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You are an ant—

(Yes, you heard that right.)

An ant that works hard all day in the blazing summer sun to bring food towards your queen.

As one of the smallest species visible to the naked eye, you are especially vulnerable to the forces of nature: predators, increment weather, enemy colonies, and even the dreaded clouds of death are just a few of the perils your colony faces on a regular basis.

But no! Not even those can stop you from doing your job that you love so much that it fills your thorax with something warm and indescribable— something your language doesn’t have a word for, but now you wish it did.

You stand there for a moment or two to think on the ideas floating through your mind.

Right! The job!

As you stand, selfishly pondering about your own self, your countless brothers and sisters diligently swarm around you, doing what YOU should be doing.

But, before you resume your treacherous, yet fulfilling task, you can’t help but wonder: what makes you special?

>your strength/battle prowess
>your cunning wit
>your resourcefulness
>>
>>3569202
>your resourcefulness your smarts
>>
>>3569202
>your cunning wit
>>
>>3569202
>>your strength/battle prowess
>>
>>3569202
>your strength/battle prowess
>>
>>3569202
>your strength/battle prowess
>>
>your strength/battle prowess
>>
>>3569260
>>3569240
>>3569259

>your strentgh/battle prowess

Among your glorious kind, you are a powerhouse among your colony.

Fifty times your body weight? Try one hundred, larvae!

Always the one to lead the charge into the fray, coupled with your tenacity, your mere presence rallies your endless siblings to fight alongside you.

It has always gotten you thus far, your reputation has even spread to the other colonies.

(It’s one of the few things you take pride in about yourself.)

But today, you’re not here to fight. (Though you will if you must.)

Today’s mission is a special one from the mandibles of the queen herself.

You are one of its selected participants: three squads of ants to three locations, all to feed the newest brood of siblings.

>a nearby community picnic
>the house alongside your anthill
>the neighboring anthill, near the mailbox
>>
>>3569282
>the house alongside your anthill
FOR THE QUEEN
>>
>>3569282
>>the house alongside your anthill
>>
>>3569282
>the house alongside your anthill
>>
>>3569282
>the house alongside your anthill

hopefully we can find a crack to get in the house, probably hella loot inside.
>>
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288 KB JPG
>>3569289
>>3569301
>>3569312
>>3569321

>the house

The sun is nearly at its zenith when your squadrant is deployed. You already know the path, laid out in pheremones by the first scouts. Your mandibles twitch in frustration as your bumped by not one, but many abdomens as you're caught in the rush through the narrow tunnel that leads down, down, down, and into your home.

On your way to the house you notice several things. A butterfly flitting overhead, the sweet smell of flowers in bloom, and a small jumping spider who waves to you from her web with a spider with a penchant for telling tall-tales about the cold times; although you prefer her to any of the other spiders, you never get too close to her web out of precaution (though you're too small to eat, she says), but her stories are interesting to say the least.

You wave your antennae a few times in quick succession before continuing on your way.

It's strange, how the butterfly and the spider live their lives without being surrounded by countless others, and without a queen no less! You think that there should be more of them together, living like you do— and in nice, cozy holes instead of webs, corners, or wherever.

Your way of living is the best, you mentally reaffirm, another, more prideful warmth filling your being...

...before getting shoved forward by whoever thought you were too slow for their liking.

Before you know it, you are at the house, or the tunnel that leads inside—a crack in the windowsill.

You've heard stories of those who'd returned from similar missions. Hard, grassless terrains, giant furbeasts of endless shapes and colors, and, of course, food further than the compund eye could ever see.

Dishearteningly, though, there were tales of bloodshed among brethren, wrought from the resident giants. (You can't even stop to contemplate your own livelihood at this point.)

Despite this, trekking through the passageway fills you with another something at the prospect of unknown riches and accompanying dangers.

You don't know what will happen once you cross the threshold, but, if it's for your colony, you'll gladly give your life.

>Roll d100
>>
>>3569384
Last one for today, boys!
>>
Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>3569384
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>3569384
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3569384
>>
>>3569384

awww it was getting interesting!
>>
Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>3569414
>>
>>3569414

No worries! Will be back tomorrow!
>>
>>3569417
>>3569399

>well shit. I was banking on the dice rolls going hella poor

A rush of cold air is the first thing that greets you as you and your brethren disperse onto a large wooden platform.

Flat, white somethings are strewn about, some blank, some littered with strange markings. They would be fascinating if you were to take the time to look at them, but you’re not here to dawdle.

For some reason, the last leg of the journey feels slightly longer than it should, but the sight of food has you skittering forwards with renewed vigor. In fact, you latch onto the first crumb you see, sweet-smelling and squishy beneath your mandibles. It’s large—disproportionately larger than yourself, and certainly larger than what your siblings try to carry— but you lift it without issue.

It’s slow-going, your siblings skittering ahead with their own crumbs, across the skyless, plantless landscape, and the need to join their pace flares within you.

You’d ask for help, but it’s apparent that every sibling has their own crumb to carry. You’ve only made it a third of the way to the first tunnel before deciding to set your crumb (and yourself) aside.

Perhaps you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, and would fare better with a smaller crumb. After all, you can always come back for more.

However, you ARE already halfway to the passageway. But, at this rate, you’re not even sure you’ll make it back by nightfall

[b]what do you do?[b]

>go back, get a new crumb
>continue
>write in.
>>
>>3570675
>>write in.
eat some of it, get strength back, carry rest home
>>
>>3570677
+1
>>
>>3570677
>>3570682

As much as it pains you to, you take some of the crumb you’ve been carrying for yourself. It tastes more pleasant than you feel it deserved to taste, and, although you reason that this is a necessity in the long-run, you can’t help but think of the newborn siblings who could’ve eaten what you just did.

A few afternoon stragglers pass you buy, and you let the sugar-energy fuel you forwards as you carry the reasonably-lighter crumb.

However, as the passageway to the outside world lies before you, still a distance away with your load considered, the world above you hear multiple high-pitched noises of alarm, all in frantic unison.

At the sight of the cockroach that attempts a charge through your siblings, you feel a great need to act.

>What do you do?

>roll d100 to defend
>roll d100 to escape
>roll/write in
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3570702
Attack it's leg, hind legs first, it prob can't retaliate if we manage to start there
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>3570702

maneuver and flank, wait for an opening and bite where the head and thorax meet. try to decapitate.

that fucker isn't going to die if you go for the legs and it will be in full defense afterwards. End it quickly while you still have the advantage.
>>
Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>3570702
GO FOR THE EYES
>>
>>3570702
Attack the antennae. Roaches kick with their back legs to defend.
>>
>>3573470
Damn option formatting!
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3573474
This is getting old...
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3571074
support
>>
Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3573479
Supporting
>>
>>3573479
Actually, I might as well support this with that 100 roll.



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