“Hold still, you're making it worse,” snarled Clotho as she wrestled the soon-to-be construct. Without its master's physical or mental capabilities, the chosen imp was having a far harder time coping with the undeveloped reconstitution venom than Clotho did. Its body twisted agonizingly, changing constantly. Its entire outer layer convulsed, seeming more liquid to the naked eye than solid, pulsating in waves of alteration. Clotho attempted to keep the gruesome abomination from tearing apart the inside of her Heart, concerned with her own safety far more than the imp's. By this point she had practically given up on it; its body appeared too horrendously misshapen to indicate the slightest hope of reeling the changes back in to something acceptable. As the changes worsened, evoking an even louder, garbled, continuous shriek of pain from the imp, Clotho realized she would have to assume a greater role in guiding the transformation. 

Letting go of what might have been an arm, she stepped back before lashing out with a devastating kick. The blow stunned the imp, momentarily halting both its movement and the progression of its cancerous growth. Clotho reached forward, grabbed a hold of the living mess, and flung it into the bottom of the cocoon in the chamber's center. She then climbed into it herself. From within her sanctum, her natural abilities as a Keeper -such as that which allowed her to make creatures- were awakened, and she could more clearly direct the change of the imp. Grasping an idea, Clotho attempted to pry her way into the ongoing magical phenomenon that was consuming her imp. Altering a magical process proved far more difficult than instigating a new one, so all Clotho could really do was gently steer the wretched reformation in the right direction.

A few minutes later, she fought her way out of the soothing binds of the Heart. Her legs were weak, as she found when she first stepped down onto the room's papery floor. In fact, all of her was weak; magic to her was a stab in the dark, unfamiliar, arduous, and tiresome. When she looked down at the pitiable wreck that had once been an imp, however, it was all worth it. The new construct was still disfigured, but was also beautiful, in a way. The imp had taken on characteristics of a mantis; its body was larger, longer, and slimmer, with two pairs of legs as well as two pairs of arms. Two of the new limbs, the back two were sickles, spiny blades made for snatching, holding, and cutting. The other two formed more conventional arms, with sleek, green-tinted shell and lithe, delicate hands for manipulation of objects. Its head was vaguely trapezoidal in shape, with tiny mandibles, three milky pea-like eyes on one side of its face, and a single huge bugeye on the other. It even had short wings, which would allow it very limited flight. Random spines projected from the carapace all over its body, and its coloration was anything but coherent. The new construct sputtered, dazed somewhat by the sudden and invasive reconstitution of its body, but recovered quickly.

“Master,” it finally slurred in a barely-understandable whine. Clotho smiled; while other imps sported only the crudest semblance of a guiding consciousness, this one had its own intelligence. A particular talent that Clotho had fought hard to imbue in it was an affinity for poisons. Though fervently loyal, even dependent, to Clotho, it would be able to serve as a leader to the other imps. And unlike them, this one had some fighting ability, though natural cowardice would prevent it from becoming an adept.

“Welcome back, Scutra. I'll bet you're pretty confused about what just happened to you, but it'd better if you just forget. I have an assignment for you.” The construct perked up a bit, possessed by an innate sense to obey. “By now there should by an Apothecary in the middle-to-upper levels of this tree. Go there, and make yourself at home. Soon I'll have orders for you to fulfill. Gather ingredients from the living things in and around my dungeon, starting with this.” Clotho winced as she tore out a short strand of fiber from her cocoon and slapped it into the more delicate hand of Scutra. It examined the fibers quizzically; with some experimentation, the construct would find the fiber to be a premier source of life energy. “Now go.”

Meanwhile, three imps remained in the newly-completed Living Foundry, overseeing the large, sessile organisms designed to grow the requisite weapons for Clotho's forces. This chamber's position on the tree meant it was accessible to non-flying minions with limited climbing ability, like the Myrmidons. Already the first spears and shields were being harvested from the bizarre polyps.

[hider=Status]
3/3 Drone Imp Construct
3/3 Living Foundry
6/6 Apothecary
Location: Dungeon
Dungeon: Jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12° An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner. Living Foundry, Apothecary
Forces: 24 Drone Imps, 52 Myrmidons Scutra, an Imp construct, tasked with the concoction of useful substances.[/hider]

[u]Compendium[/u]
Scutra - first construct. An outstanding imp was remolded raw by Clotho's newly-acquired Stinger. By using her Heart as a means for controlling the otherwise cancerous transformation, Clotho created an imp with several traits of the mantis, including bladed sickles, sleek shell, bulging eye, and wings. Scutra's main tasks are to lead the relatively mindless drone imps in their projects and to concoct various toxins for use in Clotho's Stinger. Unerringly loyal, but also curious, smart, and a compulsive hoarder.