The WhooWaaYaa Reservation Origins in the Wastes: The WhooWaaYaa Reservation began as a fractured tribe of Ash Waste Nomads who were driven from their ancestral hunting grounds by the expansion of House Aranthus’ war caravans. Unlike other nomads who scattered deeper into the wastes, the WhooWaaYaa chose to band together, calling themselves a “Reservation” — a bitter, mocking title for the scraps of territory they were forced to cling to. Their name is a war-chant, a guttural howl carried on the ash storms, meant to terrify prey and remind enemies that the wastes never forget. Belief and Identity: • They believe the hives are parasitic beasts that feed on the planet’s bones. • Hive Euryale, with its serpent-like tunnels, is seen as the greatest of these parasites — a “serpent-god” that must be bled from within. • The Reservation’s warriors wear masks painted with ash and bone, each marked with jagged serpent sigils. Their war-cries echo through tunnels before they strike, a psychological weapon as much as a battle cry. Why They Entered the Underhive: • Prophecy of the Fallen Spire: The collapse of Hive Primus was interpreted as a sign that the hive-gods are mortal. The Reservation believes they are chosen to deliver the killing bite to the last serpent. • Exile and Vengeance: Driven from the wastes by Aranthus’ expansion, they now strike at the underhive both for survival and revenge, turning the hive’s own arteries into their hunting grounds. • The Reservation’s Creed: They see themselves as the dispossessed, denied land and freedom. Every raid into Hive Euryale is both a theft of resources and a reclamation of dignity. Gang Character: • Ash-Born Raiders: They fight with scavenged weapons, ash-sleds, and jury-rigged gear, but their ferocity makes up for their lack of refinement. • Nomadic Guerillas: They never hold territory for long. Instead, they strike, loot, and vanish, leaving only their war-chant echoing in the dark. • Cultural Defiance: The Reservation’s leaders teach that to live in the hive is to be enslaved — but to raid it is to prove freedom. Role in the Campaign: The WhooWaaYaa Reservation are not conquerors. They are the storm at the hive’s edge, the reminder that Necromunda’s surface is not empty but alive with predators. Their presence forces other gangs to reckon with an enemy that doesn’t play by underhive rules. They don’t want to rule Hive Euryale — they want to bleed it, humiliate it, and prove that no fortress can wall out the wastes forever. The Ka'Hau spirits of the Reservation Storm Spirits • Chem‑Moon Omens • Dancers of Motion and Questionable Decisions The WhooWaaYaa Reservation follows the Ka’hau, six storm‑spirits that shape the ash wastes, the Chem Moon, and the movement of all living things. They are not gods. They are forces. They are also, according to tribal elders, “the reason everything goes wrong in the funniest possible way.” Every raid, mask, dance, and war‑chant comes from the Ka’hau. Every disaster, pratfall, and miraculous survival is blamed on them too. • Styr’hau — The Storm Spirit Storm, disappearance, sudden violence Styr’hau rides the ash storms. Warriors who honour it vanish into dust clouds and reappear somewhere inconvenient for everyone else. The tribe says: • “If you can see a Styr’hau dancer, you’re already too late.” • “If you can’t see them, you’re definitely too late.” • Osci’hau — The Motion Spirit Blur, speed, unpredictable paths Osci’hau governs movement without pattern. Followers sprint in zig‑zags, spirals, and occasionally straight into walls. The tribe says: • “Osci’hau guides the feet.” • “Sometimes into glory. Sometimes into a sump pit.” • Khem’hau — The Chem Spirit Chem, alteration, risk Khem’hau lives in the drifting chemical vapours that roll across the wastes. Warriors inhale its influence willingly, enthusiastically, and often without checking what colour the fumes are supposed to be. Its gifts include: • altered perception • sharpened instincts • reckless brilliance • and the occasional hallucination of a talking dune giving tactical advice The tribe says: • “Khem’hau sharpens the senses.” • “And sometimes removes them entirely.” • Eclip’hau — The Ash‑Shadow Spirit Eclipse‑like darkness, ambush, perfect timing Eclip’hau moves within the deep shadows cast by thick ash fronts. When the storm darkens the world, its followers strike from vents, dunes, crawlspaces, and places no human should reasonably fit. The tribe says: • “Eclip’hau teaches patience.” • “And how to stand behind someone for three hours without coughing.” • Ryth’hau — The Blade‑Wind Spirit Cutting wind, precision, fatal dance Ryth’hau is the slicing gust that strips flesh from bone. Its warriors move like wind‑blades — elegant, deadly, and occasionally tripping over their own feet mid‑spin. The tribe says: • “Every step is a strike.” • “Unless you step on a rock.” • Chans’hau — The Chance Spirit Luck, chaos, coin‑flip fate Chans’hau governs the absurd. Miraculous survival, catastrophic failure, lucky shots, unlucky stumbles — all are its laughter echoing across the wastes. The tribe says: • “Chans’hau decides who lives.” • “And it has a terrible sense of humour.” This is the spirit most blamed for: • falls • explosions • unexpected victories • unexpected defeats • and anything involving ladders Gang Tactics Name Restriction Source Ambush Masters Ash Waste Nomads Ash Waste Nomads Pack Bait and Switch Ash Waste Nomads Ash Waste Nomads Pack Emergency Defences Anyone Hive Secundus Pack Ghost of the Deeps Ash Waste Nomads Tribes of the Wastelands Pack Harrier Hunting Ash Waste Nomads Tribes of the Wastelands Pack Now You See Me Ash Waste Nomads Ash Waste Nomads Pack Numbers Without End Ash Waste Nomads Ash Waste Nomads Pack Pre-emptive Strike Anyone Hive Secundus Pack Reaction Fire Anyone Escher Pack Seize the Initiative Anyone Van Saar Pack Quick Time Anyone Cawdor Pack Vanishing Act Ash Waste Nomads Tribes of the Wastelands Pack

Falls Off Ledges, Kha’tragi Chieftain of the WhooWaaYaa Reservation Name & Reputation • Known as Falls Off Ledges for his uncanny survival of countless falls, tumbles, and near-deaths. • Among the Reservation, his name is sacred — proof that the Serpent-God of Hive Euryale itself tries to cast him out, but cannot kill him. • To outsiders, he is a figure of both comedy and terror: a mad warlord who survives the impossible and laughs at fate. • His legend was built on the Reservation’s most sacred relic — a battered Displacer Field — which sputtered and hurled him into walls and pits, but always saved him from the killing blow. Appearance • Wears a cracked bone mask painted with serpent fangs, its edges scorched from repeated displacements. • His armor is a patchwork of ash-worn plates, scavenged from caravans and hive-raids, each dent worn proudly as proof of survival. • Carries a scavenged chain lance wrapped in serpent-hide, said to “sting like the hive’s own fangs.” • His body is a map of scars: broken bones that healed crooked, burns from the Field’s malfunctions, and the limp of a man who has fallen too many times but refuses to stay down. History & Grimdark Flavour • Falls Off Ledges earned his name in the most literal way: as a youth, he survived countless plunges into the hive’s broken shafts and ash‑choked gullies. Each time, he crawled back broken, bleeding, but alive. The tribes began to whisper that the Serpent‑God itself caught him in its coils. • Once the heart of his legend, the Displacer Field finally betrayed him during a raid in Hive Euryale. ⁠◦ In the midst of battle with Helmawr loyalists, it overloaded — detonating in a storm of static and hurling him across a chasm. ⁠◦ He survived, but the relic was left a twisted ruin, its core cracked and bleeding sparks. ⁠◦ To the Reservation, this was a sign: some whisper he has lost divine favor, others believe the prophecy is incomplete — that he must reclaim his destiny by finding a new fang of the gods. • When he rose from the wreckage, half‑blind and scorched, he still clutched his chain lance. Its teeth screamed as he drove it through his enemies, and the tribes declared that even when the machine gods abandoned him, the Serpent‑God did not. • Since that day, Falls Off Ledges has become obsessed with scavenging archeotech. He raids not for plunder, but for fragments of lost power, convinced his destiny lies in reclaiming the weapon or relic that will restore his legend. • His followers see him as both prophet and madman. To them, every scar is proof of divine favor, every fall a sermon. To his enemies, he is a nightmare that refuses to die — hurled again and again into the abyss, only to climb back out with murder in his eyes and his chain lance roaring. Personality & Leadership • Charismatic Madman: Laughs at his own near-deaths, turning every fall into a parable of resilience. • Fatalistic Prophet: Believes he cannot die until the Serpent-God of Hive Euryale is slain. • Obsessive Raider: Now driven by desperation, he raids not just for plunder but for relics and archeotech that might replace his broken Field. • Tactician of Chaos: Uses unpredictability as a weapon — enemies never know if he will vanish, crash through a wall, or stagger back from certain death. Role in the Campaign • Falls Off Ledges is a wild card: sometimes a rival, sometimes a desperate ally, always unpredictable. • His obsession with replacing the Field ensures he is never content with simple survival — he must claim something greater. • For players, he is a recurring figure: a prophet-warrior whose broken relic drives him to ever more reckless raids, and whose survival against all odds makes him unforgettable.

🪶 Clings to the Cries, Ashwing Helamite Reputation Named for its unnerving attraction to sound — especially screams, shouts, and the panicked yelps of Juves who’ve just realised it’s circling overhead. Tribes claim it can hear distress from leagues away, and it treats every cry as an invitation. Some say it arrives before the danger that caused the screaming in the first place. Appearance Its chitin is mottled with dark, tar‑like patches that seem to absorb noise, while its wings shimmer with a faint, oily sheen. When it flies, the air around it warps with a low, throbbing hum that rattles teeth and frays nerves. Its mandibles are unusually long, curved like hooked tuning forks. Behavior Clings to the Cries is drawn to chaos — the louder the better. It swoops into battles, arguments, and even celebratory chants, disrupting everything with violent enthusiasm. It snatches at anything that moves, often mistaking flailing arms for prey. Tribes curse its arrival, for it turns every skirmish into a shrieking, tangled mess of wings, dust, and panic. Even when it departs, the echo of its hum lingers like a bad omen.

🪶 Mistakes the Ground for the Sky, Ashwing Helamite Reputation Named for its chronic confusion about which direction is “up.” Tribes swear it is the only creature in the wastes capable of attempting takeoff downwards. It is infamous for launching itself heroically into the air… only to plummet directly into the sand, a tent, a sump puddle, or a very surprised helamite. Its arrival is considered a sign that the day is about to get significantly stupider. Appearance Its wings are broad and powerful, but angled in a way that suggests they were attached by someone who had only heard rumours about aerodynamics. Its eyes are large, glassy, and perpetually pointed at the wrong thing. Its chitin is coated in a fine layer of dust from repeated ground‑impacts, giving it a muted, chalky look. When it tries to fly, it emits a hopeful chirp that quickly turns into a resigned grunt. Behavior Mistakes the Ground for the Sky is a creature of boundless enthusiasm and zero spatial awareness. It attempts to soar at every opportunity — during battles, ceremonies, naps — but rarely clears more than a metre before gravity reminds it of its limitations. It often charges into fights by accident, having mistaken a dune for a cloud or a rock for a thermal updraft. Tribes treat it with a mix of pity and irritation, as it has a habit of knocking over supplies, scattering Juves, and burying itself in sand at the worst possible moments. Despite its incompetence, it is fiercely loyal to anyone who feeds it. Unfortunately, it expresses this loyalty by trying to “fly” around them, which usually ends in a collision.

🕸️ Trips Over Nothing, Naku’taari Watcher (Champion) Name & Reputation • Called Trips Over Nothing because he has an uncanny ability to fall, stumble, or face‑plant even on perfectly flat ground. Tribes swear he once tripped over a shadow, a thought, and a particularly aggressive breeze. • Among the Naku’taari, his name is both insult and prophecy — they believe the Sticky Spirit marks him as its chosen fool, scattering him across the dunes to amuse the gods. • Outsiders assume he is cursed, drunk, or both. They quickly learn that his chaotic flailing makes him unpredictably dangerous, especially with a webber in hand. --- Appearance • A lean, jittery figure whose limbs seem slightly too long for his body, giving him the perpetual look of someone mid‑fall. • His mask is dented from repeated impacts with dunes, rocks, tents, and once a ceremonial drum. It’s patched with sticky cloth that flaps wildly when he runs. • His webber is smeared with glue, dust, and regret. Several tissues dangle from it like charms, each one stuck there by accident. --- History & Grimdark Flavor • Born during a dust storm so violent that the midwives lost him twice, he grew up in a tribe that assumed he would not survive childhood. He proved them wrong by repeatedly tripping into situations that should have killed him. • His first patrol ended with him falling off a ridge, landing on a rival scout, and accidentally webbing the entire skirmish party. The elders declared this “an omen of sticky fortune.” • Every attempt at training became a disaster: he tripped into a sacred fire, tripped into a helamite nest, tripped into a chieftain’s tent. Yet each time he emerged alive, confused, and slightly more respected. • Some whisper he is the Sticky Spirit’s jester — doomed to stumble through fate so others may walk clean. --- Personality & Role • Chaotic Momentum: He moves fast because stopping usually results in falling. Once he starts running, no one knows where he’ll end up. • Earnest Optimism: Despite everything, he believes each day might be the one where he doesn’t fall. It never is. • Accidental Menace: His flailing limbs and unpredictable webber blasts make him a hazard to friend and foe alike. The tribe uses him as a living distraction. --- Role in the Campaign • Trips Over Nothing is the comedic disaster Champion — the fighter who sprints into battle, immediately trips, and somehow webs the enemy leader while upside‑down. • Players will remember him for turning every encounter into slapstick chaos: knocking over barricades, webbing allies, or tumbling into perfect ambush positions entirely by accident. • His survival is inexplicable, his victories accidental, and his legend inevitable. He is the Watcher who falls so others may stand.

☣️ Drinks The Wrong Barrel, Specialist of the WhooWaaYaa Reservation Name & Reputation • Nicknamed Drinks The Wrong Barrel after he once mistook a sump‑slime storage drum for water, survived, and immediately declared it “the Hau’s finest vintage.” • Among the Reservation, the name stuck—half joke, half warning. He’s seen as both cursed and blessed, a walking reminder that the Hau‑spirits never give without taking. • Outsiders remember him as the lunatic who staggered into battle belching fumes, insisting he was “breathing Kol’hau’s vapour.” Specialist Role • Prototype Dreamer: Obsessed with building a Venom Launcher, scavenging tubing, barrels, and sump‑slime. The prototype never fires properly—sometimes it dribbles sludge, sometimes it just explodes in his hands. • Barrel Collector: Hauls cracked canisters and glowing refuse, convinced each one is “fuel for the real launcher.” • Battlefield Liability: His contraption usually fails, but enemies panic at the sight of it, unsure if it’s deadly or just disgusting. Appearance • Mask lenses fogged from chemical burns, mouthpiece stained with sump‑brew. • Armor patched with tubing and empty canisters, rattling like a junkyard. • Wields his beloved “prototype launcher”—a dripping, jury‑rigged pipe rig that never works, but which he treats like a relic. Personality & Behaviour • Venom Evangelist: Constantly tells stories of the day his launcher will finally drown the hive in toxins. • Fanatical Believer: Insists the Hau‑spirits are testing him, and every failure is a divine lesson. • Unpredictable Ally: Sometimes terrifies enemies with his toxic theatrics, sometimes just poisons himself mid‑battle. Role in the Campaign • Drinks The Wrong Barrel is the Reservation’s toxic‑themed specialist—more nuisance than killer, but unforgettable. • His antics make him both terrifying and hilarious: enemies fear his prototype, allies groan when it sputters or explodes. • For players, he’s the ganger who turns up lugging his useless launcher, muttering “one day, the Hau will bless it,” while dripping sludge across the battlefield.

⭐ Pokes Wrong Things, Sha’dar Hunter of the WhooWaaYaa Reservation Spinewyrm‑Bonded • Toxin‑Drenched • Catastrophically Curious Name & Reputation • Known as Pokes Wrong Things because every time he opens his mouth or reaches out his hand, something terrible happens. He touches the exact object that triggers a fight, a collapse, a mutation, or a Spinewyrm attack. The tribe says he “pushes the limit” of Hau‑patience and hive‑tolerance alike. • Among the Reservation, his name is half‑warning, half‑praise. They whisper that he carries the spirits of Kol’hau and Xen’hau in his lungs — vapour and mutation — and that his curiosity is a curse gifted by the wastes. • Outsiders know him by many whispered nicknames earned through misadventure: Can’t Sit Still, Won’t Stop Dripping, Wipes Wrong Way, Triple Point Turd, Happy Endings Guaranteed, and the infamous Finger In Bum incident that no one will ever let him forget. • His legend is tied to his Spinewyrm, Wriggles With Malice, a grotesquely mutated wyrm with too many teeth and not enough sense, who follows him everywhere and bites anything that smells like fear, chems, or food. Appearance • His Sha’dar mask is carved with thin “shadow scars,” but also smeared with toxin residue, ash‑slime, and whatever he last injected. The lower half is permanently stained from chem purges. • His armour is a flexible patchwork of chitin plates and resin‑hardened cloth, warped by chemical spills and wyrm acid. One shoulder guard bears a crude carving that reads Hold My Beer, a joke he does not understand. • Carries twin toxin blades, each coated in a different experimental brew. One drips constantly. The other smokes. He insists this is normal. • His body is wiry, twitching, and marked with injection scars. One arm is slightly swollen from a Xen’hau mutation that never fully faded. He calls it Pokey Bum Wank for reasons no one wants to ask about. History & Grimdark Flavour • As a youth, he earned the name Finger In Bum after checking a Spinewyrm burrow with his hand. The wyrm inside bonded to him immediately. This wyrm became Wriggles With Malice, his lifelong companion and frequent cause of injury. • His first sanctioned kill was a disaster: he ambushed a rival scout, tripped over Wriggles With Malice, injected himself with the wrong toxin, and still managed to slit the target’s throat while convulsing. The elders called this Zero Sum Game — everyone lost, but he lost slightly less. • During a dune ambush, he attempted to blend into the wastes by rolling in ash‑slime. This attracted sump‑flies, a rad‑hog, and a wandering nomad who mistook him for a mating signal. The tribe still calls this incident Increasingly Insincere Incest. • In the tunnels of Hive Euryale, he once eliminated three scouts in silence — then loudly asked, “Can’t Touch This?” while poking a glowing sump fungus. The resulting explosion collapsed the shaft and killed two Helmawr gangers. The tribe declared this a Hau‑blessing. • His most infamous moment came when he tested a new venom by injecting it into himself mid‑fight. He screamed Dances With Weirdos, sprinted in a circle, stabbed four enemies, and passed out. When he awoke, he was a Sha’dar. Personality & Role • Chem‑Curious: He cannot resist experimenting with toxins, venoms, fumes, or anything labelled “Do Not Inhale.” • Restless: He cannot sit still. Even in ambush positions, he twitches, hums, or pokes things. • Boundary‑Oblivious: He asks the wrong questions, touches the wrong objects, and enters the wrong territory. This somehow always leads to a kill. • Spinewyrm‑Bonded: Wriggles With Malice is his constant companion, emotional support creature, and frequent cause of injury. Role in the Campaign • Pokes Wrong Things is the Sha’dar who turns every infiltration into a chaotic masterpiece. He might silently eliminate a scout… or loudly test a new toxin and collapse a tunnel. • Players will remember him for: injecting chems mid‑combat asking catastrophically stupid questions his wyrm biting the wrong target surviving things he absolutely should not turning every ambush into slapstick carnage • He is the perfect recurring menace: a toxin‑dripping, Spinewyrm‑bonded, curiosity‑cursed hunter who pushes every limit, including the ones that keep people alive.

💥 Draws Short Straw, Run’taani Dust Runner (Juve) Name & Reputation • Called Draws Short Straw because, in every lot or gamble, he seems to end up with the worst task: scouting minefields, carrying unstable charges, or being sent down the darkest tunnel first. • Among the Reservation, his name is both mockery and omen — some believe his constant misfortune shields the others, as if the Serpent-God takes its toll from him alone. • To outsiders, he’s the expendable one, the boy always shoved to the front when danger looms. Appearance • A wiry youth with ash-burn scars across his arms from carrying faulty promethium tanks. • His mask is cracked and poorly fitted, patched with wire and resin, always fogging at the worst moments. • His blast carbine is battered and unreliable, its stock wrapped in rags to keep it from falling apart. History & Grimdark Flavor • Born to the Reservation’s lowest caste, he was raised on scraps and sent into the wastes as a child to scavenge bones. • Every rite of passage he faced ended in disaster: his first raid ended with him shot in the leg, his first kill stolen by another Dust Runner. • Yet he survives, again and again, as if cursed to endure. Some whisper he is the Reservation’s scapegoat, doomed to suffer so others may thrive. Personality & Role • Resigned Fatalism: He expects to die, and so he never flinches when ordered forward. • Grim Humor: Jokes about his own bad luck, though his laughter is hollow. • Expendable Shield: Used to screen the more skilled fighters, he soaks up fire and draws attention, often without complaint. Role in the Campaign • Draws Short Straw is the tragicomic figure — the Juve who always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. • For players, he’s the one they’ll remember for blundering into traps or taking the shot meant for someone else. • His survival, against all odds, makes him strangely iconic: the boy who should have died a dozen times, but never quite does.

🔫 Gets In Way, Run’taani Dust Runner (Juve) Name & Reputation • Known as Gets In Way because, in every skirmish, he seems to stumble into the line of fire — friend or foe. • Among the Reservation, his name is shouted in frustration more than in praise. • To outsiders, he’s the clumsy one, but his knack for being in the wrong place often saves others by accident. Appearance • A stocky youth with a perpetually dented helmet, scarred from ricochets and “friendly fire.” • His armor is a mismatched collection of plates, many scorched or punctured, held together with rope and stubbornness. • His blast carbine is newer than Draws Short Straw’s, but already scarred from careless handling. History & Grimdark Flavour • Gets In Way was once apprenticed to a caravan outrider, but his constant blunders caused accidents that killed half his kin. • Cast out, he joined the Reservation, where his clumsiness became legend. • Yet, in the grim calculus of the wastes, his missteps often save lives — stumbling into ambushes before others, triggering traps that would have killed his betters. • Some whisper he is cursed, others that he is blessed — a fool’s body shielding the tribe from worse fates. Personality & Role • Eager but Inept: Always the first to volunteer, always the first to ruin the plan. • Naïve Loyalty: Believes Falls Off Ledges personally values him, though most see him as a liability. • Accidental Hero: His blunders sometimes turn the tide — a misfired shot collapsing a gantry, or his body blocking a killing blow. Role in the Campaign • Gets In Way is the embodiment of Necromunda’s cruel humor: a Juve whose incompetence is both liability and strange salvation. • For players, he’s the one who ruins ambushes, blocks firing lanes, or accidentally saves the day. • His presence adds chaos to every encounter — a reminder that in the underhive, survival often comes down to dumb luck.

🏃 Trips Over Shadows, Run’taani Dust Runner (Juve) Name & Reputation • Nicknamed Trips Over Shadows after sprinting into battle, tripping over nothing, and face‑planting so hard he claimed the Hau‑spirits were “testing his nose.” • Among the Reservation, he’s mocked as the “Shadow‑Stumbler”—a Juve who can trip on flat ground, loose dust, or even his own shadow. • Outsiders remember him as the lunatic who once tried to scout a tunnel, fell over three times, and still shouted “all clear!” while upside‑down in a sump puddle. Role & Specialism • Scout‑ish: Sent ahead to test tunnels, usually by falling into them first. • Dust Runner Duties: Carries messages, scrap, and barrels of sump‑brew—though he drops them so often the gang calls him “Delivery Hazard.” • Comic Omen: His failures are legendary, but the Reservation insists every trip is a sign from the Hau. Appearance • Mask cracked from repeated face‑plants, patched with tape and wire. • Armor scraped, dented, and decorated with “fall marks” he insists are battle scars. • Carries a stub pistol and a sack of junk, most of which he’s tripped over at least once. Personality & Behaviour • Fatalistic Clown: Laughs at his own disasters, claiming the Hau‑spirits are “training his balance.” • Fanatical Believer: Insists Char’ghar shocks him awake whenever he stumbles, and Kol’hau whispers “trip again.” • Unpredictable Ally: Sometimes scouts successfully, sometimes just collapses mid‑mission and calls it “a vision.” Role in the Campaign • Trips Over Shadows is the Reservation’s slapstick Juve—failing spectacularly but surviving anyway. • His antics make him both hilarious and oddly useful: enemies underestimate him, allies groan when he inevitably falls. • For players, he’s the Juve who arrives late, covered in dust, muttering “the Hau tripped me again,” before charging back into the fray and immediately falling over.

🌫 High On Fumes, Harrier of the Ash Wastes Name & Reputation • Known as High On Fumes for his constant inhalation of chem‑vapors and scavenged stimulants. • Revered across multiple tribes as a spirit‑touched Harrier, his speed and unpredictability seen as gifts of the ash storms. • To outsiders, he is a blur of motion and manic laughter, striking before they can react and vanishing into the haze. Appearance • Wears a cracked rebreather mask permanently stained with chemical residue, tubes hissing with scavenged stimulants. • His armor is stripped down for speed, patched with ash‑bone charms scavenged from different tribes. • Carries a battered web gun slung across his chest, its nozzles dripping with sticky residue. History & Grimdark Flavour • Once a scavenger in the lower domes, High On Fumes survived by inhaling chem‑vapors from broken tanks and leaking pipes. The toxins burned his lungs and twisted his mind, but they also gave him speed and visions he claimed were gifts from the Serpent‑God. • Unlike most nomads, he refuses to stay with one tribe. Instead, he wanders between them, joining war parties when his visions align, then vanishing back into the wastes. • His web gun was built from scrap and stolen Guild tech, sealed with resin and ash. The weapon leaks constantly, coating his hands in sticky residue, but he wields it with manic glee. • Tribes whisper that he is both blessing and curse: unstoppable when unleashed, but unpredictable, sometimes turning his webs on friend as well as foe. Personality & Behaviour • Manic Raider: Always moving, always twitching, his mind racing as fast as his feet. • Fanatical Believer: Claims the fumes are visions from the Serpent‑God, guiding his strikes. • Unpredictable Ally: Loyal only to the hunt—he may fight for a tribe today, then vanish tomorrow to stalk another’s enemies. Role in the Campaign • High On Fumes embodies the Harrier’s sacred duty: wandering between tribes, exacting retribution on their enemies, then moving on. • His speed and unpredictability make him a terrifying foe, but his “visions” can lead him astray, chasing quarry too deep into enemy territory. • For players, he’s the figure who arrives first—laughing through his mask as the webs close in, a living bogeyman of the wastes.

🪓 Loses Fingers Often, Nomad Arthromite Herder Name & Reputation • Called Loses Fingers Often because every attempt to break or train an Arthromite has cost him a digit — yet he still lives, still herds, and still dares to reach again. • Among the Reservation, his name is a cruel joke, but also a badge of honor: no one else has survived so many maimings and kept returning to the beasts. • To outsiders, he is a half-mutilated wretch who reeks of insect musk and ash, a man who should be dead but somehow isn’t. Appearance • His hands are a ruin of scars and stumps, each missing finger bound in dirty cloth or capped with crude metal claws. • Wears a patchwork cloak stitched from Arthromite chitin, its plates rattling like a warning when he moves. • His mask is smeared with insect ichor, decorated with mandible charms and antennae trophies. • Carries a long prod-spear tipped with a crackling shock coil, used to drive the beasts into battle. History & Grimdark Flavor • Once a scavenger in the deep wastes, he survived by trailing Arthromite packs, feeding on their kills and stealing their eggs. • Over time, he learned to mimic their clicks and pheromone trails, luring them into traps. The price was steep: every failure cost him blood, flesh, or fingers. • When the Reservation captured Tough To Squish, it was Loses Fingers Often who stepped forward to claim it could be herded. He nearly died in the attempt, but his persistence impressed Falls Off Ledges. • Though not yet fully part of the gang, he lingers at its edges, waiting for the day he is called to join — and for the chance to prove that Arthromites are not just beasts, but weapons of prophecy. Personality & Leadership • Grimly Patient: Accepts pain as the price of mastery, never flinching when the beasts lash out. • Half-Mad Devotion: Believes the Arthromites whisper to him in the ash storms, guiding his mutilated hands. • Respected Outcast: The gang mocks his name, but none dare take his place beside the beasts. Role in the Campaign • When recruited, Loses Fingers Often becomes the Reservation’s beast-handler, the mouthpiece for Tough To Squish and any other Arthromites they capture. • For players, he is a grotesque figure — mutilated, half-mad, but indispensable. His presence signals that the Reservation’s bond with their brute is deepening, and that more horrors may follow. • Narratively, he embodies the grimdark humor of Necromunda: a man defined by his failures, yet elevated by them into something both pitiful and terrifying.

Stands Uncomfortably Near, Nomad Harrier of the WhooWaaYaa Reservation Three‑Armed Executioner • Insect‑Marked Wanderer • Retribution Made Human Name & Reputation • Known as Stands Uncomfortably Near because he has a habit of appearing far too close to his quarry without making a sound. Underhivers swear he materialises behind them, beside them, or directly over their shoulder — always just inside the personal space where fear becomes instinct. • Among the Reservation, his name is spoken with respect and unease. He is the Harrier who never loses a trail, who always finds the shortest, quietest path, and who unnerves even seasoned nomads by simply… standing there. • To underhivers, he is a bogeyman: a lone nomad who appears on the horizon like a mirage, then vanishes into the hive’s guts without a sound — only to reappear inches away. • His legend is tied to the bodies he leaves behind — faces frozen in terror, clips emptied, walls scorched. When Stands Uncomfortably Near marks you, the tribes say your fate is already sealed. Appearance • Wears a long ash‑silk cloak patterned with faint insect‑wing veining. When he moves, it rustles like chitin and blends into dust storms and ferrocrete shadows. • His mask is narrow and angular, with mandible‑like vents and a thin vertical slit that glows faintly from chem‑fumes. The underhive swears it “leans in” when he’s close. • Carries three pistols holstered across his torso: a Web Pistol coated in resin and ash a Blast Pistol with a scorched, pitted muzzle an Auto Pistol wrapped in bone‑grip bindings • A small servo‑arm protrudes from the front of his armour, mounted just below the sternum like an insect’s grasping limb. It reloads pistols, snatches targets, or jabs forward like a stinger. • His armour includes a visidual insect limb, a chitinous prosthetic that twitches when he’s hunting. Some say it’s decorative. Others say it’s a warning. History & Grimdark Flavour • Stands Uncomfortably Near grew up in the ruins between tribes, learning to survive by slipping through collapsed ducts, forgotten tunnels, and ash‑choked crawlspaces. He learned the wastes and the hive the same way: by crawling through their guts. • As a youth, he wandered between tribes without fear. He earned trust by delivering messages, warnings, and retribution. No matter where he went, he always found the quickest, quietest path — and always arrived closer than anyone expected. • His first kill was an act of vengeance: a caravan raider who had broken a sacred pact. Stands Uncomfortably Near tracked him for three days, slipped into his camp through a drainage pipe, and shot him through the heart while he slept. The tribes rewarded him with weapons, food, and the title of Harrier. • Over time, he became a myth — not because of spirits, but because of skill. He knows every maintenance shaft, every sump vent, every forgotten access hatch. He studies the hive like a predator studies its prey. • His insectile armour and front‑mounted servo‑arm were gifts from a wandering tech‑shaman who admired his precision. The Harrier accepted them without a word and immediately modified them for silent operation. • He has no tribe, no home, no banner — only the next name on his list. Personality & Role • Silent Wanderer: Speaks rarely, and only when necessary. His voice is soft, rasping, like sand sliding over bone. • Retribution‑Bound: He hunts only those who have wronged a tribe. Once marked, the target cannot escape — not by distance, walls, or allies. • Insect‑Calm: Moves with eerie stillness, broken only by sudden, precise violence. • Three‑Handed Killer: His front‑mounted servo‑arm reloads, steadies, or fires without him looking. The insect limb on his armour twitches when prey is near. • Boundary‑Violator: His signature move is appearing far too close to his target, watching them panic before the first shot is fired. Role in the Campaign • Stands Uncomfortably Near is the perfect wildcard: sometimes an ally sometimes a threat always a force of consequence • He may join the players briefly if their goals align — but he will leave without warning the moment his true quarry appears. • His presence adds tension: when a lone nomad appears on the horizon, every character must wonder if they are the target. • For players, he is unforgettable: a three‑armed, insect‑marked pistol phantom who moves like a rumour and kills like a promise kept — usually from uncomfortably close range.

🔧 Complains About Sand, Twin‑Linked Sentry Gun Name & Reputation • Called Complains About Sand because it audibly groans, grinds, and rattles whenever even a single grain gets near its gears — which, in the ash wastes, is always. Tribes swear it mutters like an old elder forced to walk uphill both ways. • Among the Reservation, its name is half‑joke, half‑warning. They say the machine has a spirit that hates its own environment, forever protesting the dunes it was doomed to guard. • Outsiders quickly learn to identify it by sound alone: a chorus of metallic whining, sputtering, and the unmistakable clunk of a weapon that would rather be anywhere else. Appearance • A squat, rust‑pitted frame with mismatched barrels that sag slightly, as if exhausted by existence. Every surface is coated in a stubborn layer of grit that no amount of wiping can remove. • Its targeting array is wrapped in sticky cloth to “keep the sand out,” though the cloth itself is full of sand. The result is a kind of ceremonial blindfold that does nothing. • The rotation mount is crooked, causing the whole gun to swivel with a lopsided wobble that looks like it’s shaking its head in disapproval. History & Grimdark Flavor • Complains About Sand was found half‑buried in a dune, firing weakly at the horizon as if scolding it. The tribe dug it out, only to discover it immediately jammed in protest. • Every attempt to repair it has resulted in louder, more dramatic noises. One tech adept tightened a bolt and triggered a week‑long tantrum of grinding and sputtering. Another tried to oil the gears and was rewarded with a shower of sand that seemed to come from inside the machine. • Despite its constant complaints, the gun has survived storms, raids, and even being knocked over by a helamite. Some whisper that its spirit is too stubborn to die — too busy arguing with the desert to give up. Personality & Role • Perpetual Grumbler: It emits a steady stream of mechanical whining, like a machine spirit muttering about how things were better before the dunes shifted. • Reluctant Defender: It fires only after a dramatic buildup of rattling and coughing, as if sighing before doing its job. When it does fire, it’s surprisingly accurate — perhaps out of spite. • Tribal Mascot: The Naku’taari treat it with a mix of reverence and amusement. They offer it small rituals, like brushing sand off its base, which only makes it complain louder. Role in the Campaign • Complains About Sand is the comedic relic — the sentry gun that never stops voicing its displeasure, turning every quiet moment into a soundtrack of mechanical grumbling. • Players will remember it for ruining stealth missions with a sudden, dramatic clank, or for saving the day by firing a perfect volley after ten minutes of complaining. • Its presence adds texture and humour to the camp: a stubborn old machine spirit locked in eternal argument with the desert itself.