Monster Breeder

It takes for-fucking-ever to get to the Far Reaches. Duh, they're far from everything. I get that we picked that spot so not just any damn landbound could roll up on us… but comeon. Couldn't we put our main base somewhere a little more accessible?

Also, I'm seriously freezing my nips off.

Enormous peaks rise from the mists to pierce the grey sky like the talons of a vast bird of prey. Snow clings to the sharp tips year-round. If what I heard a while back is right, it should be the really craggy one. And, yes, as I approach, my eyes spy evidence of my kind.

Nests, streaks of droppings, and deep piles of bones litter the mountainside. Low-hanging clouds obscure flashes of light from the fires and lightning strikes of dueling muscle-headed idiots. I mean, what are they even trying to prove? They’re each already stronger than ninety-nine percent of their brothers and sisters.

Whatever. I made it before freezing solid; perfect. Now, I can finally get back at that asshole and my bitch of a mother!

“Hey, does anyone know where Elder Grand Claw is?" I ask when I get close.

A stalagmite unfurls its wings, revealing the frozen form of a Frosthawk. Wind and Cold Attributes. Nothing special. Basically a nobody. "Around back and three crags up; can't miss him." I refuse to wait here flapping about to chat for another second and speed off in a rush. "A 'thank you' would be nice!" she calls out from behind me.

"Fuck-you-very-much you frigid cunt, can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

I duck a flurry of icicles as I fly away.

Harsh winds try to sweep me off the mountain as I press on. I'm shivering so hard it feels like I might shake myself to pieces as the cold seeps into my bones. Fffuck this place!

Then a warm breeze tempts me offtrack for a moment. I'm freezing; it wouldn't hurt to stop and thaw out, right? I trace the hot air-current to its source and take a deep breath thick with perfume. My eyes go wide. I realize I've stumbled across somewhere I'm not supposed to be.

The fog bank before me parts to reveal the Paradise Emperor's courtyard.

Flamehawks form a perimeter of living heat lamps that keep the climate at a balmy temperature. Patrolling Rainhawks maintain a precise humidity that I can already feel rejuvenating my brittle, frosty feathers. Their work allows a lush garden full of fragrant herbs and flowers to grow even on this cold mountain. Captive Dust Bunnies test the soil and keep it fertile while Dryads ensure everything is in bloom year-round

But they're just the groundskeepers.

Exotic Harpy courtesans frolic about the place. I see some tea parties and others lifting their tail-feathers to play 'hide the sausage' with Rare birds dressed in resplendent silks reflective of their Ranks. Tch. They're not even that pretty.

Further back, a barrier of mist obscures the Emperor Bird-of-Paradise's inner court. My stomach rumbles as the smell of a banquet of unspeakable delights wafts into my nostrils. Echoes of distant music reaches my ears—the giggling of excited fools mixed with a chorus of Sirens.

There's an idea. I'm sexier than most of these idiots; I bet I could join the Imperial Harem no problem! Later, though, after I've gotten my revenge.

If I linger here much longer, I expect an Imperial Guard will catch me and I'll have to explain my presence. That would be bad. I'd make an enemy of Elder Grand Claw by revealing his oversight to the Emperor—which would drastically shorten my lifespan as a result. Yeah, no way. Reluctant to leave the warmth of this place, I steel myself and turn back. Bitter cold embraces me like make-up sex with a possessive ex.

Soon, I return to following the Frosthawk's directions and, sure enough, after circling around the mountain and ascending three crags, I can make out the shadow of the Elder's enormous wingspan in the fog.

"Hold it right there," a voice startles me. What I'd assumed to be a sheet of ice on the mountainside split and spread its wings. White-and-blue feathers, icicles hanging from his hawkish beak, and icy talons... From the look of it, he's a Fowl Blizzard—Wind, Water, Cold, and a bad attitude. "Do you have an appointment?"

I fluff up in indignation. "No, nor do I need one. I have an urgent message for the Elder that he'll dearly want to hear."

He cocks his head askew, eyeing me and cracking his neck like a frozen lake settling in the dead of winter. "Well. 'Urgent message' or not, there's a procedure for guests. Those with appointments can go see him directly. Fly-ins have to wait until the Elder is finished with his business."

"What business does he have that can't be interrupted?" If I could just get his attention for a moment, I could get out of this cold and enjoy my revenge!

The Fowl Blizzard snorts, sending out a smattering of icicle darts that shatter on the rocks beneath me. "Elder Grand Claw recently came across a once-in-a-generation prodigy in his travels. A Sleet-Storm Siren Singer." Wind, Water, Electricity, Cold, and Song, huh? That is kind of impressive, actually. "He's offering her some pointers before presenting her to the Imperial Court."

Now that I listen closely, I can hear grunts and moans of pleasure coming from the fog. "I bet." I give him a testy harrumph. "'Prodigy,' huh? Tch, still not Mythic Rank." Despite having all those fancy Attributes, that swanky bitch is still missing that special 'something.' Not that it matters to me.

It seems the Grand Elder is dominating little miss prodigy and has a Fowl Blizzard for a butler even though he doesn't have any elemental Attributes. That's the Tyranny of Tiers for you, I guess.

"Watch your tongue when speaking of your betters. A Mythic hasn't been seen in so long, only the Paradise Emperor can say whether they're even real. An Ultra-Rare Evolutionary line is the limit of what anyone can expect to reach without a clue to the hidden requirements." Ending the digression, he gets to the point. "My job is to prevent the Elder from being inundated by trivial matters. If you don't have an appointment, you must be a supplicant. Pass your message along to me, and I'll do you the favor of delivering it when the Elder is in a good mood."

And miss out on whatever rewards the Elder gives out when he hears this intel?!? "~Sit on your perch and let me by~" I'm slinging some exciting news; I'll take my chances with interrupting a mediocre nut on a boring bitch's pussy.

I make to brush on past him, but the frosty buzzard flaps his wings, creating a gale of hail that blocks my way. But, how did he...?

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Typical Siren, thinking you're better than everyone else," he shakes his head in mock disappointment. "This is what happens when you're used to getting your way all the time—you ditch your manners and start trying to mind control people left and right. You must be from a tiny Harpy home indeed if you weren't expecting a guardsman to have countermeasures." He gives me an icy glare as he continues, "I plugged my ears with ice the moment I sensed your heat and confirmed what you were. I've been reading your lips this whole time."

My jaw falls slack.

He chuckles. "You're lucky. I won't kill you for this insult, not if you tell me what you're so certain the Elder is eager to hear, and do me a small kindness. See, my cock is turning blue with the cold and could use a soft, warm place to thaw out. I'm sure you could help with that."

"Fuck off."

"Careful. I might decide I'm done being gentle."

"...Fine." Damn it, he smells like a long-dead, frozen skunk. At least his wings shield me from the bitter cold wind.

"Hey, I might as well know your name if we're doing this."

"...It's Canary."

Just you wait, Alex. I'll get back at you and mom for sticking me in the middle of your stupid dick-measuring contest and branding me a traitor. Revenge will be sweet~