The Hive

Trealzebub was one of many quasits enslaved in what was colloquially known as The Hive. The Hive was but one component of the war machine of the great demon general, Zarkin, who was in a constant struggle to defend and expand his territory within the abyssal plane. An abyss within the abyss, The Hive was an enormous mine a mile deep where scores of the undead deemed too weak for combat extracted ore to be furnished into armor and weapons for the more able-bodied soldiers. Lumbering zombies performed the excavation of the main tunnels leaving the finer extraction of ore to the tiny quasits under Zarkin's command. Almost the entirety of Trealzebub's waking life occurred underground and that does strange thing to any creature's psyche. The world seemed nothing more than the enclosed passages of the mine where the only sounds were the echoes of metal picks striking hard rock. The quasits of The Hive shared the bond of servitude. Some were even proud of their work, but all felt the burden of the unseen chains binding them to the labor. There were rumors whispered in the dormitories of another existence. A free land. No one knew exactly where it was or how to get there or if the quasits that disappeared every once in a while from mine duty escaped or were purged. But hope is a dangerous thing. Trealzebub was the type who knew how to get things. Somehow he would always manage to procure double rations or luxurious food that was not offered on the mess line. He took care to share with the rest of The Hive knowing that at some point they would be bound to him on account of the repeated favors he did them. Unbeknownst to the slaves of the mine, Zarkin's armies had made a bold offensive and overstretched their supply lines. Production at The Hive was increased to particularly brutal levels and the discontent festered in the black dust of the tunnels. Talking was forbidden in the mine, but if you listened closely, you could hear a pattern to the noise of the picks now. Coded messages sent and received while feeding the war machine. Word went round that there had been an uprising at the smelting plant where weak-minded dwarves and duergars had been under the compulsion of their fell foremen. The more skilled task requiring a live, though still enslaved, brain. The picks of The Hive buzzed with activity and Trealzebub began to liberate some of the picks and the sharper shards of ore from the work site. Several weeks later, Zarkin's rival mounted a fierce counterattack that forced the demon general to allocate more resources to the front lines leaving the control of The Hive in the hands of no more than a half dozen demons who had proved inept at marhsalling their forces on the field of combat. And it was here that the sonorous pings of the picks called the slaves of The Hive to action. At noon on that fateful day, Trealzebub started the slow rhythmic beat that was picked up by the quasits and then even the lumbering zombies. The slaves, unified in their work, awaited the signal and with a barbaric yell uncharacteristic of his size, Trealzebub started the revolt. Only two of the six foremen were awake and half alert when the mines emptied and the rebellion started. Fire and brimstone began to rain from the sky as the alarm sounded. Though inept against other demons, the foremen had a distinct advantage over the poorly equipped slaves and began a slaughter. As the resistance lost steam, the slaves retreated to the mines. The narrow confines allowed only one demon foreman to pass at a time and the lead demon began the final push. Trealzebub, sensing the loss at hand, hid in one of the small veins off the main tunnel. Waiting until the demon had advanced past his position, Trealzebub thrust his improvised weapon deep into the back of the demon who let loose a terrifying scream. As the demon fell and the rest of the slaves gaped in awe, a portal opened visible only to Trealzebub. Pausing only for a moment, Trealzebub entered the portal and disappeared from the material abyss forever.