Mc day 6


    I sit in the nursery chamber, staring at the wall. Eyes unfocused, looking at something that isn''t really there. The presence rests comfortably on the fabric of my soul, not doing anything. It has sat there for a while, ever since I burned down that village, awaiting my decision.


    Current class level maxed. Initiate evolution to (Saxon Warrior)? Warning: evolution will take 24 hours. All attacks will have 2x effectiveness against you during this period. Initiate? Y/N.


    My stomach rumbles and I ignore the message for now. The presence withdrawing slightly at my decision. There is no question that I will take the evolution, it is one of the requirements of the Allfather quest afterall. I just want to do it on a full stomach. Raising up from my seated position, I make my way to the exit of the cave, the curtain of newly placed vines parting at my passage.


    Jumping down from the slight ledge of the narrow entrance I begin my travels through the expansive woods. Previously difficult terrain, now familiar, is traversed with ease. Distance devoured by my long strides. As I pass a bush I rip a clump of dark purple berries from amongst its leaves. Knowing them to be safe from previous consumption I quickly toss them into my mouth. Their tangy taste assaulting my taste buds.


    I reach the river. Taking the time to quench my thirst and spear a fish before I continue to traverse my territory. I visit the various traps that I had placed down scarcely days ago. Most were triggered, though some are empty of prey, their frail bodies having been torn from the spikes. I sigh, but do not complain, setting about cleaning and rearming the various traps, gathering what meat is available from them.


    I settle down in a small clearing. Field dressing the meat. Removing hide, feathers and inedible organs. The process is relaxing, taking my attention away from the horrors that surround me in this dark future. The animals prepared, I sting them together by their feet and carry them back to the cave.


    I set out once more, having eaten my fill from the gathered meat. This time searching for material rather than food. I wander the forest. Bark is stripped, sturdy branches collected and ropes made. All for one purpose. To seal the cave entrance. The concealment I’ve placed on the entrance has worked well so far. Yet it only works until something gets curious enough. Thus, the seal.


    Using the Survivor skill, flexible branches are woven together, using thicker and sturdier ones as a frame. Plant fibres reinforce the construction, ensuring its sturdiness. Bark is then layered on its surface, concealing its man made nature while also providing further protection. I look at my work, satisfied and with another level in the skill to boot.


    Carefully, I carry the heavy construct towards the cave entrance. My muscles burning with the effort of carrying the soaked wood. The sap still present increasing its weight to near unbearable levels. Other logs and sticks are gathered along the way. They will be used as supports for the wooden cover.


    Reaching the cave entrance, I throw the extra materials into the cave before dragging myself up and into the crevice. Leaning back out through the curtain of vines the wooden panel is lifted into place. Sealing the cave entrance while also being hidden by the vines in place. Supports secure the construction in place and I give out a huff of relief and satisfaction. The work is complete.


    Making my way into the nursery chamber, my weapons and armour left behind in one of the side chambers, I check the timer on the egg clutch. I smile slightly as I see that only 20 days remain. Happiness and worry well up in equal measure within my mind. Concern for my children’s wellbeing comes to the forefront of my mind.


    They did not deserve to be placed in this galaxy. Innocent souls untainted by cruelty, but would be forced to suffer simply by circumstance. Sorrow and guilt continue to build but with a shake of my head I set the unpleasant feelings aside. I would protect them until they could protect themselves. To do that, I need to become stronger.


    Settled, curled around the mound protectively, I recall the system message, the presence strong with anticipation. I agree to continue and my vision begins to fade. Gradually turning to black as consciousness recedes. Just not before I experience the burning pain of melting flesh and snapping bone.


    <hr>


    Mc day 7


    I awaken. Groggily, I open my eyes. Taking in my subterranean home from my position on the moss covered floor. A spasm wracks my body, every limb seizing as muscles tense, only to relax a moment later and leave my limbs feeling loose and rejuvenated.


    I crane my long neck and yawn. My maw snapping shut with the clacking of dozens of teeth once I’m finished. Raising to my feet and shacking off the last of my tired disposition, I realise that the chamber feels….smaller.


    I have grown by over a foot. Standing at just over 7 feet when I force myself upright. 6 and a half when I revert to my naturally hunched posture. Examining my body, leaving no detail overlooked I notice that I have lost some of the wiriness of my previous form. Muscle, filling out my form in places where I was previously thin. At a density that normal humans couldn’t even dream of, it granted me unimaginable strength and speed. Easily able yo run three times as fast as a normal man.


    I also notice the beginnings of sub dermal plates on my forearms and thighs. The thin bone plates providing extra protection to the multitude of muscle strands and nerve beneath.


    My tail has also changed, staying at a similar size to before thanks to my growth. However, it has lost some of its bulk, becoming more lithe and suitable for fast movement.


    I smile at my new form, knowing that it will help me with my self appointed goal. Protecting my children to be.


    The presence, having been close to my mind since I woke up now pushes itself into my focus. Offering numerical data on the changes to my reptilian form.


    Saxon Warrior (0/10)


    Strength (30)


    Agility (30)


    Constitution (30)


    Vitality (30)


    Wisdom (40)


    Intelligence (30)


    I smile once more. Satisfied at how far I had come since my first arrival on this world. Having doubled my physical strength. Sharpened my instincts to a monomolecular edge and increased my processing capacity by a factor of 6.


    In a week I had gone from the equivalent of a severely disabled child to superhuman. The sheer progress astonishing me. If I continue this rate of growth I could soon be the equivalent of a space marine, maybe even a custodian. My line of questioning continues from there. What if my children show this level of growth? I chose the rapid reproduction option for my species. Perhaps that also applies to maturation.


    Unbidden and unexpected the incorporeal entity returns. Its presence surging like a tidal wave, my soul buckling under the magnitude of it. My vision flickers and turns to black, but only for a moment. My breath comes in ragged gasps, desperate for oxygen. Fear, confusion, despair. I feel all these emotions, only for them to turn to confusion as something appears in my vision. A message.


    I have been watching your progress young patriarch. Your progress is acceptable for one with the gifts you have been given. Yet your children will not share your growth. They will mature and learn at a pace normal for those of your species.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    You have the fortune of a warpstorm obscuring this system‘s presence from the rest of this galaxy. Make use of this fact before it dissipates. I will not be so generous next time your soul leaves its body.


    I stare at the message, shock, fear, anger and a deep immovable concern filling my being. Not sure how to react, I slump down against the wall. Catatonic. I can’t die, not again, there would no longer be the safety net there unknowingly was the first time.


    I sit there, pondering if I can prevent the inevitable, only interrupted by the growl of my digestive system. Hunger pains bringing undeniable discomfort.


    I grab what’s left from the pile of butchered meat and stuff it down my gullet. Not satisfied, I move through the cave system and grab my weapon before opening the hatch and leaving the relative safety of my hiding place. I check my traps. They are empty. I check the river. Not one fish to feast upon. Frustration mounting, I make my way rapidly to the plains. Only for anything living to have dispersed before my arrival. The bodies left behind just 2 days before, gone without a trace.


    Standing in the grove, my weapon tightly gripped in one hand, my whole body shakes with anger and frustration. Not caring for the consequences, I begin to make my way to the village I had massacred. Determined to feed on any foodstuff there. Whether it be tinned beans or human investigators.


    A young tree is cleaved in half as I journey through the forested landscape. My weapon having lashed out in a bout of uncontrolled frustration. I pause in surprise. The trunk isn''t that thick, being just large enough that I struggle to wrap my enlarged hand around it. My weapon isn''t of exceptional quality, nor is it designed for chopping wood. It should struggle even when cutting along the grain. Yet my strength had cut cleanly through the tree with contemptuous ease. Even with the grain of the wood resisting me. The shock of it ejects me from my hunger fueled madness, providing a real life example of my strength. Rather than the objective understanding that I had before.


    Putting my shock behind me, I continue my search for food, reaching the village and making sure no one is there before snatching the truncated body of a middle aged man to feast on. His legs are somewhere nearby based on the trail of blood and spilled organs. Yet I cannot be bothered to find them. Too scared of being caught at the scene of my war crime (targeting civilians), I quickly make my way back to the cozy cave.


    Things have to change. Previous pride in my accomplishments reduced to ashes by the message''s assessment of my progress. "Acceptable".


    I had slaughtered a village in their sleep, I had ambushed a lone shepherd, I had killed a small group of civilians who barely knew how to use their weapons. I had avoided the no doubt many predators that could kill me in this Forrest simply because my soulless presence makes them uncomfortable. I am a nothing. The best I have done is kill an old man armed with a stubber no doubt older than he was. I live in a galaxy where minor skirmishes involve millions of mortal combatants, super soldiers, daemons, titan legions and world ending bioweapons.


    And I have a halberd.


    Let''s get to work.


    <hr>


    Mc days 7-25


    Days pass in a blur. Each one consisting of my newfound routine of fishing, gathering, trapping and patrolling. Following the instinctual desire to survive and prove, training also becomes commonplace. The first few days yield little progress, seemingly being an exercise in futility. Then on the the 5th day of training my combat skill levels up, dozens of minor improvements to stance and technique providing an increase in level.


    My efforts redouble following the minor success, resulting in another level just two days later. Then another brings the skill from beginner to trainee. Each level sparks a fire in my soul, the fervour with which I train increasing with every passing day. Survivor soon joins my only other skill. My little free time being spent desperately improving it. Experiments are carried out with transplanting and grafting small bushes. Providing an easier access to food as my few successful attempts begin to thrive in the healthy soil near the cave entrance.


    All around the forest old traps are ripped apart, replaced by improved versions based on past lessons. New ones quickly spring up along side them as well as specialised fish traps secured to the floor of the river using makeshift anchors. A wicker backpack is manufactured soon after. The problem of having to leave stuff behind because there is too much to carry rectified.


    Stones of similar size are then gathered using the new backpack and are brought back to a waiting pyre. The stones are buried in the wooden sticks, shavings and dry bruss before the pyre is ignited by a piece of flint I had found during my search. Tripods are soon constructed for the use of various camp equipment while clay pots and urns are formed from a bank found far upstream.


    Levels in both Survivor and Mixed Weapon Mastery flow like a river. Both skills, now at trainee, soon become apprentice and then practitioner. Stones placed in the pyre days ago are now dug out from the ashes. Having split and sharpened along their edges due to the heat. Stones are sharpened further before forming tools. A proper work axe, a skinning knife, a hammer and much more. A Crafting  skill is the results of my efforts, going straight from beginner to trainee due to the concentration of my efforts.


    The work continues, smaller trees are felled, stakes sharpened, a ditch dug. A small palisade goes up around my chosen base of operations. It''s only 5 metres tall, barely enough to keep out two big men working together to climb it. Yet it is built thick and sturdy, a line of sharpened stakes surrounding its base to discourage any from drawing too close. A small squat gatehouse hosts a pair of sturdy wooden doors that can be held by only 2 fighters if they are breached.


    A cellar is built into the earth. The coldness of the place allowing it to act as the perfect solution for my lack of food storage.


    And there will be much food, for I am on the warpath. Leaving my forest, fortifications secure I hunt for the other 2 villages. The first is found with some difficulty. Having travelled along the dirt track I had found for 3 days. Smaller than the first, night quickly comes and it inhabitants are soon slaughtered. Resulting in a handful of levels. I leave the burning village and 200 corpses behind me. Using a stolen map to make my way to another village. I arrived during the day but am spotted by a young boy. The loss of the element of surprise forcing me to attack there and then.


    The battle lasts for hours, enough time to send out an SOS as I wage a miniature guerrilla campaign within the village''s perimeter. Yet no help comes. The village slaughtered before the next dawn. Possessing too few warriors to truly resist my reckless assault.


    Yet I do not stop there. I may have completed this aspect of the <b>Allfather</b> quest and received multiple levels for it. However, there are still other goals to complete, and I’m no longer doing things by half measures. Another four villages being raided and killed to the last man woman and child before I return to my home. Ten levels higher and awaiting my evolution.


    <hr>


    <b>Ellarius day 26</b>


    The veteran arbite stood in the smouldering remains of what had been the village market, the smell of burnt wood and fresh ashes infiltrating his nostrils. His squad spread out across the levelled hamlet, sifting through the ashes to find someone to interrogate.


    The man turns to the enginseer that had chosen to accompany them. Apparently a colleague of his was stationed here and he hoped to retrieve his augmetics. “This is the seventh village, yes?” “Correct.” The tech priest replies, his voice clipped and monotone, even without having replaced his vocals with a vox like many of his ilk preferred to do.


    The cultist of Mars continues. “Casualties estimated to be 100%. Most recent census indicated a combined population of 2000 between the 7 settlements. Casualties likely to be triple that value.” The tech priest pauses once more before continuing. “All available supplies have been destroyed by the assault. Taking maximum sustainable extraction of food supplies into account, loss of these communities accelerate the timetable by 3 months 17 days.”


    Ellarius grimaced. The warpstorm had cut off extrasolar food supplies. Mushroom farms and corpse starch manufactorums are being set up yet even after they were complete it would only take another 23 years for the hive to collapse into anarchy.


    These villages were vital to delaying that result. There are dozens of other villages to pick up the slack, yet it doesn’t change the permanent loss of viable farming communities.


    The arbite grimaces. “If this trend continues?” He asked. The tech priest replies quickly, understanding his line of questioning. “25% drop in productivity within the year. 100% within a minimum of 10.”


    Despair threatens to take root <b></b>within his soul. Yet his faith in the Emperor, the Lexicanum and the teachings of the schola progenium would not allow it.


    yet he could not help but ask himself, “what will we do?”


    <hr>


    <b>Mc day 27</b>


    I awaken once more, not just a warrior, but as a Saxon Elite. Instinct telling me that I am at the peak of physical maturity, but not instinctual or intellectual.


    Curled around the egg mound, my now massive form taking up a substantial amount of space, I see the timer for the clutch tick down the final few seconds. It hits zero.


    Nothing happens at first and I fear that the clutch had failed. Seconds pass, then a minute before something happens. The moss shifts, something digging through the soil. I wish to aid it but instinct tells me not to intervene. It is important to let them succeed or fail on their own. A small crocodile like head breaks the mossy cover, crying out for food, then another and another. Ten faces soon competing to make the most noise.


    I smile as I set a slab of cooked meat in front of them. I was taking no chances with disease. A laugh of joy escapes me as they tear into it with the fervour of a starving man. I feel whole, I feel compete…


    I feel like a father.


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