COOL BUGS at a REASONABLE PRICE? THIS SATISFIES ME.

 This one's for you, Big Tony.

1. Wormweave is a form of fabric from a woven-together colony of biomantically-altered worms that must be regularly fed and carefully tended to, lest it begin to grow threadbare as the worms sicken and die; Wormweave is coarse to the touch and prone to tearing even when healthy, but its ability to move independently or at a wearer's command makes popular among people who want animated fabric items on a budget. Wormweave fabrics have also been known to eat dead owners, and abandoned colonies have known to grow aggressive if left in the wild for too long, but that isn't something spoken of in polite company. Shut the hell up and enjoy your wind-free billowing cloak.

2. False Eyes have a horrifying niche: much like those isopods that sever the tongues of fish to take their place, these parasitic beetles devour and replace eyes. They prey on sleeping animals (including people), injecting a sedative venom into the host before burrowing into the eyelid to feast on the soft tissues below. When the socket is hollowed out, the beetle forms a chrysalis and begins a strange metamorphosis into a compound eye-like organ over the course of the next week, an uncomfortable process that leaves the eyelids crusted shut and painfully itchy. When the metamorphosis is complete, the False Eye reveals itself, weeping the liquefied remains of the old eye and chrysalis it formed in. Disturbingly enough, the False Eye works, having insinuated itself into the host's nervous and circulatory systems during its change; having a False Eye costs 1 permanent point of CON per eye taken as it feeds off the blood of its host, along with a -2 penalty per eye to any checks based around noticing fine details. Compound eyes aren't great, but it certainly beats seeing nothing at all; because of this, there is a market for False Eyes among very desperate blind people.

How these things reproduce, and why they exist at all, remains a mystery. As usual, wizards are blamed.

3. Vultureflies. It is common knowledge that butterflies and their kin will regularly drink spilled blood for the nutrients it holds; naturally, it wasn't long before the engines of evolution saw fit to create a specimen with more proactive feeding habits. Upon finding carrion or a sufficiently wounded animal, Vultureflies will descend upon it in a vast cloud of fluttering ash-grey wings to tear off tiny bits of flesh with their gnawing mouthparths; by the time the meal is finished, the swarm has the dull red color of dried blood. Used as a symbol of undead-hunters and necromancers alike, and occasionally used by doctors for bloodletting and debridement in places where leeches and maggots are either unavailable or unfashionable.

4. Insectoid Pareidolia isn't technically an insect, but a supernatural phenomenon that affects insects, arachnids, and other arthropods. When somebody dies with unfinished business, their restless soul may linger around until it can obtain a body to satisfy whatever impulse that anchors it to this world. This is usually done with people out of simple familiarity, but the truly desperate dead may force their minds into many lesser animals, a process that imprints a trace of the soul's former shape into the new shell. The faces of scowling warriors on crabs, mustached gentlemen on stinkbugs, and simple smiles on spiders; these are all documented cases of Insectoid Pareidolia, having bred true long after the occupying soul departed for the afterlife. Finding new cases is a fun hobby among both bug collectors and scholars of the dead, who may pay handsomely for a weird-looking insect and the story behind the soul within it.

5. Dire Solifugids are everything that urban legends claim that common Solifugids (Camel Spiders) are: a foot long, extremely aggressive, and capable of injecting a numbing venom that they use to kill camels to lay their eggs inside. They run as fast as a horse at full gallop, screaming like a banshee all the while, and can jump six feet straight in the air so they can bite your face off. The desert folk have domesticated some for use as guard dogs, and find it hilarious when foreigners scream like little girls upon seeing a foot-long shrieking spider-thing sprint in their direction; in the case of domesticated Dire Solifugids, this is usually just to get out of the sun. Just for a giggle, replace the giant spiders or wolves on your random wilderness encounter table with these vicious little bastards.

6. Ambling Men, named as either a reference to their sideways-walking gait or as a corruption of an older name, are humanoid whip spiders that dwell in dungeons, caves, and other dark, hidden places in the world. Their broad, flattened bodies have a hunched posture, standing on six spindly legs at roughly the same height as a child or goblin; the other two legs (the first pair) are long and whip-like, repurposed as feeling appendages, and their mantis-like pedipalps have developed simple pincers on their tips for use as crude grasping appendages. The Ambling Men are shy and combat-averse by nature, spending much of their time hiding in cracks and crevices, but are as intelligent as humans, if lacking in technological development; while they are incapable of audible speech, they have a complex system of feeler-gesturing and a system of transcribing the gestures to writing. Learning this language is a great boon for dungeon-delvers and spelunkers; the Ambling Men leave many warnings and notices in the places they travel through, like a cross between hobo signs, hieroglyphs, and poetry. Bribing an Ambling Man with food is a great way to get dungeon rumors, if you can get past the language barrier and their general apprehension towards anything larger than they are.