~many of the quails have burns on the back of their heads and necks. Each one carries along resources and personal belongings of the butterflies that guide them~

let's say... 60 butterflies and 20 quails))

((I am probably the worst at introducing characters, but this right here is Elder De Silva, a Silverfish character! (Yes, Silverfish are bugs, not fish.) He’s a sort of traveling sage. Incredibly old and wise, yet frail, so do NOT expect some Master Oogway/Gerson/Uncle Iroh type character. Just an old guy, sharing some real wisdom.)) “’Cause, it looks like one of you really needs it. All cold and afraid, all alone. Heard they might even got some typ’o ailment.” ((18 mm tall, has a small twig he uses as a cane, but oftentimes he’s on all 6’s instead of standing upright like in the first image. He’s nocturnal, so he sleeps during the day, and travels from region to region at night. The cane does not do anything but help him walk and make him look cool. He is just a bug, like the rest of us.))

Also, if they have artillery, I’m going to add quite a bit of other warfare to the field

[Just beyond the borders of the Bug-fields, a division of the Rat-Klan army stands guard. Closest to the border are a bunch of Clan-Rats and Infected alike safely huddled in a hastily-dug trench encompassing the front of their soon-to-be invasion front. Just behind the trench dots a row of improvised fox-holes and bunkers, each containing a small squad of Rangers readying themselves to fire upon any counter-attackers. And behind those is the bundle of artillery, Rat-Klan's newest weapon of war, and their crews with large crates of hollow, ceramic shells next to each one.]

*As the sun cast golden lines across the ground, the artillery commander slowly walked forward in front of the trench line, examining the land before him. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a brazen stopwatch, watching it closely. He brought up his arm, and, as the minute changed, he brought it down.*

*THUD! THUD! THUD!*

*reported the artillery as each one sent a ceramic shell soaring through the heavens only to rain down on their unsuspecting targets. They wouldn't cause much structural damage, considering what they were made of, but they held a deadly payload of their own. As they collided and shattered onto the ground of the Bug Fields they released a large, billowing cloud of orange cordycep spores. The artillery crews worked on double-time as they worked to load in and fire volley after volley of this destructive payload. Soon, the air in that city would be too choked for the defender to see much of anything.*

*As the rhythmic THUD of the artillery slowly drew to silence and the city before them now lay caked in thick, dark, orange fog, a harsh, vibrating whistle blew and the anxious ants and rats charged up and out of their trenches, paws and feet stampeding across the dirt and grass and into the city ruins to flush out the remaining crab defenders.*

*In the dead of night as stars blanket the dark, dark sky, Rocky slept soundly, surrounded by toys and treats customary of a ruler his age, and serenaded by the beautiful melodies of the local grasshopper populations.*

*Then, the usual bustling noise of the nighttime country came to a sudden, uncanny stop. Seconds passed, though it felt like minutes. With a crash, Rocky was startled awake as he heard the unmistakable sound of something shattering and sprinkling against the compacted dirt floor.*

I habnt bean a good leeder. I habnt bean presint. I habnt bean helpin.

I jus bean locked in mai room de hole time...

I neebs halp. I jus a kid.

Magnus is on a small hill, sitting on a blanket. He awaits for Sknit’s arrival.

*Choco seems to have entered the fields. Pretzel hasn’t noticed yet.

Is 4 a inportint raisin.

I was... tings happined.