Away past the morning amidst the cloud cover, The strangest of music sounds over and over. The words, set deep, in a low rumbling tune, Trembles your bones like the knocking of doom. Hear it and kneel. Say "praise unto thee" And you shall be blessed by the great Glory Bee.
Glory Bees are bees the size of men. They scout the skies in pairs or trios, looking for the right clouds. When they find one, it does not take long for more Glory Bees to arrive. Their numbers set the clouds to humming. The more Glory Bees there are in a cloud, the greater the sound. If there are enough of them, the sound carries down to the ground and is so strong, the humming echoes into ones very bones. For ages the humming from the clouds has been taken as an omen from the gods, and the few who have managed to see the great Glory Bees flying in them have considered it a blessing.
Humming From The Clouds
Glory Bees are like most bees but much, much bigger. They are also pure white and covered in shimmering white fur that, along with the heat of the sun, keeps them warm in the colder air found up in the clouds. Also like other bees, Glory Bees collect nectar for honey, but most flowers are too insignificant to bees of their size. This begs the question: where do they get their nectar?
What is a Glory Bee?
Long ago, there was the Hrokentorm Empire that once ruled the world from great cities upon the clouds. Little is known of them, other than that they were giants that suddenly vanished from the world. So did all their great cities. But, not all of Hrokentorm had been a great city. There had been cloud villages for farming and some still exist even now, though their giant denizens are long gone. These farms drift along unseen upon their perpetual clouds that are carried upon the winds. On these remnants of Hrokentorm grow papple trees. Huge, towering trees that bloom throughout the year. Only when they are pollinated by the Glory Bees do the flowers wither and die, their pale yellow petals falling away. Once the flower is gone, a papple fruit begins to grow to the size of a pumpkin. This great fruit ripens to a greenish yellow and is like a very juicy apple with the mellow sweetness of a pear.
The Papple Trees
Chirkin, a race of bat-winged small folk, make daring flights into the clouds to harvest the papples. They risk being eaten by griffons for the perfect brandy fruit. It is from these Chirkin that others know of the Glory Bees. As for the precious fruit, no one believes such great fruit exists. Perhaps if the Chirkin were to share their daring harvests others would believe in the papple fruits. What people do believe in is the brandy the Chirkin make. Every papple brandy bottle has on it a white bee. Every tongue that has ever tasted it sings its praises with the best known toast in all the world, "Glory Bee!"