Xuekx the Ronin Hive

[Saho]

The glistening wet edge of the wounded shek's heavy saber dove in with a wide, powerful swing.

That nearby, sprawling town had named the tallhead Gynn after his third visit to trade a year ago. His tasks then were simple. Trade food to the wetsack cities. It had been difficult from the start, the fledgling hive had nested on the edge of shek tribal land and their noses were keen for hive farms. The small, frontier hive's queen tasked each seed to train with the hammerheads every three dawns in combat.

Let go

Gynn's attention flickered off to the right to where another seed battled with one of the horned warriors. The tallhead's sword arm hung and the defense would be late. That one had been a pulse slower each day of the last week. Many of them were getting this way as the last traces of their Queen and the electricity that binded them faded. The hive was gone, each fierce boneskin warrior was often worth two hammerheads. Gynn's attacker's strike loomed.

Relax

Another seed fell. There was a rush of heat and bodies towards the grain silo. The small farming cluster had assembled only a couple months ago. Ronin from ruined Hives drifted in and began to work with little particular word. Tallheads worked. Hammerheads patrolled and hunted.

Relax

There was a taste of salty steel in his throat before Gynn twitched motion. With a jabbed step in he flicked his short sword to parry. There was a metallic scream of blade on blade before the boneskin's saber turned and bit a shallow gash into his thigh anyways. The seed to his right had been cleaved half way through.

Let go

Heat flushed Gynn's face and his antennae hummed towards the silo. Shouldering into the over-extended shek, Gynn blinked two cuts through his unprotected middle and limped a step towards the growing melee. Behind him, hammerheads swarmed and butchered the stunned boneskin warrior.

Your Queen is dead

The hammerhead who always escorted Gynn was fighting at the front of the swirl of bodies. Yr - the seed had hummed the sound too frequently during trades and won it for a namesake. Some brute hammerheads found their pulse in battle. Yr was a sound of agitation at being idle or the distinct lack of blood to spill. There was plenty here and Yr lanced past fallen seed and boneskin alike to find another wet sack of meat to open. Few shek had the luxury of facing down one opponent at a time or a guarded flank now.

The Hive is dead

So violent and mighty was their charge, the boneskin warriors had isolated themselves after crushing the first line. Gynn rarely faced even meager defense as he joined the harvest with legs that knifed through the mess of bodies while the horned monsters slipped in it. Fully half of the ronin cluster had been savaged before the remnants of the raiding party turned to flee.

Relax

The heat in Gynn's face waned and his antennae dulled as he and others milled through the remains. Wounds were tended and the corpse furnace would fuel the village for the next week if not longer. Repairs would need to be made and harpoons constructed. The efficiency, the high tension buzz of activity was missing even while many of the cluster still labored at speeds that would leave the most ruthless slaver bored.

Yrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr