aside their half eaten meals and stale drinks.

"What is this?" the colossal stag beetle, Andronicus bellowed, as his yard of vintage bee mead was
toppled, barely catching it with one of his arms.

"Sothi you sonovahornet," barked another, a grasshopper saga-writer named Skorpa, who had been
accompanying him since the early days. Skorpa had said he felt the touch of destiny upon the moth-
warrior, but Sothi suspected he had actually felt his generosity of coin and found himself quickly
addicted.

The rest of the bugs at the table made their own various remarks of outrage before they hushed down
in the presence of their leader. There sat a quartet of ambitious ant brothers discontent with their nest,
two flies, one an alchemist and the other an arbalest, and finally, a wasp beast hunter from the
northern wastes.

"What is the meaning of this, Sothi?" the fly alchemist set down his bioluminescent concoction as he
spoke.

"We've finally got it boys. I've got us the job."

"Is it better than the last one? I'm no better off from the Spider Job than I was before. In fact, I think
that one actually COST me coin," Andronicus rumbled.
"It's more than just a job, my sweet friend," Sothi blasted pheromones of excitement into the air as he
spoke. "It's THE job. This is it. The Big Job. The Last Job. The job that'll get you rich and fat and
famous, boys. This is the job we'll be remembered for."

"Get on with it," one of the Ant Brothers barked. The other three chortled amongst themselves.

"A Great Thornback was spotted in the area, and the magister of the bazaar here has put a price on
its head," Sothi unfurled the first scroll. "Not only that, the Moon has willed the stars align, to make this
the job of jobs. The quest of quests," he spread the second scroll on the table. Apprehension filled the
air. It was nearly thick enough to taste. He smelled fear, and excitement. But mostly fear. "This is a
commission from the master-at-arms at Fort Blackhorn. He's looking for Thornback quills to make
javelins for the beetle garrison."

"Sothi," Skorpa chirped. "You magnificent bastard."

"I'm not done, sweet friend," he set down the third scroll. "This is a contract from the Alchemist's guild
here in our beloved Sweetroot Point. It's obligating us to provide them several gallons of red-blood for
their experiments. And finally, this is a trade deal," he set down the fourth scroll. "From a caravanner
six towns over. It's an open request for exotic meats that he will buy wholesale and distribute amongst
various meat vendors."

"What's on the fifth scroll, moth?" the fly asked.

"How we're gonna do it."

The ground was damp and the air was damper, this far out in the bush. The barbaric wasp tracker that
Sothi had hired lead the hunting party through the underbrush towards the lair of the Great
Thornback. She had tracked this beast several weeks ago, but no one had lent an ear to her cause.
There was no respect for her kind here, not this close the borders of Bee Country. But Sothi, ever a
pragmatist, had listened where others had turned away, and this would change everything.

The plan would work, she thought to herself. The plan had to work. It was too good not to. And they'd
all die, too. She held her warspear firmly. The moth-warrior followed her closely, armed with his axe
and shield, though it would do him no good in this fight. The beast was simply too large. A block or a
parry is meaningless to a creature twenty times your size, no matter how skillful a warrior one was.
His second set of arms held a short bow, but she knew that this too, would do little to the beast. She
wondered even if it could penetrate its thick hide.

The flies had armed themselves more wisely. The first, the alchemist, carried jars of fire, a sorcerous
and truly formidable weapon. She found herself afraid of the fly, eccentric and mad, and fear was not
a thing she had felt in a long time. The second fly had a pair of heavy crossbows, that would have
been easily considered artillery had this fly not been so colossal. He was nearly larger than the beetle
swordsman leading the ants down in the dirt below. Those crossbows, she was certain could break its
skin. She did not know where the grasshopper had gone.

They waited outside the lair of the monster, at the very bottom of the night. The moth uttered a prayer
to his God, and motioned for everyone to get in position. The ants and the beetle moved up with him
to the mouth of the cave, and the two flies hovered over them. The moth strode in alone into the
gaping dark, bow drawn.

He loosed his arrow towards the sleeping giant, a great black mass the size of the tavern back in
Sweetroot Point. It did not stir. He fired a second arrow. It did not stir. He shouted at it furiously in the
moth-tongues. Still, it lay silent. Retreating, he motioned for the party to join him in the cavern, barely
in sight.

"What is he doing?" one of the ant brothers whispered.

"Trust the boy," Andronicus rumbled. "He knows what he's doing." The beetle began his march
forwards into the dark, a blade in each hand. Tentatively, the ants followed, weapons and shields
raised nervously.

Sothi motioned for the flies to get in position near its head. The arbalest prepared his crossbows,
aiming straight at it's closed eye.

And then it breathed.

The beast's snore sucked the arbalest's tiny wings towards its face, pulling the fly towards its giant,
wet nostrils. He screamed as his wing was crippled on impact and he sputtered down towards the
ground. The horrible beast rose from its wake, blinking its eyes rapidly. Panicking, the alchemist threw
fire pots at the Thornback, the light from their fluids illuminating the lair. It was awoken entirely now,
and raised itself onto its thick, muscular legs. It opened it long snout and hissed, a thousand razor
teeth glinting in the light of the small fires raging in the undergrowth of the cave. The arbalest
screamed in horror as the Thornback blitzed forward, crushing him underfoot.

"Fall back! FALL BACK!" Andronicus roared, motioning for the ants to retreated before turning tail
himself and sprinting for the exit. Sothi loosed arrow after arrow at the creature to no avail, the tiny
projectile getting lost in its spiny and jagged hide.

The alchemist threw another fire pot at the creature, hitting it square in the snout. The heat singed its
fur and flesh and irritated its eyes. It furled its brow and drew back its teeth, revealing once again its
enormous fangs. It swatted at the fly with its paw, but the alchemist deftly evaded it, his unpredictable
movements sheltering him from its attacks.

Sothi turned back to the fight inside the cave after retreating back into the night. There the fly still
battled the beast. It looked as if he may even lay it low single handedly. The fly lifted his arm to throw
yet another pot before he erupted violently into flame, an aerial beacon of fire. He screamed and
darted about like a tiny sun before tumbling to the damp earth.

"By the moon."

The Thornback was not amused, and it screeched a horrible roar before loping towards the fighters in
long, unnatural strides.

"Keep retreating, get back!" Andronicus shouted. When he turned to face the ant shield wall, they
were gone. They had long since fled into the woods. "Bastards!"

"Stick to the plan!" Sothi shouted down to the warrior as the horrible beast came ever closer.

Andronicus braced himself for impact and took a fighting stance as the creature slammed into him,
trying to pin him to the earth with its slavering muzzle. He dropped a pair of his swords and used his
thick arms to hold its mouth from his body, and his other arms frantically slashed its face, just barely
out of reach of its enormous blackened eyes.

"Do it now damn you!" Andronicus howled, struggling with the creature.
"Now!" Sothi shouted upwards. An enormous net of spider silk weighted down by stones came down
from above, prepared overhead by Skorpa. The silk net, massive and thick landed on the Thornback's
head and tangled it. It panicked for just a moment, but a moment was all she needed.

The wasp readied her pole arm and flew to the restrained creature with lightning speed, driving the
blade of it into the Thornback's greedy eye. It stopped its thrashing immediately. The beast was dead.
Sothi landed on its back to prod it to be sure. The wasp withdrew her blade and hovered, inspecting
the wound. Andronicus lay in the mud, bloodied and pinned.

Skorpa started laughing nervously above. Andronicus joined in with a confident bellow. The wasp let
herself chuckle at the stunt they had just pulled. But Sothi, Sothi wore only a smirk of self satisfaction,
high on the anticipation of his rewards.

The END
A Day in Leafdown
By Trilobite Anon

As the sun rises over the forest, the Light falls of the town of Leafdown. The small town is built into the
valley between two hills, with a small wooden palisade. On the wall, the lights from torches are
extinguished as the weary Beetle, Hornet and the odd Grasshopper stationed as guards prepare to
change shifts. Throughout the town, Arthros of all species begin to awake. The Lunarian Priest, a
wizened old Moth, gets up from his Vigil of the Moon, and prepares to hobble back to the Temple. The
Butterfly acolytes in the Temple, which serves all faiths, prepare to make meals for the rest of the
clergy and any unfortunate souls down on their luck. Others, such as a mighty Stag Beetle, begin their
morning prayers to various deities.

In homes across the town, families prepare for another day. The fires are stoked, pots put to boil, and
young grubs and nymphs start to hunger and pester their parents about it. The shopkeepers prepare
to open their businesses, with a few Fly alchemists preparing their wares, Roaches frantically
sweeping up their shops, and two Grasshoppers firing up the forges.

Down by the river, the resident Leech and Crab couple prepares for their day, with the Leech
preparing her herbs and poultices for the day, while the Crab, a Fiddler, starts to tune his instrument.

As the sun continues its march across the sky, Leafdown only gets busier. The town council, including
Ant, Bee and Termite representatives, headed by the Hornet known as Horan Greywing, meets and
prepares to discuss and vote on matters concerning the town. Travellers, including the odd
adventuring group, stop by the shops for supplies or Myra's riverside den for patching up. Or they stop
at the Spinning Leaf Inn, owned by an old Mantis, Kren'thak, who likes his tea and talk with his
patrons, for rest and a hot meal.

At this time, once a week, the caravans roll into the town. The first is pulled by large Snail mounts,
herded by Ants riding Wetas. This caravan is from Queen Uza's colony. It is well stocked with
honeydew and aphid meat. Another, not far behind, is also pulled by snails, and is guarded by
Termites. The guard includes two fearsome looking Termite Soldiers, from Ferngrowth Mound. This
caravan's wagons are full of fungus flour, grass seed beer, and Termite saliva, which is a potent glue.
The last caravan is from Goddess-Queen Radia's Hive. The Bees fly in carrying containers full of
pollen, honey, Mead and beeswax, all valuable trade goods. The caravans of the Termites and Ants
pass through fields tended by farmers of all species, growing and harvesting things like berries and
raising Snails, which are traded or sold to the Caravans.

As the sun grows closer to its rest for the night, shadows play across the rooftops and the Stone spire
that marks the Town Hall. Young Arthros scamper back to their parents to eat dinner and talk about
their "adventures" with their friends. Games like Hidey Hole and Slay the Dragon are embellished and
laughed about.

Shops begin to close, with Amber chips being counted up and stored away safely. The Spinning
Leaf's patrons are served dinner, and treated to lengthy debates on philosophy. Myra and her
husband clean up the den and tend to any injured or ill who need to stay over night.

Guards finish their last patrols of the day, and the night guards prepare for their shift on the Wall and
in the streets. The farmhands put the livestock away, and Arthros prepare for another night's sleep.
The sun sets, and the
next day, the hustle and bustle repeats again.
The Spearbough Riders
By Leech Anon

"Git off yer arses, ye' overgrown grubs!" the Captain shouted as she strode into the barracks of the
Spearbough Riders, quickly followed by a flurry of movement. Soldiers jumped from their previous
distractions to stand at attention by their bunks or hammocks.

The war-scarred scarab marches past her soldiers, her three remaining arms clasped behind her as
she inspects them silently. The Spearbough Riders were a ragtag bunch of grizzled warriors of
various races mostly comprised of beetle and grasshopper lancers yet included several spider
lassoers, a trio of locust sibling berserkers, even a handful of moth battle-mages. This wasn't
including the group of Unhived riflers, ants who became independent mercenaries after their Hive had
been lost to a fungal plague.

Captain Unpo was a veteran of a long life living on and surviving the Big Green, her carapace and
chitinmold armor both scarred and rough with age. She wasn't one for unnecessary flash or
decoration having been raised on a simple Aphid Ranch. Yet her tortoise shell shield and cricket steel
lance were her pride and joy, polished to a bright shine. Captain Unpo whirls around to face the
company of weta-riders staring straight ahead as they await her commands.

Clicking her mandibles the dun colored beetle barks out, "Alrigh', we got tha watchtowers reportin'
some bad news, grubs. Seems tha Locust Reavers we drove off las' week weren' too happy about it,
eh? Watchtowers are in a panic, sayin' the Reavers are usin' flames to drive a whole flock o' Basilisks
our way," this caused hushed whispering to break out in alarm.

Unpo let's out a short bark of a shout and the gathered soldiers go quiet and she continues, "Now we
know what we're goin' to do, righ'?" She pauses, glancing around the room, "We're goin' to mount up
and ride to meet them scum and their feathery devils!" she stamps her foot, her soldiers standing rigid
at attention, "Who are we?!" she shouts

"We are the Spearbough Riders!" the all shout as one.

"These hungry bastards think they can run us over an' eat us outta home an' hearth! Not on our
watch!" she thumps her remaining left hand against her armored chest, "We are the Riders! Our
lances, rifles an' shields will rout these ruffians an' their beasts! Spearbough is our home an' I'll be a
dung-roller before I let them harm it!"

Her soldiers shouted in agreement, stamping their feet and clacking mandibles. Captain Unpo speaks
out once more, "Armor up an' ride out! Harrying formations, this isn' the first time we've had to fight
those feathered demons!" she shouts and marches past her soldiers hurrying to armor themselves the
pass by the armory for their weapons.

It takes hardly fifteen minutes before the Spearbough Riders are riding out from their stables. Wetas
hopping and dashing forward with Captain UnpoMuic on her piebald spiny weta she called simply
Kicker, her gleaming lance held high at the front of the Riders.

Spearbough was an old tilted Greattree, its trunk shattered by an ancient and ferocious lightning strike
and worn with age. It resembled a jagged spear tilted toward the center of the Big Green, guarding
against the wilds of the vast plains. Scaffold buildings hung from the leaning trunk, spiders and flying
residents making their homes far above the bustling trade-town that spread out around the roots.
The main road was cleared as the Spearbough Riders rode forth, the citizens waving and shouting
encouragements or standing patiently aside waiting to resume their errands. Young grasshopper
nymphs and spiderlings carrying peeping frogs chase after them shouting and cheering for their local
heroes. Several of the soldiers waved to the crowds as they passed, one young grasshopper lancer
trying to hide his face from a female grasshopper glaring at him from the crowd. The pair of ant riflers
riding on his weta behind him goad and tease about his latest tryst that ended up with him suffering a
cracked exoskeleton only nights before.

The main gates of the stone wall that wound around the town creak open at their approach. Unpo
salutes the cannoneer crews manning the walls as they pass through, the gates sealing shut once the
last of them made it through. The Big Green stretched out before them and the Spearbough Riders
could already see the pillars of black smoke and dust rising on the horizon.

The captain dons her helmet of burnished bronze and barks her orders, the soldiers separating into
their groups each of them with their own important task and mission. They'd planned for events like
this and they knew their parts. Lancers rode their weta mounts, shields and lances held ready, each
accompanied either by a pair of Ants armed with rifles and grenades or one of their few battle-mages.

The Spearbough Riders rode toward the oncoming raiders and monstrous denizens of the plains.
They had fought many times to defend their homes and loved ones and today was no different. They
were the Spearbough Riders and they would defend their home until the very last of them drew their
very last breath.
Mantis Teachings

The Master sits down once more, the claws on his hands bloody. He lifts one up to his mouth and
gives it a lick, and resumes a relaxed stance, as if meditating. Eventually he speaks up again.>

"I'm sorry you had to witness that."

><I am shaken, but I manage to relax.> It's fine, Master, death is not unknown to me.

>"Master? I am Hairarai to you, and everyone. 'Master' is for my students.

>Yes, Hairarai. If you don't mind, could you explain to me why... this happened? <I motion to the
remains of his student on the floor>

>"I can imagine your confusion. I've explained to you the nature we all share, the violence within us,
the threat inside. I would have loved to explain this next lesson in peace. Once we have managed to
see the beast face to face, we then let it consume us. It is the critical stage of our Learning. The goal
is not to control it. It is to know it. To know one's self, the bestial parts and the virtuous ones. Most
often, proper guidance leads one back from the beast's lair. But sometimes..."

><He looks down at the results of his failure wistfully. The battle had been over in a moment, his strike
had beheaded the feral student as he leaped in a mad leap, jaw open fully and going for the neck.>
"But you mustn't fear. This is within us all. Within you. You can trust yourself, can you not?"

>Recolections of Mantis Rites and Methods, vol1. "Interviews".

>Apprentice, you must now close your eyes. Listen within. Listen to your instincts. Do not ignore
them, aknowledge them. Their push can be gentle like a breeze, but it is indefatigable. You might feel
yourself like a boat in a tideless sea now sure of where you are, but your instincts are pushing you
ever so softly, farther away from the shore. Feel them like you never felt them before. Do you hunger?
Do you tire? Do you crave? Do you fear? You've never been in control, in your life, but you can be.
Here begins your first lesson...

>Recollections of Mantis Rites and Methods, vol. 1.

>In these Recollections I've explained in depth the nature of Mantis philosophy, how it is taught, and
what it entails, but I fear at this point, a prospective reader might find the mantis to be a psychopathic
menace.. Some clarifications are in order.
>The mantis is most of all peaceful. Violence is a rare sight, although it exists. A follower of the
Learning strives for preparation, not reaction, because therein lies their instinct. Not every mantis
follows the Learning, of course, but the philosophy has mellowed out their society. This is reflected in
their way of life. The mantis lives not in cities but in towns, relatively small ones. I've not counted
heads, but I don't think I've visited one that exceeded 100 in population. This is a stark constrast with
the sprawling undergrounds of my native Ant cities, or the industrialized chaos of the Fly cities. They
seem to follow a normal population growth, but once the place starts to feel crowded, many of them
simply leave. Usually a mantis does not leave alone. I'm told many simply feel out of place, but
followers of the Learning believe crowds beget instinctual behavior.
>In following the leaving mantises, I have discovered many towns that were not previously
catalogued. The migrators would not settle down there, instead they'd create a settlement of their own
farther away. The creation of this new settlement would not be announced, roads would not be
constructed, the mantis has created a world of their own where they live at peace, disconnected from
the outside world. Once the basic needs are met, the next order is usually the creation of the local
temple. Even when the migrators are not believers of the Learning, soon enough a Master from a
nearby town would come, believing it to be their duty to guide them.
>I have lived among them for years. They have taught me valuable things. I only beg of you that you
value them as well.

>Recolections of Mantis Rites and Methods, vol1. "Afterword"

Hornet / Bee War
A long time ago, before the era of civilized bugs, there was a great war between the Bees and
Hornets. The Bee Hives and Hornet Hives had declared war on one another. Nobody remembers why
or who provoked who, as this was during the Feral Age.

>The leader if the Bees was the Queen Isa. The Hornet Empress leading the Hornet Hives was
Empress Xira. Both had rallied many of their sisters to their banners, creating the first powerful
kingdoms that each species had seen.

>The fighting was brutal, even for the brutality of that era. Hornet swarms were roasted by Bee
Pyromancers. Bee Lance squadrons were struck down by Hornet Aeromancers and their lightning.
Much blood was shed by both sides.

>Both sides had gained and lost territory, yet they refused to give. In the East, the Bee lines pushed
forward every day. In the West, it was the Hornets who were at the advantage. Flanking attacks and
counter flanking maneuvers led to fractured territory where no Arthro knew which side owned the
ground they fought for.

>Soon the conflict became so bloody with so little gained that a stalemate was declared. Both had
built up the land that they captured, establishing new Hives to cement their grips.

>So came and end to the War of the Stripes, and the Bee and Hornet Hives have been fractured and
isolated from each other, with the rare colony Hive being established near the border of another,
trying to expand the reach of the parent Hive

The End Of The War of the Seas

By Trilobite AnonThe Ammonites were the sister civilization to the Trilobites of old. None are
sure who came first or when. The Ammonites have very few, if any land outposts, as their civilization
was almost entirely underwater. What land outposts came later were almost undoubtedly build and
maintained by their creations. What we do know comes from legends and rough translation of Trilobite
runes.

Where the Trilobites sought power through their Biomancy, the Ammonites sought power from the
Realms Beyond. At first they would build metal carapaces and use their dark magics to rip spirits from
the Realms Beyond and teap them in the metal arthros. These Bound Shells formed the core of the
Ammonites work force. Soon more were built, in the shape of crabs and strange denizens of the seas.
These laborers were soon built for war when the War of the Seas began. Soon, they were not
enough. Spirits were summoned with no Shell to hold them, much more powerful but less able to be
controlled by the Ammonite Sorceror-Kings that summoned them. Even these Unbound and their
power were not enough to stop the endless hordes of the Trilobites and their Biomancers' creations.
So the Ammonites turned to darker spirits, more powerful beings. They built the greatest Hollow
Shells they could to contain these terrible things they wanted. These Hollow Titans were tall enough
to touch the skies, if they were on land. When the Titans were complete, the Ammonite Sorceror-
Kings gave the last of their powers to summon and bind these terrible spirits, spirits of death and
decay. The Hollow Titans were unleashed, and within a moon cycle, the armies of the Trilobites were
shattered, but at great cost. The seabed was desolate, toxic and could sustain no life. The Hollow
Titans, reveling in death and destruction, turned on their masters, razing their cities. When there was
no more to destroy, the Titans slept, sated for now.
"It's still coming!" the ant atop the watch tower screamed. The soldiers below on the wall could see it
themselves - the gargantuan creature still came, no matter how many ballistae they fired at it. Huge
and lumbering, the odd, hairy beast towered above the city's tallest spires. It wasn't quite close
enough to attack yet, but every earth-shattering step of the beast brought it closer.
>"Where are the damned flies?!" the commander bellowed, "They were supposed to be here ten
minutes ago!". The old ant stood at his post on the wall, barely containing his composure in front of
his men. For Marax, this would be the greatest test of his life. He'd always heard the stories - the
mythical "anteaters" that were said to destroy entire kingdoms in a night and leave nothing but debris
and dust in their wake, but he never believed they were true. He looked down from his perch on the
wall. These ants were tough, but dammit this was too much. The ballistae were running out of bolts
and they seemed to only get caught in the beast's shaggy hide. To his right, a single beetle manned
one of the larger ballistae himself, a testament to his kind's strength and courage in the face of death.
>A sound from below caught Marax's attention then - the clanging of iron on stone. Whirling around,
he thanked the queen under his breath - the flies had come. About ten of them hoisted the great iron
cauldron up the stone steps, clanging and jostling with every step. He prayed to every god he knew of
that this plan of theirs would work.
>Huffing and cursing under their breath, the flies placed the cauldron down as gently they could. It
had a massive iron lid held fast with levers, and looked to fidget about on its own. With a curt salute,
the fly in front, ostensibly their leader, looked up to Marax. "Your bomb is here, commander!".
>"Parlak!", Marax roared, "Get off the ballista and help us move this over to the launcher." The huge
beetle nodded, grunting as he pulled the release on his ballista for one last shot. The bolt soared
through the sky before ramming into the hair of the anteater, barely, if at all, penetrating. Cursing,
Parlak charged over to the cauldron and grabbed one half of it themselves as Marax and another ten
of his ants grabbed the other half, and began hauling the makeshift bomb over to the trebuchet.
>The trebuchet was old, even for Marax. He'd seen it used once in his military career, as a new
recruit. It held off the wasp hordes well enough, but was phased out and left in storage when the
ballistae were invented. Thank the queen they kept it. The thing's oaken beams looked old and craked
down their length, but Marax hoped beyond hope the thing had enough strength in it for one more
shot. Grunting with effort, Marax, Parlak and the rest of the group set the cauldron down in the
trebuchet's firing cradle and began to turn the crank, readying the makeshift bomb for deployment.
The rumbling beneath their feet steadily grew in strength with each passing moment.
>"You're sure this thing will do what you said?" Marax asked, turning his head towards the cadre of
flies that followed him. "Oh, absolutely," the head alchemist said, giddy with anticipation. "Once the
serum makes contact with the open air it will combust. The explosion should be more than enough to
kill this anteater."
For all of our sakes," Marax answered, I hope you're right. Parlak pushed the trebuchet into position
while Marax and his ants turned the crank. The anteater was visible from the lower wall now, its
raggedy hide covered in ballista bolts and pockmarked with burns. Even now, dragonfly-mounted
knights continued to circle overhead, throwing down small glass bottles of the same concoction that
filled the massive iron cauldron in the trebuchet. The fires leaped to life with a blue 'puff!', but never
managed to sustain themselves on the beast's fur for long. As it loomed closer, Marax saw remnants
of weapons lodged into the anteater's fur from all kinds of weapons, ancient and modern. Old wasp
empire boltshafts and beetle greatarrows mingled with his own ballista bolts in the creature's hair,
each equally useless.
>The trebuchet ground to a halt as Parlak placed it against the rim of the wall. "In position sir!" he
roared against the din of the anteater's footsteps. Marax looked to his crewmen, one on the release
lever for the trebuchet, looking for the order to fire.
>Sighing, Marax pointed a hand at the anteater and screamed at the top of his lungs. "FIRE!"
>The lever was released as the great arm of the trebuchet whirled around, hoisting the cauldron with
it before launching it in a beautiful arc. At that last moment, the oak holding the trebuchet together
snapped, and Marax and his men had to leap away to avoid being crushed by the remnants of it.
Marax barely had enough time to get up before his ears were nearly split by the thundering of the
cauldron exploding, his eyes nearly blinded by the great ball of blue fire that erupted from the
anteater's body. Marax swore he could almost hear the fly alchemists giggling with glee at the sight of
it.
>Within a moment, the explosion had came and went, and when the smoke cleared, Marax saw the
anteater, miraculously still alive, but incredibly wounded.
A whole swath of the flesh from the anteater's face was blown away, a great eyeball hung limply from
its socket beneath bare skull and bits of sinew. Roaring in agony, the anteater stumbled and fell,
shaking the earth as it landed unceremoniously to the ground. The anteater, the great scourge of the
land for the last century, lay dead beyond the walls of the great city.
>The entire wall of the city erupted in cheers and shouts of joy. Everyone on guard threw their
helmets into the air and roared in glee at the sight of it. "I'll never mock a fly again," Marax whispered.
>For now, they were safe. Marax ordered the ballistae be aimed down at the corpse of the anteater
and fired upon, for good measure. Bolt after bolt pocked the now-exposed flesh of the beast's skull,
penetrating with relative ease.
>For now, they were safe.

While on watch, I could hear the sounds of fighting in the city. The cries of warriors in battle and the
terrible screeching that could be heard calling back at them. It sent chills down my thorax. I could see
them. In the dark. Skittering forms, darting here and there. Big, brutal creatures, their outline full of
growth and their shells cracked and breaking apart. They didn't charge our makeshift fortifications. It
was like they were waiting for something. Then they would scurry away. And we would be left waiting.

>After a few hours my shift was over. I scarfed down some field rations. The honewdew sweetened
termite loaf disappearing down my gullet as fast as it would go. I was ravenous.

>I later learned that the butterfly mage contacted base camp. The others were whispering that a third
of the forces that had been sent in to burn centers of infestation were killed. Or worse. I've heard
stories of the infected dragging corpses and those who are near death into burrows or other such
places. Whether they become food or more infected, I scarely know which would be worse.

>Sleeping in Chitinmold is uncomfortable. But I was tired enough that I fell asleep almost right away.

>In the morning, we gathered our supplies and downed our draughts. We prepared to march out
towards our objective again. The spores were thicker in the air. The smoke is gone, but it is likely that
the catapults will fire again. I am terrified that one will hit us.

>We almost reached our objective. By the Queen, it is terrible here. Almost everything is covered by
growth. Threads like vines stick out, almost as if they were trying to grab us. We break them down
where they are and leave them. We need our torches for the Big building. It was probably the town
garrison, but it is too covered in fungus to be sure.

>The approach to the building was blocked. It was terrible. There was a horde of infected waiting for
us. Why would they wait?
The fighting was brutal. They came in waves and forced us to dig into a square formation. The
Beetles were blessing. They held the line with their tower shields and greathammers. Any infected
that tried to get through were picked off by my fellow Ants and their crossbows.

>Then the real force attacked. Infested Arthros of all kinds fell upon us. Massive Stag and Goliath
Beetles tried to smash through our lines, only to be taken down by our Bee Pyromancer. We
advanced slowly, wading through corpses that crumbled into blinding and noxious dust. We were able
to beat back the horde after almost an hour of fighting, but we lost almost an entire platoon. We
decapitated the corpses that didn't crumble, and those of our slain fellows. The Lunarians tried to heal
our injured the best they could, but some needed to be put down.
I don't think I will ever sleep soundly again.
>My squad and two others were chosen to search our objective, while the rest of our comrades held
the entrance. Our group was my squad, the other was a Beetle Vanguard group, and a Pyromancer
and her guards. We entered the garrison.

>The place was foul. It stank of rot and death. The air was choked with spores, and everything was
covered with fungal growth. Every surface was covered with threads, each thread spitting out more
spores. It was dark and cool.

>We starred to move further when we heard an explosion outside. Another fireball had been
launched, and it hit near our position. The rumbling from the blast kept reverberating throughout the
structure. We didn't know why, until that rumbling broke through the floor.

>A monster, the size of a Crab Siege Engine, broke through the floor, spraying us with rubble and bits
of fungus. It was covered with fungus, a terrible grey-red color. It's Maw was large enough to swallow
a Moth whole, and spores spewed from its mouth as it roared, and a foul slime dripped from its mouth.
Its claws were sharp and jagged like broken wood. I could scarecly see it's carapace for all the fungus
covering it, but I could swear it looked like bodies Arthros were fused into the carapace.

>None of us knew what to do. I was terrified

>The Beetles regained their senses first, telling for us to retreat. The Pyromancer fung some firebolts
at our foe, but they only managed to scorch it. The beast roared again, and we tried to flee. The
Vanguard were crushed with a swing of the beast's massive arm.

>We ran outside, yelling for the platoons to burn the building. They started piling torches up and lit
them. I thought we were safe. Then the beast broke through the wall.

>We scattered, with everyone trying to run, hide or fight back. The Infested were waiting for us. The
target was burning, but now we were being torn apart by the massed hordes.
My squadmates and I were able to shelter in a collapsed building. We were too scared to try and do
anything other than hide. After a while the screaming subsided, and we could hear scraping sounds
as corpses were dragged away.

>Under the cover if night we tried make it out of the city. I don't know how but we made it. Just in time
to watch the catapults fire another volley into the city, trying to burn it to the ground.

>I was forced to give a report to Commander Greenspring. She listened, then offered her
condolences for what we had to endure. She ordered us to be examined by the Leech healers for
injuries. We obliged.

>I don't know what to think. The Leech healers told us we were infected. We are to be executed at
dawn and our corpses burned. We are to be given a last meal and last rites.

>I asked the Ant guarding us to give this to my broodmates at home. At least they would know what
happens to me.

>Last entry in Vurn's journal.

Rules & System Conversions

Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition Conversion
https://docs.g
oogle.com/document/d/1Ws-lG--qfV4EmI4Y-WbT0WWrJkJSABz8bM_pSg0SWLI/edit?usp=sharing

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MnW1V1FHqRzsDU-NpU4W8_DhM45n4pL-oU-
bj_P8_R0/edit?usp=sharing

DND Anon here. Currently Working on the 5e Home brewery official pdf. Will Keep updated.
Currently running a bug campaign right now with some playtesting. Magic page that is edited looks
interesting.