Waspors Chosen, 2nd Swarm, are proud to report the exceptional strength of their remaining seventeen warriors!

Upon reaching Desert Province - Serpent's Rest, we encountered unexpected resistance, in the form of exceptionally high and completely impenetrable wooden walls. A colourful array of defenders watched us from their heights, all the strange new races that have come over the sea were there; but none of them seemed to have anything to shoot us with.

We proceeded to the base of the walls and attempted to chew a passageway, but the wall was rather thick and unappetising, so we set ourselves to climbing instead. The defenders showed some concern and began running around and dropping rocks, to no particular effect. A few of the weaker members of the Swarm lost their footing and plummeted to their deaths.

Surmounting the final barricade to take the heights was a rather costly operation, culling the herd most efficiently. The swords of the exhausted-looking furry creatures sliced right through our carapaces and many of us were poked off by halberds or had shields slammed in our faces just as we were making the final swing over the parapet, but eventually the first strong warriors got themselves a foothold.

Subsequently, the defenders fled in panic and disarray, not wanting to face us in a fair fight in their squishy weakness.

We managed to slaughter seven of them anyway, before pressing on towards Jade Province as ordered.


empty promises
peace lies shattered on the ground
as springtime arrives

The end of the world is here.

There is no end to the myrmidons that flow ceaselessly from the Deep South.

No respite. No relief. No victory.

The last defenders of Southern Kamakura leave quietly; all the races of the Old World together, Gnoll and Tritoni, avian and dracoscion Free Islanders, and humans all, abandon the walls to the myrmidon assault.


the world is not fair
we have filled in the land's wounds
yet spring blood still runs

Celestial Dragon make it back to the walls just in time to see Silent Wyrm closing the gates at Serpent's Rest.

Exhausted, bloodied, they see that the other soldiers have no ranged weaponry. And out in the plains beyond the wall, another squadron of myrmidons, more orange-yellow and black carapaces. They seem unaccompanied, though. Maybe. Maybe this time the walls will hold.

The cattle have all escaped, but they can most certainly lock the gates fast behind them.

There is nothing to do but wait. The myrmidons cluster around the base of the wall, chew on it experimentally, gouge the sturdy wood with their claws. The wall holds. They investigate the doors, the great hinges - but they have nothing, not even axes, nothing but themselves.

So they put claw to wood and begin to climb. Silent Wyrm pitch some rocks down on them, but it scarcely helps.

Then they wait, and they wait, and they strike; halberds, swords, brooms and sticks poke and push over the parapet, dislodging the precariously balanced myrmidons to fall - eerily silent, for the most part, with a few incoherant screams of rage rather than terror.

The shoving becomes more and more desperate; the myrmidons start to find alternate paths.

The defenders are in danger of being outflanked.

"Come on," a gravel-voiced Gnoll from Celestial Dragon ventures, backing away from the summit. "Come on. We've done enough. We've got over half of them. There are seven hundred inside already. We do not need to throw our lives away."

In good order, Celestial Dragon retreats.

The wave of myrmidons breaks over the parapet, scattering the remaining defenders; when Silent Wyrm regroup, seven of their number are missing.

empty promises
peace lies shattered on the ground
as springtime arrives