Under a certain rock, placed conveniently next to a forgotten street in Wales, the sound of drums began. Slow at first, and then increasing in speed and volume. If one would have taken the rock away and looked under it, he would see nothing but a dark hole. But this dark hole was only the humble entrance to a less humble abode, for under this rock happened to be a relatively large lair, home to an even larger number of Tarantulas.
The lair, if seen by eyes not used to such darkness, seemed empty at first. But inside were indeed lots of little clay huts, in which the creatures that called the terrible place home lived. If one heart the drums, he would know that something was happening. But for the last couple of years, this event had repeated itself many, many times, to the great anger of the citizens of the underground realm. Because the only sound heard in the place was the constant beating of the drums, the city seemed dead. But now, the sound of marching began. Horrid it was, because the marching was not in the very least coordinated with the sound of the drums.
But now, the sound of chanting began. It was in the hideous dialect of the Tarantulas, a language so horrible to the ear that even the Tarantulas despised it. Inside the huts, citizens went mad listening to so terrible a hymn. But don't confuse the word terrible with 'scary', or 'threatening', no. It was poorly coordinated, poorly performed, and very loud. The marching continued to grow louder. Now, a large company of Tarantulas-at-arms approached. Their leader was very ugly, with drooping eyes and a long beard. He carried a flag that showed a Tarantula stabbing a mantis with a sword, and a beaten stone crown. Behind him, scores of Tarantulas (and their horrible chant) marched. They were large creatures, even by the standards of their own species.
Inside the clay huts, the citizens covered their ears and tried to distract their children from hearing that hideous symphony. The ground rumbled with the force of the deep voices, the strong marching, and the powerful drums. A stone cracked loose from the natural roof of the lair and crushed a clay hut, but the sound only incorporated itself into the melody of death. From small windows, even smaller eyes looked at the soldiers that marched forward.
After a good twenty minutes, the music of death was beginning to fade, as the first soldiers reached the opening and carried the rock away. The king of the tarantulas looked outside, studying the terrain. He raised a hand, and the chanting stopped. He cried something, and the whole army responded. Then, the army was on the move again, but this time silently. The tarantulas were marching to war, and most likely, their deaths.
A man who happened to be walking nearby watched most of the spectacle. "I must be going slightly mad", he thought, before walking the other way.
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You are the leader of an insect nation. As such, you are charged to leading your species to glory and immortality. You are free to do as you wish with your creatures. But your only task is to ensure that never again will someone (like humans) underestimate your species.
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The Legion of Stag Beetles thfcJack
Race: Stag Beetles
Main Lair: Stag Lodge, Sheffield
Cities under Control: Stag Lodge
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30 per turn
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone
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Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50 grasshoppers
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It is another glorious morning in Stag Lodge. As you peer out of your den, you watch the workers attempting to capture another grasshopper. At your left, a large crowd of soldiers are wrestling. This is your species. This is the future of the Stag Beetles.
Your advisor, a medium-sized beetle with a small cap, walks up to you. In the language of you species, which as of now is random gibberish, he tells you that a strange creature has been sighted to the north of the lair. He informs you, as well, of the discovery of a nearby city. Its name, as well as its people, are unknown to your race.
It is another glorious morning in Stag Lodge.
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The Unnamed Anarchy of Sonic sonicheroes95
Race: Honey Bee
Main Nest: Blackpool
Cities under Control: Blackpool
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30 per turn
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50 grasshoppers
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You awaken to loud clamor. This is most unusual for your people, who are, at the best of times, quiet. The workers appear to be chatting, instead of working, which is even more unusual. A larger bee, a soldier, is keeping them in order. You notice that two bees are headed your way.
Your sister approaches, with a worker next to her. The worker appears to be eager to tell you something. He greets you in the bee language.
Then, he reports that the queen of the nest you were exiled from, your mother, has died. A large number of bees is now wondering about the countryside, those who were once your kin.
From atop your nest, perched high on a tree, you can see the nest that was once your home. Imagine the riches hidden within.
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The Empire of the Fallen ivanxxxxxxx
Race: Fire Ants
Main Anthill: Liverpool
Cities under Control: Liverpool
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30 per turn
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50 grasshoppers
-------
No, no, no. They're doing it all wrong. These are your thoughts as a band of soldiers hopelessly tries to catch a grasshopper. The creature bounds away into a patch of lush plants, several men running after it. Another day living in an Anthill close to the suburbs of Liverpool. Or so it seems.
Suddenly, your men rush out of the plants, evidently scared by something. They report having seen a strange black creature, with eight legs instead of six. Well, this is weird, you think. Not going to be a normal day after all.
Most certainly.
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The United Federation of Brown Recluse Spiders LupusAureus
Race: Brown Recluse Spiders
Capital: Keep of the Recluse, Eastbourne
Controlled Cities: Keep of the Recluse
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30
Technology: None
Age: Age of Stone
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles:50 Grasshoppers
-------
A large bird-creature and his hideous song awaken you from your slumber. And in good time, because one of your friends and advisors quickly walks into your room, one of the many chambers in the complex that is the Keep of the Recluse. In the gibberish that is currently your language, he reports for duty and informs you on the several things that require your command in the city.
Along with the daily monologue on how your workers wish for better working conditions, he reports that one of the evil bird-creatures has been eating your subjects for the last two days. That's what you get for sleeping in the dirt. It has also been reported that a large congregation of peculiar green creatures has assembled in a strange shrine of sorts.
A strange shrine. Huh. Never heard of that before.
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Nyan Ant Empire Hectichermit
Race: Honeypot Ants
Main Anthill: Plymouth
Cities under Control: Plymouth
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30 per turn
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50 grasshoppers
-------
After a long journey, you finally find a fine place for your city and settle down. Well, a long journey for Honeypot ants. It was a 5 meter trip. As you watch your ants commence the building of what will soon be your anthill, you see the neighboring anthill from where you escaped bubble up with activity.
An emissary approaches, and in the common language of your folk, he explains that if you don't immediately return to them and become their slaves once more, you and your minions would perish. The one thing that he failed to notice was that most of the soldiers of the other anthill had become Honeypot ants (in a time of need) and had escaped with you, who had the most amount of Honey (and were thus crowned as king of the Honeypots).
What's the matter with him, huh?
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The Glorious Empire of Wasp SectoidMedic
Race: Common Wasp
Main Nest: Stingza, Cork
Cities under Control: Stingza
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Food: 200
Food Income:30
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone.
-------
Soldiers:300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles:50 grasshoppers
-------
Just what we needed. A large part of your nest had broken and fallen to the ground with a loud thud. Yes, Stingza was not the best-planned city in the world, but it had to at least stick together. For the last few weeks, the workers had been building that part of the nest, but they had apparently chosen the wrong wood to chew and add to the nest. Tough luck.
More important things were on your schedule, anyways. A strange race of 8-legged creatures had settled up North, the tail-stinged peoples in the East had built a large army and an even larger navy, and your city was falling to pieces. What would we do in the event of a battle in our nest?
Tough luck, yes. answered a voice in your head.
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League of Theridiidae MoonFairy
Race: Black Widow
Main Lair: Lactrodectia, Killarney
Cities under Control: Lactrodectia
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30 per turn
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50 grasshoppers
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A nice patch of dead plants and forgotten trees. This is the spot. The other females nodded in agreement, and quickly climbed the trees and started spinning the web that was to become your city. The males, their two frontal limbs tied together with spiderweb, were cast into a pit and forgotten while the females worked. The only males that were spared from such a fate were those being eaten.
They don't do much anyways. After a couple of hours, there were cobwebs all around the trees. Each belonged to a single spider. Together, they formed your city, Lactrodectia. The first order of business came a few weeks later. The scouts had finally returned.
The creatures to the north were on the move, with large groups of soldiers and mysterious floating vehicles. The scorpionsâ¦the scorpions never move.
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Goldberg's Worshippers jambola2
Race: Pharaoh Ants
Main Anthill/Lair/Nest: Newcastle-upon-Tyne
Cities under Control: Newcastle-upon-Tyne
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Food: 200
Food Income: 30
Technology: None
Age: the Age of Stone.
-------
Soldiers: 300
Soldier Cost/Recruitment: 300/0
Soldier Weapons/Armor: None/None
Vehicles: 50
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Hail Goldberg. After several days of hard work, the anthill was finally finished. Or at least partially. Now, food had to be found. You had to ensure that this early anthill would one day become the superior force in Britain.
But for now, you're still common ant-people. Outside your anthill, a strange band of creatures marched. After sniffing your home and circling around for a while, they marched away. One of them bore a standard, yet your people did not know what it was. The creatures were green, and hideous.
We're not alone.
