by Rob (Meade)
Scaws of Transcore Hive
On the moon of Rhysia, a ruined forgeworld moon with grim secrets below it’s crust… mutants, known as scaws to the indigenous human population, stalk the ruins of the hives. Centuries of breeding in isolation, amongst the industrial waste has led to horrendous abominations. They have adopted a tribal society with the most hideous and powerful mutants as leaders, and survive by hunting the human survivors of the planet as well as lifeforms such as birds which migrate to the surface of the moon to roost.
Koonoo likes bones. Nobody is a better butcher than Koonoo, as long as he gets the bones!
Motoar has a grenade launcher, and he likes to use it. The other scaws don’t like him very much because he spoils the meat, so they make sure not to give him too much ammo.
It’s said that when he was born, he was a cute little scaw babe with no visible mutations. He wasn’t expected to last long. But as he grew, they noticed he had much more energy and strength than the other babes, and would constantly be running everywhere and off the walls. As he matured, his body began to change. He started growing thick dark hair and his skin began to slough off. Little by little, the human form was lost and the Fly took over… now there is little humanity or intelligence left in him. He follows his kin but is apart from them… especially the way he eats. At the same time they fear him and envy his ability to fly. Sometimes they wonder if the fly will take over completely and he will buzz off one day.
Calb’s Dream: Part 3
…In the distance, the skyline of ancient Transcore Hive was just becoming visible. His path led there. Ever since he had been a boy, the place had lived in his imagination as the home of nightmares. The greatest hunters of the clan had all gone there like him, and returned with the head of a scaw. He remembered as a child in the home bark, one of his first memories was gazing up at the engraved skull his skill-father had taken before he had been born. It was twice the size of a human skull, with a hideous ridge of deformed bone going up the side. One of the most impressive he ever would see inside the home ark and abroad, although he had seen fearsome looking ones at the Imperial trading post at Moonhenge.
Calb gathered up his things. His robes were grey-green, with blue stars running around the neck. They were the robes of his clan. There was a faded blue stripe daubed on his forehead as part of the ritual of his tribe. He packed up his kit, and started again down the path. He thought he heard the call of canterbirds in the distance. He thought to himself, that’s why he’d had such a fethed up dream. There was red weed growing here too.
All things considered, Calb was happy to be away from the Home Ark. He was always most content when he was out wandering and hunting. Most of his youth was spent learning the ways of the ash wastes with his skill-father. At the age of seven his mothers had taught him to hunt canterbirds as they emerged from the bottomless wells. And he had always been that way… he could walk by himself for days in the ashsea and never feel alone…