The Squigs are scarcely more than mouths on legs, fungoid beasts of vivid red hide and enormous fang-filled maws that sprout in the lightless caverns where cave-fungus grows thick. They are all appetite and no sense, bouncing and gnashing in a frenzy that ends only when there is nothing left to devour, at which point they turn on one another. To the grots who share their caves, squigs are food, mounts, weapons and unruly pets all at once.
The fungus-worshipping tribes of the Gloomspite Gitz have made an entire way of war from the squig. Herders drive vast bounding hordes of the beasts before them, cavalry cling desperately atop leaping cave-squigs, and the maddest grots stuff themselves into hoppers hurled squealing at the foe. Even the mighty come to grief, for a swarm of squigs can strip a war-beast to bare bone in moments.
Wild and untameable, squigs come in a bewildering array of breeds, from tiny nippers to cavern-filling colossal squigs that swallow warriors whole. They cannot be reasoned with, only pointed roughly in a direction and unleashed. Where they bound, chaos follows, a chittering, chomping tide of hunger that even the Ogor Mawtribes find distasteful to face.
The bestiary continues
