Wasps of Elaria
In the frozen mountains of the north western continent, lies a festering wound in the earth. Crawling with larvae.
A black cloud weeps from it’s maw, a sickly stench fills the air.
A billion tiny black wings form an incomprehensible shape, a living shadow. As the cloud passes, trees are shredded to the husk, the grass is scorched black. Each insect is the size of a mans fist, a gobbet of rotten meat with a cruel six inch stinger. They swarm the rocky jungle searching for prey, which is mercilessly stung to unconsciousness or death, and brought back to the creatures underground hive.
Those left alive have their flesh consumed, by hatched larvae, or have eggs planted deep within their bones, which when hatched consume the beast from inside.
The hive is a system of tunnels extending an unknowable distance into the earth, with walls of muscle tissue, seeping pus, oily to the touch. As wide and dark as a subway tunnel. Countless unseen wasps can be heard chittering in the blackness.
Their queen, Elaria, is a mass of tumours and twisted insectoid limbs, her body half sunken into the flesh of the hive. Her wings span three metres tip to tip and slump impotently at her sides. Her lair is a great cavern, hundreds of feet underground. Specs of light shine through small vents in the chambers roof, giving the appearance of stars. The stench of decay sits to thick in the air, it can be tasted.
Queen Elaria came to our planet a millennia ago, and her presence has caused a great blight across the land, a storm of foul smelling miasma that veils her domain in a constant night.
And so it was for a thousand years, us pitiful humans living in ignorance that we share our home with such accursed beasts. But the appetite of queen is not easily sated, and the lands within her grasp are now a barren wasteland of dust and bone.
And so her servants turn their unseeing eyes to the world beyond the veil… our world... and humanity shall serve as a banquet, the sweetest delicacy to wicked spiked tongues.
A black cloud weeps from it’s maw, a sickly stench fills the air.
A billion tiny black wings form an incomprehensible shape, a living shadow. As the cloud passes, trees are shredded to the husk, the grass is scorched black. Each insect is the size of a mans fist, a gobbet of rotten meat with a cruel six inch stinger. They swarm the rocky jungle searching for prey, which is mercilessly stung to unconsciousness or death, and brought back to the creatures underground hive.
Those left alive have their flesh consumed, by hatched larvae, or have eggs planted deep within their bones, which when hatched consume the beast from inside.
The hive is a system of tunnels extending an unknowable distance into the earth, with walls of muscle tissue, seeping pus, oily to the touch. As wide and dark as a subway tunnel. Countless unseen wasps can be heard chittering in the blackness.
Their queen, Elaria, is a mass of tumours and twisted insectoid limbs, her body half sunken into the flesh of the hive. Her wings span three metres tip to tip and slump impotently at her sides. Her lair is a great cavern, hundreds of feet underground. Specs of light shine through small vents in the chambers roof, giving the appearance of stars. The stench of decay sits to thick in the air, it can be tasted.
Queen Elaria came to our planet a millennia ago, and her presence has caused a great blight across the land, a storm of foul smelling miasma that veils her domain in a constant night.
And so it was for a thousand years, us pitiful humans living in ignorance that we share our home with such accursed beasts. But the appetite of queen is not easily sated, and the lands within her grasp are now a barren wasteland of dust and bone.
And so her servants turn their unseeing eyes to the world beyond the veil… our world... and humanity shall serve as a banquet, the sweetest delicacy to wicked spiked tongues.
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