The Old Races against the New is a troubling rivalry that has arisen in the centuries since the Cataclysm. Perhaps it is understandable that those who existed on Pangera in a time before the Dungeon would view those that came after with suspicion. They know for a fact, after all, that they are free of the corruption that the Dungeon brought to the world, whereas the same cannot be said for those who came later.
The New Races, on the other hand, rose to sapience and formed their societies after the surface was breached and damaged by spawned creatures. Their peoples have never known a world without monsters, never walked the surface without fear and indeed, do not value the surface in the way their elders do.
The Humans, Kaarmodo, Golgari, Brathian initially viewed the newcomers with hostility and attempted to push them out of the Dungeon. The Sophos who fell, originally an Old Race, were hunted to the brink of extinction once the Cataclysm subsided and conquest of the Dungeon begun. When contact was first made between Old and New, conflict erupted immediately. Only after the New Races had demonstrated their ability to defend themselves and their interests (also once they had come into contact with each other and formed a mutual cooperation agreement) did the Old and New begin to enter discussions and de escalate.
The Bruanchii, The Folk and the Krath, being the most prominent among the New, have proven to be bold players in the fierce competition for resources that goes on in the Dungeon. Sometimes working together, sometimes in opposition, they have displayed a fearlessness and willingness to take on great risks that their elders would avoid. Some argue that this is due to their lower intelligence or lack of stable foundations, whilst others believe it to be a necessity, given that they arose so much more recently than their competitors and need to catch up.
The origins of most New Races is still a contested matter amongst many academics. The Bruanchii, for example arose within the wildlands of the south, though it is not known exactly where, or when. The Folk are a loose amalgamation of many peoples with a similar philosophy, and were first encountered in the Dungeon itself, leading many to believe they are monstrous in nature. It has since been proven that they are able to live and thrive on the surface, taking away the credence of that theory.
How the people of Pangera will coexist moving forward, no credible theorist is willing to say. Shifts and changes within the Dungeon are capable of shattering centuries old alliances in a matter of days. Nothing is permanent and all is in flux. It is safe to wager, however, that the Old and New races will continue to hold to their own for the most part, preferring to trust in those similar to themselves.
· Excerpt from 'Musing on the Races of Pangera' by Tirino
The conflict was proving to be a nightmare for Sloan, one that she simply couldn't wake from.
"News from the front, general!" Announced an exhausted runner, crawling into the command post.
"Which front?" Sloan snapped.
"The deeper front! The enemy advance has shattered the first outpost. Casualties were heavy."
Ice struck the general's heart, but she steeled herself against it. She resisted the urge to indulge in her nature like Leeroy and throw herself out of the command post, rush to the front line to die with her siblings. She could do more good for her family here, so here she would remain.
It was hard, but she would do it.
"What about the Eldest?" She asked.
"The Eldest and all Guardians were able to retreat safely. Only thanks to their intervention were any saved at all."
That bad?
"Is there a full report coming?"
"Yes, general. Should only be a few hours behind me."
The weary scout stood on shaking legs, having pushed herself to the limit to bring this dire news to the nest. Runners like her were racing through the Colony's territory without pause during this conflict, hundreds at a time.
"Go rest, scout. You've done well."
Sloan saluted the exhausted ant with one antenna and nodded when the gesture was returned. Medics rushed forward to tend to the scout before she collapsed and the council member turned back to the war map. The enormous sculpture took almost ten cubic metres of space in the centre of the open command post. A host of carvers crawled over and inside the thing, being careful not to damage the incredible piece of work. Using Tunnel Maps and Earth Magic, the carvers had created a vast statue of stone that accurately depicted the territory of the Colony.
Even the fine details were accounted for, the defences and gates, the location of forces and even a special flag to indicate the location of the Eldest was present. Sloan watched with interest as one of the carvers responded to the most recent news and grasp that flag in her mandibles and shifted it closer to the nest.
"What did I miss?" Victor asked, rushing into the chamber.
"Assault on the deeper front. The first outer fort has fallen. How was your rest?"
"Terrible. It's impossible to enjoy torpor with all of this mess running through your head."
Victor gestured with one mandible to the flurry of activity that surrounded them.
"And I'll save you a bit of trouble, the enemy has broken through in the East as well, I intercepted the scout on the way in. You know the weirdest thing? Not a single one of the Immortals was killed in the retreat."
Sloan stared.
"How is that even possible? They volunteered to be the front of every conflict!"
Her fellow general could only shrug her antennae.
"They are supposed to be 'Immortal' right? Say what you want about that armour, but it does a good job of protecting them. After the beating they received in training, their armour Skills should be decent as well."
"They are going to be even more insufferable when they get back."
"… you're right."
They both turned to view the territory of the Colony, making calculations as the little flags which represented their enemies advanced closer to the nest.
"The first ring of defences has fallen and many of our siblings have fallen," Victor observed.
"I don't want to sound callous, but more have graduated since the beginning of the conflict than have died. In terms of numbers, our situation has improved, not gotten worse."
"I don't think the Eldest would like that thinking."
"I doubt they would, but we have to deal in realities. There is no way the Colony will be able to survive without sacrifice."
"I understand that. You and I have been given the job of observing the conflict as a whole. The Eldest on the other hand… They might take things a bit more personally."
Sloan had to agree, the Eldest had always placed a high priority on the lives of the Colony. Higher than the individual ants themselves ever did.
"You don't think the Eldest will do something… unwise… do you?" She asked tentatively.
"Think? No… I'd bet on it."