Swarmspeaker Zyclic

The Cult of the Fang is the most widespread and fastest growing Dark Elf religion. Inconceivable to the Elves who first came to Durham Forest during the War of the Elves, it is centered around the worship and idolization of the Insect Lords – enigmatic and ineffable creatures who dwell in Durham’s heart and are bound physically and spiritually to it. There are tens of thousands – perhaps more – in the Cult of the Fang. Their faith has no single hierarchy or focus, with adherents following individual Insect Lords, several, or all. Others worship different facets of multiple great insects. Spiders are ascetic warrior-monks who claim and defend precious relics, Eviscerators are assassins who worship through murder, Fang Clerics are preachers and proselytizers of the Gospel of the Fang. As a result of all this, the cult has no single leader. Swarmspeaker Zyclic is one. The focus of his devotion is the Insect Lords’ facet of the Ravening Multitude. He is known by many titles, including ‘Beholder of the Chitin-tide’, ‘Willer of the Scuttlerush’, the ‘Great Nest-Tongue’, and the ‘Guide of a Billion Fangs’. Few besides his fellow cult leaders are as dogmatic and incorruptible as he. Zyclic’s acolytes – known as Chitterers or Scuttlers – are found in Dark Elf canopy-towns and tree-bastions throughout Durham Forest. Many other cultists pay homage to him, for his domain of worship overlaps that of every Insect Lord. His influence is thus deep and far-ranging, and while he has no official power or control over any of the Dark Elf Houses or settlements, few House masters or Guild leaders can ignore him or refuse his requests should he come to them. Even if Zyclic did not command the loyalty of so many followers, he is still a terrifying figure, a quality often more than enough to ‘persuade’ those he engages with to do as he orders. His violet skin crawls with grubs and beetles and spiders and as he speaks his interlocutors can see worms and larvae wriggling around his teeth and gums. His flesh is a smorgasbord of swollen bug bites, pustules, and feeding parasites, and flies greedily burrow and nest within it. These denizens result in him leaving a trail of plump, writhing, flesh-eating maggots wherever he treads when they fall out. Another element of Zyclic’s imposing appearance is his armor. Made from the shells of thousands of obsidian beetles and the discarded cocoons of fangmoths, it combines incredible durability with perfect flexibility. Mites and spiders dwell in the minute spaces between the ‘scales’ of the armor – it is an ecosystem unto itself. Finally, Zyclic never goes anywhere without his enormous, scythe-like staff, its serrated, curved blade forged to resemble an enormous insect claw. Zyclic can slice through a dozen foes with a single swing, opening bellies to spill guts upon which the many thousands of creatures who dwell within and around him feast. Alone, Zyclic is a combat monster. But he is never alone. Besides the thousands of creatures that call his body and armor home, his affinity with the flesh-eating minibeasts of Durham Forest is such that should he tap his foot on the ground and buzz his teeth, hundreds of thousands will come to him, ready to overwhelm and devour whoever he tells them to. These swarms can reduce a living being to gnawed bones in a matter of seconds, their rapid consumption giving the appearance of their unfortunate prey dissolving. Zyclic has spent much of his time as Swarmspeaker an aloof, mysterious, and distant figure. His goal has been only to propagate worship of the Insect Lords and build his follower base for their sake. But that has changed in recent months. A dragon of Siroth came to Durham, seducing many Dark Elves to the Shadow God’s service. This has upset the balance of faith in the forest, with many Dark Elves now openly worshiping the Lord of Shadow. Zyclic has never been more active, shoring his support, and renewing allegiances with the other great leaders of the Cult of the Fang such as the Pincer Prince and the Webweaver Supreme. He has also consulted with Ruel the Huntmaster, their secret conversations made through the excretions of pheromones and high pitched clicks in the dead of night. He hopes to glean some insight into the will of the Insect Lords beyond what he is told by the swarms and the nests as, for all his power, he is still greatly ignorant of his masters. He has not seen one in the flesh. He does not realize he is just a pawn to them, one they will expend if necessary in the brewing clash of faiths in Durham Forest. The Swarmspeaker is determined to fight for his Lords. But he does not know if the Cult of the Fang will survive.