Bile Bite

There are many problems when it comes to living in the swamplands. Oh sure, most people dream of the stinging and itching, the infested marshes where your flesh is nothing more than a bug buffet. Truth be told…it gets even better than that.
Oh yes.
In fact, there was an incident which caused delicious fevers which caused many Underlings to wander the hopeless slush-lands and get picked off by swarms. It all started in the heart of the swampland, from a bite a sullen Underling named Bruk received. It was a common bug, one that usually caused itching and some mild discomfort, but this time...this time was different. Bruk's skin around the bite began to swell, turning purple with streaks of green, mirroring the very palette of the swampland itself.
This was just the start of a sickness that would soon unfurl its sinister tendrils across the kingdom of Stickies Underlings, causing an upheaval unlike any other they had faced before.
At first, there were whispers, rumors of a certain madness afflicting Bruk. His eyes were said to be pools of burning amber, his fevered breath reeked with an unnatural sweetness – the reek of decay masked by perfumed rot. But then, as more and more Underlings fell prey to similar symptoms, a miasma of fear set in. The kingdom was suddenly tainted with an ethereal hush as everyone waited for the inevitable plague that might swallow them.
Homes became fortresses as each Underling tried desperately to keep the bugs at bay. Flaming torches were kept lit day and night in futile attempts to ward off the insects. But for those already bitten, it did little good. Their minds were now claimed by a drugged stupor.
In their feverish haze, they began to wander aimlessly around the swampy lands, their minds possessed by visions conjured up by their troubled unconsciousness. Delirious Underlings hallucinated about ethereal beings guiding them towards an unseen sanctuary or tricked them into believing they’d already entered the afterlife.
Their families watched in abject horror as their kin walked off into the murky depths of the swamplands, guided by phantoms that existed only in their fever-ridden minds. Mothers wailed as sons and daughters disappeared into the marsh, never to be seen again. Husbands and wives clung to each other, refusing to let go even as the other was desperate to follow the grotesque fairy lights that danced temptingly in their sight.
And Bruk? Oh, our dear Bruk, he became a prophet of sorts – a deranged emissary of his own doom. He rambled incoherently about beings from another world, about murky heavens with ghastly angels, and strange visions of the divine. His words added fuel to the fire of fear and confusion that had enveloped the kingdom.
And then came the real kicker. Some Underlings started developing...abilities. Yes, indeed. One moment you're itching from the bug bites and hallucinating about phantom beings and marsh-cats, and the next, you're bending water or summoning bugs at your will!
Now tell me if that isn't the cream on the proverbial cake! In addition to the madness and fever-induced wrestling matches with non-existent foes, we now had to deal with magic! Underling magic!