The Apiary

Tucked in the end of the Farming District, beyond the crop fields, lies the Apiary of Camp Hope—a surprisingly tranquil space in a community defined by tension, order, and vigilance. But make no mistake: the apiary is as critical to Camp Hope’s survival as its walls or weapons.

The apiary is enclosed by a tall chain-link fence reinforced with UV-resistant polymer sheeting and a locking gate that only authorized personnel can open. Inside, rows of modern, retrofitted hives— sleek, metal-framed "urban units" scavenged from city rooftops—buzz with activity.

Raised walkways and sealed observation pods allow researchers and guards to monitor the bees without disturbing them. The entire area is under constant surveillance, both by human guards and simple drones—more to protect the bees than to protect people from them.

Faction Control

The apiary is managed jointly by The Farmers Guild and The Doctors of the camp. It is considered the property of the Farmer's Guild as they are the faction that established the apiary. Because of this, they are the ones that get to make the decisions regarding the apiary and all the products that come out of it. This is a major point of contention between the two factions as the Doctors believe that regardless of who has established a resource, it should be used to further the camp's primary agenda, which they are the stewards of.

Purpose / Function

Pollination

Without the bees, the fields would collapse. Crops—especially fruit-bearing plants and vegetables with flowering stages—are reliant on these tireless workers. Each hive is assigned to a quadrant of farmland, and specialized scent markers guide bees to their sectors. The crops are essential to the survival of the camp, which means that the camp is dependent upon their bee population.

Medical Research

The doctors are using the products of the bees for various medical applications. The products that the doctors are creating varies greatly from antimicrobial honey salves to nutritional pollen supplements. They have also been conducting research on the bee venom. They have been exploring its use as:

• A neural stimulant in cybernetic limb interfaces (helping rejected cybernetic limbs better sync with the brain)
• A compound to break down viral shells, possibly weakening the Sonohoka Syndrome pathogen
• A mood stabilizer in microdoses to treat trauma and PTSD symptoms among camp survivors

So far, early results are promising but unstable—and human testing has been limited to volunteers and Others.

Trade

Honey from the apiary is filtered, tested, and graded before being processed into:

• Medicinal honey salves used for burn victims or infected wounds
• Luxury ration bars, available only to officers and visiting dignitaries
• Bee Bread, a fermented pollen product used as a nutrient-rich supplement

Surplus honey is a prized export, bartered for scavenged technology, meat, and rare medical texts. Only about 10% of the harvest is sold, making Camp Hope’s honey a high-value item in nearby enclaves and merchant caravans.

Defenses

The apiary as an essential resource. At least two armed guards are always stationed at the apiary entrance. Additional guards are stationed in pods in the apiary to constantly monitor the bee boxes. All entrants must undergo decontamination procedures to prevent cross-contamination to ensure the health of the hives.

Despite the camp’s emphasis on order, bee swarms have occasionally turned aggressive in response to disturbances or electromagnetic fluctuations. One unconfirmed report tells of a scout whose cybernetic implant “glitched” near the apiary, triggering a swarm that left him comatose.

To ensure genetic stability, breeding is controlled and monitored. Any rogue hives or queens found in the wild are captured and studied or destroyed, depending on risk assessment.

Type

Room, Animal, Apiary

Parent Location

Camp Hope

Owning Organization

The Farmers Guild

Contested By

• The Doctors

You stand just beyond the perimeter of the apiary, your boots crunching against the gravel-strewn path as you peer through the polymer-reinforced chain-link fence. The hum of drones overhead pulses through the heavy air, their red eyes scanning with tireless precision. Inside, the bee boxes glow faintly with the warm orange iconography of their inhabitants, each container pulsing gently like the heart of the colony itself. Observation towers rise from the corners like silent sentinels, one of them housing a lone guard who doesn’t acknowledge your presence but certainly sees you. Mist curls in from the adjacent croplands beyond, blending the rigid geometry of the apiary with the hazy green of genetically resilient plants.

You can’t hear the bees from this distance, but you can imagine them—thriving in their sterile little fortresses, guarded like relics from a world that nearly forgot their worth. Raised walkways crisscross the rows of hives, and sealed pods where researchers would once study the colonies now sit in silence, their lights dimmed. The entire space gives the impression of something sacred, or perhaps dangerous. It’s hard to say if the security is there to keep intruders out, or to keep something vital—and volatile—within.

Apiary Goods