Before we begin this chapter, dear reader, I invite you to imagine yourself someplace warm, someplace safe. Perhaps you are strolling through our grand Luminarc, the finest cultural district in all Vallara!
Picture a pleasant afternoon—you’ve brought your family to see a play, a fine production, no doubt, while you enjoy a charming little picnic. Ah, how picturesque! You lay out your basket upon a soft quilt, the air is filled with the hum of performers preparing for their art, and your children—laughing, carefree—go running about, eager to play.
A lovely thought, isn’t it? I may indulge in such a scene myself after I finish this dictation. It is good to clear the mind after all, though I doubt I shall be afforded the luxury anytime soon. Work such as mine requires dedication!
But alas! As you return, the horror!
Your pleasant picnic—ruined!
Disgusting pests have crawled into your basket, scurrying over your finest cheeses, defiling your fruits with their repulsive little legs. Your children wail in despair, your wine spills upon the cloth like the blood of a fallen noble, your perfect afternoon—torn asunder! And all this devastation, all this calamity, brought upon you by creatures no larger than a fingernail.
What is to be done? Well, obviously, you crush them underfoot! Stomp them out, as is right and natural.
But... what if you couldn’t?
Now, my dear reader, allow me to take you far from the pleasant streets of Onoria, deep into the suffocating south of the Ryvakar. Here, where the desert bleeds into a dark and endless jungle, there dwells a pest unlike any other.
A horrible, gruesome thing. A monstrosity that resembles those tiny invaders of your afternoon—but one that does not scurry in fear beneath your heel. No, these creatures stand tall. They build, they war, they whisper in the trees and weave their twisted nests in the canopy. They are called the Yth.
And I have so much to tell you about them.
Let us begin with their repulsive morphology. Indeed, if one were to scale an ant to the size of a half-grown man, one would have a Yth. Some stand slightly larger—and ever more repulsive! But most, of course, pale in comparison to the standing glory of a healthy Onorion man.
Like their smaller insectoid brethren, they have many limbs! The most common among them possess two sets of arms, though variations exist. Some unfortunate specimens even have veiny, thin, fleshy wings that jut from their backs! This grants them the rather impressive ability to fly, I must admit.
But sadly for them, it also makes them easy targets for our firing squads! A FINE DAY! I would say, as they were shot out of the sky!
But of course, I am getting ahead of myself.
Now, their bodies—grotesque as they are—are divided into three bulbous sections. The largest is the lower segment, where the legs sprout from thin, chitinous follicles. Some even possess poisonous stingers, which jut from where one might assume their anus would be.
This, of course, raises a question!
How do they defecate?!
Well, my dear reader, I did not check. I was already thoroughly disgusted!
But let us move on.
The middle section is far thinner, though its size seems to vary based on some arcane caste system they follow. Their birth determines their place in the world—their morphology is their destiny! Some bear bulky, armored midsections, others have those aforementioned thin, fleshy, disgusting wings. Some have fleshy fat bellies, almost like it was made to store some strange substance, food? Acid? Who can tell with these creatures!
Now, dear reader, let us discuss their most truly vile feature—their heads!
The most common among them, of course, bear the grotesque likeness of an ant—bulging hexagonal eyes, crushing mandibles, and writhing antennae that sprout from the crown like twitching weeds. Disgusting!
But this, I assure you, is the most variable of their many abominable traits!
I have witnessed creatures with elongated proboscises, hideous things that shoot forth like a rapier—a nauseating, chitinous rapier! Others bear an overwhelming mass of circular eyes, layered upon each other like the facets of a gemstone, allowing them to see in all directions at all times. A species bred for surveillance, no doubt—a natural-born watchman, eternally vigilant.
And then there are the horned ones. Thick-skulled creatures with broad, flat spade-like protrusions, seemingly designed for digging—or perhaps as weapons. Yet, let us be serious, dear reader—against Onorian steel, such primitive armaments would shatter like brittle twigs!
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
But tell me, what horrors must lie even deeper?
For you see, while a great many of these loathsome creatures skitter among the tangled webs of the jungle canopy, others burrow deep—deep into the earth itself, carving tunnels beneath the jungle floor. And it is there, I am told, that their most repulsive, most vile queens reside.
Yes, dear reader, these wretched creatures have queens! Now, you must excuse my exaggerations, as I was not permitted to step into their wretched underground dens myself—though, between us, it is hardly a loss. But! I have been given eye-witness testimony from individuals I consider reasonably trustworthy, and thus I can assure you this is the most accurate retelling of these beasts' features!
Now, what do these queens look like? Well, first, there are three! Each one leads a horrifying swarm of its own, locked in a never-ending battle for dominion over the jungle! And thankfully, dear reader, the gods have been merciful! They have given each queen a distinct color so they do not ruthlessly butcher their own kind in their endless skirmishes!
Ah—though, that was a jest, dear reader. I am quite certain they butcher each other regardless!
Now, onto their colors! The three variations of these vile creatures are as follows:
- The Bright Red Pest → Found in the southernmost reaches of the jungle.
- The Bilious Yellow Pest → Dwelling deep in the jungle’s core.
- The Dark Blue (Almost Black) Pest → Infesting the coastal regions.
Each commands a teeming army of horrors, their territories marked in blood and mandibles as they claw for dominance over their forsaken jungle kingdom!
Now, to their actual physical descriptions. Prepare yourself, dear reader, for this is truly revolting!
Imagine a large, bloated worm, its grotesque form fat with squirming, slimy larva that shoot endlessly from its wretched backside. These queens live in a constant state of pregnancy, forever churning out more putrid insects to infest their ranks!
Yes! Could you imagine the horror, my dear reader?
These creatures know no love! No care, no family—they are spat out from their mother’s womb, torn away from her, tossed into a pit to feed, writhing in filth until they finally form a body from their useless larval state! And then?
They work. They fight. They die.
But the greatest tragedy of all? They do not even have the pleasure of breeding!
No, dear reader, even that is stolen from them! The breeders are a caste of their own, kept separate, discarded like husks once their duty is fulfilled.
Imagine, dear reader, never knowing the pleasures of love! Of sex!
Their existence is pitiful.
It is, in some ways, almost a mercy that their minds are all connected to a single, shared brain—no thoughts, no dreams, no individuality.
Just an endless, meaningless cycle of birth, labor, and death.
Onorus will one day show these wretched beasts a merciful end when our armies finally march upon these shores and burn them out completely!
Now, dear reader, you may have questions. I have anticipated them!
Perhaps you are saying to yourself:
“Oh, beloved Marcurio Saphirius, Grand Curator of Ethnological Studies, Purveyor of Secrets from the Dark Corners of Our World! How did these creatures manage to transform the entire jungle canopy into a webbed insectoid paradise?”
Well, my dear reader, I am delighted you asked!
You see, there is yet another caste of these creatures I have not discussed!
Worm-like, just as bloated as their queens, yet they do not produce children. Instead, silk—thick, strong strands—eject from their bodies, oozing from large pores as though they are bleeding it!
And then, the Yth "binders"—yes, even they have them!—take this silk and weave it into their great canopy cities. I have named these binders the Weavers!
But it is not merely their home! No, no, dear reader, their mastery over this silk goes far beyond that. Many of them possess such a heightened gift of touch that they can use it to manipulate the entire jungle within their territory! By pulling upon the threads of their vast webs, they can communicate across great distances, shape their environment, and even transport goods and prey with astonishing efficiency.
It is, I must begrudgingly admit… quite marvelous.
So marvelous, in fact, that—well, they will never know it—but I managed to steal one of these silk-producing worms!
I am quite certain they will not miss it.
I have taken to calling her Putress, for she is thoroughly revolting.
However… I must concede… her silk is rather impressive.
Now, we have discussed their wretched morphology and their grotesque breeding habits, but dear reader, what do you think they eat?
Well, to your great surprise, I must inform you that they are mostly herbivores!
Yes, it is true!
Though, on occasion, I have witnessed them dragging back gargantuan, eight-legged beasts—creatures akin to enormous tarantulas. Do they eat them? Hmm… I do not believe so! Guards, perhaps? Pets? Ritualistic sacrifices? I am not entirely sure. But what I do know is this—The doors to their underground caves are rather… lively. Living spider doors, perhaps? I did not intend to test it to find out.
Another curious trait among these creatures—one that I found surprisingly similar to our own way of life—is that all three queens, regardless of their hue, worship a singular, insectoid Goddess:
Ythsola.
For whom they are named.
Their religion is solid, whole, unbroken—unlike the fractured faiths of the Garruhm or the Aurelans!
It is a pity, then, that they chose to worship the wrong divine.
And one day, they will pay for it.
And when they do, this book will be the only record of their existence.
But! Let us have some fun with it! When we meet them on the battlefield, how do they intend to fight us? I have seen their weapons, and I must admit—they are rather pretty things! White, thin blades, forged from the silk of beasts like dear Putress!
Their craftsmanship is quite impressive, coming in a variety of forms—glaives, swords, bows, arrows! And some stranger weapons, too— Ultra-razor sharp nets, capable of slicing a man to pieces when tightened! They also use their webs as lassos, stringing up the necks of their prey and—with a swift pull—decapitating them! Quite horrific!
But rest assured, dear reader— their silk is quite flammable. We would merely have to set their jungles ablaze and watch them all burn to death.
Now, the night grows long, dear reader.
I can see my scribe’s eyes growing heavy, his poor hands trembling from the effort of recording these most unpleasant tales of those ghastly insectoids. He must be exhausted—and rightfully so! So, for now, I will bid you farewell! But worry not! Our adventures are far from over! Next time, we will bring our studies a bit closer to home—To the frozen cities of Moravyr. To our lanky, pale enemies to the north. The Aurelans. Enjoy your night, dear reader. I certainly intend to enjoy mine.
Sincerely: Marcurio Saphirius, Scholar of the High Onorion Academy, Grand Curator of Ethnological Studies,Lord-Appointed Chronicler of Foreign Peoples!