RE: MINI-GRAND 8801: ROUND ONE - GRIMEWORLD
08-08-2026, 08:22 PM
“Point of order.”
A metallic finger points up to a sickly, cloud-pocked sky.
“I am. One of the lads. Not bees. This is. Slander! Also: not a murder-er! I am an upstanding member of the society, it does NOT count as murder if the person. Sucked. Everyone knows this.”
Queenie’s counterpoint was met with the howling of the wind and the creaking of long abandoned factory infrastructure.
No response. Means I win the argument! Another victory. For justice!!!
Queenie marched off with a pep their step. They were, without a shadow of a doubt, the loudest thing in a 5 mile radius. Big ol’ clanky footsteps, a rattling cacophony of a human person, followed always by constant buzzing (which you should ignore (I don’t hear buzzing (you probably have tinnitus))).
As a human, Queenie could tell that they were in some kind of human world. On account of the desolation and the lack of nature and the faint acrid scent of death that always seems to follow humans around.
And, as a human, Queenie
fuckin’
looooOOOOOoooved that!
Ooohh yum yum yummy nothing brings humans together like the total eradication of natural habitats! More resources for us! The most! IMPORTANT. People in the world!
But where are the architects of this ~wonderful~ human world? Queenie twisted their head around 360° like R2D2 but could only find rusted out shells of industry and piles of worthless garbage. All the trappings of human society but not a single human to be seen! Which was a shame because Queenie wanted nothing more than to meet the king and/or queen and/or elected official of this land and fuCKING RIP THE SPINE OUT OF THEIR THR Have a polite and reasoned conversation with them.
Queenie placed their head on a rusted iron door of one of the many husks of a building surrounding them. They would have heard (with the very human ear they definitely had) a faint sound of, wind? Wheezing? Breathing? From within, had they not put their entire weight on to the door, snapping it off its brittle hinges and crashing to the ground.
Oof. Hope nobody saw that.
Well. Something did.
Light streamed through the open doorway, revealing a. Thing? Like a flesh thing? It kind of looked like someone plucked out an organ (one of the important ones) of a giant creature and just, sorta, plopped it on the ground. Except this wasn’t just some inert piece of viscera. It heaved and wheezed and groaned like a grizzly bear being rudely awakened.
“Hailandwellmet Traveller!” Queenie picked themselves off the ground, brushing dust off their breast plate. “I am, as you can. See? A wandering knight of the realm. Could you, perchance, point me to the nearest. Inn? Or, mayhaps: A tavern?”
The thing surveilled the trespasser through some unknown sensory process.
Steel.
Iron.
Leather.
Blood?
“You might have heard. A loud voice saying. I’m a bee and a murderer. Please ignore that. I am none of those things.”
Hemolymph.
Wax.
Sugar?
Honey.
“You have not responded therefore: I win the argument! two for two for: the good guys!”
Fuel.
Resources.
“You are. Deeply unpleasant to look at and a baaaaad conversationalist. Im’a go meet with the local cooper. Or milliner. Or anyone who is. Not. A weird blob guy honestly.”
Queenie turned to egress but it was too late, the doors, somehow, were put back on their hinges. Darkness flooded the room. And a chorus of skittering, screeching things closed in on our brave, human hero.
A metallic finger points up to a sickly, cloud-pocked sky.
“I am. One of the lads. Not bees. This is. Slander! Also: not a murder-er! I am an upstanding member of the society, it does NOT count as murder if the person. Sucked. Everyone knows this.”
Queenie’s counterpoint was met with the howling of the wind and the creaking of long abandoned factory infrastructure.
No response. Means I win the argument! Another victory. For justice!!!
Queenie marched off with a pep their step. They were, without a shadow of a doubt, the loudest thing in a 5 mile radius. Big ol’ clanky footsteps, a rattling cacophony of a human person, followed always by constant buzzing (which you should ignore (I don’t hear buzzing (you probably have tinnitus))).
As a human, Queenie could tell that they were in some kind of human world. On account of the desolation and the lack of nature and the faint acrid scent of death that always seems to follow humans around.
And, as a human, Queenie
fuckin’
looooOOOOOoooved that!
Ooohh yum yum yummy nothing brings humans together like the total eradication of natural habitats! More resources for us! The most! IMPORTANT. People in the world!
But where are the architects of this ~wonderful~ human world? Queenie twisted their head around 360° like R2D2 but could only find rusted out shells of industry and piles of worthless garbage. All the trappings of human society but not a single human to be seen! Which was a shame because Queenie wanted nothing more than to meet the king and/or queen and/or elected official of this land and fuCKING RIP THE SPINE OUT OF THEIR THR Have a polite and reasoned conversation with them.
Queenie placed their head on a rusted iron door of one of the many husks of a building surrounding them. They would have heard (with the very human ear they definitely had) a faint sound of, wind? Wheezing? Breathing? From within, had they not put their entire weight on to the door, snapping it off its brittle hinges and crashing to the ground.
Oof. Hope nobody saw that.
Well. Something did.
Light streamed through the open doorway, revealing a. Thing? Like a flesh thing? It kind of looked like someone plucked out an organ (one of the important ones) of a giant creature and just, sorta, plopped it on the ground. Except this wasn’t just some inert piece of viscera. It heaved and wheezed and groaned like a grizzly bear being rudely awakened.
“Hailandwellmet Traveller!” Queenie picked themselves off the ground, brushing dust off their breast plate. “I am, as you can. See? A wandering knight of the realm. Could you, perchance, point me to the nearest. Inn? Or, mayhaps: A tavern?”
The thing surveilled the trespasser through some unknown sensory process.
Steel.
Iron.
Leather.
Blood?
“You might have heard. A loud voice saying. I’m a bee and a murderer. Please ignore that. I am none of those things.”
Hemolymph.
Wax.
Sugar?
Honey.
“You have not responded therefore: I win the argument! two for two for: the good guys!”
Fuel.
Resources.
“You are. Deeply unpleasant to look at and a baaaaad conversationalist. Im’a go meet with the local cooper. Or milliner. Or anyone who is. Not. A weird blob guy honestly.”
Queenie turned to egress but it was too late, the doors, somehow, were put back on their hinges. Darkness flooded the room. And a chorus of skittering, screeching things closed in on our brave, human hero.