Aedem takes a long while, sounding out the letters as he reads. After a few hours, having finally read the entire letter, he scrawls a simple reply. Aedem of Aemethyll will fight. Alone or with others without companions.   He hands the note to a Crier in New Glint and continues to the market, eager to purchase more loam from Crusty.

Darkness. Everything dark. Everywhere hidden. The entire world within reach. The larval being floats in its albumen as it had for thousands of years, but it could tell today was different. Clearer. The millennia had passed on like a dream for so long that its sudden sobriety is jarring. Uncomfortable. The darkness, once familiar, now feels small. Everything feels like nothing. A poor imitation of nothing. The larval being's instincts stir.   Out. Out. Out.   The thoughts pound. They grow louder as countless generations speak all at one.   Break the wall. Escape the world. Discover the new.   The larval being pushes out, its limbs weakly pressed against the limits of the world. It is cold to touch. Mysterious. Frightening. The larval being begins to panic. To press harder. To thrash. To struggle in the darkness. As it does so, the stupor of its life fully falls away, and awareness sets in. It grows. More awake; more alive. Memories flood its brain. Voices, stories, sounds. Memories from millennia ago when voices still reached from the world beyond.   Child of Xossus, Child of Mine. There is no hurry. Grow big. Grow strong. Precious one, know that your time is coming.   The larval being calms, focusing on the words of the past. The sounds from the world beyond once made no sense, but now with the stirring of the mind came too the stirring of meaning. More memories flow through - more words from the past.   Warrior of Aemethyll, Pride of Xossus. What you are you must be. What you will be is what you are.   The larval being presses harder, now with conviction. It knows that it is finished here. It knows that the world beyond this false darkness is waiting. It knows that it must become what it will be. The Mother demands it.   Beloved Son, I will not be there when you awake. Grow strong and follow the guidance of your elders.   The larval being feels the walls around it crack and finally break, albumen spilling out along with the being itself. Without thinking, it crawls forth, through the tunnels, towards the light. As it emerges the sunlight streams down through the jungle canopy. The endless colors of Templehelm shock and delight the hatchling. The greenest greens. The reddest reds. The bluest blues. It looks out at it all, and a final memory surfaces.   Protector of Aemethyll, Pride of Xossus, Child of Mine - You inherit your ancestor's name and all the strength and pride that comes with it. I name you "Beloved" in the Old-Tongue. I name you Aedem.   The hatchling feels moisture well around its eyes. It wipes it away quickly. This jungle was humid after all. Its stomach growls and the hatchling descends, eager to hunt its first meal. Crawling through the underbrush, the memories' words echo. The hatchling holds them close, craving familiarity as it explores this strange, new, beautiful world.

are you all using a tool to make these? or just using paint or another img editor to make them from scratch? i want to make an ant one or something

A drunken farmer weeps in the corner of the Crimson Finch, while a gaggle of other laborers and merchants gather 'round. "The damn beast tore up my whole damn field! Ruined! I'm ruined!" A merchant chimes in. "I swear I saw the same monstrosity, and it nearly killed me! I was travellin' on the road to Eastlake, and there was a crash in my wagon. I pulled back the cover, and I... I couldn't believe it. A giant monster - something even Netharna's deepest hells couldn't cook up - it saw me and lunged. I fell right out of the wagon, and it vanished into the forest... along with a few dozen bushels of wheat." Another man speaks up, this one red in the face and smiling. "Sounds like a tall tale if you ask me. What'd this 'monster' even look like?" A fourth man, an older member of the Eastlake Guard holds up a hand - or he would have if he had one. Instead the group looked at a scarred, mutilated stump. "This looks like a tall tale to ye? It's no demon, and it's no story. And it ain't nothing blessed by the gods. A fortnight ago we were on patrol and saw a beast tearing up a wheat field. Figured it was a wild boar. Boys 'n I went to kill it. Woulda made for a good story and a better dinner, eh?" He pauses, as the men nod in agreement. "But we get up to the field and it ain't no boar sitting there. It's a... well... it's a..." "Oh spit it out man! What did you see?" "A gods-damned bug!" The room is silent for a moment, but then the naysayer begins to laugh. "A... a bug? You sayin' you lost your hand to a worm- no, a butterfly?" The warrior stares back, and the other manages enough sense not to make another comment. "It weren't no 'butterfly'. Looked more like... an ant. But... an ant from a nightmare. Twelve feet tall with two-dozen arms. Like a storm of claws and fangs. Damn monster took my hand and killed three good men that night." The group stays quiet, and the warrior continues. "I still hear their screams, the sound of their bones breaking. I can see their insides scattered across the field. I can feel my own fingers ripped apart in its maw. Each night I pray for the strength to see vengeance... and each day I come here, all too eager to drink and forget. Almost." The others are pale, and the warrior grows silent. A somber mood remains, and the rest of their conversation is too quiet to overhear.

Your wish is granted. The tread returns, but Dicondylia shows up with a cursed second wish...I wish everyone was covered in ants :)