Entry One: 1st:Gr:101:M41, Blooming SeasonWell, diary, I suppose I should tell you a little about myself. I took to putting my thoughts down back when we started this Emperor-damned guided tour of Hive Primus' bowels, but I dropped my old journal into a pool of sludge when the scavvies hit our caravan. So, we have to go over this again.
I'm about 26 - getting on in years, but getting by alright. I've always counted on St. Liber and St. Honestus to bring me luck, and I hate bats. Never took a trade, but I'm a handy shot with a pistol and I know my way around the streets, which opened up a few doors back uphive. Of course, that all ended when I played a bad hand with an Enforcer captain in a Delaque gambling den. Suffice it to say that, between the Delaques and the boys in blue, I found it proper to high-tail it to somewhere a little more out-of-the-way. So I went to the first place that came to mind; my home neighbourhood in the Narrows. They'd know to look there eventually, so I couldn't stay long, of course, but, as luck would have it, some of the lads I ran with growing up had struck it rich.
Turns out someone's ganger cousin managed to scare up a fuel rod to repay an old favour. They had hatched a plan to move out west and start a small slag-mining operation (as befits scions of the House of Iron.) I was all for it; I was so enthusiastic about the idea, in fact, that I offered my services to coordinate our efforts, being the most worldly of our bunch. We found a guy who said he knew how to run a still and a skilled tech, in addition to a homesteader who said he could show us how to live off the land.
Now, I figure I should tell you a little bit about our group. I'll start with Desty.
Destinatum Bellumdespero. Now, I don't remember Desty being all that in our juve days; in fact, I'd have called him a little snot-nosed, spastic punk. Well, imagine my surprise, then, when I came back to find that he'd transformed himself into a solid wall of hulking muscle. Turns out he took a job together with Mezko, drilling slag for one of the local gang bosses. Now, I've always preferred drilling slags myself, if you catch my drift, but I guess Desty is a living testament of what eleven years on a slag mine can do for your physique. He still needs to work on his people skills, but he's a lot less belligerent and callous, these days. In fact, he's a goddamn wunderkind. At the very least, I'd be glad to have him on my side in a fight.
Now for Mezko. Contremesco Manusviolo. Same job as Desty, but I don't know how much work he actually does, looking at him. At least he makes enough to eat well. He always took his faith seriously. No wonder; when your old man takes the strap to you if you so much as breathe wrong in his presence, you'd probably try to find something to cling to, too. He took to that Imperial Cult stuff pretty good. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the old tree (which reminds me, did I tell you about that time I pinched that cargo can? Turned out to be full of real off-world apples, bound for the Spire. Had a hell of a time fencing that.) From what I've seen since I came back, it looks like he's inherited his old man's love of whiskey, too. Still, he would've made a fine priest if he grew up anywhere else, but at least he seems to enjoy his work. He's always talking about how he'd like to work with adamantium, and he's got a fair bit of talent for carving slag and rubble. Overall, not too much fun at a party, but definitely a bloke you can rely on.
The last of our old gang is Salvator Nupespudicum. Back in the day, he was our leader. I've never known anyone else with that much pluck and elan. I always thought he'd end up a hotshot gang leader, but he got that out of his head and took up the family trade: carving spinewood. I can respect someone who sticks to honest work out of principle, and I know for a fact that Salvator doesn't lack for balls - if he wanted to rise in the gang world, not much could stop him. Something else seemed different, too - don't get me wrong, he's still a stand-up guy, but he's been acting a lot differently lately, always looking over his shoulder, never putting his back to a door, never completely relaxing. Good habits to have, of course, but he wasn't like that before. Between that and his adamant refusal to join us at the water auctions, I think he crossed the Merchant Guild in a serious way; I should know, being a hunted man myself. I didn't inquire further. With any luck, we should all be able to start fresh up here. Still, I hope this doesn't lead to any problems with the Guilders in the future. If we piss them off, we may all end up in slave pens.
The last three I didn't know until recently, but I think they know better than to try and burn us, so they've got my lukewarm approval for the time being.
Up first is Cornu Scarcrater, who I've taken to calling Scarcrater in order to distinguish him from the still runner. He used to have a small homestead out in the Underhive, just him and a few slaves. Never married, like all of us. (Well, I came dangerously close, once, but that's a story for another time.) That ended when the Red Death came around and burned the place down. He's nursed a serious grudge against them, ever since. I'm no fan of the fanatic bastards, myself, but I can't help but think that they might have made the right call. The guy gives off some seriously odious vibes; he's nice enough, but I get a bad feeling in my stomach whenever I'm around him. Didn't have much choice but to bring him along, though, as he was the only skilled fungiculturist that was willing to join us. I'll have to keep a close eye on him.
The last two are Cruor and Cornu, Water Tech and Reclaimator respectively. Cruor is a bit of a stick in the mud, but he's level-headed, genuinely caring and most importantly, he takes pride in his work. If he's that dedicated to running a still, he's got my endorsement. (He claims to make the finest whiskey in Hive Primus. Should be good for morale, if we get a good source of mash.) Cornu's a really touchy-feely sort of guy, and he's apparently really good at making art from scavenged junk. Good enough to make a living from it. Don't really see the appeal myself, but to each his own. Both of them have a raging hate-on for the enforcers and, while I can sort of see their point, I'm not entirely sold. Primus' finest may be bastards for the large part, but they tend to be well connected, and they make great business partners if you can build a good relationship. I didn't ask exactly what their problem with our fine lawmen was, but I'm curious. What can a couple of techs even get in trouble with the law for?
Now that that's out of the way, let me tell you about our current circumstances. Our wagon broke down crossing an effluvium stream and Cornu can do nothing to fix it. Our ratskin guide was eaten by a spider a few weeks in, so we're almost totally lost. We're down to about five pieces of assorted mystery meats, a single handful of sludge prawns, a few seed bags, and a barrel of bitter moss that everyone has refused to touch up until now, in addition to a still mostly-full water drum. We've brought along a length of rope, a yard of cloth and a good supply of spinewood. Cornu brought along some basic tools and Desty and Mezko have their rockdrills. As for weapons, I have my trusty .45 Tranter, but I fired off my last few stubs when we ran into those scavvies.
We're the most well-off regarding livestock. Two grox bulls and one cow. All lobotomized, thank the Emperor. With any luck, the cow will get pregnant now once we settle down, but I'm not holding my breath. At this rate, we might have to slaughter one of the bulls if we run through our supply of bitter moss. Maybe all of them, but hopefully things won't reach that point. We've already lost the other cow to the scavvies. We've also got four dogs around; they've been a great help guarding the camp. Hopefully, we won't have to eat them until we can get more. Until we do, they'll continue to serve as sentries.
Our wagon broke an axle crossing the effluvium stream. I asked Cornu to take a look at it, but we can't get it out of the muck even with the strength of three grox. This is as good a place as any to settle, anyway. I don't think the scavvies range this far, and we're pretty close to two caravan routes. With any luck, we should be able to do some trading once we've got everything sorted out, hopefully soon. (Side note: I haven't even laid eyes on a woman since we passed through Eversilver. Keeping my fingers crossed for the next caravan.)
The first order of business is finding some shelter. The land around here is almost totally flat, which is good from a defensive point of view. If we do get hit by raiders, they won't have any high ground from which to fire on us. The only feature in the area is a crumbled ruin to the northwest. It'll make a good starting point for our settlement once we fix it up, and we can dig some burrows underneath for storage and living space. The only thing I'm worried about is a wild grox cow that's been wandering around that area. If it attacks the camp, it could be bad news, especially since I'm out of ammo. I've asked Desty and Mezko to go clear it out. I'm hoping Desty can handle any Grox attacks.
Entry 2: 28th:Gr:101:M41That ruin cleaned up nicely and the warrens are progressing on schedule. We've set up a little alcove to unload our supplies and a larger caravanserai. I've asked Salvator to hack together some proper beds for when they're done. (I still can't wrap my head around it. Me giving him orders!) Soon enough, we won't be laying our bedrolls on the hive floor. That damn grox is still wandering around dangerously close to the construction site. The dogs have kept it away from our wagon but I'm afraid it might get trapped in the ruin and attack Desty and Mezko out of fear. I wish I had some ammunition so I could put it out of its misery. Then again I don't think I want to stare down a wild grox with nothing but a pistol in one hand and my dick in the other. It might not end well. I think Cornu the tech has a problem with me. Is it because I said I don't care about his art? I hope it won't escalate. I had a dog posted to the ruin entrance and then personally dragged one of our grox bulls out there. Hopefully this will be the end of our grox problems.
Entry 3:I've lost track of time. I think it's been about a month since my last entry. We've been busy. Cornu the farmer set up a small bitter moss plot just outside the ruin. I might not like the guy, but with a little bit of luck we'll be able to avoid starving through his efforts. The warrens have been improved. Cruor got the water still running, and fresh water should start flowing any minute now. I've had Salvator making barrels to store what should soon be an ample supply. I'm really looking forward to it. On another high note, we finally have proper quarters. Not a lot of privacy until we got some doors, but it sure beats sleeping in the open hive. We had a dust storm come dangerously close a while back, so proper shelter is a big help.
Desty and Mezko dug out a storage room for our food. We've gone through half our bitter moss, so it's a bit troubling how empty it is at the moment. Keeping my fingers crossed for a big harvest (and the caravan!) The next task for our intrepid slag-borers is clearing out space for a few workshops. We've had problems with structural integrity during the dig so far - patches of unstable hive ash, so we've had to rework the plans a few times. Emperor willing, we'll be able to get work started soon. After that, priorities are setting up a proper mess hall and building a wall around our courtyard/reinforcing the ruins. Cornu hasn't started anything lately. Think he knows better than to stir trouble at such a crucial time. I can respect that.
Entry 4:Big day today. We're into the hot season now and we've got our first visitors. Not a caravan, as I was hoping. Older couple, around 50, both homesteaders. Said their stead was sacked by scavvies. We might have chosen a bad spot to settle. They came along with 4 (4!!) useless juves. Felt like turning away, but asked them if they had any useful skills. They both fished the sludge for survival in their 'stead, wife was a gem cutter in a settlement. Grudgingly acquiesced. At least all but the youngest juve are close to working age, and the parents might fish up some food that isn't bitter moss. I'm really tired of bitter moss.
Now for the good news: WATER. Our still is finally producing sweet, hydrating water. First time I drank so much I nearly puked. Desty's making us some doors. We might have to put that on hold to dig quarters for the newcomers. Apparently, this neck of the woods is called Shovelmurk. Appropriate. We've taken to calling the ruin complex The Raspy Manor.
Entry 5:Pack of giant rats is hanging around the wagon. We've still got a lot of stuff we haven't moved, but probably not going to be a problem. Really wishing I had some shells. I could kill for some meat. We've finally got doors now, and we've set up some quarters for the homesteaders. Juves are going to have to just deal with it. I've had Cornu and Salvator doing renovations on our living space since they don't have much other work to do. Priority has shifted to building exterior wall, due to all the critters. I've finally got a proper office to write in. Dining room will have to wait. Bitter moss still hasn't sprouted. Might be a good plan to start eating all the vermin we've been killing. New job for hubby?
Entry 6:We're nearing the end of the hot season. The male homesteader, who goes by Fortis, has proven to be an able hand at gutting rats. Thanks to his efforts, we've now got a small supply of rat meat to supplement our meagre diets. I have to say I've never felt this pleased about the taste of rat meat before. (Well, there was that banging ratburger stand on Hatchetman Row, before it got shot up by Stubber's boys, but this is even better.)
The bigger story is our other guests. A couple of ratskins wandered by our settlement a while ago. I thought to shoot them, but I remembered I was out of ammo. One of them spoke Gothic and introduced himself as Kyoga of Bahaina Duncha. Turns out they were traders heading for Eversilver, a nearby burg with a strong Guild presence. (Hope they don't come after Salvator, if they even still care.) Acting as any rational Imperial subject, I invited the heathens in and offered them some bitter moss. They politely refused, but they were willing to trade. Exchanged one of Desty's less spectacular tables and a few of our old empty supply crates for some more rat meat, some lead and a lot more bitter moss (oh joy.) They had a musket and a rather nice bayonet for trade, but I couldn't afford the latter and didn't want the former. Desty and Mezko dug up some crystallic ceramite earlier, but I want to stockpile it for the eventuality that we might one day be able to produce carapace armour. (Note to any future administrators: don't have it cut and polished and/or sold! It's useful!)
We've been getting along fine with the newcomers. Gladius, the female half of the pair, is actually a real riot to be around. She's been doing a fair deal to keep our spirits high and the mood light with all her jokes. We should have a talent show or something. The juves mostly stay out of the way, which is just the way I like it. I should stop them from playing outside. Wouldn't hear the end of it if one got eaten by a spider.
Even bigger news: more bitter moss! And it's safe to eat, too. Hooray. (Guess Scarcrater isn't as bad as I made him out to be) I'm still glad, though, that we won't be starving, although that might change if we get more newcomers barging in. Now that our food is secured, we might start thinking about planting some other crops, maybe even diversifying our diet a little. I know everyone would love some grave whiskey and we could use the cloth, so corpse fuzz might be a good choice.
Entry 7:
Haven't written in a while. We're in the dry season now, and there's a lot of new faces around. They told me a ratskin came through town and brought news of a welcoming new settlement with ample supplies of food and water. Thanks a lot, asshole. Three of them were juves, the least useless of which is a fat twelve-year-old girl. All of them the issue of a ganger woman (married, of course, but when's that ever stopped me?) by the name of Furor who seems pretty handy with a glaive. I've inducted her into my inner circle. Once we get some weapons and ammunition, I'm sure she'll be helpful in defending the settlement and maintaining order. One of the immigrants is a practiced furnace operator. If we find some fuel and flux, we might be able to get a good thing going with weapons. They brought along a small and pretty pitiful-looking slig, and a healthy grox hatchling. Our sole cow gave birth too, which brings our herd up to five grox and one slig. (Side note: one of the newcomers is called Decipio Strifelaw. Is that a badass name, or what? Too bad he's not actually a fethin' badass. Still, might have to put a gun in his hands later. With a name like that, he might do well.)
I've asked Mezko to get to work carving some trinkets from all the rubble we have lying around. Cornu the Tech was livid that I didn't pick him for the job. He's been talking shit about me to the newcomers lately, too. I told him that if he kept it up I'd staple his flesh-toned ventlurker to his pucker. For some reason, that only got him angrier. Ruined my day.
In other news, fething cherubs flew by and stole some of the things we were keeping in the wagon. I've ordered it scuttled and its contents moved inside. Who even makes those things? And for what purpose? I see them everywhere and I hear they've got some pretty complicated tech inside. They don't seem to do anything useful, they're just a pest. I'd like to meet the people who make them so I can punch them in the teeth. In other news, we've got so much food that we've had to expand the storeroom. Fortis is getting better and better at gutting rats. Before long, we might have him making actual food.
Lastly, a pack of spiders was spotted just south of the ruins. I don't like this at all.
Entry 8:
We're nearing the end of the cold season. Our fortifications are complete, the original settlers' quarters have been renovated and the mess hall has been expanded. We've yet to provide accommodations to most of our new members, but they're thankful enough that they're being fed and have a roof over their heads, even if they have to sleep on the floor. I am cautiously optimistic about our prospects for survival - we've got a steady supply of food and water, and a few crateloads' worth of low-value goods for the next caravan, courtesy of Mezko. (Little buttons carved with devotional imagery. I hear they're all the rage in the bigger settlements.) Two of the juves came of age this year and helped out with the wall and the renovations. I was proud to personally lead their celebratory ass-whooping. Welcome to the clan, kids! Of course, this comes with the downside of us having to give them proper quarters, now.
On another note, I finally put Cornu the Tech's skills to good use, rigging up a gate for our courtyard. The lever in the mess hall opens and closes it. It's not the sturdiest of defenses, but it'll do against scavvy raiders. He seemed happy. Maybe his perpetual idleness was the cause of our disagreements all this time. I've laid out plans for a textile factory on the second sublevel, but I do not plan to see it through. With the consent of my fellow settlers, I am going to hand off this tedious, stressful and thankless task to whoever is voted in. For now, I'm content to work security and commerce. It's been a good year, all in all. Nobody died and we built something really good in this decrepit wasteland. Our herd is a lot bigger, and we're all set up to start digging for ore, we just need someone to work the metal. Thanks to Cruor's dedication, we have more water than we can shake a stick at, and a fair amount of rat meat and bitter moss. If our production can keep up with our population growth, we might just make it. Good luck to the unfortunate bugger who gets to follow me. You'll need it.
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Topic: Succession Game: Shovelmurk (Underhive Settlement) (come play!) (Read 1766 times)