Ölla’ka’ayr The Twisted
Ölla’ka’ayr The Twisted, Broken Pheromancer of the Kchoat’lis Underhive, 6th of his Lineage, Elder of his name, The Faceless.
True to his names Ölla’k, 6th of the A’ayr lineage is broken, faceless and considered deranged by the Directorate.
But his twisted mind is not what concerned them enough to send an Mimic to visit where he rested in the suspension of a hibernation vat… No. This was more a symptom of that visit.
The real reason for such a “diplomatic political move” was fear… or respect or both. For Ölla’k had lived longer than any by his name. His experience birthed talents of Pheromonic command which exceeded all his peers across all Spires known to Kchoat’lis, The Hive Spire.
The fears which crept into the highest echelons of The Spire were that, despite his apparent loyalty, Ölla’k’s abilities could cause an Underspire uprising like no other. That he could have the full force of the Underhive whipped into a frenzy at the flick of his wrist.
Unusually, the Directorate Lords fully agreed. Ölla’ka’ayr, Elder of His Lineage, 6th of His Name must expire.
Whilst The Elder rested in rejuvenating tonics concocted by centuries of alchemical research, the Mimetic Assassin transformed from the visage of a servant drone, into a whirling, stabbing, frenzied monstrosity in the blink of an eye.
Ölla’k’s retainers stood and watched with dull eyes made lethargic by the Assassins Phermonal secretions.
The dervish bit and clawed deep into the first limbs it reached, his legs. Then climbing his torso as a climber digs ice picks into a sheer ice face, tearing great gouges of flesh until it was able to plunge both bladed hands into his face.
Everything stopped moving in an instant. The fluids of the hibernation vat, now thick with blood, settled to an erie stillness. The tides of blood and tonic that spilt across the floor ceased to sway.
The Assassin slid from the vat like a shadow and melted into the chamber’s doorway.
The Directorate made their play perfectly. Only they could not confirm their kill. Every envoy, messenger or spy sent to find word on Ölla’ka’ayr’s status never returned.
They didn’t return because Ölla’k was still alive by the skin of his teeth (which he no longer possessed). Before the Assassins blades could fully penetrate his skull, Ölla’k was able to enact a self preservation protocol within the vat, bringing the Mimic killer under his command.
It stood watch over him for weeks, killing all who entered his chamber and dragging their carcasses into the rejuvenating fluids of the hibernation vat.
Finally word reached the Directorate of Ölla’ka’ayr’s status… from his own lips (hypothetically speaking as Ölla’k no longer possessed lips of which to speak).
Into the Summons Chamber strode Ölla’k on the back of a grand arachnoidal construct, for he had no legs and spoke through a mask of twisted bone, for he had no face…
…to apologise for his absence.
He iterated reports of the Underspire’s biomass holdings, creature stock, turnover and projected productivity like nothing had ever occurred.
He then turned and returned to his duties within the Underspire.
To this day, The Directorate are even more so split between his apparent loyalty and destructive potential…
Ölla’ka’ayr The Twisted, Broken Pheromancer of the Kchoat’lis Underspire, 6th of his Lineage, Elder of his name, The Faceless must expire but by which means is still a matter of highly secretive debate.
If they truly knew the extent of the unbridled hatred he held for the Directorate. How much he would fantasise about their bitter, twisted ends… they would act sooner… because when the time is right, the Kchoat’lis Underhive will rise.
The question is; when?