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.
Tsokag and Snogoag
Tsokag and Snogoag were born sharing a body. Like most twins, they spend their time competing with one another in all things. What makes this harder is that they must fight for control over the same body, and Tsokag (the upper head) is only slightly better at everything. Not only that, but he has more horns, which is a sign of virility among the scaws. If the twins ever stopped fighting with one another, they would be a formidable pair, as the constant competition has left their minds keen. Still, they are good hunters.
Topoak is one of the more capable members of the tribe. Born with vestigial wings, he is proud as wings are considered sacred among his tribe. He is effective at caring for his less productive brethren, but not an effective communicator due to his tentacle tongue making it difficult to speak. In fact, most of the words come out as a croaking, gutteral yell of ‘topooaak’…. which is how he got his name.
About this Project
These mutants will be released as separate posts over the next week or so, alongside installments of a short story, below. I am not much of a writer so be kind! It follows a main character which there is no miniature for (or plans for at this time) but it’s based on Rhysia, and the ruined hive of Transcore where these mutants are known as scaws to the indigenous population.
I wanted to improve my painting with this project, but also be a little less constricted. For me mutants are part comic relief, part experimentation with different random techniques and multimedia, and a way of getting myself back into this realm of the hobby after a little hiatus. I will likely return to them at some point as one of my themes, to break up other hobby stuff and improve on my work.
To anticipate any questions, the torsos are from Mantic’s deadzone, and the rest are typical GW bits from different mutant-like kits such as the chaos spawn, forsaken kits, with some chopping. The tattoos are done with micron pen, with light glazes and transparent airbrushing overlaid to make it look like skin. The feathers are chopped up craft feathers.
A blue goliath slowly wandered in the heavens. Below, the deserts of ash glowed blue-green under the primordial sky. A Goliath moved on those deserts too, echoing the stately advance of the one above.
It was an ancient crawler, moving on tracks of steel. and towing a small retinue of smaller ramshackle vehicles in it’s wake. Aboard were approximately 1200 souls of the clan Nycrux, survivors who eked out a living in a vast wasteland of Rhysia, 3rd moon of the vast supergiant Profundis. They made their living trading in the scraps of an ancient and decayed industrial infrastructure and hunting out the sources of water and flesh that welled up from below. The surface of this moon was harsh, but the world below was far more dangerous and far more primordial. The world itself was dying, slowly being eaten by worms, and like a rotten apple, the core itself was rancid.
Calb was leaving the world of the home bark now, alone, for the first and the last time. He was sixteen standard years of age. When he returned home from his journey, he would be renamed at the ceremony after he returned with the severed head of a Scaw. He had made his choice, to become a hunter and trader for the clan or stay a servant, a worker in the bowels of the Home Bark. It had been hard to make that choice. His own best friend, Echina, had begged him not to leave with tears in her eyes. She had told him she loved him. But she was only four and ten standard years, a foolish child, and knew nothing of the way of the world. She would be smiling when he returned, as if nothing had happened. He banished all thoughts of home and thought of the path ahead… through the dunes of the ashsea, waste fields of dessicated industrial effluent and scrapyards that rose like craggy cliffs. His pilgrimage would bring him to the ancient city of Transcore, now infested with the scaws. Humanity could no longer thrive there, the radiation and toxicity created hideous deformations.
Overhead, the light of Profundis was gone and a few of the sisters were visible… he could make out the red star of Mageddon. The priests had said it was nothing but a burning ember, and they took many men with them to fight for the emperor of mankind. Maybe Calb would go there too, among the stars. It hurt his eye to gaze at it too long, just as they said men had turned mad from gazing at Profundis. He removed his pack and settled in for the night, his long-las perched between his arms and his rebreather and water reclaimers still attached to his body. A Chitterbug buzzed into his tent and sat on the butt of his las. Steeling himself, he made a quick motion of his hand as he caught the insect and popped it in his mouth. The feeling of little legs in his mouth, the crunch followed by the bitter, foul taste made him retch. But it passed. As he settled into sleep he heard a long, mournful cry and echoes in the distance, the sound playing back and forth between the rock faces.
to be continued…