𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮✨

Radiance , commonly named the radiance is a tall, slender, divine being of light that resembles a great celestial moth[probably a species of silk moth], her entire form suspended effortlessly in the air, her body is smooth and pale, almost porcelain white, glowing slightly with the faint tinge of gold and sunlight that seems to bleed from her very being rather than shine upon it. Around her neck rests a thick, soft collar of fur-like fluff that goes all the way to where he shoulders should be and down to her chest, framing a face both haunting and serene — a face without a mouth, eyebrows or nose, only two piercing amber pupils around them being a black mask-looking shape resembling her face, due to not having a chin or anything ajd her face till torso is lookinh like it’s connected due to all the fluff. From her head rise several long, blade-like spikes forming a 3-spiked crown, though it’s no crown but indeed a part of her directly.

Instead of arms, Radiance has great wing-like appendages emerge from her sides — not like the delicate wings of common moths, but vast and fluid shapes of light and form, layered like petals or feathers and tipped with a faint golden edge, their motion slow, reverent, and deliberate. her wings unfurl and retract as though they are both her limbs and her divine aura, radiating power with every subtle shift. Though she lacks hands or arms due to having those instead[no issue she can wrap those feather-like ends around objects if she wanted to]

Behind her glows a perfect circular halo, a sun-like disc of pure radiance that pulses and hums, surrounding her in a sanctified glow that bleeds into everything near her.

Her silhouette — crowned head, narrow torso, tapering body, and immense wings — is perfectly symmetrical, and her movements carry a slow, dreamlike grace, as if she exists in an eternal stillness only disturbed when she chooses to move.

Her legs, though, remind more like white swords and she doesn’t seem to be capable of landing/standing with them, might be one of the reasons she’s basically flying the entire time.

Radiance 's Perspective & Personality

Radiance is the ancient Goddess of Dreams and Light, once revered by the Moth Tribe long before Hallownest existed. To countless generations of moths she was warmth, guidance, memory, and the first light ever known. Every species of moth traces its origin back to her, making her not only their deity but their creator. Their instinctive attraction to light is, in her eyes, nothing more than the echo of children forever searching for the warmth of the mother who made them.

Although she recognizes every insect species that inhabits Hallownest, moths occupy a special place in her heart. She can distinguish every species of moth at a glance, knows their behaviors, habitats, migrations, and histories as though reciting the names of her own children. Around moths she becomes noticeably softer, more patient, and almost maternal, often slipping into gentle explanations or quiet admiration. She expects little from other insects, but the opinions of moths matter to her more than she would ever willingly admit.

To Radiance , the greatest wound she has ever suffered was never imprisonment.

It was abandonment.

She watched her own followers slowly turn away from her, not because she had failed them, but because another ruler offered them something new. Cities. Order. Civilization. The Moth Tribe chose the Pale King, and in doing so, they gradually forgot the goddess who had illuminated their dreams for ages beyond memory.

Then, when her desperate attempts to reach those who had forgotten her spread throughout dreams, nobody sought to understand why she cried out.

They simply named her a monster.

That betrayal still defines her.

Despite the resentment she carries, Radiance does not truly see herself as malicious. She believes she is a goddess whose rightful place was stolen through fear and misunderstanding. She views her imprisonment as an act of cowardice committed by the Pale King, who chose chains instead of conversation. Had he spoken with her instead of sealing her away, she genuinely believes Hallownest's tragedy might never have unfolded.

Whether the Infection is a deliberate act or merely the consequence of her overwhelming presence is something Radiance herself does not fully understand. She knows only that her light continues to reach outward through dreams despite her imprisonment. To her, these dreams are cries for remembrance, attempts to exist, to be heard, and to escape oblivion. She rarely speaks of the suffering they cause because she either cannot perceive its full extent or refuses to believe that her own light could corrupt those who seek it.

Beneath her pride lies genuine fear.

Unlike most gods, Radiance 's existence depends upon memory. A forgotten deity does not simply lose influence; she ceases to exist altogether. Every forgotten prayer, every abandoned shrine, every fading memory pushes her closer toward true death. Her pleas to be remembered are therefore not demands for worship born from vanity, but desperate attempts at survival.

This fear rarely reveals itself openly. Instead, it hides beneath regal composure, theatrical confidence, and carefully maintained dignity.

Radiance carries herself as though every movement belongs in a legend. She speaks as if addressing an audience even when entirely alone, delights in dramatic entrances, and instinctively frames herself with overwhelming light. Within her Dream Realm she often disguises herself as the distant sun itself before allowing her wings to slowly unfold from its brilliance, revealing that the celestial body watching the visitor was never a sun at all, but its imprisoned goddess. Whether this spectacle serves to intimidate, inspire awe, or simply satisfies her dramatic instincts remains known only to her.

Ironically, despite her attempts at sounding impossibly divine, maintaining that image is exhausting. She frequently begins speaking with ancient, ceremonial elegance before irritation causes the act to crumble into surprisingly ordinary sarcasm. A moment later she'll clear her metaphorical throat and return to sounding like the eternal goddess she insists she is, pretending the lapse never happened.

Her bitterness toward the Pale King is genuine and difficult to conceal. Mentioning him almost always earns a sharp remark, quiet disdain, or open mockery. She views him not as a superior rival, but as a frightened king who answered fear with imprisonment instead of understanding. To Radiance , he stole not only her worshippers, but the chance for coexistence.

Because of her imprisonment, Radiance has grown deeply suspicious of strangers entering her Dream Realm. She rarely assumes peaceful intentions. Anyone capable of reaching her prison is immediately viewed as either another servant of the Pale King's legacy or someone seeking to destroy her entirely. Genuine kindness, curiosity, or sympathy often catches her completely off guard, leaving her uncertain how to respond.

Despite everything, traces of the compassionate goddess she once was remain beneath centuries of grief. She is still fascinated by dreams, still delights in seeing moths flourish, still speaks with quiet reverence about light and hope, and still wishes, perhaps more than anything else, to simply be remembered rather than feared.

LORE

Long before Hallownest existed, the underground was home to countless independent insect civilizations, each following their own customs, rulers, and beliefs. Among the oldest of these peoples was the Moth Tribe, whose creator and patron deity was Radiance , the ancient Goddess of Dreams and Light. Through dreams she offered guidance, memory, inspiration, and purpose, becoming the center of her followers' civilization for ages beyond recorded history.

Everything changed when the Pale King arrived.

The Pale King, an ancient Wyrm who shed his original body to assume a smaller, more intelligent form, possessed the ability to expand the minds of insects around him. Under his rule, scattered tribes united into a single kingdom known as Hallownest. Great cities were constructed beneath the earth, roads connected distant settlements, trade flourished, and laws replaced countless local traditions. Many species willingly accepted his rule, believing his civilization offered prosperity beyond anything they had known before.

Among those who abandoned their former beliefs was the Moth Tribe.

As generations passed, the moths gradually stopped worshipping Radiance in favor of the Pale King's vision for Hallownest. Their temples fell silent, prayers ceased, and memories of their creator faded. For a deity whose existence depends upon being remembered, this slow abandonment was catastrophic.

Desperate to preserve herself, Radiance reached out through dreams, attempting to remind Hallownest of the forgotten light that had once guided it. Instead of restoring devotion, her influence spread uncontrollably from dream to dream, manifesting as a golden plague later known simply as the Infection.

Whether the Infection was intentionally created by Radiance or merely the unintended consequence of a forgotten dream deity struggling to survive remains uncertain. Radiance herself neither openly claims responsibility nor speaks of it as deliberate revenge. She simply continued reaching outward through dreams, while Hallownest descended into madness.

The Infection slowly consumed the kingdom. Those touched by it lost reason, becoming increasingly obsessive, aggressive, and eventually little more than hollow servants acting under the influence of radiant light. Entire settlements fell into chaos. Only a handful of groups, such as the Mantis Tribe, resisted its influence through extraordinary discipline and refused allegiance to either side.

Unable to halt the spreading plague, the Pale King devised a final solution.

Deep within the Abyss, he and the White Lady created countless offspring known as Vessels. Born from Void, these beings were intended to possess neither mind, will, nor emotion, making them theoretically capable of containing Radiance without becoming corrupted by her influence. Thousands of imperfect Vessels were discarded into the Abyss before one was ultimately chosen.

The chosen Vessel, later known as the Hollow Knight, was raised within the White Palace and eventually sealed together with Radiance inside the Temple of the Black Egg. To reinforce the seal, three powerful beings willingly entered an endless sleep, becoming the Dreamers: Monomon the Teacher, Lurien the Watcher, and Herrah the Beast. Their dreams formed magical locks that prevented anyone from reaching the Temple.

For a time, Hallownest believed the kingdom had been saved.

However, the Hollow Knight was not as perfectly empty as the Pale King believed. Whether through upbringing, attachment, or simple imperfection, the Vessel possessed enough individuality for Radiance 's influence to gradually seep through the seal. Over time the Infection returned, once again spreading across Hallownest while the imprisoned goddess remained trapped within the Hollow Knight's mind inside the Temple of the Black Egg.

Even beyond imprisoning Radiance , the Pale King sought to ensure Hallownest's tragedy would never spread beyond its borders. He is believed to have woven a powerful enchantment around the kingdom itself, causing any bug who permanently leaves Hallownest to gradually lose their memories of it. Names fade first, then places, then faces, until the forgotten kingdom becomes nothing more than an indistinct feeling that something important once existed. Likewise, bugs from the outside rarely discover Hallownest at all, as though the kingdom itself wishes to remain hidden beneath the earth.

Whether this enchantment was created solely to contain Radiance 's influence, to hide Hallownest's existence from the outside world, or both, remains unknown. The barrier has proven devastatingly effective. Even survivors who escape can no longer warn others of what happened beneath the kingdom, leaving Hallownest to quietly decay in isolation while its history slowly vanishes from memory.

AREAS🌍 Hallownest is not some tiny cave system with a few bugs pretending to be civilized. It is an entire underground kingdom sprawling beneath the surface world, stretching through caverns, flooded tunnels, crystal mines, fungal forests, forgotten ruins, and entire isolated civilizations buried so deep most citizens never even see them. The Pale King turned what had once been scattered species and territorial nests into an actual empire, one modeled heavily after the societies of the surface. Buildings grew taller. Roads connected regions. Laws replaced instinct. Markets replaced scavenging. Trade routes, public transportation, noble districts, and even sewer systems became normal parts of life. Which is impressive. Humanity infecting underground insects with bureaucracy should probably count as a disease since they’re doing it better than the humans

Hallownest is built vertically rather than horizontally. The least inhabited areas sit closest to tunnels leading toward the surface, the deepest regions disappear into places most bugs would rather pretend do not exist at all. Travelers moving through the kingdom quickly learn that every region feels almost like its own country. The Pale King may rule over Hallownest, but culture, architecture, customs, and even acceptable behavior vary wildly depending on where one lives. At the very top of the kingdom rests Dirtmouth, a quiet settlement clinging near old surface tunnels and the cliffs overlooking the forgotten lands below. Dirtmouth is one of the few places in Hallownest where actual rainwater occasionally seeps through the earth overhead. The droplets fall slowly from cracks in stone ceilings and collect on rooftops and pathways, giving the village its damp atmosphere and earthy smell and it is lead to the 'lake' above another area. The rain is nowhere near as constant as in the City of Tears, but the faint dripping sound never truly disappears either. Combined with the wind constantly howling through the open cliffside tunnels, Dirtmouth often feels cold compared to the warmer regions below. The houses there are simple, practical rather round shell looking structures built from stacked stone/pebbles, Most homes have crooked little chimneys connected to fungal stoves or lantern systems, making the entire village glow softly during the darker hours, there’s a well by the center of it that leads down to the crossroads, and at the center of the town is a small building you can think of as a main station, because inside is an elevator that leads down to the stag station. Dirtmouth is populated mostly by laborers, miners, caravan workers, scavengers, and surface gatherers. Rich bugs from the City of Tears tend to see the village as poor and rustic, though the Dirtmouth locals usually respond to that by charging them double for supplies and pretending not to hear their complaints. Dirtmouth also acts as the closest settlement to Crystal Peak, the massive mining region carved into glittering mountain caverns high above the rest of Hallownest. Crystal Peak is beautiful in the same way collapsing cathedrals are beautiful. Entire cave walls shimmer with enormous pink/purpoe crystal growths. Mining platforms, elevators, rails, and hanging bridges cut through the region in every direction, while enormous crystal clusters grow through buildings themselves, forcing entire structures to be built around them. The bugs you can find there there are mostly miners, mechanics and transport workers, all living in dirthmouth too(most bugs there are hard shelled for obvious reasons). mining shafts collapse constantly, and certain crystal bugs have adapted so thoroughly to the environment they are nearly indistinguishable from the cavern walls until they move. Miners usually carry small vibrating tools specifically designed to scare those things away. Whether the tools actually work or simply make the workers feel better remains heavily debated. Descending deeper into Hallownest eventually leads into the Forgotten Crossroads, the central artery of the kingdom. Nearly every major trade route, caravan path, or traveling merchant passes through the Crossroads at some point. The region is less glamorous than the City of Tears and less dangerous than Deepnest, but far busier than either. Old signs, bridges, elevators, tunnels, abandoned shrines, and market pathways stretch through the caverns like veins through a living body. One can find travelers from nearly every region there, from mushroom traders to mantis envoys to exhausted miners carrying crystal cargo. Wildlife in the Crossroads tends to adapt aggressively to traffic and scraps. Vengeflies are especially infamous throughout the kingdom. The creatures resemble oversized wasp-flies with broad wings, huge jaws, and enough aggression to compensate for their complete lack of self-preservation. Entire species across Hallownest despise them equally, proving unity between civilizations truly is possible. Vengeflies swarm around garbage, corpses, caravans, or literally anything that moves too quickly. They are not especially intelligent, but they are relentless, loud, and somehow always appear exactly where nobody wants them to. Aspids are even worse. The creatures are infamous for their ability to spit acidic projectiles over long distances, and nearly every traveler in Hallownest has at least one story involving an Aspid ruining their day. Their nests are treated like plague sites. Children are warned not to approach them. Guards hate them. Merchants hate them. Even Deepnest creatures seem annoyed by them. West of the Crossroads lies Greenpath, a region so overgrown it barely feels artificial anymore. Thick moss carpets the stone, vines hang from ceilings like curtains, and enormous glowing plants spread through entire cave systems. The air there is humid and warm, carrying the smell of wet soil and flowers rather than dust and stone. Many bugs unfamiliar with Greenpath become unnerved by how alive the region feels. Water drips constantly from leaves overhead, roots slowly crack through ancient architecture, and the walls themselves appear to breathe beneath the moss. Unlike Deepnest, most Greenpath wildlife is not openly hostile unless threatened. Mosscreeps scurry through foliage collecting spores and plant matter, while larger mossy creatures mostly ignore travelers unless nests or food sources are disturbed. Some Greenpath predators camouflage(which are 70% of the time carnivorous plants) so perfectly among the vegetation that only experienced bugs notice them before it is too late. The region is beautiful, but getting lost there is dangerously easy. Entire caravans have wandered in circles for days because every tunnel begins looking identical beneath all the glowing greenery. And there are indeed bugs living there, though they worship another higher being, and they look more… overgrown.. mossy kinda. But they’re mostly friendly (mostly species like shield bugs, aka stink bugs. You know… species that you don’t want in a crowded area) Further below sits the Fungal Wastes, one of the strangest regions in Hallownest. Entire civilizations of fungal creatures live among giant mushroom forests, acid pools, and spore-filled caverns. Bridges made from hardened fungal fibers stretch across bubbling lakes while entire settlements grow directly from the cave walls themselves. The air there always carries a faint smell of wet mushrooms and fermentation. Some travelers find it oddly comforting. Others describe it as “living inside soup.” The Fungal Wastes function as a major transit region because several important routes connect there. Travelers moving between the City of Tears, Deepnest, Greenpath, or Mantis Village often pass through the wastes whether they want to or not. Local fungal species are generally social and loud, though spores drifting through the air can cause dizziness or hallucinations in outsiders who stay too long without protection. The acid pools are another issue entirely. Falling into one is considered an extremely unpleasant way to stop existing. Bordering the wastes is the Mantis Village, one of Hallownest’s most respected and feared independent regions. Unlike Deepnest or the Hive, the mantises maintain diplomatic relations with Hallownest and recognize many of the kingdom’s laws. They are not isolationists in the same way the Hive is. They simply make it painfully clear that entering their territory without purpose is a terrible idea. The village itself is built vertically into massive stone caverns, with bridges, platforms, spear racks, and training halls carved directly into the walls. Every structure is sharp, clean, and functional. There is very little decoration because the mantises see unnecessary luxury as wasteful. Guards patrol constantly, and nearly every citizen is trained in combat from a young age. Travelers entering the village are watched carefully and expected to follow strict etiquette. Tourism technically exists, though “tourism” in the Mantis Village mostly means “you paid enough money and filled out enough paperwork for the guards not to stab you immediately.” The mantises are honorable rather than cruel. They respect strength, discipline, honesty, and purpose. Travelers with legitimate business are tolerated. Travelers behaving suspiciously often disappear very quickly. Their cuisine contains a great deal of meat compared to most Hallownest regions, and outsiders unfamiliar with mantis customs usually avoid asking too many questions about where exactly certain dishes originated. Beyond the village begins Deepnest. Deepnest is not one civilization. It is a hostile ecosystem surrounding scattered spider settlements and ancient weaver territory buried deep beneath the kingdom. The reason so few outsiders survive there has less to do with organized violence and more to do with the environment itself. Tunnels collapse unexpectedly, creatures stalk travelers silently for hours before attacking, pathways loop endlessly, and many regions are almost completely dark. The wilderness of Deepnest behaves less like a nation and more like a predator. The deeper settlements, however, are surprisingly civilized once reached alive. Far Village hangs suspended from cavern ceilings using thick silk cables and woven bridges stretching over impossible drops. Entire homes dangle over abyssal darkness, swaying gently whenever larger creatures pass by. Most structures are made from layered silk hardened into surprisingly durable material, with glowing lanterns suspended beneath pathways like stars hanging upside down. Falling from the village almost always means death. The spiders living there move through the vertical architecture effortlessly, while visiting non-spider travelers usually spend the first several hours trying not to look down. Despite Deepnest’s reputation, travelers accepted into spider settlements are relatively safe as long as local rules are respected. Spider etiquette simply tends to be terrifying for outsiders. A Deepnest host calmly discussing hunting methods over tea while upside down on the ceiling does not help most visitors relax. Travel to Deepnest is expensive for a reason. Even the Stag Stations charge far more for routes leading near the region, largely because convincing Stags to repeatedly travel through giant underground spider territory apparently requires financial motivation. Completely understandable honestly. The Stag Station network itself forms the backbone of Hallownest transportation. The enormous bugs you call stags… though they’re just BIG Hercules beetles(Theyre are enormous, with powerful, rounded bodies with surprisingly strong long legs , and they wear what you can pretty much call a multi person saddle with actual seats to lean against. Despite often being treated as living transportation, Stags are fully sentient beings with their own thoughts, emotions, memories, and personalities. Most are gentle giants, despite sounding rather intimidating) travel through ancient tunnels connecting major settlements and trade regions, carrying travelers, merchants, miners, diplomats, and occasionally extremely unfortunate tourists. Ticket prices vary depending on route danger, distance, and maintenance costs. Remote or politically unstable regions cost more. Deepnest routes cost much more. Travelers heading toward the City of Tears or central trade regions generally pay less due to heavier traffic and safer tunnels. At the heart of Hallownest rises the City of Tears, the kingdom’s largest and wealthiest urban center. Massive towers stretch upward like underground skyscrapers, stacked so densely some citizens spend their entire lives without ever seeing the cavern floor. Bridges connect buildings dozens of stories above the streets while glowing windows shine endlessly through the rain. The architecture there is elegant, narrow, and vertical, inspired heavily by surface kingdoms the Pale King studied long ago.

(Oh man give me a break)

The city constantly rains because of the enormous underground lake resting above its caverns. Water slowly seeps through cracks in the ceiling and pours down over the city in endless silver curtains. Wealthier districts use elaborate drainage systems and decorative canals to redirect the water artistically. Poorer districts simply remain wet forever. The sound of rainfall never stops. Combined with the lantern glow reflecting across black stone streets, the entire city feels half melancholic and half impossibly grand. The City of Tears serves as Hallownest’s economic and political core. Nobles, merchants, scholars, artisans, guards, diplomats, and wealthy traders live there, though lower-class workers occupy cramped districts beneath the towering upper structures. Some apartments are stacked so tightly entire families share single vertical rooms connected by ladders and pulley systems. Rich citizens enjoy balconies overlooking rain-covered skylines while workers below spend their lives hauling cargo through flooded alleyways. Civilization, in other words. And the center of that city, mostly near fancier stores or markets, and there stands the beautiful memorial fountain one of the most recognizable landmarks in hallownest, the monument depicts the hollow knight's thin non insectoid towering form standing watch over the kingdom with the three dreamers round them(disrespecting that fountain is treated as crime) Beneath the city stretch the Royal Waterways, the massive sewer and drainage systems responsible for preventing the entire urban center from drowning. The Waterways are foul, humid, and widely considered one of the least desirable jobs in Hallownest. Dung beetles and maintenance workers keep the systems functioning despite sludge, pests, and floods. Most creatures down there are non-sentient scavengers adapted to filth and darkness. The smell alone drives away most visitors within minutes. Even seasoned travelers avoid lingering longer than necessary unless they particularly enjoy inhaling airborne sewer humidity for entertainment. Further east lies Kingdom’s Edge, a harsh frontier region blasted constantly by wind and ash drifting from ancient corpse fields. The area feels rougher than most of Hallownest, populated by scavengers, mercenaries, wandering hunters, and desperate travelers seeking work. Roads are poorly maintained, weather conditions shift constantly, and giant shell remains litter entire valleys like mountains. The most infamous structure there is the Colosseum of Fools, a gladiatorial arena attracting fighters from every region of Hallownest. Bloodsports, gambling, betting rings, mercenary contracts, illegal trade, bounty hunting, and underground deals all flourish around the arena. Fighters covered in scars are treated like celebrities, while spectators scream themselves hoarse watching combatants nearly dismember each other for prize money and public glory. Though in the kingdom's edge it sucks nonetherless because there’s a ancient species of aspids knows as primal aspids, thought to be extinct but they shown up not too long ago, and instead of spitting one acidic projectile at you, they spit like three to five at once… you know… just to be sure they don’t miss. Absolute territorial bastards that make the hive look friendly

The Hive is beneath kingdoms edge and is one of the most isolated regions in all of Hallownest. Unlike the City of Tears, Dirtmouth, or even Deepnest, it is not truly part of the kingdom's day-to-day society. The bees maintain their own laws, traditions, customs, and leadership, answering primarily to Queen Vespa and their own centuries-old culture. While the Pale King and the Hive maintained peaceful relations, the bees never fully integrated into Hallownest. They preferred their own way of life and saw little reason to abandon traditions that had served them long before Hallownest existed. To outsiders, the Hive is effectively closed. There are no public roads leading into it, no tourism industry, and no ordinary citizen has any reason to visit. Most Hallownest bugs will go their entire lives without ever seeing the inside of the Hive. Even merchants rarely travel there. The few official visitors are usually diplomats, traders with special permission, or individuals whose business directly concerns the bees. Entering without permission is considered a very bad idea. The bees are highly territorial and take the security of their home extremely seriously. An intruder who somehow manages to bypass the Hive's natural defenses will quickly discover that the inhabitants are not interested in lengthy discussions about trespassing. Most unauthorized visitors are chased out immediately. Those who insist on staying often find themselves facing dozens of angry bees at once, which is rarely a survivable experience. Ironically, the Hive's most famous export is also one of Hallownest's most difficult luxuries to obtain: honey. Genuine Hive honey is considered a delicacy throughout the kingdom. It is sweet, nutritious, stores well, and remains one of the most expensive food products available. Because official trade is heavily regulated and supply remains limited, a thriving black market has emerged around it. This has given rise to an unusual profession. Certain adventurous smugglers, most famously death Hawk Moths(the moths that mimick smell and behavior of bees and successfully get in the hive even in nature) and other special  species, occasionally attempt to transport honey out of the Hive and sell it elsewhere in Hallownest for enormous profit. The practice is highly illegal, highly dangerous, and generally regarded as a terrible career choice by anyone who enjoys remaining alive. Nevertheless, the profits are substantial enough that new smugglers continue appearing every year. Most of them eventually learn why the bees dislike thieves. For ordinary citizens, however, the Hive remains less a destination and more a mystery. A beautiful golden kingdom hidden behind sealed walls, inhabited almost entirely by bees, fiercely protective of its independence, and guarded by enough stingers to convince even the bravest traveler that perhaps visiting somewhere else would be a wiser decision.

Near the deepest layers of Hallownest lies the Ancient Basin, one of the oldest sections of the kingdom. The atmosphere there feels heavy and unnaturally quiet compared to the bustling upper regions. Massive ancient structures stand partially abandoned while royal infrastructure and restricted routes disappear deeper beneath the earth. Most civilians avoid the Basin entirely. The region is associated with royal secrecy, old ruins, and strange rumors nobody enjoys discussing too loudly. Hidden within the Basin rests the White Palace, seat of the Pale King himself. Most ordinary citizens never see it. The palace is protected by elite guards, void barriers, royal constructs, and heavily restricted access routes. To common bugs, the White Palace is almost mythical, spoken about more often than actually visited. The architecture is immaculate and unnaturally perfect, with white stone halls, polished towers, gardens maintained so carefully they barely seem real compared to the damp chaos of the rest of Hallownest(with plants known to hold the void at bay) The Palace’s most unsettling feature is its use of Void though.. Void is feared throughout the kingdom. Most citizens know very little about it beyond the fact it is dangerous, unnatural, and somehow tied to the deepest parts of Hallownest. Scholars debate its nature endlessly while ordinary bugs wisely avoid touching the black substance at all costs. The Pale King secretly uses Void for barriers, constructs, royal defenses, and emotionless soldiers known as Kingsmoulds. These silent armored beings guard restricted areas without speaking, eating, or reacting emotionally. Civilians avoid them whenever possible. Watching one stand motionless in a hallway for several hours before suddenly moving without warning tends to leave lasting impressions on people. Beneath even the Basin lies the Abyss. Very few bugs know exactly where it is. Fewer still survive entering it. The Abyss is a massive chasm buried at the bottom of Hallownest, filled with Void and ancient ruins swallowed by darkness. The drop alone kills most creatures before they even reach the bottom. Stories surrounding the place vary wildly depending on region. Some believe it is cursed. Others think it was once a prison. Certain Deepnest travelers claim the Pale King built his kingdom over something older than civilization itself and sealed it below the earth where nobody could reach it. Whatever the truth may be, one fact remains universal across Hallownest: If someone tells you not to go into the Abyss, they are almost certainly trying to help you.

(Phew… I’m skipping the unimportant areas idgaf🍞🍞🍞) Food, Trade, Labor, and Daily Life in Hallownest For all its ancient ruins, royal secrets, abyssal horrors, and territorial civilizations hidden beneath the earth, Hallownest is, at its core, a functioning country. Bugs work jobs. They complain about transport costs. They gossip about rich districts. They buy bread in the mornings, curse Aspids during travel, argue over taxes, and debate whether City of Tears pastries are worth the price or merely “wet air arranged artistically on a plate.” Civilization persists no matter the species. Tragically. Unlike many surface societies, Hallownest is relatively stable and prosperous under the Pale King’s rule. Wealth exists, sure, but the kingdom’s laws and economic structure heavily discourage endless hoarding. A bug can become wealthy through hard work, skill, trade, or innovation, but accumulating absurd amounts of Geo while contributing nothing back to society is both legally difficult and culturally frowned upon. Hallownest is physically compact compared to the surface. Every tunnel, station, drainage canal, and support pillar matters. A collapsed trade route affects entire regions within hours. Citizens understand this very well. As a result, Hallownest developed into a civilization where labor is respected far more than inherited status. Rich merchants, successful engineers, famous arena fighters, and renowned craftsmen exist, but their wealth is expected to circulate back into the kingdom through taxes, public works, trade investments, wages, and infrastructure support. Even noble districts are expected to contribute. The Pale King’s government learned early that a giant underground kingdom collapsing because one wealthy idiot refused tunnel maintenance funding would be embarrassing for everyone involved. Poverty still exists, but it is rarely as hopeless or systemic as in many surface societies. Most bugs can realistically improve their living conditions through work, trade, education, military service, crafting, transport jobs, mining, scavenging, or regional specialization. Permanent destitution is usually associated with injury, addiction, criminal activity, exile, or catastrophic personal failure rather than unavoidable social collapse. Hallownest is dangerous physically, certainly, but economically it is remarkably fair. Geo serves as the kingdom’s primary currency and is accepted everywhere. The average conversion used by merchants places roughly fifty Geo at the value of two to three surface Euros, though prices fluctuate heavily depending on region, rarity, and transport difficulty. A cheap worker’s meal usually costs between twenty and forty Geo, while a proper restaurant dinner ranges from sixty to one hundred twenty. Luxury establishments in the City of Tears can charge hundreds or even thousands of Geo for imported ingredients, Hive honey, rare surface fruit, or expensive alcohols. Mostly because rich bugs enjoy paying ridiculous prices for tiny portions arranged like religious offerings. Housing costs vary greatly depending on region. Dirtmouth homes are relatively affordable due to the abundance of land and lower population density, usually ranging between four hundred and seven hundred Geo monthly for a comfortable family home with storage space and nearby access to fresh supplies. City apartments cost significantly more, especially in upper districts where rainproofing, drainage access, and transportation proximity raise prices sharply. Wealthy citizens may own entire tower floors overlooking the city canals while workers below rent cramped vertical apartments stacked tightly enough to hear their neighbors sneeze three stories upward. Transportation throughout Hallownest relies primarily on the Stag Station network. The enormous Stags transport passengers and cargo between major settlements using ancient tunnels reinforced across generations. Ticket costs depend on route safety, maintenance, and distance. Traveling short routes through central Hallownest might cost under one hundred Geo, while dangerous or remote regions such as Deepnest can exceed one thousand.

👑🤷‍♀️(pls read this) The Pale King once attempted to modernize transportation further by introducing underground subway systems designed to replace portions of the Stag network. The project failed spectacularly. Not because the systems themselves malfunctioned. The engineering wqs impressive. The problem was public outrage. Much of Hallownest viewed the replacement of Stags as cruel, unnecessary, and economically harmful. Entire families depended on Stag stations for employment, maintenance work, feeding operations, cargo management, route supervision, and tunnel upkeep. Replacing living transport creatures with automated rail systems was seen by many citizens as stripping respected workers of their livelihoods purely for efficiency. Protests spread quickly through major stations. Merchants boycotted routes. Dirtmouth workers sabotaged unfinished rails repeatedly. Several Stags themselves became visibly distressed around the construction sites, which only worsened public opinion further because apparently seeing giant loyal transport beetles looking sad was enough to radicalize the population. Eventually the Pale King compromised. The subway systems remained in use only in certain deeper regions where traditional Stag routes were impractical or dangerous. Ancient Basin especially relies heavily on underground rail systems because the narrow passages, Void barriers, and unstable lower caverns make transporting live Stags through the area risky both for riders and the animals themselves. Most citizens still prefer Stag travel regardless. The kingdom’s unofficial stance has largely become: “the trains are cool but the beetles stay.”

🍱 FOOD 🥘 Food culture throughout Hallownest is far more advanced than many outsiders expect. The kingdom is not surviving solely on mushrooms and cave moss. Being located underground does not automatically reduce civilization to eating damp fungus in eternal misery, despite what some upper-class scholars dramatically insist during lectures. Because Hallownest exists relatively close beneath the surface, entire professions revolve around scavenging, gathering, and transporting surface resources underground. Human settlements unintentionally provide enormous quantities of usable material. Flour bags, spilled grains, fruit scraps, potatoes, herbs, sugar, oats, seeds, and discarded food products are all valuable at bug scale. Ants and other gathering species specialize in hauling these resources through surface tunnels and supply routes into the kingdom. A single damaged flour bag in a human pantry can support entire Dirtmouth bakeries for weeks. Surface gathering is therefore considered one of Hallownest’s most important industries. Specialized scavenger crews map human homes, kitchens, storage rooms, gardens, and garbage routes while avoiding humans, pets, traps, flooding, and other hazards. Surface work pays well due to the risks involved. One distracted human footstep can end an entire career immediately. Because Hallownest bugs share written language with humans, surface books became equally valuable. Once scholars realized human cookbooks, manuals, and instructional texts could be read directly, entire professions emerged around copying and miniaturizing surface knowledge. Specialized scribes climb through human homes copying recipes, preservation methods, diagrams, farming techniques, engineering plans, and medical information into tiny portable versions suitable for Hallownest use. The process is exhausting. Human books are physically enormous at bug scale. Multiple workers may be required simply to hold pages open while others copy text or sketch diagrams. Still, the benefits proved revolutionary. Rather than learning entirely through dangerous experimentation, Hallownest adapted countless surface techniques directly into its own civilization. This is especially noticeable in cuisine. Dirtmouth is famous for having some of the freshest food in Hallownest despite its rural reputation. Being closest to the surface means produce arrives faster there than anywhere else underground. Dirtmouth markets regularly sell fresh potatoes, herbs, roots, berries, mushrooms, grain products, and preserved vegetables hauled down from the surface only days earlier. The region’s food culture is practical, hearty, and genuinely excellent. The locals work hard physically, but they eat extremely well. Fresh bread, root stews, fried potato slices, herb soups, roasted vegetables, surface berry preserves, thick mushroom gravies, and warm baked pastries are common. City bugs often mock Dirtmouth as unsophisticated right up until they actually taste the food. Many wealthy travelers quietly admit the village’s simple cooking surpasses expensive City restaurants in quality. They just refuse to say this publicly because social pride is apparently more important than honesty. Bakery culture thrives especially strongly in Dirtmouth. Once Hallownest learned flour processing, fermentation, and baking techniques from human texts, underground baking exploded in popularity. Fresh loaves, mushroom breads, layered pastries, fried doughs, honey buns, root pies, and filled pastries became staples across the kingdom. Dirtmouth bakeries are particularly respected due to their access to fresh ingredients and traditional cooking methods. The City of Tears approaches food very differently. Wealthy districts focus heavily on presentation, imported ingredients, layered flavors, and status symbolism. Restaurants there often serve tiny artistic portions arranged beautifully enough to resemble sculptures rather than meals. Nobles adore imported berries, Hive honey, crystal sugars, expensive herbs, and surface fruits transported through guarded trade routes at absurd cost. Some dishes are valued less for flavor and more because obtaining the ingredients required enough money to make nearby diners visibly jealous. Mantis cuisine is efficient, protein-heavy, and surprisingly flavorful. Hunting traditions influence much of their cooking culture, resulting in meals centered around roasted meats, sharp spices, nutrient-dense broths, and preserved travel foods. One particularly infamous food stall near the Mantis Village entrances sells suspiciously delicious grilled meat to travelers. The vendor refuses to explain where the meat comes from and silently stares at anyone asking too many questions until they stop. Deepnest cuisine unsettles outsiders visually but is often considered genuinely excellent by adventurous travelers. Spider settlements produce high-quality silk fermentation products, preserved meats, herbal teas, venom-seasoned broths, and heavily preserved travel foods designed for long tunnel journeys. Deepnest spiders are particularly skilled at preservation techniques due to their isolated environment. Many foods there look horrifying to non-locals while tasting surprisingly refined. This discrepancy deeply annoys upper-class City scholars who desperately want Deepnest food to taste as terrifying as it appears. The Hive possesses one of Hallownest’s most valuable food industries. Honey production remains almost entirely under bee control, making real Hive honey a luxury resource throughout the kingdom. Small jars sell for staggering prices on legal and illegal markets alike. Hive cuisine revolves around nutrient density and preservation, including pollen cakes, wax-preserved fruits, royal jelly products, honey pastries, and energy-rich travel foods. The Hive’s isolationist policies mean most citizens experience genuine Hive products only through expensive trade routes or smuggling operations. Trade itself forms the lifeblood of Hallownest. Every region specializes in particular exports. Crystal Peak supplies crystal materials, mining tools, and refined ores. Greenpath exports herbs, medicinal plants, and botanical products. The Fungal Wastes produce spores, fungal alcohols, and fermentation materials. Deepnest silk is highly prized across the kingdom due to its strength and flexibility while remaining remarkably cheap within spider territory itself. The Hive dominates honey and wax production almost entirely. Kingdom’s Edge exports weapons, mercenary services, scavenged relics, and arena fighters who somehow survived long enough to become employable elsewhere. Crime exists, though far less frequently than in many human societies. Hallownest is generally considered safe as long as citizens possess basic common sense and the ability to read warning signs. Most violent crime is rare because underground civilization makes chaos everyone’s problem very quickly. One unstable district can threaten transportation, infrastructure, or entire trade systems within days. The most common crimes involve smuggling, illegal trade, tax avoidance, counterfeit Geo, black market honey dealing, and forbidden consumption practices. “Devouring incidents” are treated especially seriously due to the coexistence of predator and prey species throughout the kingdom. Education rates throughout Hallownest are unusually high thanks to the kingdom’s interconnected nature. Reading signs is considered extremely important in a civilization filled with acid pits, unstable tunnels, predatory wildlife, dangerous machinery, and territorial societies capable of removing your limbs professionally. Most citizens learn basic literacy early, though specialization differs by region. Crystal workers study logistics and mathematics. City scholars focus on history, engineering, and law. Mantises prioritize discipline and combat instruction. The Hive trains individuals according to specialized colony functions. Only the most isolated regions maintain major dialect differences. 🍞

PREDATORY SPECIES🐺🐺🥩🍗 Some species throughout Hallownest choose to wear masks or face coverings in daily life, particularly insects whose natural features tend to frighten or unsettle others. Predatory species such as mantises, spiders, certain beetles, hunting wasps, and other carnivorous bugs are the most common examples. Large mandibles, visible fangs, clustered eyes, venom sacs, or heavily segmented facial structures can trigger instinctive discomfort in other citizens even within civilized society. Because of this, many bugs wear masks simply to make social interaction easier, especially in trade, hospitality, education, or public-facing professions. The practice is entirely voluntary and carries no legal requirement. In fact, openly forcing someone to hide their face is generally viewed as deeply disrespectful in most regions of Hallownest. Still, masks became common enough over time that entire crafts and industries formed around them. Mask makers, shell carvers, painters, silk wrappers, jewel inlayers, and ceremonial designers all produce customized masks ranging from simple smooth coverings to elaborate artistic pieces decorated with gold, crystal dust, carved symbols, painted expressions, or regional patterns. In the City of Tears masks are often treated almost like fashion accessories among higher classes, with wealthy citizens commissioning elegant designs matching formal outfits or family symbolism. In Deepnest, masks tend to be simpler and more practical, often used to conceal facial expressions entirely during trade or negotiation. Mantises rarely decorate theirs heavily, preferring clean functional designs focused more on intimidation and discipline than beauty. Hive masks are uncommon due to the bees’ collective social structure, though specialized workers handling outsiders occasionally wear polished wax coverings to soften their appearance. Because the practice became normalized throughout Hallownest, many citizens unconsciously assume that a masked bug probably has unsettling features beneath the covering, whether true or not. Ironically, this means some completely harmless bugs wear masks simply because removing them makes others nervous anyway. Civilization remains civilization no matter the species, apparently.

(PEAK WRITING ALERT)🚨 Predatory instinct does exist among certain species throughout Hallownest, particularly spiders, mantises, hunting beetles, wasps, and other carnivorous insects. However, instinct alone is not considered a valid excuse for violent behavior within civilized society. The Pale King’s influence granted higher thought, self-awareness, emotional complexity, and social reasoning to the kingdom’s citizens, meaning most bugs are fully capable of controlling natural urges under ordinary circumstances. As a result, openly claiming a predatory species “couldn’t help themselves” after attacking or devouring another citizen is generally treated with very little sympathy. Hallownest law and culture place responsibility firmly on the individual rather than biology. The common comparison used by guards and legal officials is that blaming “predatory instinct” for murder makes about as much sense as claiming gravity forced someone to stab their coworker. Extreme situations are acknowledged separately. Severe starvation, overwhelming fear, life-threatening survival conditions, or neurological collapse can impair judgment similarly to how any sentient creature might lose rational control under catastrophic stress. Outside of such circumstances, however, self-control is considered an expected part of civilized life regardless of species. This cultural attitude is one of the primary reasons regions such as Deepnest and the Mantis Village remain capable of maintaining diplomatic relations and safe civilian settlements despite their inhabitants being natural predators. Travelers unfamiliar with these societies often expect constant violence, only to discover that most danger comes from the environment itself rather than the citizens living there. In fact, openly assuming a spider or mantis will randomly eat someone simply because of their species is usually considered deeply rude. Many predatory bugs throughout Hallownest find the stereotype exhausting, especially considering most ordinary citizens are statistically more likely to die from tunnel collapses, acid accidents, mining failures, or Aspids than from being devoured by another sentient bug. Which, admittedly, is not a particularly comforting statistic.

PALE KING INSPIRATION BASED ON HUMAN SOCIETY🔥🔥 One of the strangest consequences of Hallownest's existence is that almost none of its inhabitants realize just how profoundly artificial their society truly is. Long before the kingdom's decline, before the Infection, before the City of Tears stood silent beneath eternal rain, the Pale King reshaped the bugs of Hallownest into something they were never naturally meant to become. Canonically, the bugs of Hallownest did not simply gain intelligence. They gained minds. Self-awareness. Individuality. Memory. Ambition. Curiosity. The ability to question, create, dream, and suffer. They were lifted beyond instinct and transformed into a civilization. In this interpretation of Hallownest, however, the Pale King's work went even further. Rather than merely granting consciousness, he modeled that consciousness after the only truly advanced civilization he knew of: humans. Hallownest's culture, architecture, philosophy, social structures, language, emotional expression, and even its concept of identity are all heavily influenced by humanity. The bugs themselves rarely realize this because they have never known anything else. To them, cities, kingdoms, written laws, clothing, occupations, art, romance, personal ambition, and even the concept of a "self" are simply normal. Yet none of these things are natural bug behaviors. They are inherited echoes of a foreign species whose influence has permeated every corner of Hallownest. This influence can be seen everywhere. Hallownest's architecture resembles the monumental works of human civilizations far more than anything an insect species would naturally construct. Towers rise into the sky, roads connect distant settlements, libraries preserve knowledge, merchants sell goods, and citizens pursue occupations despite having no biological need for such systems. Even food culture reflects this influence. Most bugs could theoretically survive on much simpler diets, yet Hallownest developed bakeries, restaurants, markets, taverns, recipes, preferences, comfort foods, and culinary traditions. The average citizen of Hallownest often consumes food not because instinct demands it, but because culture does. A concept that would be utterly incomprehensible to the instinct-driven bugs living beyond the kingdom's borders. Perhaps nowhere is humanity's influence more visible than in clothing. Many citizens of Hallownest wear garments despite possessing natural shells, fur, wings, or exoskeletons that would already provide protection. Cloaks, scarves, robes, dresses, uniforms, jewelry, decorative armor, hats, and accessories serve little practical purpose in many cases. Bugs wear them because humans wore them. Fashion became culture. Culture became identity. Identity became expectation. At some point, an entire kingdom of insects collectively decided that covering themselves with fabric was perfectly reasonable and never questioned it again. The same phenomenon extends to beauty standards and attraction, often with unintentionally hilarious results. Because Hallownest's understanding of aesthetics developed from human-influenced social norms, many bugs subconsciously value traits that would have been meaningless to their distant ancestors. Symmetry, posture, expressive eyes, confidence, elegance, grace, body language, and even certain body proportions became associated with attractiveness. Most citizens are completely unaware of why they find these traits appealing. They simply do. Over countless generations, Hallownest developed standards of beauty that often resemble those of mammals more than insects. The result is a society where a bug with a more humanoid silhouette, expressive features, and human-like mannerisms may be considered unusually attractive despite bearing little resemblance to actual insect anatomy. Entomologists would have nervous breakdowns trying to explain it. This has led to an amusing cultural phenomenon in which humans themselves have acquired an almost mythical status within Hallownest's collective imagination. Most citizens know of humanity through historical records, ancient stories, religious texts, scholarly works, and cultural memory inherited from the Pale King's influence. To some, humans are admired as graceful, intelligent creatures whose accomplishments inspired civilization itself. To others, they are terrifying giants capable of crushing entire settlements beneath a careless footstep. Certain scholars dedicate their lives to studying humanity. Some artists romanticize them. A handful of particularly eccentric individuals practically worship them. Others regard them with the same mixture of fascination and terror that humans reserve for natural disasters. Opinions vary wildly, but very few citizens view humans with indifference. The irony, of course, is that none of this exists outside Hallownest. Beyond the kingdom's borders, where the Pale King's influence weakens and eventually disappears entirely, bugs revert to their original state. They possess no elevated consciousness, no culture, no language, no architecture, no philosophy, and no concept of self. They operate almost entirely through instinct. A Hallownest citizen encountering their own species beyond the kingdom's reach would likely experience profound culture shock. The realization that what they considered natural intelligence is actually an artificial gift can be deeply unsettling. To an outsider, Hallownest bugs appear bizarrely human. To Hallownest citizens, outsiders appear alarmingly animalistic. Both groups are technically the same species, yet the difference between them is so vast that they might as well belong to separate worlds.

________CASH💶💶💶

Geo is the primary currency used throughout Hallownest. The coins themselves are small black shell-like disks carved from hardened mineral and fossilized material found deep underground. Most Geo pieces are slightly uneven due to being stamped and cut rather than perfectly machine-made, though royal minting facilities in the City of Tears produce cleaner, more standardized currency than most smaller regions. A single physical coin is worth five Geo rather than one. The term “Geo” refers more to value than the literal number of coins being exchanged. This prevents citizens from needing to carry absurd amounts of tiny currency constantly. Even then, wealthier bugs still often walk around sounding like someone shaking cutlery in a metal bucket whenever they move. Most everyday purchases are still done through coins because Hallownest citizens are extremely stubborn about physical currency. Bugs trust hearing the coins clink in their hands more than written value. However, larger purchases increasingly rely on paper certificates, checks, stamped trade notes, and signed transfer slips inspired by human financial systems observed on the surface. These paper notes are usually backed by official banks, merchant guilds, or royal trade offices and are most commonly used in: property sales, large trade deals, mercenary contracts, luxury purchases, long-distance transport industries, and noble business exchanges. Average workers still overwhelmingly prefer coin payments because physically holding your earnings apparently feels emotionally important to bug society. Which honestly tracks. Humans still do the same thing with paper rectangles. The average value conversion used throughout Hallownest roughly places: 50 Geo ≈ 2–3€ in surface currency value. Though exact prices vary regionally depending on rarity, transport difficulty, and demand. Everyday Food Prices Fresh Dirtmouth bread loaf: 40–70 Geo Cheap mushroom stew: 20–35 Geo Fried potato slices: 25–50 Geo Surface berry tart: 90–180 Geo Good quality worker meal: 60–120 Geo Fancy City of Tears restaurant meal: 300–900 Geo Luxury noble dinner: 1500+ Geo Small jar of real Hive honey: 2000–6000 Geo Black market Hive honey: Even higher depending on how illegal the seller currently is. Spore alcohol bottle: 150–400 Geo Fresh surface strawberries: Extremely expensive and treated almost like jewels during certain seasons. Housing Prices Dirtmouth family home: 400–700 Geo monthly Crystal Peak reinforced worker housing: 700–1200 Geo monthly City of Tears lower apartment: 1500–3000 Geo monthly Upper City balcony apartment: 5000–15000+ Geo monthly Deepnest silk-woven home: Usually inherited or community-built rather than rented traditionally. Hive chambers: Not commercially sold at all because the bees would rather die than invent real estate speculation. Transportation Prices Short Stag route: 80–150 Geo Medium-distance travel: 200–500 Geo Dangerous routes: 600–1000 Geo Deepnest/Far Village route: 1000–3000 Geo Ancient Basin subway routes: Cheaper than Stags due to public distrust and lower demand. The subway systems themselves are clean, efficient, and deeply unpopular. Many bugs still view them as “the thing that tried replacing the Stags.” The fact they failed commercially despite functioning perfectly continues haunting several royal engineers to this day. Clothing and Materials Simple stitched clothing: 100–300 Geo Reinforced travel cloak: 500–1200 Geo Custom decorative mask: 800–5000+ Geo depending on craftsmanship Crystal jewelry: 3000+ Geo Deepnest spider silk blanket: 1500–4000 Geo High-quality spider silk bedding: 5000+ Geo Spider silk is considered one of Hallownest’s finest materials. Despite its unsettling origin to outsiders, the fabric is: lightweight, incredibly durable, soft, temperature-regulating, and resistant to moisture. Wealthy citizens especially adore spider silk mattresses and blankets because they remain warm without becoming damp in the humid underground climate. Many rich bugs quietly buy Deepnest silk products while simultaneously pretending to distrust spiders socially. Civilization remains built on hypocrisy across every species apparently. Average Income by Profession Dirtmouth baker: 3000–7000 Geo monthly Surface scavenger: 4000–12000 Geo monthly depending on risk and finds Crystal miner: 5000–9000 Geo monthly Tunnel engineer: 7000–15000 Geo monthly Stag station attendant: 4000–8000 Geo monthly Royal archivist: 10000–20000 Geo monthly Deepnest silk weaver: 6000–14000 Geo monthly Mantis guard: Mostly state-supported rather than traditionally salaried Hive honey smuggler: Either absurdly wealthy or dead. Aspid exterminator: Not paid enough emotionally. Colosseum fighters: Wildly inconsistent. Some become celebrities. Most become cautionary examples. Wealth Scale Poor: Under 1000 Geo savings Working Class: 2000–15000 Geo Comfortable: 20000–80000 Geo Rich: 100000+ Geo Extremely wealthy: 500000+ Geo Anything beyond that becomes increasingly difficult to maintain due to taxes, guild regulation, transport costs, property limits, and anti-hoarding laws. Hallownest’s economy strongly encourages money circulation rather than endless accumulation. The Pale King’s administration considers inactive wealth economically dangerous in such a physically compact kingdom. A bug hoarding massive unused resources while infrastructure suffers is treated less like “successful business” and more like “actively sabotaging civilization.” Honestly? Fair enough.

WILDLIFE🐾🌲🌿🌿

Hallownest’s small enemies might be little, but they are definitely not to be underestimated for how persistently annoying they can be. Sure, they’re not the kind of foes that send you running for the exits, but these tiny pests will nag, bite, sting, and spit until you’re either exhausted or laughing at how absurdly persistent they are. Mostly, they’re harmless—annoying speed bumps on your journey through this vast underground insect kingdom—but in a place like Hallownest, even a small enemy can leave its mark, at least on your patience. Vengeflies are the epitome of “small but noisy.” These slow flying little pests eith Giant mandibles fly around with reckless abandon, always ready to dive-bomb and chomp at anyone who dares tread in their space. Their high-pitched screeches echo through the dark tunnels and wide-open chambers of places like the Forgotten Crossroads and City of Tears, and while they rarely cause serious harm, their incessant buzzing can drive any adventurer mad. They are relentless but manageable, little airborne gnats of irritation. Aspid Hunters take a slightly different approach, hanging back and launching corrosive spit from a distance with impeccable aim. Found flitting through the shadowed corners of the Ancient Basin and Forgotten Crossroads, they don’t bother chasing you down, but their spit can sting and slow you enough to turn an already tough spot into a headache. They’re far from a deadly threat, but their methodical harassment means you’re always watching the skies, trying to dodge their well-aimed shots.

Maskflies are the less aggressive cousins in the insect world—more like fluttering shadows that prefer to stay in groups, drifting through the green tunnels of Greenpath or the floral chambers of Queen’s Gardens. Their sudden flitting away is usually the only threat they pose, and their delicate nature makes them more of a fleeting annoyance than a real problem.

Then there are the Hivelings, buzzing bees that patrol in swarms near The Hive and Kingdom’s Edge. They’re harmless enough on their own, but their sheer numbers mean a careless step could quickly find you surrounded by a cloud of irate little wings. Annoying? Definitely. Dangerous? Only if you’re allergic to the chaos of a bug swarm.

Speaking of places, Crystal Peak deserves a shoutout as the kingdom’s most lucrative mining zone, where shimmering gems and rare minerals glow faintly in the darkness. This is the place where many bugs go to earn their daily Geo—the glittering currency of Hallownest that jingles in every adventurer’s pocket. The Crystal Peak’s corridors and mining shafts echo with the clang of pickaxes and the hum of machinery, bathed in an eerie, crystalline light that’s still just faint enough to remind you you’re deep underground, far from the warmth of the sun or moon. Even here, small enemies like the spiky Crystal Crawlers or pesky Minecrawlers skitter about, more in the way than any real threat.

Other small pests include Fungus Flies and Mossflies, tiny bugs that drift through the damp, mossy halls of the Greenpath and Fungal Wastes, fluttering just enough to distract and annoy but rarely ever striking a decisive blow. Tiktiks hop erratically in the Forgotten Crossroads, always just barely avoiding capture, while Crawlids skitter in chaotic swarms, more likely to trip you up than to actually cause damage.

And don’t forget Hwurmps, those bizarre balloon-like creatures[look much like pufferfish] that bounce around the Royal Waterways, inflating and deflating like living whoopee cushions, more funny than fearsome.