《A Gamer's Race (40K Fic)》 CH1 New Beginnings and New Options I was dead, that much was obvious to me immediately, no thanks to the screen that had appeared to fill the void of my senses. You have died. Select your next lease of Life. Many people would be frightened by the confirmation. Most would be intrigued by the second part of the message. I was not looking at the message, I was too busy with the cold dread that filled my stomach as I beheld what appeared below it. Options Warhammer 40K I remained there for a long time, simply existing, delaying the inevitable decision. After a time, I¡¯m not sure how long, perhaps it was seconds or decades, maybe millennia, I willed myself to accept the situation. As if sensing my acceptance the universe itself seemed to respond. What felt like an ancient unknowable power washed over my psyche and one message was replaced by another. Species Options Tyranid Guant Custom (10) Karma Score (100) I couldn¡¯t believe my eyes. My options were either suicide by hive mind or something unknown. 100 karma sounded like a lot to me, yet if these were my options it was obviously not. Whatever entity is shaping this........ experience, clearly sees it as a form of currency, a currency I have precious little of if my choices are any indication. Once more I fall into an almost catatonic state where time seems to slip through my grasp like sand. After a longer time than I am willing to admit, I review my options once more. If I chose the Tyranid bioform I could leach off the hive mind''s food supply and develop myself into a synaptic node separate from the god mind. However, the most likely outcome to that plan is that I''m purged by my fellows the moment I show even the slightest deviation from the norm. More likely still is that I''m killed by some press ganged PDF soldier who didn''t know how to hold a gun mere hours before. The custom option through, that could hold some merit. The name implies that I can design some kind of xenos race. If I could make it useful in some way, shape or form, I could book it for the Tau Empire and live out my days in relative peace. As the idea and its enticing possibilities take root in my mind I nearly voice my ascent before one thing comes to the forefront of my mind. The cost. It''s enough to give me pause as I would be losing a tenth of my precious karma. For a final time I review my options. Certain death or lose 10 karma and have a slightly less certain death. I want to live. Once more I feel the unfathomable weight settle upon my soul. Heavier than last time, more tangible, feeling of¡­¡­approval. Yes, the entity, maybe a god, approves of my decision, delving into the unknown. Option Custom (10) chosen. Base species (human) identified. Forming model. karma (90) The weight recedes once more and an image begins to form before my eyes. Something emerges out of the void before me. It¡¯s a sickly red colour, moist and pulsating. The mass divides itself, again and again, dozens of times. Organs become identifiable, weeping blood and puss as they are exposed to the air and whatever energies inhabit this place. Bone then emerges as jagged spikes, rupturing the organs before liquifying and the horrendous wounds heal over. I watch on in horrid fascination as the bone flows and drips like water. After a time it settles and solidifies into a human skeleton. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. muscle and skin then begin to grow like moss, quickly covering the exposed internals as nerves and ligaments facilitate the puppet¡¯s movements. Even before its growth is complete it begins to move towards me. Walking on nothing as eyes grow and fill with liquid, as teeth form and nails grow. It stops scarcely 2 metres from me and¡­¡­¡­.kneels. the weight then returns heavier than ever, feeling of curiosity and excitement. Base Human Strength 10 agility 10 constitution 10 vitality 10 wisdom 10 Intelligence 10 Choose Stat Characteristics (Mutually Exclusive) Brute (20) +20 strength Swift (20) +20 agility Sturdy (20) +20 constitution Immunity (20) +20 vitality Clever (20) +20 wisdom Genius (20) +20 intelligence All-Rounder (30) +5 to all stats I carefully scan my options, if I want to go through with my plan to get in with the Tau I need something that they lack. The Tau Empire has many of its bases covered but a glaring weakness is that it is always outnumbered by its opponents. A well rounded unit that can easily be replaced would certainly help solve their attrition problem. Thus with great reluctance I spend another 30 karma on all-rounder. Confirmed. Choose soul characteristics normal:Species shows an aptitude for producing both psykers and blanks of moderate strength. Blank (20):Species displays an aptitude for producing pariahs of great strength. All members of the species are at least a weak blank. Psyker (20):Species displays an aptitude for producing psykers of great strength. All members of the species are at least a weak psyker. My eyes widened at the text before me. Despite my earlier panic, it looks like whatever creature is influencing this space is attempting to aid me. Giving me the tools necessary to enact my plan. The Tau have always lacked a large scale counter to psykers and while I¡¯m too cautious to peruse the psychic arts myself, I¡¯m more than willing to explore the alternatives that the pariah gene offers. Without even looking at the costs I select the second option. Confirmed. Choose reproductive Style. Normal:The species reproduces at a rate similar to humans. All members gain +2 levels at birth. Slow (30):Each female of the species produces 2 offspring every 5 years. +5 levels at birth. Rapid (30):Each female of the species can produce up to 10 offspring each year. No extra levels assigned at birth. Without even a second¡¯s hesitation I choose the rapid reproduction option, once more ignoring the cost. It did not help that even before I truly begin my journey my plan is working. It also doesn''t help that I used to be an Iron Warriors fan and had developed an interest in attrition and siege warfare as a result. Confirmed. Select speciality. Commanding officers will be more effective at this style of warfare. Asymmetrical Warfare (20) Mass Assault (20) Mobile Warfare (20) Attrition Tactics (20) Arial Warfare (20) Naval Warfare (20) I choose attrition tactics after a second of hesitation as understanding of my situation fully sinks in. The weight returns a final time, stinking of finality. The screens fade away and once more I am treated to the sight of bones snapping and flesh sloughing off and reforming as the human before me turns into something alien. The end result looks something like a cross between a croxigore from Warhammer Fantasy and an elite from Halo. I feel the urge to name it, to name us, our species. The name comes to me after mere moments. "Saxon", I say, my first words since appearing in this place. I speak again, ¡°We are the Saxon.¡± Final confirmation received. Karma debt (10) detected. Rectifying debt with negative trait. Trait gained, Thick: -10 intelligence. Initialising transfer. Warning: Xenos empires will be automatically hostile towards your new species. Good luck Founder. Given only enough time to read and comprehend the text in front of me I cannot voice my frustration to the universe. My plans foiled before I even begin, I feel my consciousness receding. The pressure becomes suffocating and I feel my very soul tremble under its weight. Micro fissures and cracks begin to form along my soul as I feel like Atlas millennia ago, as if I am holding up the sky. A laugh echos all around me, cruel and vindictive, supportive and joyful as one voice speaks as if it were 9. "Dance little puppet, the great game awaits." CH 2 The Forest MC, day 1 My consciousness returns with a snap. I am lying in tall grass and can feel the telltale burning of a nettle sting on my right leg. I push myself up with four fingered hands and take in my surroundings. I am in a vast prairie, grass stretching, tall and lush, far as the eye can see. Trees are scattered across the unending plain, small, but with wide canopies offering shelter to prey animals beneath. A large swarm of birds, a flock numbering in the hundreds, dances to my west. Tracing complex geometric shapes in the air. A river arcs to the south, flowing away from distant mountains and completing the scene. I stay there for a while transfixed by the view, satisfied. My thinking is slow and childlike, yet I cannot bring myself to care when I seem to have stumbled across one of the few peaceful places in an otherwise hostile galaxy. Thus, I remain seated where I appeared, feeling at home in a form that is utterly alien to all I have ever known. My tail, thick and powerful, swishing lazily back and forth with simple pleasure. I stay there for a while, a long while. I arrived when the sun was at its zenith and now the sky is growing orange with the setting of the local star. The first stars then begin to emerge when the entity......the system I thought myself done with returned. The now familiar weight settles onto my soul yet it feels more distant. A feeling that I hope continues in future meetings as the pain of my crossing dimensions is not something I ever want to relive. Progenitor detected. Title (Founder) granted. Updating Bio. Granting rewards. Stat change: +5 wisdom and intelligence Pariah gene potency: Omega Minus Rewards (can be summoned when needed): Saxon egg clutch, Halberd (standard) I feel my thoughts speed up and mature as the brain capacity of my corporeal form catches up to that of my former body. Instincts I have never felt also emerge as my wisdom stat increases to 20, double that of a normal human. I find myself disliking the openness of my surroundings despite my earlier appreciation of the scenery. That I can see smoke in the distance does not aid my unease, no doubt a fire lit to combat the cold of the oncoming night. Once more I scan my surroundings for some form of shelter or concealment, my efforts rewarded by spotting a forest under 2 kilometres from my position. Instincts voicing their approval, I prepare myself mentally for the short journey. Before I begin my hike however, I want to try something. Channeling my focus I will the Halberd into existence. My soul feels a brief pressure before the deadly object literally pops into existence, a carry harness I can swing across included. "Neat", I say to myself as I examine the steel implement. I pull on the harness and strap the weapon to my back before beginning to walk. As I move grass swishes around my feat and the calls of night creatures scream out in the distance. I find myself once more basking in the beauty of it all as my pace begins to pick up. I walk for a short while before breaking into a jog, then a sprint. I am already moving faster than the malnourished masses of the Imperium could ever dream of yet instincts, both alien and familiar, demand I go faster. I drop to all fours and run even faster, breathing harsh through my long fanged mouth. I keep that pace for a long time. I reach the forest quickly enough and shoot past it''s borders and into the treeline. I don''t slow down except to dodge the occasional tree I cannot avoid while moving as fast as my claws can carry me. There is something exhilarating about the experience of giving into instinct and acting as nature intended. Thus, I let go of the reigns entirely. "Don''t think, just do", I chuckle to myself as I let intuition guide my movements. I don''t even realise when I begin to angle my path towards the distant sound of rushing water. Nor do I notice I have stopped until a few minutes after the fact. Panting I lay down beside the bank of a small river, a thundering waterfall in view just a couple of dozen metres from my chosen resting spot. Rallying, I roll off my back and stand up to approach the stream. Slowly I kneel beside the cold water, plunging my cupped hands into the current and drinking deeply from what water I gather. I make sure to savour it, realising how lucky I am to inhabit such an accommodating world. Once I have had my fill I scout a small ways away from the river searching for somewhere to shelter for the night or for something to use to the same effect. I search for a while, growing ever more frustrated by the lack of easy shelter. Hours pass by and with only hours more until the dawn I settle for hoisting myself into a tree and nestle amongst the canopy in order to catch what little sleep I can before sunrise.
Mc, day 2 I awaken with a start, eyes bleary with tiredness. Slowly, I blink the tiredness from my eyes and scan my surroundings, making sure that nothing dangerous had snuck up to my tree during my short rest. Seeing nothing I climb down from my sanctuary amongst the branches and make my way back to the river to soothe the dryness of my throat. As I walk I try to plan my next moves. I definitely need to find somewhere secure to shelter in the future and to secure some food. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I also need to make further use of my rewards, especially the egg clutch. There is no one in this galaxy that can claim to be a one man army and those who do quickly find themselves dead. Greater daemons have their lesser kin, the primarchs had their marines, even the Emperor had his custodes and Malcador to aid him. I doubt I am any exception to this rule so it is imperative that I grow my forces and equip them as best I can. Being the equivalent of a culexus assassin can only help my chances of survival too. I reach the waters and quench my thirst before setting off once more to find shelter. Using the sun as a guide I make my way deeper into the forest, traversing shrubbery and thick root in search of a place to call my home. The journey is simple enough, though I detour a few times when I notice territory markers. ¡®Large markers¡¯ I think to myself as I regard some claw marks on a tree that I fully grown bear would have struggled to imitate. I detour once more and march towards the gurgling of a creek, looking for something to soothe my renewed thirst. I reach it and drink deeply, enjoying the clearness of the water. It has a slightly sweet taste to it so I reach down for more. I pause there is something moving in the water. The stream isn¡¯t deep, maybe a metre at most and thrice as wide. It is small, barely the size of my hand, yet it is almost certainly a fish. At least what counts for one on this world. My stomach rumbles reminding me of my increasing hunger. I unstrap my halberd and glare at the water dweller, preparing to skewer it with the point of my weapon. Yet I am interrupted when a familiar presence returns, warm and inviting, text appearing before my eyes. Question info updated: Hunter Gatherer: satiate your hunger. Live to fight another day. Quest rewards: +1/10 levels Saxon worker, Skill (survivor). Accept? Y/N I accept without hesitation and continue to track my nemesis. I wait. I wait some more, then quick as lightning I strike forward, only to have misjudged the depth. My prey darts upstream. I resist the urge to yell, if only to not attract attention from predators in the area. And move upstream. I find my prey once more and attempt to strike it again. I fail again. This process repeats again and again and once more. Then on the 6th attempt I hit it cleanly in the centre of mass. I withdraw my weapon from the stream. A meal struggling weakly on the tip. Without hesitation I slide the fish off the tip of the weapon and throw it live into my jaws. My teeth snap shut and I feel a satisfying crunch before swallowing. It was delicious. I wait for my quest awards eagerly yet they do not come. Instead I am visited by the rumbling of my stomach. Now frustrated beyond belief I mumble a curse and resume my hunt for food. Throughout the afternoon I come across two more fish and still do not receive any reward. At one stage I find a clump of berries and eat them after only a quick sniff, trusting my enhanced senses and constitution to protect me. It¡¯s not until I kill a large lizard like creature, similar to a Komodo Dragon, and devour it whole that I get my rewards. Glee replacing frustration as the now familiar text appears before me. Quest completed! Granting rewards. + 1/10 Lv (Saxon Worker). {+1 to all attributes} Skill (survivor) granted. Description: Attune yourself to both your surroundings and your instincts. This skill makes all things survival related more effective as it improves. I feel my body grow stronger, more energetic, instincts sharpen, thoughts speed up. All these things happen, the change is small, yet noticeable. However nothing compares to the knowledge being injected into my skull. Tracking, poisons, hunting technique, constructs and much more fill my mind''s eye. Placed there for one simple purpose, to help me survive. Yet there is something missing, I know in my hearts (I have 2 btw but they are both weaker than a human one) that the knowledge I possess is but the basics and can be improved upon. My task completed, with helpful new information to boot, I set out about my other purpose. Finding a permanent shelter. Later that evening I find a shallow cliff face with a great boulder at its base. It''s a kilometre from the nearest water source so that is both an advantage and disadvantage. I smile to myself in satisfaction and begin to search the stone for a crevice to shelter in. This continues for hours andi I curse to myself half heartedly. "Why can''t anything ever be easy?" I say to myself despite knowing that this is as easy as it gets in 40k. Then I see it. A crevice, half hidden by the boulder and about a metre off the ground, preventing anything from getting into it easily. It''s just about big enough for me to fit through when crawling, leaving just a few centimetres to spare. My intuition is proven correct as after 10 metres it opens up into a small cave system that I can at least stand in. Albeit with a hunched posture. I explore the system, it is small with only seven room sized chambers and is uninhabited apart from the moss growing on the dirt floor and up the walls. "Perfect", I say. Setting my weapon down I move towards the farthest chamber from the entrance. Here the darkness present in the rest of the cave is broken. Bioluminescent lichen shining like stars on the roof. I kneel the soil soft and loamy against my scales, and begin to dig. The moss goes first and a clear circle is made on the floor. Next the soil is dug up, dirt sifting through my fingers as I work. Guided by instincts I do not understand, a bowl forms in the ground. I call on the presence and feel its weight settle upon my soul before leaving just as quickly. 10 mottled grey eggs, bigger than a human fist appear in the bowl, popping into existence in much the same way as my halberd. "The egg clutch", I whisper as soft, protective urges emerge. I quickly cover them once more in soil, though I am careful as I do so. A lump is formed on the ground as quickly covered with moss to absorb any moisture. "The eggs don''t like moisture", I whisper to myself, not knowing or caring how I knew. Then a message appears above the lump, a timer accompanying it. Saxon Hatchery Pit: 25 days remaining "Hello world", I say, voice scarcely above a whisper. CH3 Allfather 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.
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.
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.
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.
Mc day 5 Foe slain: Human male Lv2, granting rewards +1Lv Saxon Worker "Huh........neat." CH4 Raider Mc day 5 ¡°Huh¡­¡­neat¡±, I say as the human¡¯s head is cleaved from its neck and the presence rewards me with greater power. Every part of my being feels improved. My muscles feel stronger and faster. Scale and bone are more robust, my body more vital. Instincts are keener and my thoughts move faster. Distracted as I am with my newfound power, I do not notice the almost rabid mutt approaching me until it is too late. A pressure on my shoulder breaks me from my stupor. The fangs of the frothing dog piercing deeply into the rope there but not penetrating my skin. Leaving no injury but a distinct discomfort from the animal¡¯s bite force. Annoyed by my own inattentiveness, I grip the attack dog¡¯s tail with a clawed hand and rip it forcefully from my shoulder, breaking off more than a few of its teeth in the process. Anger still fuelling my movements I bring the mad animal up in front of me. The thing struggles as I hold it off the ground, my eyes drinking in its form. Then, faster than the human eye could process, my maw darts forward, ripping out the annoyance¡¯s throat. Quickly swallowing the tasteful meat. Blood spurts from its ruined neck, sullying my form as it struggles even harder. Gradually, I grow bored, once its movements have ceased beyond a few twitches, I consume the rest of the delicacy, savouring each bite of the dog. Meal finished, I look once more at my surroundings. The human¡¯s herd had been scattered by the brief moment of ultra-violence. Some 50 goat-like animals fleeing into the tall grasses and the forest too. My keen eyesight already making out some minor predators stalking a few of the separated animals. Slowly my gaze returns to the brutalised man. More specifically, his weapon. It looks to be an old hunting rifle, High Gothic prayers carved into the wooden stock and the barrel shining from a recent polish. Carefully I remove the severed hand from the weapon and eject the magazine. 4 rounds remain. Useful if I am unable to catch up to my targets before they can escape and warn others in the region of my presence. Gingerly, I pick up the weapon and attempt to shoulder it, the stock proving too small for my larger form. I grunt in irritation but do not let the discomfort drive me from using the useful weapon. I try to wrap a finger gently around the trigger, once more I am hampered by the ergonomics of the weapon. The trigger guard preventing my comparatively larger fingers from effectively gripping the trigger. I give up on using the weapon as is, setting it down on the ground and examining it once more. It¡¯s time for some modifications. I find a rock among the grass and smash it against the stock of the weapon. Again and again I hit it, not doing anything else until the stock separates from the weapon in a mess of splinters and broken prayers. From there the body of the weapon is easily removed, leaving just the mechanical components for me to use. Pausing for a moment I look to the available components and then back to my weapon of choice, the halberd. ¡°Why not¡±, I whisper to myself, ¡°why shouldn¡¯t I copy the Custodians of the Emperor?¡± I set back to work, mind a storm of ideas and calculations, my hands quickly implementing them. Hours pass, the barrel joined to the side of my weapon using a mixture of rope fibre and gun components. The trigger connected further down the shaft, reshaped using recently carved wood. Mind lost in the process of creation, I do not care for the time passing, the sun moving further towards the horizon as I work. Completed, I examine my creation once more. The components look to be in place, functioning as they should when I test the mechanism and showing no undue stress. Satisfied with my work I insert the magazine and its 4 remaining pieces of ammunition. I rack the bolt, securing a round in the chamber, the weapon now ready to fire. The inside of my skull begins to hurt, much like a headache bordering on a migraine yet not committing. I smile a toothed smile as I recognise the return of the otherworldly presence. Its return accompanied by feelings of surprise and intrigue. Notable action identified. Granting rewards: Skill (Mixed Weapon Mastery) acquired. Granting both knowledge and muscle memory for both ranged and melee weaponry, aiding the user in their use, maintenance, design and creation. Knowledge floods my mind once more. An eldritch power beyond comprehension shaping the neurones within my skull, implanting the information without disruption of other functions. A feat that very few in this galaxy could have ever achieved, let alone waste valuable resources on. Along with knowledge of the mind comes knowledge of the body. My grip on the weapon feeling wrong, unbalanced and deeply flawed. Corrections to my grip and stance rectify the issue. Already leaving me a more dangerous fighter than I was before. The feeling of improvement accompanied by the presence is euphoric, leaving me oblivious to my surroundings until it was gone, leaving me once more in the cold embrace of reality. Mixed Weapon Mastery no longer at the forefront of my mind I take in my surroundings once more, letting the skill make micro adjustments and improve passively in the background. The herd of 50, now scattered is being hunted down by local opportunists, making sure to stay far away from me of course. Remaining outside of my blank aura, as I have come to call it. A sizable contingent of the animals, around 15 or so, are moving in one direction as a group. Remaining unmolested by the local predators. Curious as to why they have chosen the direction, my eyes scan their path. Seeing nothing at first I try harder, unconvinced that so many of them heading in one direction is a coincidence. Glee filling my expression as I make out a small dirt track among the grass. "That''ll do nicely", I rasp. Preparing to follow the track, I pause, once more considering the brutalized corpse. "No point in turning up a free meal", I say. More concerned with my stomach than hiding evidence of my butchery.
Jacob day 5 The heat of the day is beginning to get the better of me and here I am stuck out in the wilderness looking for that little rat Callum. Honestly, the self righteous prick. He catches me making my way to the brothel in the next town over one time and he tells my wife that I''m cheating on her. Emperor curse him with a thousand maladies for his holier than thou act. Can''t do anything right except spy''n on others'' business. Saying "it''s not virtuous" or "the Emperor would not be pleased". Can''t even look after the herd properly, only 15 of the animals returning without him anywhere in sight. Useless lout should go join the ecclesiarchy and get one of those stupid hats. Not that anyone would ever hear me voice that opinion for fear of a public lashing. Recognising that the heat is getting to my head, I signal a break, my other 4 companions sagging in relief, setting their stubbers onto the ground. Placing myself against a tree on the side of the track, I call out to Doss, one of my fellow searchers. ¡°How long has the shit been gone now?¡± I ask. ¡°Depends¡±, he replies. ¡°8 hours if you¡¯re counting from when he left, 3 since he was supposed to be back with the herd¡±. I sigh, mentally cursing the Emperor damned fool. We¡¯d been searching for him for 2 hours now with no sign of him except for the occasional dead animal. After a short break and another weary sigh I signal my comrades to continue the search. At the ripe age of 43 my old bones protest getting up with a series of pops and groans. My body damaged by years of hard labour. Picking up my stubber, one of the few semi-automatic weapons the settlement is allowed access to by the Administratum, I check if my companions are ready before signalling a continue to the search. Calling out the man¡¯s name and keeping our eyes peeled for any untoward activity. Another hour into our search, nerves rising for some unfathomable reason, we reach the vast prairie where Callum was mentioned to be watching the herd. Bodies litter the plain, the animals half eaten by local predators and scavengers. My lip curls with disgust at the sight of it. Anger building at the sight of laughing canines feasting on the flock. Aiming my stubber into the air I fire a single shot. A tremendous crack echoes through the landscape. Animals previously hidden by tall grasses bolt for the woods, birds and flying reptiles explode from the canopies, all seeking to escape the disturbance that rocked the landscape. Waiting for the noise of panicked animals to disperse, I swallow the dry lump in my throat before giving the order. ¡°Spread out, look for any sign of Callum!¡± The men spread out, pacing through the lush grass in a search line. Looking for any sign of the absent worker, dread subtly building among them all the while. Many wrinkle their noses at the sight and smell of the dead animals, quietly whispering a prayer or a quite curse of ¡°Emperor¡± to themselves. I sigh to myself, many of these young men would be drafted into the guard come the next tithe and if they couldn¡¯t handle this, they would most certainly die to the monsters depicted on the vox reels. At least when this Emperor damned warp storm lifts and the arbites stop requisitioning so much of our supplies for the hive. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Sir¡±, one of the boys called out. Adam, a big well formed man. The kind a preacher would drool at, claiming him to be the perfect representative of the holy human form. ¡°Found something, but you¡¯re not going to like it¡±. He holds up a torn piece of cloth, originally blue, but now a deep crimson red. Unmistakable fear and a feeling of wrongness surface in my mind as I regard the cloth from a distance. Breathing becoming more ragged. Something that is not unique to myself. Others shift uncomfortably, shuffling their feet or gripping their weapons tighter. ¡°Do you think some hive gangers decided to book the city and raid out here?¡± Asked one of the younger workmen, nervousness evident in his voice. His question is met with a scoff from Doss. ¡°Frack kid, you and your fantasies. Sure it¡¯s happened before but they always hit one of the closer towns to the hive fir-¡°. His final word is cut off as another crack echoes through the plain. A stubber shot barely catching the side of his head. The man is sent spiralling to the ground, brain and fluid spilling from a hole in his fractured skull. We stay still for a moment, too shocked to realise that the man who often took me out for drinks, Doss, was dead. We¡¯re only broken out of our stupor when another crack echoes through the landscape. Another of my workers falling to the ground dead. I drop to the ground hoping to hide amongst the long grass. Two others do the same and avoid the following shot, which nails Adam in the back as he tries to run. The bullet doesn''t kill him instantly, though it does appear to have disabled him, his screams echoing hauntingly across the plain. The wrongness grows, an ache forming in my mind and soul as something, something beyond important, is missing. Like some fundamental link to the fabric of the universe has been cut. We lie there for a while, the feeling of wrongness and fear gradually increasing. One of the men starts whimpering, the smell of soiled trousers reaches me soon after. I realise that it is my own. Then footsteps. They march slowly through the brush at first, speeding up as the creature approaches. I know it''s a creature, it''s footfalls too heavy and long to be human. A scream to my right as I hear the swishing of a blade and a panicked gunshot. The victim of the foul abomination gurgles before falling silent. Eyes darting in every direction, the glint of metal on my belt catches my notice. My combat knife. I glance back and forth between it and the bayonet fixture on my stubber. Heart hammering in my chest, threatening to break my ribs with the force of its beats, I slowly draw the blade. Attaching it to the fixture as quietly as possible. Footsteps can be heard nearby, the dry rasp of a lizard and the snuffling of the creature¡¯s snout. Adam¡¯s screams are suddenly cut off by another slash of a blade. it¡¯s looking for me I realise, making sure that none of us would escape, the sounds receding slightly as the Emperor damned abomination moves away. Slowly, carefully, I rise to my feet. Being careful not to make a disturbance. I can see it clearly now, the creature. Its form lean and muscled, taller than an average man despite its naturally hunched posture. Grey skin, a thick tail and a head like a water lizard give it a dangerous appearance. It¡¯s facing away from me, a large and strange axe wielded by its strong hands. Fear gripping my very soul, vision wavering at the sight of the creature, I raise my weapon and click off the safety. Standing on the verge of cardiac arrest. I do not know what caused it. The clicking off of the safety or the thundering of my heart. The creature dives into the long grass. The sudden movement startles me and I let off a wild volley from the weapon. A hiss emerges from the grass, signifying that it is wounded. The fact does not comfort me. My weapon clicks empty. Discarding the magazine I reload the weapon and resume firing. Targeting anything that moves. Another magazine runs empty. Then another and my final one. brow dripping with sweat and tears forming in my eyes I whip around as the landscape begins to laugh at me. Seemingly from every direction at once. A roar from behind and I turn around, pointing my bayonet pointed towards the creature. It stares at me, axe gripped in two hands. Standing barely 15 meters away from me. My nerves finally break and I sprint forward, shouting a wordless cry. Aiming to spear the thing¡¯s throat with my bayonet. My mind does not comprehend when the beast speaks to me in Low Gothic, too terrified to understand the familiar words. Another crack and I am thrown back. Crashing into the ground. I can scarcely breath, a painful burning spreading through my chest. Tilting my head painfully up, I let out a small cry at what I see. Blood is slowly leaking from a hole in the centre of my chest, no doubt passing through the other side. I moan in pain as my clothes soak red. I can¡¯t feel my legs. Turning my head to the side, I see a pair of feet. Clawed and covered in scales. The creature, no longer hunched, towers above any man. Matching the height of one of his angels if the legends are to believed. The pain is so great I no longer care about the creature. Nor the feeling of unnaturalness that oozes from its form. Delirium seizing my mind, I notice a gash along its arm, purple blood leaking slowly from it. Darkness encroaching at the edge of my vision, I see the creature heft its axe above its head. It holds it there for a second. The abomination then nods to me and lets the axe fall.
Mc day 5 The axe falls with a satisfying whistle, cleaving a man¡¯s head from his shoulders for the third time today. The fight had been easy. Catching them by surprise had allowed me to kill two of them immediately from a distance, killing a third who panicked shortly after. The rest attempted to hide in the grass but didn¡¯t last long. One was too fearful to react when I found him. Another died to a heart attack as I approached, my blank aura proving too much for him. My final opponent proved to be the most dangerous. Spraying bullets like it was going out of fashion. One caught me on the arm, leaving a painful burning sensation that still remains. Yet he fell quickly once he ran out of ammunition. Panic clearly impairing his thoughts. Foes slain: human x5 Lv1-4, granting rewards +6Lv Saxon Worker +2Lv Mixed Weapon Mastery I nearly stagger at the strength of the presence. Knowledge being implanted into my mind, even as my body undergoes rapid changes. Bestial instinct tells me that the process is natural, yet it has been sped up to a painful extreme. Collapsing onto the ground, I writhe there for a moment, pain clouding my thoughts. An eternity in a minute. The presence eventually recedes, the pain going with it. Raising myself back up off the ground, I take the time to examine my body. My movements feel more fluid, more powerful. Muscle visibly rippling under my scales at the slightest movement. I grin to myself. ¡°Time to get to work¡±, I say as I begin looting the many bodies around me for ammunition. The last man standing didn¡¯t have any remaining ammunition. His companions however have around 52 rounds between them. Enough for 8 magazines of ammunition. Grinning to myself once more I set off towards the human village. Going in the correct direction this time. I twinge slightly in embarrassment at the time I spent following a road to nowhere. I had been too busy with my meal to watch which direction the group of herd animals had ran in. Thankfully I got back before the search party could report back to the village. The settlers would still know that something is wrong when they don¡¯t return. They just won¡¯t know what.
Mc night 5 I gaze out at the village from my hiding spot in the brush. The clearing filled with the light of candles. Windows yellow as butter emitting a soft light. I had waited at the edge of the forest surrounding the village for hours now. Waiting as day slowly turned to dusk and dusk turned to blackest night. I let out a hiss as adrenaline begins to pump through my veins. The time to strike is soon approaching. Lights and candles are switched off and blown out over the course of the next half hour. I wait there, poised for combat for another hour then another. When I¡¯m sure that everyone is asleep I set out. Jogging silently towards the nearest shack. I reach the door and slide the looted combat knife into the gap between the poorly made entrance and its frame. The latch lifts easily, granting me access to the shabby abode. The house is only one room, an old man, perhaps 60, sleeping on a primitive mattress in the corner. He tosses and turns as I approach, trapped in some nightmare from which he cannot escape. Probably not helped by my presence. The axe quickly pierces his skull and I move on. The pattern continues throughout the night. First a family of 4, then 8, a sleeping couple, a squatter, a suffering veteran and so on. After the tenth building I stop caring about the amount of people within each of my targets. Levels do not come with each kill, most likely because they are not a challenge. Sheer quantity however, has always had a quality of its own. Hours pass before my grim work is interrupted. I¡¯m in the largest house in the small village, having already carved my way through several dozen homes and families. The servants¡¯ quarters have proven fruitful. Another 4 bodies having been added to my tally. A level in Mixed Weapon Mastery having come with it. Satisfied with my work I turn for the door, only to freeze at the sight before me. A child, dressed in night clothes, stares at me. Her eyes wide and mouth agape with the need to scream yet seemingly unable to do so. The girl is slightly pudgy, fat from good meals, unlike the other children of the village, who were in various stages of emancipation. The child sucks in a breath in preparation to warn all of my presence. She does not get the chance to do so. Blood splatters against the clean walls and I walk by the bisected corpse, flicking bodily fluids from my halberd. Her parents soon followed her. I took great satisfaction in killing the mayor. A man who attended to his own luxury while his constituents suffered. The slaughter continues throughout the night. At one stage I find the village enginseer, though it is difficult to figure out how to kill him¡­..her? Them? Eventually I sigh in resignation and brute force the issue. The first blow shatters the vox speaker they replaced their vocal cords with, waking them up in the process, but ensuring their silence. The second blow comes before they can react, bitting deeply into the cabling of their neck and hampers the function of several augmetics. The third blow bites deeper still, impacting the spine but not severing it. The fourth blow finishes off the cult member. The slaughter continues throughout the night and into dawn. The final members of the community waking to a scene of horror, only to be gunned down as they try to escape or help those already dead. The once thriving village becomes a ghost town. And I walk away as it begins to burn behind me. A message from the presence awaiting my attention. Ch5 Worker, Warrior, Father. 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.
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.
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 Allfather 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.
Ellarius day 26 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 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?¡±
Mc day 27 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.