The Shapers were a group of people who learned how to create life.

They used their power to conquer those with whom they had not shared their knowledge, creating armies of hideous monsters to devastate their foes. As they ran out of land to conquer, they turned their powers towards making things better for themselves and those they now ruled. In the following centuries, they made serviles, creations that were humanoid and intelligent but, as their name implied, utterly servile, to be their servants. They made ornks, pig-like creatures, for food. They made plants to populate barren wastelands. They made laws to regulate who could learn what about magic, and instituted a death sentence for any outsider who learned how to Shape life. Shaper power was absolute.

Or, at least, it had been.

Some saw Shaper rule as tyranny and itched to break free of the laws they made. So an alliance of disgruntled humans and angry creations stole some of their masters' power, built up an army in secret, and attacked. This rebellion had devastating consequences for Terrestia, the continent where the Shapers lived. Thousands died. Once-proud cities were razed. The drakons, the creation leaders of the rebellion, took the eastern half of Terrestia. Creations made by both sides fought and died while their creators worked to make new monsters that could wreak even more devastation.

Ten years after the war started, the Shapers and the rebellion were in a gruesome standoff. Both sides were too proud to ever admit defeat. Ever stronger generations of creations savaged each other as those caught in the middle ran for their lives.

Of course, none of that really mattered to a certain human woman in the Whitespires, the mountain range in the far north of Terrestia's west side.

This woman could remember only the past two years, and those two years were filled with a haze over her mind. All she knew was the frigid Foundry, where new types of creations were sent to be studied and declared to be useful — or not. She took creations to their cells, fed them, watered them, cleaned up after them, and didn't — couldn't — care about anything else.

Until one day...

She woke up.

The haze over her mind had lifted. Not entirely, of course, but, for the first time in her admittedly short memory, she had something approaching clarity of thought. Granted, it didn't do much other than approach before scampering off like a small animal scared of something it's never encountered before, but it was a start. She rolled out of bed and realized that the barracks where she slept was empty. She also noticed that she seemed to have been living with a bunch of serviles — which was odd, considering that she herself was human. When she looked down at herself, she saw that she was wearing the robes of a Shaper, but they didn't fit her very well, and they were rather threadbare and in need of a wash. Also, they were an odd color for a Shaper's clothes: bright, eye-popping green. She could hear something outside, but it took her a moment to pin down what it was: serviles working? Creations roaring?

Then she got it: screaming.

She started looking around for something she could use to defend herself. She recalled that there was a dagger and some armor in a storeroom to the south of her bunk and decided to go get it, hoping that her memory was trustworthy as far as it went. It was. She armed herself, also taking the two healing pods in the cabinet there, and walked out, feeling slightly better, to see that the door out of the barracks was open and a servile was standing there, holding a rusted, dented, and unused dagger. The woman's mind told her, somewhat uncertainly, that the servile's name was Mehken. Mehken said, slowly and loudly, "Come! Creations rogue. All. All creations rogue. Come! We control!" She was treating the woman the same way a normal human would treat a servile: As one who was rather stupider than oneself. Perhaps it had been justified in the past. The woman said, "The creations have all gone rogue? Why?"

The words came out raspy and barely comprehensible as if the woman hadn't spoken in some time, which, now that she thought about it, she probably hadn't. Mehken noticed, but answered the woman's question as best she could. "Don't know. Creations happy. Quiet. Then they are not. They go rogue. They attack us. We go now. We pacify them."

"How do we pacify them?" the woman asked.

Mehken held up her dagger. "We shout at them. We jab them. If they stay rogue, we kill them. That is what Shapers say. Rogues die. We go now, before more serviles die." Then she walked out of the building, shooting a look back at the woman as she went. She seemed unusually alert for a servile.

Not having anything better to do, the woman followed Mehken out into the clearing beyond. There was a pylon a few feet beyond the door, which the woman's memory told her, more certainly this time, was supposed to calm creations. However, since it appeared to have been smashed, the woman doubted that it would be of any use. Mehken held up a hand and said, "Stop." The woman got the feeling that Mehken had been ordering her around for a while. "The calming pylon has been smashed. Something is coming. Be ready."

"What should I do?" the woman asked.

Mehken looked over at her. "We fight rogues, or they eat us." Four serviles ran into the clearing, screaming and followed by some things that looked like bigger versions of beetles. Mehken rushed at them, swinging her dagger. "Come! Help them!"

The woman didn't need to be told twice, which she would later think was odd. She rushed them, stabbing and slicing the bugs as they tried to eat her, Mehken, or the other serviles. They were almost comically easy to kill; they weren't very fast, and they were small enough that just about any harm done to them with something sharp would kill them. Once they were all dead, Mehken sighed, wiped the goo from the bugs off her blade, and said, "Not hard. Bugs are pests. Not good. Best dead." She looked over at the four serviles that bugs had chased into the clearing, who were now much relieved, but still scared, and said, "We save all. Am glad. We must move. More rogues to pacify." She made as if to walk off.

The woman said, "Wait. I have a question."

"Question? You full of surprises today. Creations change. You change too. What?"

"Who am I? How did I get here?" the woman asked.

"Don't know. Mighty Shaper Rawal come one day. Dump you on us. Says you work with serviles. Says take care of you. This years ago. You quiet. You work. Is all I know."

"Why am I dressed like this?"

Mehken chuckled. "You dressed strong, like lady. You like that calms rogues. We get torn, fancy clothes. Put on you. You like them. Make you calm too. Need wash though."

On that point, at least, the woman agreed. "What should we do now?"

"Hunt rogues. Calm them. Kill if must. Then, if we good, we get reward. Big dinner! More sleep! Enough talking. Now we go hunt." She pointed at the woman's clothes. "We dress you up strong. Make you look good. Calm creations. You go first. I follow."

Not having much choice, the woman walked ahead of Mehken. She didn't need to ask which way to go, since there was only west into the barracks and east into parts unknown. They hadn't gone very far east when Mehken put a hand on the woman's shoulder to stop her and pointed at a building to the north, where something was banging into things inside. "Was afraid of that. Thrasher is loose." As if on cue, something roared. The woman tried to stand ready, but she was suddenly feeling ill. She was doubled over by a wave of nausea, which ended quickly.

It was followed by something far worse. The woman felt as if her insides were going to leap out of her and kill whatever Thrasher was on their own. She let out a groan of pain. A burning sensation raced through her body, but it was quickly eclipsed by rage — at what, she wasn't quite sure. She also felt a lot of power inside her trying to get out. She held up one hand. Wisps of flame danced on it. Mehken watched impassively. The woman looked up at her. "What's happening to me?"

Mehken said calmly, "This could be useful. Thrasher is terrified of fire. Direct some at it. You might calm the beast." The woman barely noticed that Mehken was speaking like a human, rather than in the crude speech most serviles used, as a battle alpha charged out of the shadows to the north. It was eight feet tall, about average for a creation of its type, muscular, and humanoid, wearing only a loincloth and with red fur all over its body. The woman decided that, since a mere creation was daring to challenge a human, some fire might teach it to obey its betters.

A bolt of flame traveled down the blade of the woman's dagger and leaped off the end, striking the alpha and singeing its fur. It shrieked and cowered back. The woman looked at her hand again. The flames were gone, but she knew she could call them again in an instant if she chose. She also realized that she had remembered how to heal as well; the technique was different, but the power was the same.

She and Mehken continued east until they had to turn south into an icy ravine. Looking down it, the woman could see scaly shapes in the fog. She started to go that way, but Mehken stopped her. "I see it. In your face. You are having another... attack. Do not fight it."

The woman realized that Mehken was right. The burning feeling was returning again. She stayed calm and looked back down at her hands at the same time Mehken did. Mehken jumped back in shock at what she saw there. There was a globule of essence, the raw material that was used to create life, seemingly hovering in midair between the woman's hands. The woman instinctively knew what to do with it, how to Shape it into something that would fight for her; she manipulated it, bending the universe to her will as she Shaped...

... and a moment later, a fyora stood there in front of her.

Fyoras were one of the first types of creation that any Shaper (or, if one was a rebel, any lifecrafter) learned to make. They were small things that looked like dinosaurs, perhaps four or five feet tall, with red scales. Their saliva was flammable, and they could set it alight while it was still in their mouths and spit it at things their masters wanted killed. They also had a vicious bite in case anything got too close. They were very common, and were used as bodyguards and pets throughout Terrestia. The one the woman had created was somewhat misshapen, with a twitchy jaw and cracks spiderwebbing across its skin. Thin red fluid ran down its sides. Mehken looked ill, but the woman knew she could do better than that. She was merely out of practice.

Mehken said, "This is not a surprise."

The woman instantly latched onto that. "You were expecting this?"

"We knew you were unusual. We knew Shaper Rawal kept you here for a reason. We knew from looking at you that you were different. That you had been touched by the arts of the Shapers."

"Touched by the... what?"

Mehken shook her head. "No time to talk. More rogues are coming. We will talk later." The three of them went south, ready to fight some rogues. The fyora stumbled along, hissing and waiting for the woman's next command.

The rogues to the south turned out to be worms. As they slithered towards the woman, Mehken shrugged. "Don't know why the Shapers kept them around. Best squish them. No loss."

The woman's newfound ability to call fire enabled her to kill some of the worms at range, and while her fyora may have been less than perfect, it was still more than capable of spitting fire at those that remained. The worms were dispatched almost as easily as the beetles had been. The little group continued south until they came to a turn westwards in the ravine, with a door in the east wall, operated by a lever. The woman pulled it, and the three walked through. The hall it led into turned out to lead west anyway, south of their other choice. As they walked, they came across a length that had four sealed Shaping vats on each side. Fresh creations were often put in such vats in a nourishing solution for a few days to gain strength, as was the case with these. The things in the vats were trying to get out, and they were succeeding. They turned out to be more easily-killed bugs. After getting rid of them, the woman continued west, Mehken and the fyora following her.

They exited the hallway on the west side of the clearing they would have gone through had they turned west at the junction. There was another non-functioning pacification pylon in the middle, with a roamer next to it. Roamers were dog-like creatures that, like fyoras, had strong jaws and useful saliva; however, instead of being flammable like a fyora's, a roamer's spit was poisonous, doing its damage over a few seconds. The group stayed away from the roamer and went north. As they did, the woman started to feel an itch in the back of her mind. It felt familiar; she just needed to think a about it for a moment, and she could figure out what it was...

No such luck. Mehken stopped her and said, "Wait. We need to talk."

"Yes? What about?"

Mehken said, "Shaper Rawal is the lord of the Foundry, a full member of the Shaper Council. Over two years ago, he dumped you here with the loyal serviles and said you were to be kept safe. Safe and dumb. Sometimes, he sent someone to check on you. Nothing changed. You were always dumb. Always safe. You were just left here. We thought this was odd. We watched you for the change, too. Now it has happened.

"You have power. Rawal will want it. The Shapers are desperate and terrified. They will offer all who can help them money and power and influence. Rawal will offer these things. Do not let greed take you. Remember there are other paths. It will be hard, since Rawal controls you."

"He controls me? How?" asked the woman.

"You will know soon. It is one thing I know about Rawal and his ways." Mehken tapped the woman in the center of the chest. It felt oddly numb there; she'd have to look closer when she got out of the cold.

"There is not time to say more," Mehken said. "We need to get to Minallah. Safety and warmth. What do you say?" Mehken watched the woman for an answer, and the woman knew that whatever she said would find its way to… to whoever Mehken's employers were.

The woman said, "I haven't seen much of the Shapers... but I'm not sure I like what I have seen."

Mehken nodded. "You will like them less. You have not met Rawal. You will soon, now that you have changed. Now come. Let us find the next mad creation." And with that, she turned and walked off into the snow. The woman followed and turned her mind back to the task of figuring out what the itch in the back of her mind was.

Pretty soon, she saw the source: a vlish. Vlish were creations that hovered in the air, with three tentacles extending from the front of their bodies. They were made to control small packs of creations, and this one had been doing exactly that since the chaos started. It hadn't been to help the woman, though. Mehken muttered, "That one. Just got here. Hadn't tamed it yet. Rogue, I'm sure." Perhaps this was the reason all the creations had gone rogue.

As they got closer, the woman saw the creations behind the vlish, held immobile by the thing: a few worms, a few bugs, and a fyora, much better made than her own. She decided that they wouldn't be problems unless they attacked her. Of course, knowing the way this day was going, they probably would. She shook her head to clear it and flung a bolt of fire at the vlish. Mehken and the fyora followed her lead and attacked it as well. This rogue, however, took a lot less damage than any of the others had. It fired a bolt of energy out of its center tentacle, which the woman just barely dodged. Worse, it made one of the rogue worms by the walls come and attack them; that one wouldn't do any damage on its own, but only if the woman could get it before it got to any of the three fighting the vlish, which meant the vlish would have more time to hurt them. The woman incinerated the worm and turned her attention back to the vlish.

The battle continued in this vein for a few minutes: the woman, the fyora, and the servile would attack the vlish; it would counterattack and have a new rogue attack them as well. Sometimes its attacks hit one of the three; when that happened, the woman would heal whichever had gotten wounded. Then, just as the vlish was starting to look panicked (or as panicked as something not even remotely humanoid could look), the door at the south end of the clearing opened and a deafening roar split the air. "Enough of this chaos! Step forward so that this minor scuffle can be resolved." The woman felt a sharp pain in her chest, disorienting her for a second. When she recovered, she found that she was walking forward. Another look confirmed that the vlish had stopped fighting. The woman came to a halt in the center of the clearing, facing south. A man in blue Shaper's robes, in much better condition than hers, walked through the door. The woman felt as if she should recognize him, but her mind had just become really cloudy. Mehken looked terrified. The Shaper looked at the remaining rogues and waved a hand, saying, "I absorb you!"

The rogues seemed to discorporate, and the matter that had once been them flew into the skin of the Shaper's hand. Then the Shaper looked at the woman's pitiful little fyora. "So you have been Shaped, as I thought. But what... what is that... thing? You are far from regaining a proper level of control." He waved his hand again and unmade the poor beast. The woman watched helplessly as her little companion was destroyed. The Shaper turned then to Mehken. "You are... Mehkon? Mikkey? No matter. Proceed into Minallah and rest. Then report for your next orders. There is still an extensive mess that needs to be cleaned. Go."

Mehken, still looking terrified, walked past the Shaper. Just before walking out the door, she turned back and looked at the woman. This close to Rawal, she didn't dare say a word. Then she headed south into Minallah. The Shaper didn't spare her so much as a glance: He was looking at the woman.

Finally, the Shaper spoke. "Now then... let's see how much you've changed. Do you know who I am? Do you remember, or is your mind still too muddled?" He paused for a moment. The woman said nothing. "I can see from your vacant expression that it is the latter case. I am Shaper Rawal, master of the Foundry and full member of the Shaper Council. I am the master here. Now that your unusual nature is starting to assert itself, I am eager to explore your capabilities and see how best you can be used. It is unfortunate that some entity is disrupting all my creations, but perhaps you can help."

The woman asked, "An entity disrupting your creations? Wasn't the vlish responsible?"

Rawal laughed dryly. "Don't try to think until your mind further returns. You'll save yourself time and effort. The vlish was a negligible non-entity. The current disturbances are caused by something much more powerful and mysterious."

"You want me to help you?"

"I am a full Shaper of the Council. You are not. I command your help. I need more quality agents in my employ. First, I need to explore your capabilities, and I have a very good idea for how to do this. First, though, we should return to my tower. It is warmer and more conducive to analytical thought."

The woman said, a bit sullenly, "I will follow you. If I must."

"That is wise, though we may need to take some steps to correct your attitude. You can earn great rewards for service. Wealth and power. I will be waiting for you with your new orders in Isenwood's Spire. I will send a servile to guide you from Minallah. That is all." Rawal turned and went back south, muttering, "On to the next mess..."

The woman took a look around her. This would likely be the last time she ever saw the pacification fields, and while she wasn't complaining about that, she wanted to remember it. Then having nothing else to do, she walked south, into the little town of Minallah.