Bloodmote Swarm

Descriptive Text

It was a sound strategy. We had satisfied ourselves that the peasants' tale was true. Our confidence grew as the mosquitos, which made the bog a living Hell, sped past us with complete indifference. Then it came, that buzzing, swirling, black cloud of living death, which bore the rank odour of the very blood it craved. The trifling spell would not withhold it from its feast.

- Gustov Petroff, hawksman and horse smuggler, wanted for desertion from the Falkovnian army, explaining his longstanding aversion to flying bugs