"In the depths of the Equatorial Wastes, many strange folk dwell. Of some, little is known, and that's just as well. They'll cut your throat and make you a shell, to wear like a coat or a cloak, and tap your skull like a bell. There are some that see spirits, or so the old folk tell. One such folk is the Burghe'kiin, clad in thick green cloaks, so terribly thin. They prowl the furthest reaches of the Irradium Ocean, hunting orks, pirates- and sometimes kin. They bear rifles long and blades sharper than an aeldari's chin, which they use to pry loose armour, hide and skin. If they come at you, flee, or be certain you'll win, for the Burgh'ers revel in carnage and sin. They pounce from the dark like a swarm of djin, targeting holds to steal away what's within. The Orlock folk also call this tribe the Green Sox, nasty little bastards fit only for the blocks. Many a time has the Burghe'kiin raided their docks, burning their caches and breaking the locks. The head tribesman they say is more cunning than a fox, with a kick like a mule and the hide of a grox. Too many good hands have been sent to the doc's by the one they call "Gran" on stolen vox. Now it comes to be that on this fell day, the rumours be telling that ol' Gran comes our way. What they're after down here, well, no one can say. Perhaps the Green Sox might be willing to trade, if the talk is true they've had dealings with the House of Blades. You can't trust folk who seem less man than shade, 'course, come what may- but if it's blood they want, then blood they'll pay...." Last words spoken by Roldal "Chippin Dale" Tovin, ex-narcotics smuggler and professional snitch caught fleeing on the outer-fringes of Hive Obitus, shortly before the judiciar finally lost patience with the rambling old bastard and blew his brains out.

The queen bee herself. A notorious figure among gangers and tribesfolk alike, just as likely to shake you by the hand as rip the fingers out to make a new bracelet, depending on her whims. The legends say she communes directly with those storm spirits who share her fickle temperament, and together they have set a course for Hive Obitus in search of some...thing...that will lift the Green Sox to greater prominence among their kin. Partial to a good porno slate, for some reason. No one's dared ask.

Gran's right hand gal. A steady hand of few words- she usually only really speaks to Gran or Pug- and deceptively strong for an ash folk. Nothing else explains how she manages to haul herself into the panoramic spots she does with a damn caster slung across her back.

None of the tribe are what you'd call talkative, exactly...but Dunkeh seems the most fluent in other languages. She often translates for the others and fronts dealings with other folk, and rumour has it she taught Geoff the basics when he first signed up. Often the voice of reason and arbiter during debates (when Gran doesn't just speak over everyone else).

No one knows exactly what compelled Geoff, former junior archivist, to join the Green Sox. According to Geoff, his ol' mama told him he needed to get outside more and meet new people...so he did. Got himself a matching cloak and mask, learnt the lingo- sort of- and off he went, like a duck among geese. His mama's not seen him since, poor gal. Stranger than that, of course, is that the Green Sox seem to have just accepted him as-is. Perhaps they're just as confused as the rest of us.

The designated cook- tastes everything, whether the others like it or not, and in a pinch also serves as the tribe's doc and healer. Perhaps the most steady hand of the lot, besides maybe Fish, who rarely gets involved in menial tasks. She usually avoids outsiders.

Considers herself something of a crack shot, although the others would say she's just aggressive (outside of earshot, of course). Usually squabbling with Dog, or showing off to the juves, who she seems to have a soft spot for. Has a habit of looking at the sky before entering a dwelling.

The tribe's handyman, or woman, responsible for keeping the more exotic weapons maintained and fixing broken equipment. Which makes it a bit odd that she sticks to using the ol' blast rifle, but maybe she just likes the familiarity. Often squabbling with Cat before raids.

Shy but determined, fine traits to have in young blood, and eager to learn all she can from the likes of Cat, Dog and Mus. Seems to be a bit intimated by Fish, enamoured of Dunkeh, and confused by Geoff. She hides it well though.

A bit of a clutz and ill-suited to combat, all things considered, but charming enough that even Fish likes having her around. She often runs errands for Dog and aspires to be her apprentice, although Dog takes care not to leave her alone with the more volatile weaponry....