Mc day 3


    I wake in the nursery chamber, at least what I have taken to calling a nursery chamber. My form is curled around the small mound I had made the night before. Protecting the eggs at the expense of my own body should a predator have discovered us as I slept.


    I yawn, long tongue flicking out of my mouth briefly. I pause, noticing something. I try to imitate my previous action, chuckling at the dry hissing that results from my efforts. My throat feels dry and my stomach growls, demanding nutrition and I reluctantly remove myself from the comfort of the moss floor to fulfil my bodily needs. Walking towards the cave entrance I pick up my not so much weapon of choice and strap it to my back using the harness. A motion that is quickly becoming familiar. After an awkward shuffle through the crevice I begin making my way towards the river.


    Traversing the somewhat difficult terrain I think about the things I need to do in order to survive this galaxy, more specifically this planet. I have yet to encounter any threats to my wellbeing, not humans, not Xenos, not even local predators. Yet that cannot last forever. A list begins to form in my head. I need a secure food supply, better armour and weapons, not to mention a decent set of......


    My train of thought derails, a realisation welling up in my mind. I''ve essentially been walking around naked for the last few days. I halt, the thought surprisingly shocking. A blush attempting to form on my skin before my body remembers that it no longer has the capacity to do so.


    I add another item to my list, clothes, decent clothes. I resume walking. Beyond the need for clothes I need to further secure my humble abode and acquire actionable intel. While the temptation to remain a minor xeno race is substantial, I don''t exactly trust the Imperium or whoever is holding this planet. While taking the planet and eventually the system could eventually invite retribution from one of the major factions, I much prefer that to being unable to protect myself. Not to mention my children. I pause again, this time mere metres from the river. I hadn''t noticed how close I was getting to my destination, too caught up in my own thoughts. A dangerous mistake and one I curse myself for making. I drink my fill, unlatch my halberd and begin my hunt, searching the clear waters for any fish I could eat.


    Hours pass without a successful catch. The buggers seem to be cautious today, wary since I snatched a few the day before. I manage to catch one, but no more and quickly shove it down my gullet. I clean my weapon and move away from the river, determined to try something new. I had yet to truly use the Survivor skill beyond the limited knowledge of spear fishing found within the skill. I wander the forest, gathering branches of certain lengths and elasticity. I weave crude ropes from long grass fibres. I find stones that may be used as crude counterweights, all the while plans and designs whirl through my mind.


    I choose a spot near a couple of bushes and what I believe are edible roots in the hopes that they will draw prey animals. Slowly, carefully I set my materials down at the base of a tree. Doing a once over of my mental plans I begin assembly. The process takes hours, involving many nicks, cuts, rope burns and broken materials. Eventually, it is complete, a simple spike trap had taken form. I am proud of my accomplishment and enthusiasm fuelling my movements, I set out to find another spot to repeat my success.


    I return to my cave-home late that night another 2 levels in Survivor to my name. A giddy smile plastered on my face, satisfaction warding off the encroaching need for sleep. I check on the clutch, confirming they are safe and that the timer has gone down. A more subdued smile appears on my visage, one born of parental love rather than success. I can''t wait to meet my children. "What should I name you", I ponder aloud.


    I freeze startled by the thought. I take a breath, lie down and curle around the mound. I recognise that the feelings, my feelings, are not something being forced upon me and thus not something to be feared. I love my children to be, much like any parent and wince internally as I remember that they are designed to be disposable, a fact that no longer sits well in my mind. I cringe internally at my callousness and make a promise to myself. I would protect my children, "I will kill for them. I will wage war for them. I will create the greatest fortresses, I will tear down the mightiest bastions. None shall harm my children when I have the capacity to prevent them from doing so." I take a breath, thinking about my favourite legion in a previous life before continuing with my impromptu speech. "I will be what the Lord of Iron never was, I will be a Father."


    My declaration having been made, the presence returns with a new objective for me to complete, one that would be remiss of me to deny.


    Quest info updated:


    Allfather: Protect your clutch until they hatch, destroy human villages (3) to protect your existence, reach Saxon Warrior (0/10)


    Quest Rewards: Saxon egg clutch (2), +5 Lv, Skill (Allfather)


    Accept: Y/N


    Without a second of hesitation I accept the quest. The possibility that we could be discovered by humans terrifies me. If we are discovered the local governor would rush to purge us from their world, lest they be accused of being xenos lovers and draw the Ordo Xenos down upon our heads.


    I begin to panic as my feelings catch up to my thoughts. Hands clutching my head as I sit against the wall of the cave. I stay there for a while trying and failing to contain my panic. At some stage I begin hyperventilating, choking on the air itself. Eventually I pass out, too tired to continue panicking, falling into a deep sleep.


    <hr>


    Mc day 4


    I wake in the nursery chamber once more, slumped against the wall where I had passed out. Checking hurriedly if the question is there I sigh when I realise that it was not a dream. Getting up, I exit the cave and go to the river and participate in what can only be called a morning routine.


    I drink my fill of water and manage to spear 2 fish, one of them being slightly smaller than usual. Next, I check my new traps. I am slightly disappointed when most have not been triggered, yet I am delighted when one has caught a pheasant like bird. I quickly remove the bird from the trap and field dress it. Removing any feathers and inedible parts before shoving the rest down my throat. My stomach full and content I set about rearming the trap, pleased with its success.


    Starvation having been warded off for another day. I set about other tasks that can help secure my survival. I move further into the forest and set up 2 more traps. Hoping that having them spread out will allow me to gather more food.


    The true work then begins. Searching for an hour, I eventually find a small meadow. The ground covered by long grasses. I hiss to myself in delight and set about gathering it. Pile by pile, clump by clump, I pluck the grass fibres from the ground and carry them back to the cave entrance. The process taking hours. By the time I’m finished morning has turned to noon and my skin would have been soaked in sweat had I been still human.


    Undeterred by exhaustion, I sit down in front of the entrance. Guarding the eggs from anything that would wish to enter and I begin to weave. Thick ropes of natural fibres form. Slowly at first but more rapidly as time passes on and I grow used to the process.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Day turns to night and I retreat into the cave. The waning sunlight being of no use to me and intending to take advantage of the bioluminescence of the lichen within the cave. Thus, the work continues, more ropes are woven, their strength checked and set aside. Waiting to be assembled into something greater. The process continues and night turns to day once more.


    <hr>


    Mc day 5


    I emerge from the cave entrance, now covered by a concealing veil of vegetation, work completed, armour covering my form. Thick ropes of fibre interwoven tightly around my form providing near total protection, albeit from minor dangers. It would do nothing to stop a lasgun or even a stubber round, but it would protect against primitive melee weapons. Not to mention the fangs and claws of the predators that inhabit this place. The only vulnerability being the joints, I feel confident in my protection.


    I look up, tracking the path of the sun across the sky, deducing the direction I travelled from the great plain to get here. From there I could find the origin of the smoke, perhaps one of the villages I''m meant to destroy. Thus I begin to walk, traversing the uneven terrain with an ease born of familiarity. I go slowly, unlike my initial mad dash through the woods, saving energy for the coming conflict.


    Even though I can see the signs of predators in the area, I encounter none. It confuses me as I am sure many would look at me and see a free meal, not a threat. It has me contemplating aloud about myself and the world around me. "Did the humans drive off the predators in this area?" I ask myself, "No that''s not right, the forest here is too healthy for that to have happened and the markers too fresh". Thinking further on the matter I begin to analyse myself seeking any reason for this irregularity. An hour passes by as I continue to march through the wilderness, no answers making themselves available to me. "Is it because I am a Pariah?" I eventually ask. It would makes sense as many psychically attuned beings would rather kill themselves than be in my presence. All living beings are connected to the warp, to the immaterium. Do the predators feel my presence and seek to avoid it? Do all animals? It would explain why the forest seems so desolate and why fish are so hard to find.


    "They will sense me coming", I realise. My blank aura will warn them of my impending arrival, giving them time to prepare, ruining my idea of a sneak attack. "Maybe if I attack when they are sleeping it will minimise the effects of my presence". The idea is a somewhat sound one as sleep dulls other senses, yet my thoughts are put on hold as reach the end of the tree line.


    <hr>


    Callum day 5


    I stand there, in the middle of the vast prairie, bored out of my mind. The herd surrounding me, feasting on the bounty of grass available. The white and browns of their wool clearly visible through the brush. I see the dog uncle Jacob had sent with me bounding through the long grasses. Tongue lolling and tail wagging with excitement, startling some of the animals with its excitement. Though the work is mind numbing, the view is worth it. A picturesque view worthy of being recorded as a painting or tapestry, much like those in the chapel of Him on Terra.


    It serves as a wonderful distraction from the village’s recent troubles. The arbites had come again last week, more than usual, demanding more supplies for Hive Mord, the planet’s singular hive city, located on another continent, separated from our own by the Caspian Sea.


    The dog returns to my side and lies down, panting. “What do you think boy?” I ask, “why do you think they want more food? They’ve already taken half the herd and three quarters of our harvest. More than enough to feed the village for multiple years.” A happy bark is all I receive in reply, the animal unconcerned with its masters’ plight.


    Sighing in annoyance, I resume my watch. Searching for any bottom feeders that would seek to make a target out of one of the herd’s members. Nothing. Many of the planet’s predators are nocturnal and as such there is not much threat to a herd like this. What few that existed having been driven from the area.


    Hours pass, interrupted only by helping the occasional stray back to the herd or adjusting the strap of the bolt action stubber I had elected to take with me. By late afternoon the small herd has made a noticeable impact on the grass in the area and I make a mental note to suggest we move the grazing area to let the grass here recover. Uncle Jacob approved of thinking ahead and maybe if I do enough of it, Emperor willing, I''ll get promoted to handling grox in the armoured pen. I can already count to 100 thanks to pestering the village engineer. Who else is more qualified to replace Old Hal after he got crushed last month?


    Happy thoughts filling my mind, I resume my watch, thumb rubbing the wooden body of the stubber. Herd animals munching happily all the while and a dog rolling around in the long grass.


    It''s only 2 hours before I''m scheduled to bring the herd back to the barns that a feeling of unease worms its way into my mind, causing hairs to rise along my neck. At first I dismiss the unease as a thing of nothing, my hairs rising only due to the cold of the oncoming night. Mama had said that we were in for a few cold ones after all. Yet the unease grows, and grows, and grows. Unease turns into fear and a feeling of wrongness. A whimper from the dog voices its agreement. I scan my surroundings, breathing somewhat shallow, only to find nothing amiss. "It''s alright boy", I say. Reassuring the dog as much as myself, "there''s nothing here, we''ll be fine." Fear then grows in to terror, wrongness turns to an unnatural pressure.


    Breathing rapid, I swivel around and around, pointing the stubber at even the slightest of sounds. Animals baying, the dog whimpering, its head covered by its paws, I fervently search the landscape. Grass, rock, trees, vines, moss. All are scrutinized yet found to be nothing out of the ordinary. Then, a dart of black! Desperately, I wheel on the black blur and fire the stubber. A monstrous crack echoes through the prairie, though it is too far from the village for anyone to hear it. Heart pounding, I operate the bolt, racking the next round into the firing chamber.


    Slowly, I approach the mass of black, still now, the scent of blood present, the unnatural presence growing the closer I get to the body. Grass, ferns and bramble peel away revealing...... Dolly, the literal black sheep of the herd. Fear somewhat abated, though my eyes still dilated from surging adrenaline, I curse to myself. "Frack!" Though the village wouldn''t have heard the shot I would still have to explain the loss of one of the animals to uncle Jacob, ruining any chances. I had of getting to work with the grox.


    "Frack", I say to myself once more, quieter this time. The perceived threat gone, I try to calm myself down by reassuring the dog. "See boy, nothing to be afraid of! Just poor dolly here gave us a fright." Yet the feeling of fear and unnaturalness persisted. I begin to search my surroundings again, not yet raising the stubber for fear of hitting another member of the herd. A tree, a rock, some grass, another rock, with what looks like moss covering it and so on. Yet nothing seems amiss except the screaming in my mind. Sweat drips from my brow, falling into my eye. The sting of the salty sweat is the final straw. I break into a run, terror fuelling my every movement, the sun shining brightly overhead as if spiting me. At the same time what I once thought to be a rock bursts into motion, a massive gleaming axe appearing from seemingly nowhere. The beast''s grey skin doing little to hide it''s rippling muscle, it''s frame taller, broader, stronger than any of the village''s malnourished inhabitants.


    It gains quickly, seemingly with ease. Mocking my attempt to escape without speaking. Wheeling around I attempt to bring the stubber to bear on the creature. A slash of the axe sends me crashing to the ground, arm severed still clutching the stubber. Nerves still firing in the severed limb, a finger twitch triggering the weapon, discharging its ammunition. Unfortunately the shot does not hit the foul Xenos, instead impacting harmlessly into the ground. Amidst the sound of my own screaming I use my remaining arm to scramble back to my feat, hoping to escape this monster. The axe returns once more, striking like the wrath of a fell god, anathema to the Emperor''s love, severing my legs below the knees in a cacophony of splintering bone and ruptured muscle. I find myself falling to the ground with a thump, screaming, mind unable, incapable of comprehending the pain, let alone the wrongness of the abomination before me.


    Not truly aware, I hear the rumble of an inhuman voice speaking in Low Gothic. "Your village, how many live there, what are its defences?" Seeking a way to escape this nightmare I do not realise when I reply with the truth, "500!" Realisation dawn''s on me as I scream unceasingly, lungs begining to bleed from effort. I will not escape this. The realisation is accompanied by the clamping down of my teeth in a vicious bite. Something important gives way, my tongue, severed. A moment''s delay and it begins. Slowly at first but then more rapidly, blood spurts from the severed appendage, gushing down my throat an filling my lungs and stomach.


    As my lungs fill the blood seeks to escape elsewhere, spurting out of my mouth as my body begins convulsing due to a lack of oxygen. The final blow comes quickly after severing my head and everything goes black seconds after.


    <hr>


    Mc day 5


    Foe slain: Human male Lv2, granting rewards


    +1Lv Saxon Worker


    "Huh........neat."