Kelk Hive, Joule IV, another universe

The Skavvie had human ancestors, a simple DNA check would reveal as much. Simply looking at him would not provide the same information though. His ancestors, known and unknown, had lived in an area where simply everything was thoroughly poisoned with all kinds of chemicals and exposed to high levels of radiation. He was the product of a rather unique evolutionary pressure and victim to an environment that would kill him in a very few years. His skin had a texture and a hue that was quite different from the human baseline. None of his limbs had the same length as their counterpart. His eyes might not be beautiful, but worked in light levels that were total darkness for most men. He had next to no hairs on his body and he ignored ulcers the size of saucers.

Given his lack of formal schooling he had no inkling about the factors that shaped his body, he had received an education where the price for passing was continued respiration. And the very essence of that schooling was that it did not pay working for his food. If one did that one was exposed to..things.., that made one weak and sick. And when one was weak and sick the strong could take from you what they wanted, thus becoming stronger. It was that simple.

The prey had been thin on the ground these days, and what could be gathered was often not worth the effort obtaining it. But now he had been lucky, and found something worthy. The woman on the other side of the rickety barrier was stooped over, drawing a wheezy breath. Still, she did something the Scavvie did not really understand. She scooped up water from a pail and put it into an assortment of pipes and containers. The water looked totally normal when she put it in, green with slight yellow accents. The thin stream that came out at other end was nearly colorless. Why did she bother? And why did she not drink herself but gave the water to her urchins? She had to remain strong if she wanted to bring some of the kids to the point where they could be useful.

No matter, he was not going to ask her about it, he was going to kill her. His hand rode above his shoulder twirling once and then pushed forward. This would bring the lads from their hiding places and start the party.

Or it should have, but he heard nothing. Shifting a bit so that his hand could be seen better he made the same sign again and did so a third time. He started to slither backwards for two meters before his foot hit something that had not been there before. It seemed rather solid and sounded somehow metallic. That alone made it more valuable than the old hag and her urchins, but it should not be here. He was about to turn when something gripped his neck like a vise and lifted him from the ground. He got a look into a face half hidden behind a beard and a mouth with long fangs before the pressure on his neck reached unbearable levels. The last sound he ever heard was a crack that went right into his head, then there was only darkness.

Altdorf

The mad race had taken Ulrich Stoiber down Leopoldsallee, then into the Kellerweingasse. He had nearly lost the vampires there, but heard them in one of the many alleys that branched from it. The alleys were narrow, uneven and covered with dirt of all descriptions. What lighting there was, was intermittent and the shadows were often hiding more things than the light revealed. Running on instinct, sound and adrenaline the tanker was able to keep his partner in sight. They had cornered Martin in a dead end once only to see him climb a facade and run along the roof lines. Ulrika followed him above, Ulrich raced along the alleys, colliding with bins and carts at times, but having far better footing than the fleeing vampire.

Altdorf, corner

The next match had not revealed her grandmother, indeed it had not evoked any sight. Instead she had felt immense heat around her, found it hard to breathe and heard pitiful screams. Some of them might even be hers.

Kelk Hive, Joule IV, another universe

He had tried to appear as harmless as possible, something that was pretty hard to do. Leman Rus was nearly twice the size of a normal human, bedecked in fearsome armor and the pelt of a legendary wolf. His weapons were too big and heavy for a normal human to use, his face graced by long fangs. He was a being born and bred for violence and war and there was no hiding that.

The woman before him would have bolted if he would not have blocked the only way out of her hiding hole. She looked frightened enough to die on the spot and brandished a knife hardly as long as his thumb. Her kids hid behind her and she was a study in determination and desperation at the same time.

She spoke something that was probably a Low Gothic dialect, but it was so far removed from the standard to Leman Rus she could have spoken Sperenthiel, it would not have made a difference. The two were at an impasse and the Patriarch was unwilling to simply retreat, it was not his nature.
In the end he simply sat down on the floor and placed his Frostblade across his knees.

Altdorf

Ulrich Stoiber's pistol was equipped with tritium sights, easily allowing him to align the three dots on target. However it was a highly mobile target and far too close to Ulrika. His partner had closed the distance to her prey with a long, daring jump and had confronted him with her sword. Martin had pulled a blade from under his coat and now the two were exchanging thrusts and parries at blinding speed on the most treacherous of grounds. He could end that fight if he ever got a clean shot, but so far that had not happened.

Ulrika had to dodge a wild swing that she normally would have parried. Here it would bring her down from the roof, so she went into a deep crouch which allowed Ulrich two fast shots. One of them connected and Martin von Carstein dropped from the roof without a word. It was only when he saw Ulrika jump down from her perch and heard her resuming pursuit he remembered that some targets on this world needed more than a 10 mm round center mass to stop them.

Altdorf, corner

She did not know what made her light the match, the last one had revealed a view into hell. Something made her strike the next one though, light it and see. At first her vision was not one of seeing, but one of loud noises, of screams and a rush somewhere. There was an impact and something gave with a crash.
And then there was sight again, a sight of dirty snow, of smoke, fire and a pristine heavens full of stars. And there, on the ground amidst the ruins of the door lay her grandmother, terribly still.

The girl heard a sobbing and a crying, but she also heard heavy footsteps coming ever closer.

Altdorf

Ulrich had found a way that connected to the alley that Ulrika and Martin sped down. He had actually overtaken his partner by a few meters and had his target in clear sight. Stopping for a moment he aimed for the fleeing vampire before firing off half of his magazine.
He stopped when Ulrika pulled ahead of him. Something crossed his face that exposed more than a few teeth, a smile it was not. His prey started to limp after the last shot. The wolf in him rejoiced about a good hunt, the man wanted to get it over with. Both vampire and man saw Martin turn into another alley that was suddenly illuminated by a warm, flickering light.

Altdorf, corner

By now all thoughts about saving matches were gone, as was the cold that had held her in its clutches for so long. Instead it was dread and the need to see what the visions held that made the girl take all of the matches and rip them along the wall. The bundle ignited as one and gave off real heat for a brief moment. The small hand could no longer hold it and the matches dropped into the snow below them, sputtering away the last seconds of their existence.

The girl did not see them, she saw the gaunt figure clad in black armor that closed with her. She did not see the huge sword, the retainers who looked for plunder. She only saw the eyes that were like tunnels leading into the depths of madness.

Altdorf

Both Ulrika and Ulrich were too experienced to round the corner in a rush. It was too easy to be ambushed that way and their prey had no way to escape, wounded as he was.
Stepping around the corner they found Martin von Carstein standing in the middle of the alley, facing them. He was not alone, his left hand held a girl before his body, shielding himself with his hostage.

"Stop right where you are you two. Not a step further or this brat dies."
"Lay her down Martin, right now. She has no truck in this, just leave her be and we will not harm you if you lay down your weapon."
"Look at what signing that pact has made you, whimpering fool. You care for the prey so much that you can no longer call yourself vampire. You lay down your…"

"You talk too much...father."

The girl's hand had formed a slim point, sharp, dirty nails forward. Her thin arm rammed that hand right through the throat of Martin von Carstein and the small hand emerged on the other side, holding a vertebrae.

100 km from Couronne

Pierre Troisieme's feet were at the point where they would no longer feel cold, they were about to get numb. The rest of him was still reasonably warm, but the boots had soaked through in the ankle-deep snow. His hands were not much better, this gloves had been top-not sports models once, but suffered several owners and a war. He was not sure if the shotgun in his arms had grown heavier or he had gone softer while learning to be an agricultural machine mechanic, but suspected the latter.
Getting paid while receiving training was very nice, especially as Colette was pretty sure a kid of theirs was on the way. As all nice things it came with a string attached: Pierre had to sign up for the Garde Nationale, the reserves. He was proud to do so, ready to defend the republic.

That had meant that he met his comrades one weekend out of four and trained for a full month once a year. For that he was paid extra and he valued that security. Unfortunately it meant that he was called up when the Beastmen came.
The Reiksbund had promised that they would keep the peace long the Republic/Kingdom of Bretonnia border and that they did. They had not regularly hunted the Beastmen as the nobles had and the nobles would no longer do so as they were too thin on the ground. The harsh winter had driven the Beastmen from the forests and several villages had fallen prey.

Now reinforcements were needed and the Breton Republic had called its Garde Nationale. So Pierre missed out on a second Christmas with Colette and the kids, it was a shame. On top of that he found that his memories of the good times with his comrades during the civil war had already become a bit hazy. His current unit was alright, but he had indeed begun to forget about cold, hunger and boredom. His current stint with the peace keepers reminded him well enough.

And now the Reiksbund allies had promised them a special resupply which was nice, but meant that the approaches to the Breton camp had to be watched. Which in turn meant that he froze and bored his ass off in the darkness.
Which all of a sudden was no longer that dark. Instead there were moving lights in the trees and the rumble of diesel engines could be heard.

Pierre made sure he still observed the rest of his zone, but could no help to glance at the approaching column. At first he noticed nothing, then the soldiers which provided security seemed a bit strange, or rather strange.

And in the end he could not help himself and stepped forward.

"Halt. Advance and be recognized."
"Ho Ho Ho."

Home, Kelk Hive, Joule IV, another universe

Leman Rus, like all Space Marines, could go into a half-sleep that allowed him to recharge his batteries and keep up some watchfulness at the same time. Given that this switched off centers of his brain entirely it led to strange thoughts and emotions.
Sitting still for a few minutes had relaxed the stand-off to a bearable point for the family before him it seemed. Having done nothing but take the knife of the youngster who had been remarkably quiet in his approach had helped as had sharing his rations.
He had accepted their water in return and was happy that his heavily augmented digestive tract would be able to handle it. If this was the water after filtration, he did not want to know what it was like before. He would not be too surprised if these humans would rouse the Inquisition's hackles if they examined their DNA. Anybody who survived down here for more than a few days had to be far off the baseline human.

The tugs on his beard no longer caused him to be alarmed. In his current state he could no longer say when the little ones had started climbing him. What he knew was that two of them were now nestled in the pelt of a wolf he had taken down when the Emperor was still ambulatory and used it as their resting place.
Not being slowed by the more disciplined centers of his brain his thoughts started to wander. There was enormous pressure on the people down here. He was not sure if they had an inkling about the battle that raged over their heads. In most cases it probably did not matter to them who won or lost, the winners would still drop their wastes on them and expect raw materials in turn. Now that Chaos had raised its ugly head in the Kelk hive that might change considerably, the four gods were not for leaving well enough alone.

Even so, surviving down here must take more than a few lucky rolls in the genetic lottery. People around here needed to cooperate, to work together so their combined efforts would exceed what they could do on their own. That would explain this group around him well enough. Or would it really? That woman had stood up to him when running would be a survival trait. That kid probably knew that attacking him would be useless and still had done so.
Family, that had to be it, these were a family and there was a bond there exceeding mere survival. Had Leman been fully awake there would never have been a question about it, in this state he needed to work it out. Especially as he missed out on any experiences with this "family thing". He had been made, not born.

He looked around, saw the people snuggled close to each other, the remains of the shared meal and the home they had worked from the waste around them. His reduced mind wondered what living in a family must be like. People who did not choose to live with each other, but did because of where and when they were born to. People loyal to each other not only because of outside pressure. People loving each other, not because of their deeds, but because they were family. Strange, so very strange.
None of these would see his future fighting for the Emperor, none would win glory by killing his enemies or slaying the Kraken. They could not protect themselves against the most basic of predators, they would not build great works or deliver great insights from their minds. They were filthy as they had no chance to be otherwise and, in many ways, were ignorant to the bone.

Without them the hive, one of the main population centers on Joule IV, would drown in its own wastes rather quickly.
Leman was as proud protecting these as doing so for any other of the emperor's citizens.