December 1: Angorath Quiet morn lain brisk and slow Nights wane longer, flights fly low White frost billows cast the snow Winter saunters, and ends the show Laughter drips in star-crossed glee Droves of wonder, eyeless sea Fruits of time in berry tree Frozen thunder, a buzzing bee Slouching onward snowcap forms Fur clad safety, softly warm Howl the moon then wake the morn Clatter hoofbeat, a ramming horn Stoking blaze once crackled high Smoke-rock campground, kindling dry But
November 30: Finale “It’s cold out here...” “It’s warm in the Hive on the Hill...” It’s warm where the Queen on her Sugar Throne, Coddles the slave-child crowd and drones, Beguiles enticing promised homes “But I am mine And mine alone.” It’s warm where the Six Queens traced their path, Unbound by choice to whip and wrath, Let’s flirt like girls with Angorath, “It’s time to go, It’s time to laugh.” Prompt: It’s the final day. Roll the die. What Happens? What Happens? What Happ
November 29: Vesper We’re old now Old ladies on old wings And self-guided sojourns So long ago we bid our way So long ago… “We were so young then.” The world is old now too At least to us We who walk with immortals Until the days grow longer Until the days… “We were so young then.” Prompt: It’s a brand-new world. Use the die roll from the previous page to determine what Winter brings. A Still White Sunrise. There’s beauty in the snow—a bright blanket cascading across the gro
November 28: Aide “Shake the weary wings to muster forth one last parade.” “Rise again endearing ladies we do not yet fade.” “Dare we turn our purposed doctrine down to those in need?” “Nay we batter back the cold and hail the hands now freed.” One last flight “To the sky! To the sky!” One last stubborn storm One last task “To the sky! To the sky!” One last vanguard swarm Prompt: Winter strikes, and the bees’ help is needed. No time to waste! Roll the die to determine who nee
November 27: Hibernation Lumber the slow forms side to side Rest in tandem beast Drops of rain-crust grit the puff-shale Speckle hillside sleet. Autumn flaps its weary eyelids Sings a tune drawn low Gray clouds billow wroth the wind-shire Lullaby bellow. “Now I see,” Says so the bee-girl “Where the world must die.” “Born again,” Says so the bee-girl. “But not return, will I.” Prompt: The future is set. It’s time to ready the world for Winter. Roll the die to see how Winter fi
November 26: Fallen Once six, now five, so dwindles the Hive. Walk with me ye child of sisters Walk with me and sing Walk with me and bid your well-gone Walk and rest your wings Garden blossoms perk unfurl Inscribed in epigraph, “She is brave who marches first to Ghost Hive Angorath.” Prompt: Winter beckons the Ghost Hive Angorath early for one of the bees. Roll the die to determine who dies today. Honey. How does the world become a little less charismatic without her around?
November 25: Prosperity Such snuff is the reign mere borrowed Heads of crown handed down Rings of rule now fooled Take… Hold… Pass… We were never meant to lead for long. “Leaders don’t live.” And life doesn’t lead. It flows, spills, ripples, and rides the wave. Waves break, Then rejoin the tide once stirred. Prompt: Someone will rule when the bees are gone. Roll the die to determine who will protect the land. Someone Foreign. Another outsider? A wanderer like the bees? An ind
November 24: Lineage Hours tick ‘round Wrinkled brows Lined in furrows Mortal matrons slow to rally Endless landscape pure Children gathered here for story Wake the world endured Hidden souls Heirloom tales Light at rest Prompt: What do the bees pass down? Their reign is short. Roll the die to decide how the world will go on when the bees are not here anymore. Benevolence. Good charity is never in short supply to a close community. Choose aid over selfishness. Seek help over
November 23: Crown “It’s time to go,” the father said. “And never turn back ‘round. It’s time to leave my sword behind And bare my head once crowned.” “It’s time to rule,” the mother said. “And have your destined fate. It’s time to wave the sceptered hand And sooth the calm from hate.” Prompt: The Guardian is here no more. It has passed the crown to the bees. They now govern the land. Roll the die to determine how they set up rule. Seclusion. Keep the sanctuary away from inte
November 22: Festival Busy bees are busy still and yet the fanfare rides Games and feasts? Songs and shows? Cheer and dance? Yes… Oh yes… None shall rest their heads tonight None shall sleep in doubt None shall wake the morn’ upturned And all will rise to shout. Prompt: The masses desire a festival. Roll the die to determine what or how the masses will celebrate. The Day of Feasting. Food, drink, and more. Everyone eats this day—more than they ever ate in the whole year. Bles
November 21: Gift Jellied ointments Sugar paste Pollen pops with Aftertaste Something worthy? Something more? Something Never seen before? Sit in line before the dean of divvied gear in kind Wards bestowed with treats abound receive the boon-blessed tithe Prompt: The Guardian has given the bees a gift. Roll the die to determine what gift has been given. Something Beautiful. The bees have never possessed such an awe-inspiring thing. Something Scary. At first the bees shiver, u
November 20: Guardian A righteous beam ignites the fight within the rows before Take the reign forsake the sane less passion knocks once more What can cast the shadow? What can stay the foe? What can fence the land immense And dam the flood in flow? Who will stand before me? Who will guard the fair? Who will take their arms in mine And damn the blood now bare? Prompt: This paradise incarnate has been watched over by a great protector. Roll the die to see who rules this domain
November 19: Catastrophe Paradise though often sweet Fools the foolish Nondiscrete Trick the tempted world deceit Fell the fallen Slipping feet Victory with sugared certain setbacks set to snares Vanity hath severed solemn scabs and scattered shares Prompt: In the bees’ sudden mania for a better life, disaster strikes one of them. Roll the die to determine who suffers a terrible (but not fatal) setback. Honey. Not all problems can be solved with a song and dance. Killer. Powe
November 18: Revelation We are what must lay the course We the gambled story We are what protect the source We the migratory Once unguided focused fine A swarm in Autumn Losing time Bane the cages weld with grime Hone the honeyed Saccharine Prompt: Where once the bees only meandered, now they’re struck with a purpose. Roll the die to see what point their lives have. Restoration. Fix what’s broken, heal the unsightly, or revive those that wander into pain. Contentment. Accept
November 17: Miracle Peel the silvered veiling edict Dredge the hidden mire Deep beneath the dirt-cake derelict Cup the freezing fire Stand aguard the bastion open Sort the juxtaposed Toss the clamshell casket broken Shield the pearl exposed Peek within the world-less marvel ostentatious bare, Bind the spear you wield to service lost in gracious flair Prompt: Something magical and wondrous is here—treasure beyond any treasure. Nothing ever witnessed is more awe-inspiring. Rol
November 16: Home Dare we bade the whisper stop? Dare we halt the step? Dare we survey 'round the bend And dry the eyes once wept? Time for travel teeters empty. Time for tidings slow. Time for tuckered tender ladies Stop to watch the show. Prompt: This is the new home. Roll the die to see where the bees will stay until the end of their days. The Bright Loam. Lush plant life swarming with creatures. A veritable jungle of exotic biology. The Deep Barrow. An underground cavern
November 15: Travels “Is there more to the world.” “Yes oh yes.” “Are there flowers to be found?” “Oh yes.” “Will we flit with the breeze?” “Yes oh yes.” “Can we cuddle with the ground” “Oh yes.” Prompt: In their migration, they come across an intriguing sight. Roll the die to see what catches their eye as they explore. The Tangent Field. A flower patch of sorts, still blooming in late Autumn. Beautiful to visit. Unwise to stay. Something else already owns it. Steel-Rue Ruin.
November 14: Exodus A sham This Hiveless homestead, A ploy To flee with need, A chance To write the future, A dream To plant our seed, “It’s time to fly again, My friend.” Prompt: The bees no longer find the current surroundings suitable. It’s time to relocate elsewhere. Roll the die to decide what finally drives them to leave. Safety. Dangerous paths stray too deeply in this place. Survival requires flight. Resources. The bees are no longer able to acquire the needed supplie
November 13: Conflict Where do tempers flare by sect? “Not with me. Not with me.” Where do members share respect? “Not with me. Not with me.” Huddle now those disregarded teams who spare no stake, Rake the ashen piles unbounded screams to flare no take, Strike the fort-wall, test the branded, Bite the bone-maw, nest the stranded, Ply the wicked outbound outlaw glare to ravens cawing, Roost the rot-born birdbeast all-aware to brawlers mauling, Where go battered bastard sprees?
November 12: Enemy Behold the sham of reverie, A dream, a dance, a blunder, Omit the damned calamity, A wish, a storm, asunder. Wreck the ill-lain strands of peace, Trash the treatise fair, Wake from hopes the world won’t crumble, Bash the gentle Take your share Admit the hate that stares you down, A foe, a fiend, a brigand, Commit the dirge-song blare the sound, A threat, a duel, a villain. Prompt: An event or underlying feud comes to surface. Who isn’t on good terms with th