Lore/Story Hive Drabbles: Tasogare Oyaji

So the one I made?

 

y e s

 

Ok

 

***CONTENT WARNING! Contains blood, gore, and depictions of extreme violence!!***​

Offending content will be demarcated with a line of asterisks.​

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A week had passed since the famed Mistress of the Hive was bedridden with a mere cold. A dull, miserable, horrendously boring week. Seven days of the Vanguard’s unexpected skill at card games, after the lengthy process of explaining the rules, seven days of Gale’s breezy badgering, and seven days of what should have been rest. For Qira, however, rest simply did not come until she exhausted herself, and so her notes began to fill up. Ideas for tweaks to the Hive creatures- how to improve the ambulation of the Ambertoise, for instance, and what to do with the Oceanic Judge. In the middle of her scrawlings, however, sleep had taken her, and the watchful Vanguard had placed her into her bed once more. The third time this week, he mused to himself.

Challenges had been sparse, and so even the vigilant servants of the Hive found themselves with a restful week. Until, of course, on the morning of the eighth day. The new week had brought something that was not a challenge of sport, but a challenge to the Hive’s rules and the sanctity of the competition. The new week had brought an outlandish expedition filled with clinking gears and neon blue. The new week had brought boorish attitudes and a hasty brushing-off of the servants. The new week had brought the unfortunate Mistress a horrible pressure headache that simply would not clear up.

“I understand you may not wish to hear this, Mistress-”

"Pleiades, I hold nothing against you for enjoying your tea,” she interjected, quietly. The throbbing sensation of even simply her heartbeat kept her from opening her eyes. He kept his kneeling slow and quiet in the meanwhile. “But I do not understand just how it would help clear this awful ache away from my head if my strongest spells do nothing.” As if on cue, however, a breeze blew into the room, stealing precious soothing warmth from her head, and Qira threw the blankets over herself in a childish huff. Even as Gale materialized, she kept herself subdued. She knew how terrible her old friend was feeling...

“It actually happens that he’s making this suggestion for your health, miss sicky-spider. Did you forget about Aldorei’s herbal medicines, and our agreement there? I haven’t met a malady that their medicine didn’t manage,” Gale quietly offered. A discontented “mrrhf” from under the covers seemed to indicate her thoughts on the matter- If it will keep you quiet then I’ll agree to anything right now. In a show unlike herself, Gale decided to walk out of the room instead- it would be a good deal more hushed than dematerializing like usual, and she made very well certain she was out of earshot before fishing the communication stone out of her pocket.

In the distance, a shout of “HEY, PSYCHO!” echoed out. Thankfully, the mass of fabrics covering Qira’s head had drowned it out for her. The heat quickly got to her- temperature swings were one of the worst parts of illness, and she flipped the blankets away from her head, waiting silently as Gale rounded up the Bishops and Artisans for the pickup. Things remained silent for something to the tune of an hour. And then, very suddenly, things weren’t silent. And that meant bad things for Qira’s poor, aching head.

“-you fool, you’re breaking all the rules of our glorious challenge-”

“Please, don’t bother her! She’s sick and miserable, don’t make it worse!”

“Oh, needn’t worry, I’ll just be in and out! Twenty minutes discussion!”

“Besides, we’re sponsored-”

“Sponsorships mean nothing against the rules! Either you fight or you may not visit, you brutish-”

“You will go not a step further.”

The Vanguard’s voice rang out above the entire din, and a sharp smack of his spear on the ground stopped the entire mob approaching Qira’s chambers. In front of him was a gaggle of beleaguered servants, desperately trying to hold back and reason with a strangely dressed posse, covered in an armor the likes of which he had never seen before...very noisy armor, indeed, giving off loud buzzing and whirring even as the bearer stood in place. They have headgear akin to Gale’s, but surely they are not like her, he concluded- their skin was too dark. Even alive, her skin was practically alabaster. The intruders’ was more of a chocolate tone.

“Oh, but I will need to, dear sir! You see, I need to talk with Qira about a business proposi-”

“Address our Mistress with the proper respect, you imbecile!”

“Er-hem, yes. I need to talk with Mistress Qira about a business proposition!” The word was laced with mockery. “So, if you would kindly step aside? Ooh, I quite like your plasma funnels- Ah, ah, business! Can’t be distracted!” With that, the bearded fellow leading the intruders attempted to duck past the Vanguard, and received a hearty smack from the butt of his spear, sending him toppling into the rest of them. The servants had wisely cleared away, and thus remained unscathed.

“You will not go a step further,” the Vanguard repeated. “There are rules set in place at our Mistress’ Hive. You may not receive audience with Mistress unless you have conquered her challenge. As this is the first I have seen of you, we have not fought. Thus, as you have not completed her challenge, you may not visit her.” His tone left no room for argument. As the man recovered from his tumble, he began to argue.

“How rude! We informed you three days in advance that we would be coming along! You must have received our message- addressed to ‘Qira Gavel’, from a certain von Legendary? As in, Herbert? Me? The fellow you’ve so rudely knocked onto their buttocks?”

"We have received no correspondence, Herbert von Legendary, nor do we make exceptions to the rules.” Unbeknownst to everyone, Yansur quietly slipped the letter into his back pocket to go burn later. “You must complete the Hive challenge, or you may not receive audience with Mistress.”

“Um. Orja? Yansur? Inebel?” A more familiar voice spoke up from behind the whole party, and those who turned around found Gale flanked by a Void Artisan busily closing its portal and an Allicio Bishop, holding a drawstring pouch labelled with a sunflower emblem. “Who the heck are these guys?”

“Ah, lovely! It seems you hold some sway in the proceedings here, miss?” Herbert immediately went up to the confused Gale, grabbing her hand to shake and sliding her a business card with the other. “Since it seems our message was lost in postage, here! The name is Herbert von Legendary, proprietor of Legendary Island in Corkus! We’re here to see your Mistress but these, erm, fellows...they’re remarkably stubborn and won’t let us pass! If you could be so kind as to-”

“Wait wait wait wait, back up like sixty words there. You’re who from where and you want to barge into Qira’s room without so much as a howdy-do to the Hive challenge?” She was, quite justifiably, shocked at this strange man’s forwardness and utter disregard for the guidelines. Hell, she enjoyed her freedom more than anyone else, but she understood the need for rules and regulations sometimes.

“Well, yes- we had our reasons in the letter, which was lost, but we’re sponsored by Corkus, you see! We’ve all the necessary clearance, and I’m certain a lovely lady such as yourself wouldn’t mind seeing us to the head of operations here, yes?” This was accompanied by a wink and an attempted kiss to the back of Gale’s hand, at which she recoiled in visible and audible disgust, letting the gaudy business card drop to the ground.

“Ehm. Right. Uh...Luther?” The bishop came forward a step.

“Um, you can give me the medicine, and then you can explain to this...gentleman...” The word sounded physically painful to say. “...and his compatriots...the rules around here. Right?”

“Of course, Lady Gale. Perhaps today is the day I make a catch...” The bishop exchanged the pouch for his scepter, and walked towards the other Corkus attendants, who were tapping their feet impatiently. Their attention was immediately drawn, while Herbert simply looked on in shock. Gale’s dour expression at the title quickly morphed into genuine anger, while the Vanguard watched. He’d never seen her angry before.

“Look, mister von Legendary, three things. First and foremost: I. Am. Taken. Second, and almost just as important- I see a ring on that finger. And don’t you dare tell me that’s just bling!” Her voice was rising as he sheepishly held his hand behind his back. “And thirdly, no, you didn’t have any clearance. If we didn’t get your message, you didn’t have our permission to just waltz in here like you owned the place, and we don’t give that permission unless you’ve done the challenge. Period, end of story, no ifs and or buts, no way no how, do not pass GO! Do not collect 200 emeralds! Nixt! Nyet! Negatory!” As she advanced on him step by step, he slowly backed off, hands raised in front of him.

Inwardly, he simply thought, Hell hath no fury like a married woman getting a compliment. I can turn this around still, I must see that Qira for my blueprints! Turning aside to his assistants, he was distraught to see them listening to that phony bishop’s regulations as though they were gospel. Their eyes were glassy, and they nodded along blankly to everything he was saying, while those hanger-on servants were talking to the rude plasma man. Time to slick-talk her. No one is immune to the von Legendary smooth-talk!

“Look, miss, I’m sure there has been a mistake here. A grave one to be sure, and we do apologize for our transgressions, though I must admit there’s been little hospitality to our group either-”

The Vanguard stepped aside, kneeling. The servants looked on in terror. Gale peeked over Herbert’s shoulder, and was both surprised and dismayed.

“-still, we can look past that! Our sponsors would be very disappointed to hear that we couldn’t make audience with you, and we are on a schedule here-”

The Corkus assistants kowtowed to the ground along with the bishop. The Void Artisan stood at-attention.

“-so even though it wasn’t in the cards, I’m sure we can negotiate and expedite your challenge, yes yes? Surely there’s some fluff to cut out, so let’s find it, and get down to business-”

Gale was frantically gesturing with both hands, cut it out, cut it out, to no avail.

“-I’ll trounce who I need to trounce, and get to chatting with that Qira woman, draw up my blueprints for the mecha design, and be on my way! Everybody’s happy! I’ll even take you along to meet my lovely wife, Hilda von Legendary, she’d be tickled to meet you! We’ve a deal, right?”

The ground dropped out from underneath everyone present. The silk-lined, chitinous halls of the Hive were replaced with a black stone, of which Herbert and the assistants landed hard onto. The servants huddled themselves behind Orja, who herself was trying to cower behind the others. The Vanguard remained unfazed by the change in scenery. Gale, meanwhile, was fretting and bouncing from foot to foot, trying to think of a way to salvage this. And Qira, hair mussed and hanging down over her face, in nothing but a nightgown, glowered over the intruding von Legendary with the fury of a person with a splitting headache who’s been listening to nearly ten people arguing loudly not thirty feet from her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

von Legendary quickly scanned the room, trying to look for a potential exit and getting his bearings. The portal they’d dropped through closed almost immediately as he viewed it, and the room was smooth-walled. No way out...which meant it was time for more smooth-talk. Judging by the ebony-black skin, this must have been the Qira he was quandering for! He opened his mouth to speak, and promptly received a fist to it, throwing his head down onto the hard floor. Before he could recover, she began speaking.

“You...I do not like you. Explain to me why you exist. Quietly.” Her voice was a hoarse croak as compared to her usual imposing timbre. Immediately, he was scared. His mouth tasted bloody already- he’d bitten his tongue.

“R-Right! I am Herbert von Legendary-” Another fist came flying, knocking the wind out of him and throwing a tooth filling out of his mouth. Even the sound of it clattering on the stone caused her to flinch.

“Too...loud. Quietly, I said.”

“...y...y-yes, of course...I, ah...I-I am sponsored by Corkus, you see, and I am here to ask a proposal of you, your, uh...your...your Mistresship...?”

“...poor reason for you to exist in the same space as me. There’ve been no challengers. Explain yourself.” Her eyes bored into him. He’d never met someone this intense! Frankly, it was beginning to terrify him...

“We...had clearance provided to us to skip th-”

“No you didn’t.”

“I-”

Another punch, with a crack audible to the entire room. She’d broken his nose. Whimpering in pain, he raised a hand up, only for her to grab his wrist, crunching the bones and tendons as though snapping a twig, leaving his right hand dangling limp. His shriek was cut off with another sharp punch to the jaw, a glob of blood and spit flying from his mouth onto the floor.

“You will be...an exception. Your request. Now.” Her voice left no room for disobedience, and this time he was wise enough not to bother trying to argue against her cruelty. His voice was shaky as he began.

“L-Legendary Island...a Corkus-sponsored challenge, f-filled with... -wheeze- ...th-the most powerful robotic creations...I w-wanted to know what you could do, and...c-create a Mech version o-of you. M-Mechira! As the star jewel of the Legendary Challenge...p-please don’t kill me...?”

“That is two requests.”

“I...I beg of you, h-have mercy...I didn’t mean to anger you like this, I swear!”

“Let me make this clear to you.” She took a breath, attempting to level her voice to something more presentable. “You disrespect my power...my servants...my rules...my Hive. Your request...is denied. And now, I will make a demand of you, for ridiculing me as you have.” He had no choice but to obey- he had a wife and kids, he couldn’t just leave them behind, even if it meant losing the funding for his dream project. He nodded fiercely, trying to ignore the headache that came from having his face pummeled. Qira, however, certainly noticed the pain he was in, smirking a touch.

“You, your assistants, your next of kin, and their next of kin, and a hundred generations on, will never attempt to recreate my powers. Your feeble brain can not comprehend the sort of power I wield. Copying it would be a fool’s errand, and a cataclysm should you succeed. I will know if you do...and if I find out, you will experience far more than a broken wrist and a bloody nose. Am I clear, peon?”

Part of his brain recoiled at the disrespect, how dare she call him a peon and toss him around like this, the most brilliant Corkian mind since Cerid! The other part of his brain tossed that part into a closet and locked the door in the name of self-preservation, and he nodded again. For his obedience, he got a fist to the gut. The force pushed bile and acid from his stomach through his throat, burning the wounds in his mouth as he vomited over the floor.

“I do not think you understand. So, I will explain to you exactly what I will do should I find you disobeying me again.” She gripped his head with both hands, forcing him to look her in the eye.


I will call upon the most sadistic of my servants, the Psychomancer, to erase your memories. He will wipe from your mind your ego and technical prowess, and leave you a gibbering, stumbling idiot for the world to jeer and laugh at, and he will twist every happy time of your life that you can recall into one of misery. He will do so in but an instant, and the recoil of your mind will overwhelm you. You will wish for death, beg for it in whatever words he sees fit to let you retain. And you will crawl on your hands and knees to me. I will string you up on the outside of my Hive, suspended on a pike by your wrists. The drones and scuttlers will gnaw at your flesh, eating the fresh skin your body grows, leaving you flayed, but not an inch of you will be bloody. The winds that circle this basin will feel like stings and cuts to your entire body. When you inevitably lose your continence, I will make you clean up your own mess, personally force it down your throat, along with whatever bile you choke up. And every day, I will break ten of your bones. When you are on the verge of death, my healers will tend to you. Every wound and scar on your body will be mended, and you will be strung up again, until the day you die. And I can ensure that day does not come for a long time. You will serve as the greatest example of what should happen to those who cross me as you have.


"Now. You will leave. You will never come back. I will never see your face again, unless it is brought before me, weeping and dumbly asking me permission to die.”

The group landed upon the floors of the Hive halls once more, the Corkus fellows once again landing the hardest. von Legendary staggered to his feet, clutching at his useless, broken wrist, each word of hers echoing in his mind. He blindly ran the other direction, stumbling and horrified, fearing for his life, while the others remained bowed on the floor, completely under the spell of the Allicio Bishop.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

It was minutes later that Gale roused from her shock- everyone had left. Qira had returned to the bedroom, soundly asleep, with the Vanguard watching over her. The Hive servants had left as well- her thoughts went to poor Orja. Up until then, she’d only seen Qira as a benevolent mistress...those Corkus jokers were gone, too. Good riddance, she figured. That man had managed to bring out the utter worst in her old friend in the span of twenty minutes. She hoped it wasn’t back to square one, stepping into Qira’s chamber silently. Still, the Vanguard turned to her, wordlessly pointing to the kettle. Oh, right. The medicine... Gale was still holding onto the bag. Stepping over to the kettle, she drew open the pouch, to find most of the leaves crushed and crumpled. She’d been holding onto it the whole time... Pouring in the leaves to let them soak, the Vanguard added a drop of honey. Back to business as usual...at least, she hoped.


Dear God did she hope.

 

...I hear crickets. Why do I hear crickets.

 

oh uhh.. still nothing?
well i guess ill go ahead then...
I really like the way that you introduce the new characters (namely, dr. legendary) which actually fit to the current storyline in wynn. Its nice that it adds some context to the lore and most people will be able to understand that scene in a more... personal (?) way i guess.
However, i couldn't ignore how qira seemed a lot more... violet than the image we are usually given of her. Her describing the torture that she promised to inflict gave me more of an impression of... a thug. This may have been intended, i don't know, but i feel as if it has reached the point where qira has become a completely different character then to begin with. Here's an example that i hope will show what i mean.

Before
“It only makes me angrier that you are correct.”
“Yeah, everyone hates admitting that Yansur can do anything right.”
A short giggle was shared between the two, unfortunately sending Qira coughing again.

Now
“Too...loud. Quietly, I said.”
“...y...y-yes, of course...I, ah...I-I am sponsored by Corkus, you see, and I am here to ask a proposal of you, your, uh...your...your Mistresship...?”
“...poor reason for you to exist in the same space as me. There’ve been no challengers. Explain yourself.”

of course i understand that this is an example of qira talking to two entirely different people, and that her condition has worsened since, but it still feels like a very... sudden change i suppose.

A lot that i say might be completely wrong but that's just what i think on the story, since nobody else chose to say.
Overall great work on the story though! although i had comments, the quality of the story remains as high as before, and i really enjoyed reading it.

I hope i haven't said anything wrong...

 

When a random dude walks in, disturbing your rest that you really need, and he completely ignores, say, all the rules of the house (think maybe like leaving your shoes on when you're supposed to take them off or such) and THEN asks for a favor/permission whatever, with no prior engagement to this point? Not to mention, he wants to make a robotic Qira, which is insulting to her. I'd get pretty damn mad if I were Qira, I think this reaction is pretty reasonable. Also, Gale talking to Qira isn't a good representation imo because they are (I think?) friends

 

Consider:

As was mentioned above, von Legendary broke all the rules, he was loud and disrespectful, he refused to listen, he came onto Gale(even if it was just an attempt at smooth-talking rather than a legitimate proposition), Qira had a headache the size of India, and judging by Gale's statements, she was that bad at one point and it had taken a long time to get her away from it. Even still, I'd less describe it as thuggish and more sadistic.

I'm not surprised you felt this way, as up til now it's been relatively lighthearted, only to take a turn for the ***CONTENT WARNING*** end of things, but there is indeed ample justification for it.

 

hmm put it like that... i suppose it didn't really make sense what i said...
oh well at least i had something to say

on that note...
can we expect the story to move away from the hive or is it stuck there? For example, it could move to follow dr legendary as he travels back to corkus, then decides to make himself the final challenge of legendary island? Or even a flashback (probably the wrong word for what im looking for) to when/how qira met gale? (im pretty sure there isn't any lore for that, though i could be wrong). These could be dumb ideas, you do whatever you want to do with your story but that was just something that popped into my head while i was typing, with no thought about it beforehand.

 

What species is Qira again? Like how Harry Potter is human and a wizard, is Qira just a villager or even a human and a witch/sorceress?

 

anime waifu

 

I’m picturing Qira with cat ears now and I hate it.

 

this sounds encouraging....
can we get the steamy story on qira's thrilling romance?

 

with who wtf
Also I'd like to hear a part about the villagers trying to take the hive and failing miserably
(also more gale lore pls and add Gale's sight or else)

 

To the story or to the game

 

Bumped for lack of inspiration

 

I know it may be a month too late, but given the rules of necroposting state that if a reasonably relevant contribution to the thread is made it can avoid being locked, and given this is an update to the stories, I feel as though this is within reason.

==========​

They were not informed of the arrival. The people of Gelibord were taken utterly by surprise. The unskilled conscript archers threw down their bows in fear and surrender- there was simply no way they could possibly contest with the fierce forces seen marching over the hillside, let alone led by the most feared being in all Gavel. As the ill-famed Mistress of the Hive approached, the townsfolk locked the doors, snuffed the lanterns, and closed the shutters...though each of them knew that such an action couldn’t save them. Their time had come, or so they thought. The Mistress herself, flanked by the red-eyed Void Artisans and inky black Abyss Navigators, had no conquest in mind. Merely acquisition.

She was quite silent as she walked, merely musing to herself at how long it had been since she had seen this place, and how much the situation had spiraled from her control. This rampant decay... Too many bad memories to dwell on. She needed to focus, rather than dwelling on old memories. If she wanted to do that, she could stare at the Golemlus for a few hours. This did, however, confirm to her: this acquisition trip would be a blessing for her choice.

“Will no one step forward? I would think that as a sovereign ambassador I would be welcomed more kindly,” Qira announced, to no one in particular. The response was as expected- a few harsh whispers from within the houses. Nothing she could quite make out, but she could easily imagine the words: “Hush, she’s out there!” “Be quiet and she won’t hear you.” Honestly, she thought, are they truly so desperate to avoid me that they would remain in this hovel?

One girl, however, seemed to have missed the lockdown- a squatter girl living under the platforms. She heard some form of panic, and the doors closing...but all she could see was a normal cloudy day. What happened? She couldn’t say. Heavy footsteps echoed above her- those people weren’t from in town. Was it some kind of bandit raid? She wouldn’t really put it past them, but...they were never in such a small number. There were six, seven people tops. No clicking claws- it wasn’t a gaggle of werewolves wandering into town...what was going on? Despite everything, she didn’t feel as though she was in danger... So, the girl stepped out from under the top platform, just enough so that she could see who was there. The immediate thought was regret.

Her? SHE’S here?! Panic overtook her, and she ducked back under the platform, intending to hide. However, stepping into the open sealed her fate. The Abyss Navigators caught sight of her, and thus, there was no place to hide.

“Mistress. There is one. It hides under the walkway.”

“Ah, wonderful, a braver soul than the wretches here. Perhaps this will not have been a wasted day!”

She heard them clearly. Was she really that obvious? Oh no no no, I’m not gonna be a part of that! She was able to cut and run without any concern for her belongings- everything she had she could carry on her. And despite her hunger, she was agile- off like a shot, sprinting along the riverbanks under the darkness of the platform. If she could get to old man Referick’s house, maybe she could hide out and lock the doors like the rest- the weird old man never did anything, so he’d have his doors open, and that meant she could get in and hunker down safely for a while. The moment she was out into the overcast daylight, she jumped into the river, diving in and starting to swim across.

“Aha, this one does have spirit! She’s headed across the banks,” Qira exclaimed. The Navigator’s mark hung over the fleeing girl’s head, leaving her position plain as day. “Nithe, head her off.”

The deep, thrumming whoosh reached her ears even under the water, which only made the girl swim faster, even though her lungs burned for air. Just need to get across, then it’s a straight shot! It felt like the realization gave her a jolt of speed- she was moving through the water even faster now...though with horror, she realized that it wasn’t adrenaline fueling her movements- it was some kind of tugging force, drawing her out of the water. She couldn’t turn around to escape- she was in the grip of that heavy pulling force, and was suddenly hoisted out of the water with a large wave of swampy water. Tumbling end over end into a heap at Qira’s feet, all she could do was cough and sputter for air. No escape...

And thus, Qira waited. The Mistress and her forces were arranged in a U shape around the beggar, surrounding her. The girl’s only escape, should she try to take it, would be back into the river, and she was perfectly content pulling her out as before. Such an event did not occur, however- once she was back to her feet and had some air in her lungs, the girl appeared to be rather resigned to her fate.

“...so what, you’re gonna take me to that beehive place and chop me up now? Is that it?”

“...hm. Seems the rumors have been flying far too high, little scamp. We do no such thing at my glorious Hive.” The girl either coughed or scoffed at this- it was tough to tell with the water clogging her throat.

“That isn’t what everyone’s said. You hear a lot living where I do... They say you do all these weird magic things at that Hive, that you take peoples’ lives and souls and, and everything, and you do...you do something to them-”

“Hush, girl.” It felt like everything became quieter after that command. Qira waited a moment before continuing. “They fear power and authority that they do not comprehend.”

“...I’ll bet that’s all it is...” Qira rose a brow at this little sarcastic snipe. The rumors would be proven false to her soon enough- and to the deluded folk who insisted on believing them despite the open evidence to the contrary...she was content to leave them in their little world.

“Well now. Aren’t we just full of spunk! You wouldn’t mind letting me place a name to that fierce tongue, would you?”

The girl was silent for a pregnant few moments, before she replied quietly.

“Orja.”

“Hm...quite a lovely name for a street scamp such as yourself. Now then...” Qira loomed tall over Orja, standing straight, and grabbed her wrist. “You are coming with us, and there will be no question. If I have to, I’ll drag you there by those rags you’re wearing. Do you feel like making a scene, or...?”

“I’ll go. Quietly...” Her voice quavered. She might’ve been brave enough to still speak, but there was no hiding the fear she felt...particularly when the ground sharply dropped out from under her. None of the others in the group were particularly jarred by the sudden transition, but she was left tumbling end over end for a second time, falling hard onto her back. Along with the weariness of the short chase and her hunger, Orja’s head was blanketed with fog and her vision a blur.

“Come now, Orja. You must stand tall if you are to be with us. Up, girl,” Qira said, with a wave of her hand over the villager girl’s head. With a groan, she pushed herself first up off her back, and then once more to her feet. A short, hazy thought permeated the fog- I hope whatever it is they do to me here won’t involve any more falls to the ground... Qira, still standing by her newest charge, frowned. The girl was in worse shape than expected- the stories she recalled of spirited urchins such as her led her to believe a mere storybook trope for a moment. Even still, she would find a use for her, yes indeed, and her goals would not be delayed.

“Lliohm nag thcaet út hdifhtiac ram, hdaelliuht a nnit íb.” With those words, the fog over Orja’s head lifted, so suddenly that she could not even question what the strange Mistress had done, nor could she question the sudden impulse to follow. However, failing to question an impulse does not mean one obeys it- with the hazy feeling gone from her body, she was able to truly appreciate just where she had been taken. The most feared place in all of Gavel, more than the chopshop that the government tried to pass off as a prison, more than the blasted-out tower ruins near Lexdale, more than the inky nothing under the sky islands- the Qira Hive.

Turning around for a moment, she could see slate-gray stone and a grassy path in the distance- they were under a sprawling archway. Above them hung webs thick as tree trunks, and the closer she looked to the Hive itself, the more that chitinous strings coated the stones. White crystals adorned black iron lamp posts, casting unfiltered light upon the path. What looked to be spiders at first glance? The Drones...creatures swimming with horrendous magical energy, enough so that their abdomens became glassy, shimmering with the colors of their native elements. And turning back to face her destination...a towering nest, home to those creatures...and her kidnapper. It was taller than any building she had ever seen, thrusting itself up into the sky as though it were a foul spear being raised, white and black webs lacing upwards. And from the very tip of the Hive...roiling swirls and streaks of light and energy swept throughout the sky above the basin which the Hive dominated. Orja was equal parts awestruck and terrified...and yet with a single beckoning of Qira’s finger, she found herself compelled to walk forward.

A long walkway of spiderwebs and slate curved around the side of the Hive. Up that walkway, the group ascended- Qira leading, the overwhelmed Orja just behind her, and the Hive forces that the Mistress had brought along flanking the two. A set of stairs came into view on their left side, and standing in front of it, a lank villager in black robes. He eyed the group disdainfully, his gaze leveled at Orja.

“Mistress, I do not mean to question your brilliance-”

“Then do not, Yansur. I won’t have you spoiling my mood.”

“...yes, Mistress.” The man, apparently Yansur, glowered, muttering something under his breath. Orja figured it was smart to keep her own mouth shut, too. She didn’t like the sound of such a feared figure being in a good mood...on one hand, it might mean leniency. On the other, with the stories told about her it might just mean something even worse. At the top of the stairs, Qira suddenly shouted, her voice booming throughout the circular atrium.

“I heard you quite clearly, Yansur. Do not think I will forget.”

A short gasp echoed up...or maybe just a gust of wind. Whatever the case, this was not filling Orja with any sort of confidence. Even when the black-robed goons and the weird red metallic things each took their leave, entering two of the five colored walkways, her bravery didn’t return. If anything, being alone was only causing her even more anxiety. There was only one way to go from here- and the path that Qira commanded her follow down led into inky darkness...and then, once more, she found herself toppling to the floor in a heap.

“Oh, you poor thing. Were you always so clumsy, dear Orja?” Qira tittered to herself quietly- the room was different once more. Dragging her face away from the webs, she found herself noting that it was a surprisingly soft landing. The webs had an alien amount of give to them...a strange thought to be having when faced with what amounted to an evil god, so she collected herself onto her feet once more, to find Qira across the room at a brightly-lit desk, her staff nowhere to be found. Both the desk and her chair were decorated with red felt, as was the one pulled out for Orja to sit at. A crystal similar to the ones outside hung from the ceiling, lighting the room brightly. It was upscale, certainly, but strangely plain. She took her seat without incident, and Qira cleared her throat.

“So then. Welcome to my glorious Hive, Orja. Wondrous, isn’t it?”

“...um. I...” Orja’s voice failed her.

“Ah, what happened to the tongue you tried lashing me with mere minutes ago?” Oh, that was enough to snap her back to attention- even if her voice croaked like a frog.

“...you couldn’t tell that I’m maybe a little overwhelmed by all this?”

“Oh, I could tell. I do simply enjoy these little exchanges, when I can come by them. So many others simply fall before me, or worse, beg. It never works...” Qira had pulled out a pen from under the desk, and was twirling it in her fingers. “I much prefer to see some energy in my prospective servants, you understand.”

“Ah. Yeah. Of course, I’m sure you d- wait...wait, what?” Orja brought a hand to her chin. Prospective?

“Yes. Prospective.” A nervous squeak from across the table. It was like her mind had been read! “Or, perhaps, your expression. Do recall I’ve dealt with many in your position before...there’s a certain pace to this.” That was slight relief to the frazzled tramp, but only slight.

“Now, allow me to explain myself. You certainly have heard...rumors, regarding my Hive, yes? The way you looked at me as though I were a butcher with his knife, and you were a pig in its pen... I understand you’ve heard many a story, but never from our side, hm? Much important work goes on in my Hive, unlike what the scared children and fear-mongering political figures would have you believe. And, of course, I require others than merely myself to run this place day to day- be it studies in magic, upkeep of the Hive, forging of prizes for our Hive challenge, and what-have-you...”

“Wait. Wait one second.” Qira raised a brow at the interjection.

“If it is what I meant by ‘prospective’, then I shall be getting to that shortly...”

“No, not that. It’s...even if you’re somehow not the person that literally everyone anywhere I’d ever went said you were...” Orja swung her arms out to the side as she spoke. “...I know for certain that you make creatures here. You...you make servants. Why would you need to take villagers? That’s obviously what you mean.” A moment passed, before a sharp giggle came from Qira’s side of the table.

“Ah, I knew I’d picked an astute one! That is indeed a fine question, and one worthy of diversion. And this, I will admit, is not entirely altruistic on my part. Before you were born, you see, I had settled in this Hive, and as a sorceress of such phenomenal power, I was called upon to clean the Decay of the forest. However...there is no cleaning of that. Its root cause is far too deep for even myself to reach with my current power. I declined...and so the fools in the monarchy saw fit to try and force me into action, with a siege upon my Hive. And do you know what happened, dear Orja?” Qira leaned over the desk, chin resting on her crossed hands. And Orja, on the other side, raised her finger to her lips in faux-deep thought...

“...yyyouuuuu...killed them all and demanded tribute from all the villager settlements in exchange for not razing the cities?” ...before shooting a sarcastically innocent look across the desk towards the widely grinning sorceress.

“...snrk...ahhhahahah! You truly can keep up...not so. You are correct in that I decimated their forces- the casualties were in the thousands. But...you may not know this, a casualty merely classifies injury or disabling a soldier, not a death. The only deaths were of my own creatures. The forces of the villagers were routed and captured, but none killed. The cowardly government threw themselves at my feet in surrender, making outlandish cease-fire deals. One such plea they promised was free reign to take their people as slaves in exchange for not destroying their towns. I’d have been content with merely being left alone, but I am not one to pass up such an amazing leveraging tool. So, I take villagers as I see fit. It is not often I must seek new servants, as I allow those here to raise families, under a certain level of scrutiny. You must surely be asking yourself now why it is that I chose you of all people, however?”

“Well, everyone else was locked up in their houses. I mean, I was running from you to lock myself up before you caught me with that weird pully spell.”

“I will admit that in part it was opportunity, and you were the first to present yourself to me...but think back. Gelibord is a rather pathetic hovel of a town. You may have been a street urchin, but I cannot imagine that having one of those rickety roofs over your head was any better than squatting under the bridge. Plagued by the decay...you had a miserable lot. Surely, any place would be better, would it not?”

Orja had to think for a moment, and the only conclusion she could come to was one her mind refused to accept. The thought came, and she threw it out, and then it came again. There was nearly a half minute of silence before she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“...you were honestly trying to rescue me...?”

“Yes. You can learn all the skills I would need of you here at my Hive, so any lack of experience in reading comprehension, magic, counting, anything I might need, is immaterial. I figure it is best to uplift those with few opportunities rather than displace those with families and lives, whenever possible. And so, we come to the term...prospective. You see, I am not in any dire need of servants to fulfill a specific purpose. If I should make an acquisition during this time...I will respect their decisions. I cannot put my assumptions to any higher grade than I could put the assumptions of the populace regarding myself. I have no way of knowing if you had companions or a life truly lived where you came from, and so I’ll offer you the choice of whether you wish to become my servant or not. I’ll be quite disappointed if you should go, but I’ll bring you right back without a fuss.”

Orja was stunned, and her face clearly showed it. She couldn’t find fault in a single word. Everything sounded truthful- that Mistress had even admitted so thoroughly her intentions, admitting directly the opportunistic side of the supposed rescue... The sound of a paper being slid across the felt-lined desk, and then a pen being tapped against the top snapped her from her reverie. She re-focused her attention, and found a paper with quite a lot of written lines decorating it- a contract.

“This is a legal procedure, you see. Everything is state-sanctioned and within the purview of the government,” Qira explained softly. “Should you sign your name upon that line, you will legally become my property, from now till the day you die. Your rights and privileges are there for you to read- and if you are illiterate, I shall take the time to explain it to you-”

“I can read it!! I-...I can read it,” Orja suddenly burst out. “Erm...most of it, probably...but, I do have something to point out, before I do. You’re right assuming that I don’t have a home. I’ve got pocket change that people dropped off the bridge as my life savings. So...it’s not really a choice, is it? Either stay with you and have a home, or burn this bridge and go back to scrounging up crumbs for a living. Isn’t it?”

“Perhaps I was right to value your mind so. You’ve brought up many valid points, Orja, but once again, I’ve a response for you.” Leaning back in her chair, Qira waved her hand, a pale green light shimmering behind it, and quickly a drone came crawling into the room. Orja’s stomach turned- she said something wrong, didn’t she? It was headed right towards her...but instead of attacking or menacing her, it stopped by Qira’s chair, holding in its jaws by their necks three bottles filled with a thick green liquid. They were retrieved and placed upon the desk on Qira’s side, save one which she idly swirled in one hand.

“These are bottles of liquified emeralds. I would be willing to let you go with them- surely housing prices in the region are low, and you should be able to purchase a place with a fraction of the money I hold in my hands,” she said as easily as one might suggest offering to retrieve a quill from the other room. Orja, poor Orja had had her worldview shattered how many times in the span of an hour or so? There was a moment’s silence, before a cry from the opposite side of the desk.

“How in the world do you have so much money?!” She’d never seen that much money collectively in her life let alone in one place! It boggled her mind to think about. An emerald block was something like sixty emeralds...and a liquid was compressed blocks...her head began to hurt again just trying to think of the numbers. Surely it would be enough to even get her out of town. She could probably buy a mansion in Cinfras or Llevigar and have money to spare! The lap of luxury, just dropped into her hands...an utter nobody’s! How could she possibly turn that deal down?

Qira remained silent. The answer to how, Orja concluded, came in the form of a realization. Qira wasn’t lying. She simply couldn’t be. She’d been straightforward and honest, never mincing words. She gave a poor beggar girl the chance at two entirely separate opportunities, and such a thing had never been presented to her by anyone. Even in the shanty town of Gelibord, villagers sneered down their noses at her, claimed their lot was better than hers and only lifted a finger to insult her with rude gestures, never to help. She was a pariah amongst pariahs- that town had one of the worst reputations as far as she could tell from how people talked. And here came the great, mighty, feared Mistress of the Hive, sweeping Orja up and offering to solve her life’s problems in the span of an hour, with or without any gain to herself and her own agenda. How could it be anything but generosity, in the end, even if masked? And why shouldn’t the generous, the ones who truly give what they can to others, be respected and followed?

In time, she began to scan through the contract. Qira chimed in, explaining legal terms and definitions that Orja hadn’t learned. The more she read, the less she felt as though she was making the wrong decision. By the time she’d reached the dotted line to sign her life away, Orja was certain of herself and her choice, and determined. If she could change a single heart or mind away from the horrid rumors she’d heard, it will have been worth it. And so, she signed- scrawled, blocky print that had become even sloppier since her childhood. There was no great magical aura of dominance- no fanfare or curse, no dark binding keeping Orja in place. Nothing but a piece of paper, a bit of wet ink, and a sense of gratitude.

And in the end, what better servant is there than one willing?

 

POGGERRRRRR

 

Always nice to get some cool lore showing a bit of the "human" side of characters