DATALOG 847 / Demi-Mutants

• Personal Notes from Sister Elena, former Geneticist Order researcher, written in exile,
  Day 12 of The Blooming Death, 125 AP

Preface

What I document here cost me everything - my standing in the Geneticist Order, my access to their libraries, and nearly my life when the Scarlet Watch came for me in the night. But the truth demands recording, even when it contradicts the sacred doctrine of parthenogenesis. The Demi-Mutants exist, they thrive, and they represent a path forward that my former sisters refuse to acknowledge. I have spent three years living among a scavenger tribe called the "Beast Clan" in the deep mud lands, documenting their communities, their struggles, and their remarkable adaptations. What follows challenges everything the pure-blood factions believe about humanity's future.

The Infiltration

My journey into the heart of clan society began with deception born of necessity. To study the Beast Clan's reproduction rituals, I abandoned my Geneticist robes and fabricated a new identity as Elena, a disillusioned former member of the Praga City Guard. The lie came easy - I had observed enough clone warriors during my research to mimic their mannerisms, their casual brutality, and their particular brand of gallows humor.

The Beast Clan accepted defectors regularly enough that my arrival raised few suspicions. I spun a tale of disillusionment with Athena AI's strict rule, of yearning for something more primal and honest than the Blue Palace's calculated order - a story the members of the clan had heard many times before and thought nothing of.

I was assigned to share a tent with two clone warriors who had already proven themselves valuable to the clan: Zara and Nisha. Both bore the ritual scars marking them as proven raiders, their bodies strong and hard from years of survival in the mud lands. More significantly, they were lovers - a bond that had preceded their defection to the Beast clan and only deepened during their life in the mud wastes.

Both stood tall and lean, clearly grown from the same or at least similar templates. Their laughter came easily despite the harshness of their existence, and they possessed an infectious optimism that seemed almost miraculous in their brutal world. Their dark eyes were intense, holding depths of intelligence that spoke of lived experiences. Together, they formed a partnership that transcended mere survival - they were connected by a fierce love for each other that rarely persisted in this world.

During the long nights in our shared tent, listening to their whispered conversations and stolen moments of tenderness, I began to understand that my interest in research was about to collide with very human emotions. These were not mere research subjects but individuals I had come to respect and adore, and whose choices would reshape not just their own lives, but also my own.

The Decision

The conversation that would change everything occurred when I had been with the clan for about a year, during the Season of the Red Mist, when toxic storms confined the clan to their shelters for days at a time. Zara and Nisha lay entwined on their sleeping furs, speaking in hushed tones while I pretended to sleep nearby, my notebook hidden beneath my pillow.

"We've talked about this for months," Nisha whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on Zara's scarred shoulder. "The clan needs Life-Bearers, and we're both strong enough to survive the Offering."

Zara's response carried a tremor I had never heard from her before. "Together, you mean? Both of us?"

Nisha nodded. "We go into the mud together, we face whatever comes together. If one of us falls, the other continues. If we both survive... when we both survive, we raise our children as one family, bonded by choice."

I felt my heart race as I realized I was witnessing the planning of an Offering - the very reason why I had joined the clan in the first place, something I had read about in fragmentary reports but that no-one writing about it had actually ever observed first-hand. The clan’s mortality rate was already high from the battles and raids across the mud lands, and an Offering carried an even greater risk - but also promised unprecedented status within the clan's hierarchy.

"When?" Zara asked simply.

"Next full moon," Nisha answered. "The shamans can begin the purification rites tomorrow."

What followed shattered the last vestiges of my detachment as a researcher. In the aftermath of their momentous decision, Zara and Nisha came together with a passion born of anticipation and fear. They had never been shy about making love to each other in my presence, but this night was different. Their bodies moved with the desperate urgency of lovers who knew they might not survive to touch each other again.

I lay still, my breathing carefully controlled as I tried to disappear into the background, not wanting to intrude on their shared moment.

The Offering

The Offering began at dawn after Zara and Nisha spoke to one of the Beast Clan’s shamans. They underwent ritual cleansing that lasted three days, and painted each other's bodies with paint mixed from white clay and sacred ash, symbolically marking themselves as living sacrifices to nature, displaying their submission to the mud itself.

On the morning of their departure, the entire clan gathered to witness their blessing. Zara and Nisha were stripped naked save for the Beast Clan’s distinguishing breathing masks with their attached antlers -  facades that all Beast Clan members wear outside of their encampment to disguise their shameful human features when venturing into the mud lands. The clan's philosophy runs deeper than mere survival; they aspire to transcend their human limitations and become one with the Desolation. By donning masks and antlers that mimic the creatures of the wasteland, they symbolically shed their inferior human forms in favour of something more adapted to this transformed world.

Korvak, the eldest of the clan’s shamans, finally spoke the sacred words while drums thundered through the mist:

"You go now to make your offering to the mud. To offer your flesh to the mud. Two hearts that beat as one, two bodies that serve one purpose. If the mud deems you worthy, you return as Life-Bearers, mothers to our future. If you are unworthy, the mud will claim you and your flesh will feed the soil."

I followed at a distance as they walked naked into the wasteland, my academic training warring with genuine fear for their safety. Wishing them luck and hefting my trusted binoculars, I positioned myself on a hilltop that offered a clear view of the area they sought, the hill being nestled in the bend of a small river and allowing for a good view both up and down stream. What I witnessed from there, would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

The two women moved through the toxic landscape with the fluid coordination of a single organism. When they reached the small river, a known spot that mutants in the area frequented for water, they split up. From my elevated position I could see Nisha moving up river to my left, and Zara moving down river to my right. I was able to track both through my binoculars, though not at the same time.

Zara encountered a mutant first, an impressive specimen whose muscles rippled beneath skin which was thick and dark like cracked leather. His eyes, clouded with a primal intelligence, gleamed with predatory hunger. Zara knelt by the water’s edge, spread her arms and slightly tilted her head to expose her neck, her body language communicating submission without fear. Her movements, though seemingly yielding, held an undercurrent of fierce determination.

Through my binoculars, I watched as the mutant circled Zara, smelling her, his movements slow and deliberate. Recognising a compatible female, the mutant was assessing whether to mate, or to kill. Then, with a guttural groan, he lowered himself to her level. Zara didn't flinch. The mating was neither gentle, nor violent. The mutant’s touch was rough, possessing a raw power that sent shivers down my spine, even from a distance. Afterwards, the mutant quickly withdrew and disappeared among the reeds, leaving Zara breathing heavily on the water’s edge.

Meanwhile, Nisha’s encounter unfolded further upstream. The mutant she encountered was larger, more bestial, his intelligence reduced to pure instinct. He saw no ritual, no offering, only competition for water. Without warning, his massive hands clamped around her throat, crushing the life from her with horrifying efficiency. Nisha’s painted body convulsed as she tried to break free, her struggles growing weaker with every passing moment. With a grunt, the beast dragged her out of sight, through the reeds and down the river bank.

Frantically waving from the top of the hill I was on, I was finally able to gain Zara’s attention. I pointed towards where I had last seen Nisha and watched as Zara ran over to look for her. 

The strangled cry of horror that tore from her throat when she found Nisha moments later confirmed my worst fears. The sound echoed across the desolate landscape, a piercing wail that even the mutants paused to acknowledge. I found myself falling to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably

The Return

When Zara returned to camp the next morning, her painted patterns now smeared with mud and Nisha’s blood, the clan erupted in bittersweet celebration. The drums that honored her successful offering were muted by mourning songs for Nisha's sacrifice. Zara herself moved like a ghost, her earlier optimism replaced by a hollow-eyed grief that no amount of ritual status could ease.

It was then that I made a decision that transformed my role from observer to participant. As the clan prepared to escort Zara to the Life-Bearer's tent, I stepped forward and spoke the formal words of service:

"Life-Bearer, I offer myself as your servant. Let me tend to your needs, guard your rest, and witness the new life you carry."

Zara's eyes focused on me for the first time since her return, recognizing perhaps that I alone understood the depth of her loss. Her acceptance was barely a whisper: "I would be honoured by your service."

The months that followed called into question all of my experiences with expecting mothers from the sisterhood. Zara's pregnancy progressed with complications that required constant monitoring - her fast growing hybrid offspring demanded nutritional requirements that pushed her body to its limits. I learned to prepare specialized broths and other food from various rare plants, risking my life more than once when my foraging took me too far away from the clan’s encampment.

During the long nights when pain kept her awake, Zara would speak of Nisha with a love that seemed to intensify rather than fade. She would place my hand on her swollen belly and whisper: "Nisha died so this child could live. I have to make sure it understands that sacrifice."

The New Generation

When Zara's labor began during the Month of Hunger, I found myself serving as both midwife and researcher, documenting the birth of the most genetically significant children I had ever witnessed. The delivery lasted eighteen hours and nearly killed both mother and offspring, their hybrid nature creating complications that would have been impossible in any pure-genetic pregnancy.

Zara bore twins. The first child emerged with skin that shifted between human flesh tones and the mottled patterns of his mutant father. His bones were visibly denser than human normal, his musculature already showing signs of the enhanced development that would define his adult form. Most remarkably, his eyes held an intelligence that seemed far beyond newborn capability - as if consciousness itself had been accelerated by his hybrid nature.

His twin sister followed minutes later, her appearance more subtly altered. Where her brother showed strong visible mutations, she bore less obvious markers of her dual heritage: elongated limbs that would grant superior reach and leverage, light grey skin but without much of the texture found on her brother.

Both children possessed something that transcended their physical adaptations - a genetic stability that seemed to resolve the conflicts between their parent species rather than perpetuate them. These twins showed harmonious integration of their dual nature, combining the best of both.

Zara named them Nisha and Korvak, honouring her lost love and one of the male shamans of the clan who had stood by her side throughout the pregnancy. As she cradled the infants against her chest, I saw her grief begin its transformation into fierce maternal purpose. These children would carry forward not just hybrid genetics, but the story of love and sacrifice that had created them.

Growing Revelations

For almost two more years, I remained with the Beast Clan, serving as Zara's aide while documenting the twins' remarkable development. Unlike pure-blood human children, who require years to develop basic motor control, Nisha and Korvak showed accelerated physical and cognitive growth that defied conventional understanding.

By their first birthday, they had developed hunting instincts that allowed them to track prey through scent trails invisible to human senses. Most remarkably, they showed no fear of the mutant creatures that filled humans with terror - recognising them as distant kin rather than existential threats.

The clan treated the twins as living symbols of their philosophy made manifest. They grew up not having to wear the ritual masks that disguised their mothers' shameful human features, for in the eyes of the clan they were evolution itself given form. They represented the future the Beast Clan had chosen - not a return to pre-Collapse humanity, but a transformation into something that could thrive in the world the Reaper Agent had created.

Yet even as I marveled at their development, I recognized that my time among the clan was drawing to a close. The truth I had documented demanded recording and dissemination, even if it cost me everything I had once held dear. The Geneticist Order needed to confront the reality that their doctrine of genetic purity led to a dead end, while the world's pure-blood factions had to understand that evolution had already chosen its path forward.

The deep love I had developed for Zara and the children made this choice almost unbearable. On the night before my departure, Zara presented me with a scale of each twin's skin - biological samples that would provide genetic proof of their hybrid nature. "Tell the world about them," she said, her voice carrying the strength that had sustained her through loss and transformation. "Tell them that we created something beautiful out here in the mud."

The Implications

The results of my infiltration defy easy categorization. Unlike their "Reborn" cousins - men transformed by the Reaper Agent who retained their intelligence - Demi-Mutants are born into their hybrid nature, their cellular structure incorporating the mutagen from conception. Their appearances vary wildly, even among siblings. Some bear only subtle marks of their heritage: eyes that glow faintly in darkness, skin with the texture of bark, or bones dense enough to deflect small-caliber rounds. Others display more dramatic adaptations - elongated limbs that grant surprising reach and leverage, natural ridged armor plating under their skin, or exaggerated muscular development.

Most remarkably - and importantly - the Reaper Agent lives within them, without affecting them. Where the mutagen continues to claim natural-born males throughout their lives, Demi-Mutants carry it from birth, creating hybrid physiologies that combine human intelligence with mutant resilience. A Demi-Mutant child can think through complex problems with clone-inherited clarity while possessing the strength to tear an enemy limb from limb with their bare hands.

The Demi-Mutant's greatest advantage may be psychological rather than physical. Where clones struggle with questions of identity and purpose, and mutants are often mindless beasts, Demi-Mutants accept their hybrid nature as fundamental truth. They waste no energy mourning what they aren't and focus entirely on maximizing what they are.

The response from outsiders ranges from suspicion to outright hostility. The Geneticist Order views Demi-Mutants as heretical abominations, strengthening their belief that scavenger clans are a blight to be eradicated from the world, while the Prime AI's programmed response to encountering mutants is triggered by Demi-mutants just like it would by any other mutants, and it will send forces to eradicate them wherever it detects them.

The Future Unfolds

As I complete this documentation, the implications become clear. Demi-Mutants represent more than genetic curiosity or an evolutionary dead-end - on the contrary, they embody adaptation in its purest form. They take the scattered pieces of humanity's shattered legacy and forge them into something new, something that might actually thrive in the world the Reaper Agent created.

Their reproduction patterns suggest exponential growth potential. Unlike clones, who require industrial infrastructure, or pure-blood humans, who struggle with the genetic bottlenecks of a decimated population, Demi-Mutants breed true across their entire population. More significantly, their hybrid vigor appears to strengthen with each generation rather than diminish, creating a population trajectory that could see them become the dominant human subspecies within a few short centuries.

The great powers of the desolated world continue their ideological battles over humanity's proper future - whether through genetic purity, technological augmentation, or artificial reproduction. Meanwhile, in the forgotten margins of their grand designs, the Demi-Mutants quietly demonstrate that evolution cares nothing for ideology, only for what works.

I have witnessed Demi-mutant children play in irradiated soil, watched their hunters track prey through toxic storms that would kill unaugmented humans. They are not humanity's outcasts, but its vindication - proof that even catastrophic change can become an opportunity for those brave enough to embrace transformation.

The question is not whether Demi-Mutants will survive the Desolation, but how their ascendance will transform it. In a world obsessed with returning to some imagined purity of the past, they represent the promise of a future that has never existed - one where humanity's greatest strength comes not from what it preserves unchanged, but from what it becomes when forced to evolve.

Addendum

Sister Elena was excommunicated from the Geneticist Order for her report. Warned by a loyal friend that she was to be assassinated before her scheduled departure, she slipped away from her monastery fortress in the middle of the night. Not wanting to expose Zara and her children any further, she chose not to return to the Beast Clan, but instead sought temporary refuge with the Cartographers Guild in Handelstaat, sharing her report with senior Cartographer Marek and myself. This Datalog will ensure that her message will reach the world, however long it may take.

• INX-394 "Inks", Cartographers Guild, Handelstaat,
  Day 7 of The Burning, 125 AP