“…Bzzz, bzzz.” Marrion swatted at her ear. The sound was quite persistent. “Psst. Hey. I said, psst!” Marrion stopped and looked around. This time, she could swear she was hearing voices in her head. Something caught her eye: what had looked like a fallen wasp’s nest in the undergrowth, the assumed source of her irritation. It was picking itself up off the ground – actually standing upright on rickety legs. It turned clumsily-marked slits reminiscent of eyes towards her, and gave something like a wave – a wave! – with a rustling, pulpy arm. Marrion took a step back and drew her shortsword. “Ooh!” said the voice, to a corresponding chorus of buzzing from inside the humanoid nest, “a real dwarven stinger! That’s new. I really like your helmet, too. Where did you get it? Was it far away? Can I come too?

    -Issil Dewfeather
  The Shield-Maiden and the Secret Queen

                    

Hivebodies are the result of a kind of awakening, where magically infused colonies of insects develop a unique type of sentience. This might be the result of generations of feeding on the nectar of mystical flowers, or the inhabitation of an old wizard’s tower. Whatever the origins, the outcome is extraordinary. Seamless communication amongst the drones and the queen creates a hivemind; and when that mind wishes to expand its knowledge by adventuring through the world, it must go about building and operating a Hivebody. 

A Home Away from Home

A Hivebody is little more than a crude humanoid husk: a nest or mound or colony with working limbs. Inside the networks of tunnels and chambers that form the arteries and capillaries, the united insect host animate their makeshift being with uncanny teamwork. It may not often look it, with its lumpen, faceless heads or misaligned limbs, but a Hivebody is truly a marvellous feat of engineering. With their new body a colony can begin to explore the world, interact with other civilisations, and even forge an epic story of their own, all from the comfort and protection of an animated hive. The queen of the colony always sits within a dedicated chamber, placed roughly where the brains of other humanoids are found, in the ‘head’ of the body. 

Hivebodies can range from shapes as simple as a large wasp nest with some limbs attached, to studiously crafted pulpy shells that move with only slightly stiffened grace. A husk may be as small as 3 feet or as tall as 6, although they are rarely larger. Depending on the type of insect colony within, the construction materials might be reconstituted clay, silk, wood or other plant matter. Some queens will take great pride in crafting facial features and other flourishes over time – others are content with simply being mobile. A Hivebody might appear terifyingly misshapen, intricately alien, or strangely beautiful. In this way, almost by accident, the Hivebodies emulate and even exceed the diversity displayed by other races.

All for One, and One for All

A Hivebody is a collective of life working together. The intelligence of the colony is communal: each member down to the lowliest drone contributes sense data, thoughts, and snatches of emotion to the whole. The queen embodies the most cohesive chunk of the hivemind and is its primary director. In return, the workers and soldiers perform the physical animation of the body and, if necessary, will charge forth from their mobile fortress to protect their quiescent queen. While any one portion of the colony lives – the queen in particular – the hivemind as an entity lives on as well. The insects are to a Hivebody what blood, tendons, and willpower are to other races. 

Awakened Origins

It is worth giving some though to the beginnings of your colony-turned-adventurer. Ask yourself some questions: How long ago did your intelligence blossom into a hivemind? Did you start travelling immediately, or was there an inciting incident? Where are you orginally from, and how far have you travelled already? A colony fresh to their new life might be more naive, open-minded and curious, whereas a Hivebody headed by a more seasoned queen may display more active ambitions.

Every queen is technically female, but since the connected minds of the colony become both an individual and an entire civilisation, the culture of a Hivebody is unique, self-made. They may, or may not, choose to present as female, either through speech or the appearance of their husk. They may do away with the concept of gender altogether. Values are debated and determined internally with the same force as the cultural shifts of generations that take place in other civilisations. What is art? What is the best thing to get out of life? What is our foreign policy? The answers to these big questions are influenced as much by an internally unique set of traditions as they are by additional information received through exploration. Asking what is important to a Hivebody is akin to asking what is important to a nation. There will always be different opinions and pressures represented and weighed in the personality of the hivemind. Hivebodies are not fickle or capricious, but they are nuanced, and no one is like any other. The only thing they have in common is the will to see the world that compelled them to strike out from their burrows and jungles in the first place. 

Hivebody Names

A queen is the ultimate authority on conscious decision-making in the colony and as such they name themselves. They might take up the name of an object of importance from their early days when the body was still a localised nest, such as a tree, rock, or other natural landmark. Or they might take up the name of a story character, overheard in the conversation of passing foragers. They may make up utter nonsense. It is up to each hive queen to decide on the importance of their name. 

As a Hivebody wanders and the queen’s knowledge of the world grows, they may well choose to change their name, seemingly on a whim. Royal entitlement does not fade: they will expect any companions to address them correctly without need of a reminder.