Post by Darko on Feb 20, 2024 23:18:56 GMT
A blight has torn the galaxy in half. The Cicatrix Maledictum. This great rift in realspace bleeds the empyrean across the shattered Imperium, plunging nearly half of the rotting empire into darkness and death. Millions died in the first few hours. Billions in the first few years.
After a hundred years of isolation and endless slaughter, sub-sector Caedis has lost trillions. The death toll is now counted in planets.
The vital forge world of Caedis V lost 99.7369% of its population to the rampaging ork Waaaagh! of Gorkanak Fleshtearer 108 standard years ago. Rebuilding had barely begun under the supervision of a small Mechanicus envoy, with hundreds of thousands of citizens forcibly relocated from nearby worlds to work in ruined manufactories, when the Great Rift left this vital world surrounded and defenseless.
The Titans of Caedis were shattered husks, its armies depleted. The last Adeptus Astartes of the Salamanders chapter had long since returned home with a precious cargo of geneseed and the broken bodies of a full company. Autosavants, seers and tacticians all came to the same conclusion: they would die in the darkness with the Emperor's light little more than a distant memory. The masses huddled in Ecclesiarchal chapels, praying for salvation that would not come. Tech-Priests fell into dispute over the logic of destroying their secret weapons rather than letting them fall into the hands of heretics and aliens. Local regiments murdered their commanders and carved out what little power and resources they could, so certain they would be the ones to survive if they looked out for themselves.
Lord-Commissar Cassandra Aurelia felt nothing but contempt and disgust at the weakness infesting the worlds of the Emperor. Legend tells she led the last remaining Stormtroopers in the sector on a personal crusade to hunt down every last renegade force cowering in their holes, executing the ringleaders and reforging an army from a dozen fractured regiments of Imperial Guard and PDF alike. Allied with the last remaining warships of the Imperial Navy, she led her rag-tag army of would-be renegades and traitors to Caedis V. She found the interim governor trying to flee with the entire wealth of a system. The Lord-Commissar threw him into a corpse-starch grinder alive.
Cassandra Aurelia, wielding the only cohesive military force left across a dozen worlds ravaged by orks, corsairs and daemons, declared herself Regent of Caedis V and the entire sub-sector.
A hundred years later, she reigns with an iron fist. Life in the Imperium is a pleasant dream of a better tomorrow compared to the worlds enslaved to Caedis V, feeding its endless demand for resources and recruits for the Regent's armies - the last bulwark against the darkness. Sustained by the precious few remaining rejuvenat treatments stolen from the impoverished noble families across the sector, Regent Aurelia is now the only immortal ruler entire generations have been born to worship and die for.
Sub-sector Caedis is rotten and broken, yet it endures. An entire society ruled by the tenets of the Commissariat: serve in fear or die as cowards.
There are no relief ships. The Primarch Roboute Guilleman's indomitas crusade will never arrive in this forsaken space. No Inquisitors still live that might challenge the self-imposed Regent's rule and without her, the scant few safe havens for humanity in this cursed space will die. Even so, there are those that plot the death of the Immortal Tyrant.
Will you save the Aurelian Empire, or bring it to its knees?
The Rogue Trader vessel Sanctus Excelsior is your home. You are one of a hand-picked team of specialists known as Praetors, formed in the absence of the Imperial Inquisition. With nowhere to go and certain oblivion as the only alternative, the noble captain of this ancient ship has devoted their vast fortune to safeguarding the future of the faithful, Emperor-fearing people of the sub-sector. Despite the Regent's absolute authority, she remains a faithful servant of the Emperor in Her own eyes and a Warrant of Trade is not so easily dismissed. Precious few warships remain active and fewer still are operational. As a result, the Regent tolerates the freedom of the Rogue Trader across Her worlds, albeit begrudgingly and at the cost of performing many favours for Her regime.
You are not the first Praetors, but you may be the last. The Aurelian Empire's enemies gather like carrion eaters drawn by the scent of a bleeding carcass. The Regent's armies hold the line on a hundred bloody battlefields across a dozen burning worlds, delaying the inevitable death of everyone they know and love. Their sacrifice has bought the people of the Aurelian Empire a century of life, but it is becoming clear that in a matter of decades, resources will be spent and armies will be exhausted. The last vestiges of humanity in this place will be dragged into the dark ages, corrupted and debased.
It is not the hordes of xenos and traitors that will be the death of this empire. There are threats far more insidious and dangerous working in the shadows.
You will hunt them down and drag them into the light.
You, with greater freedom than any could dare to imagine in this forgotten place and more resources than an entire company of Imperial Guard. You have no Inquisitorial masters to answer to, no oversight to your methods and no reinforcements or divine authority to aid you. You have only your own conscience and faith to guide you, and only your fellow Praetors to watch your back.
The Aurelian Empire is a place where the old rules of the Imperium no longer apply. You will have to choose your allies and enemies carefully as you desperately try to keep what is left of the sector alive for one more bloody day. Noble lords and criminals alike will have to be charmed, bribed, blackmailed or killed to complete your mission - you cannot simply wave an Inquisitorial rosette and open any doors or give orders to anyone.
Perhaps you joined the Praetors out of idealism, to truly make a difference. Maybe you're just in it for the money. Or maybe you've simply got nowhere left to go in a dying empire and this is your last, best chance to survive the inevitable end of everything. Whatever your motivations, you are a part of a team forged in battle. You may not even like each other, but you know one thing for certain: every single one of these people would die for you, as you would for them. Once nothing but strangers, the bonds now binding you are as strong as ceramite war plate.
The Praetors have been active for over 80 years. You may be an old veteran from the earliest missions, or a newer recruit who has only served for a handful of years. Either way, this is your purpose in life. You will die as a Praetor, this much is certain, but your name will be recorded for time immemorial, carved into the obsidian monolith in the Halls of Remembrance aboard the ancient Sanctus Excelsior. And if you're very, very lucky, you just might do some good in a world that knows only death and suffering.
Example character types include but are not limited to:
Warriors:
- Crusader
- Battle Sister / Repentia
- Guardsman / Stormtrooper / Penal Legionnaire / PDF / Veteran
- Navy Armsman / Breacher
- Death Cultist
- Secutor / Skitarii
- Battle Preacher / Heirophant / Drill Abbot
- Gunslinger / Marksman
- Barbarian
- Ogryn
Investigators:
- Arbitrator / Proctor / Judge
- Tracker / Bounty Hunter
- Cleric / Missionary
- Commissar Operative
Specialists:
- Assassin
- Tech Priest / Enginseer / Lexmechanic / Penitent Heretek / Radical Tech Priest
- Psyker / Primaris Psyker / Astropath / Seer / Mystic (powers to be discussed with GM)
- Adept / Sage / Archivist / Savant
- Xeno-Arcanist
- Eldar / Dark Eldar / Half-Eldar/human hybrid
- Squat
- Ratling
- Medicae / Sister Hospitaller
- Torturer / Excoriator
- Exorcist / Banisher
- Ganger
- Noble
- Civilian Pilot / Combat Pilot
- Mind-cleansed (can be programmed with specific skills, but have a suppressed past, discuss with GM)
Player name:
Character name:
Age:
Appearance:
Personality:
Homeworld:
Skills:
Weapons:
Armour:
Equipment:
Contact:
Background:
Other:
In terms of equipment, the Sanctus Excelsior is well-stocked with any typical weapons, armour or other gear you could possibly want outside of the rarest of items. There is no need to list generic equipment such as lasguns or flak armour, as you can have your character select whatever basic gear you want any time you are able to return to the ship. Only list personal equipment, such as a unique power weapon, power armour, personal mementos etc. There are few limitations, but if you're not sure if something is too over the top just post below and ask.
It is worth considering if your character is old enough to remember a time before the Regent's rule, whether through a prolonged life or being lost in the warp only to recently emerge. Are they from one of the local worlds, with deep-tied loyalty and a vested interest in saving them? Or were they forced to abandon all memory of their former home and adopt one of the worlds of the Aurelian Empire as home?
As for 'contacts' - every character is permitted to have one NPC they can call on during the game. This could be someone who owes them a favour, or an old friend, for example. Maybe they're a local guard officer, or a doctor. These contacts are not meant to be deus ex machina solutions to the most insane situations imaginable, simply a useful asset that may come in handy later on.
I will also allow secondary characters if you so choose, with one stipulation: they will not be part of the team of Praetors, therefore holding no authority over group decisions and likely not taking part in missions off-ship most of the time. They could simply be servants or artisans who attend to your character's needs, or perhaps a love interest. This is entirely optional.
It is also worth considering having a 'backup' character in the event that a character dies. This character can simply be another Praetor who was sent deep undercover on another mission or the sole survivor of the B-team, returning from a failed mission and joining the main group. Something like that.
The Rogue Trader who is financing the Praetors and their operations will most likely be a silent partner, allowing the experts to handle investigations and missions as they see fit. They finance your team and provide transportation between worlds with their ship, which serves as your home base.
I will be running this game in a slightly more relaxed style than some of my previous games. For the most part, I will be giving the players free reign to write how situations unfold - for better or worse - as I can trust that no one is going to be a power gamer. Ambushed by enemies? Write up how it works out in the end, with OOC discussions between players. Does one of you have a clever solution? Or are you forced to retreat in the face of overwhelming odds? Common sense and creative ideas will decide the outcome of most encounters.
There will still be Events, as they are a staple of our RPGs for many years. However, I will be making Events what they were originally: rare moments of critical decisions and severe danger, where I will ask players to PM me their actions and then respond in the main thread with the outcome. This may take the form of actual fully written outcomes or simply be loose descriptions, allowing the players to fill in the blanks and details of how it all plays out, depending on what people prefer or seems best in the moment.
This brings me onto the next part of how I will GM this game differently. Most of the posts I make in the IC thread, I am going to be making in the style of tabletop RPG GM descriptions.
For example:
You walk into the palace, where the bloated planetary governor lounges on his throne. Dozens of noblemen and women fill the royal chamber, each of them wearing gold and turqoise fabrics, their eyes regarding you with a mix of suspicion and excitement at the prospect of courtly intrigue unfolding before them. The governor's guards escort you in, each clutching a hellgun close to their chest. The bloated governor speaks at last, demanding you kneel. Cherub servitors flutter in the air around you, dangling incense burners which fill the room with a strange scent of lavender and cinnamon.
'Tell me, Praetors,' the governor wheezes, his narrow eyes betraying nothing. 'Why have you come to my world?'
Players would then respond in classic third-person, free to embellish and expand the descriptions of where the characters are as they describe the situation as well as their actions.
This gives far more freedom for players to put their own spin on things and feel apart of the world, rather than only reacting to it. I really encourage you to take what I present to you and run with it. Get creative! If one player wants to spice things up a little, perhaps with an assassin trying to take out the governor as part of a political coup or have one of the gathered nobles recognise their character and attempt to settle an old grudge, that sort of thing is entirely welcome. If you're not sure, then just PM me with your idea before you post. If anything is ever too much, I can veto it and suggest alterations, but I expect most of the time I won't need to. I want you guys to feel free to write the story, even direct it to an extent beyond just what your own characters do.
As always, just use common sense and keep in mind above all the game is meant to be FUN! So if you are going to throw a wrench in the works, make sure you ask yourself first if it will add to the experience and the enjoyment of the other players as well. Otherwise, it's probably best to discard the idea. Obviously, this doesn't mean constantly sabotage the ideas and efforts of the characters for the sake of drama or always upping the odds. It's just important to be aware that you guys will be a lot less constrained in this game than in some of the previous ones I've done, where the expectation is for large GM-written mega event posts that encompass the actions of every single character.
In short, we're going back to basics with this one. As GM I will mostly respond for the NPCs and set the scene, but then the players will add to that and expand it as we go.
Although there is a degree of open world freedom to this game, there will also be a clear mission to follow and your characters should be written in a way where they are invested and motivated in their jobs as Praetors.
I also highly encourage you to feel free to write up additional world-building for the Caedis sector, whether it be smaller parts of its history or an entire planet that you want to exist - provided it fits into the overall setting.
Final point about the mechanics of the game - this is a direct sequel to Black Valkyrie Down, meaning that if you want to bring in characters from that game, provided they can reasonably still be alive, or even have them be related in some way to those characters (e.g. descendents) then feel free. If the game goes well, then this small area of the 40k universe we've made can potentially also serve as a playground for anyone to run future games in if they choose.
If you're interested, please say so below and feel welcome to start coming up with characters and any ideas for world-building.
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More info and lore to follow later.
CHARACTERS
Player name: Castiel
Character name: Sister Veronice
Age: 35
Appearance: 5' 10" and strongly built from rigorous training and disciple, especially given her preference for heavy weaponry. White, chin length hair with blue eyes and a shrapnel scar on her left cheek.
Personality: Softly spoken but zealous and strong-willed.
Homeworld: Planet of origin unknown.
Skills: Proficient with all the weaponry of the Adeptus Sororitas, but with a particular proficiency for heavy support weapons.
Weapons: Primarily prefers to wield either a heavy flamer or multi-melta. Bolt pistol, combat knife, frag and krak grenades.
Armour: Sororitas power armour and helmet - White with golden trim and yellow accent plates. Black symbology of blazing torches and flames
Equipment: Sororitas Power Armour devices integral to her armour (Vox, auspex, photo visor, helmet mounted illuminator, rebreather, pict recorder, etc.), Rosary beads
Contact: The Sisterhood of the Order of Blinding Light based on Caedis V
Background: Orphaned before she can remember Veronice does not know her planet of origin. She was raised through the Schola Progenium on Bastilium Maximus where her young mind latched on to the teachings of the Imperial Creed with a fervour matched by few of her peers. This devotion saw Veronice and a handful of similar youngsters transferred to Caedis V and placed into the care of the Adeptus Sororitas Order of Blinding Light that made it's home there. The young Veronice took naturally to life in the Order, her young mind receptive to the teachings of the Imperial Creed and found particular comfort in the focus the Order placed on searching for the guiding light of the Emperor despite the darkness that surrounded the Caedis system. Upon completing her training and taking her vows she found a home in a Retributor squad, where she found particular satisfaction from using the cleansing light of flame to literally defeat the enemies of the Emperor. It was during a fierce void action against the Orks that Veronice became seconded to the Praetors. The frigate she had been travelling on was ambushed and boarded by a Kroozer filled the brutish creatures. They had quickly overrun the vessel and Veronice and her squad had been conducting a last stand in defence of the bridge when the Sanctus Excelsior had arrived to the scene. Ambushing the ambusher it had quickly destroyed the Kroozer and launched counter boarding actions to aid the survivors of the stricken vessel. The naval armsmen had arrived to find a mere handful of the frigate's remaining crew engaged in a desperate defence of the bridge, amongst them Veronice. Wounded by shrapnel from the exploding Ork grenade that had killed the last remaining Sisters of her squad she had fought on with undimmed zeal, rallying and inspiring the crew to hold with reassurances that the light of Emperor would yet save them. With her squad gone and no realistic prosepect of returning to join her Sisters of Caedis V, Veronice had found a natural home amongst the Praetors of the Sanctus Excelsior.
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Player Name: Halonachos
Character Name: Dehzazhael "Dez"
Age: 185 years old
Appearance: 6'7" tall with pale skin and dark brown hair usually pulled into some form of braided ponytail. Has a half finished Ynnari tattoo under her left eye. Various scars on the body from combat and other sources, but somewhat restrained compared to others of her kind.
Personality: Loves enjoying all of life's little pleasures, but is also highly aware of the suspicion associated with what little past she shares with the humans on board. Attempts to follow the path set before with the idea of joining the Ynnari should she escape beyond the Cicatrix Maledictum. Has learned that running excitedly to shuttles when the mission specifically calls for killing a target is unacceptable and has stopped giggling to herself when en route. Still exhibits the habit of bouncing her knee while waiting.
Homeworld: Commorragh, but says it's Biel Tan.
Skills: Hunting, fishing, rangwd combat, and can be a decent interrogator when given the chance.
Weapons: Shuriken catapult, monoblade knife, laspistol.
Armour: Aeldari Guardian armor in Ynnari colors. Wears an armband made of fabrics in the rogue trader's colors.
Equipment: Haywire grenades she "found". Jerry-rigged holster for the laspistol. Aeldari Ranger cloak, also "found". A spare splinter rifle she keeps under her bed.
Contact: Maerkus Flin: A human smuggler with less than stellar morals who was spared death during a mission in exchange for 30 bottles of Amasec and 200 packs of lho sticks. Most of which was given away by Dez to Lucinda and the human crew in an attempt to make the humans less suspicious of Dez. To this day, nobody has openly dared drink any of the Amasec.
Background: Dez was part of a cadre of raiders searching a moon of the Caedis system known to the Imperium as "Polista". The moon was craggy, with sparse vegetation above ground, but unknown to mankind, a lush underground ecosystem. Polista was supposed to have an ancient Aeldari artifact capable of sealing local tears within the warp. Her kabal wanted it, unfortunately so did an Ynnari strike team. In a clash under the surface of the moon, Dez was engaged in her first real combat against foes she felt were worthy. As she prepared to embed her blade slowly into the throat of an Ynnari Aeldar, who's right arm she had removed, there was a crack in the sky. The resultant headaches were enough to make both her and the Eldar warrior pause. The pause was enough to make both realize that they were both alone on this moon. It was 70 years of this Ynnari Eldar talking about the ideals of the Ynnari that had convinced Dez to give this chance of redemption a shot. In that time she learned to hunt and fish for survival, deprived of any of the decadence and distraction available in Comorragh. She adopted to using the gear left behind by the dead Ynnari team members to scrape together a feasible suit of armor.
After 70 years of isolation, a rogue trader ship investigating Polista as a possible host to a way past the Cicatrix Maledictum came to the moon. Dez wanted to kill the team and hijack the ship before Saimian, the Ynnari Eldar, reminded Dez that neither of them could fly the ship and that diplomacy was always an option.
Through shrewd negotiation, Saimian and Dez offered assistance in the common goal of getting out of the area of space cut off by the Cicatrix Maledictum and even offered to share where the cache of Eldar weapons left behind by the strike teams. After 30 years Dez was trusted to go alone with the humans on their missions.
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Player name: Warork
Character name: Jace "Rook" Rukowski
Age: Roughly 140 years old, held in stasis for about 110 of those.
Appearance: Rook does not appear especially different from many Militarum veterans; he is barely more than six feet tall, broad shouldered, and is disposed of the hard physique typical for one who has been at war for all of his adult life and some of his adolescence besides. He has brown hair that is sandy to near blonde which he keeps short and hazel colored eyes. Some light scarring, further evidence of past life or death struggles, is present on his face and neck. All this coupled with a cold and distant demeanor makes for a rather stony and uncompromising mien that Rook finds great pleasure in using to intimidate others.
Personality: Much like the guardsman's life; vulgar, nasty, brutish, and short. But also much like the guardsman's life; a tendency to be viciously loyal to concepts simple yet enduring and close to people who share in common hardships and common causes.
Homeworld: Alterra
Skills: A very particular set that makes him a nightmare for heretics and xenos alike. Can also make a half decent stew with nothing but a standard issue flak helmet full of rainwater, some powdered grox meat and a few slices of slab rations.
Weapons: An archaeotech laspistol that might be as old as the Imperium, A power fist that used to belong to a commissar, a digi flamer integrated into a bionic forearm, and whatever other toys the armorers of the Sanctus Excelsior will let him abscond with.
Armour: Cadian-pattern Storm Trooper Carapace Armor incorporated with an enviro-sealed bodysuit and guardsman's fatigues all in the colors of Lady Harper's House Guard.
Equipment: - Devices integral to his armor (Vox, auspex, photo visor, helmet mounted illuminator, rebreather, pict recorder, etc.)
- Whatever you'd find in a standard issue guardsman's kit including the all important pair of steel balls
- A Star of Terra medal awarded to him by a dead man.
- The lovingly folded, tattered remains of the 173rd Alterran's regimental colors.
- Anything at hand that can be found to finish the job.
- Anything at hand that can be found to finish the job.
- The Rukowski special: a bad attitude.
Contact: Anyone he meets who recognizes him from before he was "martyred" defending Caedis V more than a century ago.
Background: Rook was pretty sure up until a few months ago that the last memory he would take to whatever passes for an afterlife in this shitty galaxy was spinning through the darkness of a seemingly endless chasm after ripping the unholy form of a daemon in two and being mortally wounded for his troubles. He figures the Emperor must have a fucked up sense of humor because that was somehow less terrifying than the nightmare flashes he still experiences sometimes of a xenos world of black stone where Imperial heroes and abominations from the dawn of time alike are kept in stasis bound menageries guarded by baleful green eyed silent sentinels made of living metal. Thankfully, the terrors are increasingly brief now that he's been awoken to a new living nightmare; the current state of the Caedis subsector and how tenuous the nominally Imperial administration's hold on its function really is. Rook is a man out of time fully aware that he probably should have died ending Gorkanak's Waaagh but that's not going to stop him from punching his way back home one enemy of the Emperor at a time if he has to.
Other: The exact circumstances of Rook's recovery from whatever purgatory he ended up in are unclear to him but he understands that whatever happened he has Lady Harper to thank for it. The two of them are not exactly what one might call the best of friends but he is appreciative for his part for the chance to continue living even if the galaxy he's returned to is somehow even more screwed than when he left it. After all, a nebulous promise to return home one day and an offer to serve as a Rogue Trader's Arch Militant operative is a lot better of a deal in his eyes than whatever life in the Guard would have eventually rewarded him with. And hey, at least he managed to ditch Yorck after that bullshit on Caedis III.
He's not nearly as thrilled with this "Praetor" business but there's one adage he learned in the Guard that continues to be the only cognitive glue holding the big bundle of thinly concealed rage, resentment, resignation, nicotine addiction and functional alcoholism that is Jace Rukowski together:
"It is what it is."
"It is what it is."
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Player name: Draxy
Character name: Lady Lucinda Harper
Age: 127
Appearance:
Personality: The Lady Harper does not suffer fools. She's stern and yet forgiving, always pushing her men to perform at their best. She has a keen eye in knowing what something is worth and always pushes to ensure she receives the better deal.
Homeworld: Caedis V
Skills: Ambidexterous, shooting, sword fighting
Weapons: Power Sword, laspistol, digi-weapons
Armour: Bodyglove
Equipment: Rosarius - Refractor field
Contact: Many
Background: One hundred years ago, Lucinda was nought but a minor cog within the workings of the Forge World of Caedis V. All of that changed with the ork invasion, with her actions performed during it leading her to be rewarded with a writ of Trade and the ship Sanctus Excelsior. Many years have past since then and the situation within the galaxy has too. Whilst Lucinda is no longer a young woman, rejuvenation treatment has allowed her to still remain within her prime and perform her duty.
It is a duty that she believes is solely needed.
With the advent of the great scar that split the galaxy in twain, and see their sector cut off from the larger Imperium, the Lady Harper founded the Praetors, an organisation aligned with her House, formed on the technicality of part of her purview being the finding of new worlds and lost civilisations to introduce into the Imperium. With contact now lost, the Praetors ultimate mission is to regain contact with the Imperium and maintain order within the sector, ensuring that once contact is regained, their loyalty shall never be in doubt.
Other: Stands at 5'6
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Player name: Dewin
Character name: Thrallax-72-E "Epsilon"
Age: Adult.
Appearance:
Unlike her normal skitarii counterparts, Epsilon wears dark blue and black combat armour without the ceremonial trappings that warrior of machine god would normally be clad in. Her armour has been refitted as to disguise her as regular soldier in carapace rather than one of the machine gods chosen.
Personality: Quiet and observant person that keeps their cards close to their chest while also a fanatical machine god cultist with restraint to not reflexively act upon said zeal.
Homeworld: Helvara
Skills: Former ruststalker alpha retrained to work as field operative that has additional training for marksmanship, data theft and infiltration. Furthermore, Epsilon has been trained in biology for biological sample recovery and field medicine.
Weapons:Compact transuranic arquebus, suppressed stubcarbine, pair of transonic weapons, gun-mechadendrite phosphor serpenta, arc grenades.
Armour: Cosmetically modified sicarian battle armour with inbuilt cameleoline field and sound dampener.
Equipment: Two pairs of arms, cybernetic plugs for Pteraxii implants, infiltrator gear, sensor array backpack with linked servo skull, combat stimm injector array, medical kit.
Primary contact: Skitarii Tribune-captain Able-4
Secondary contacts: Archmagos Augustinari III, Thrallax-74-Υ
Background: Born within the false wombs of her masters sanctum, Epsilon was born to fulfill the blood pack her master had made with the master of Sanctus Excelsior in exchange for giving them home that ended their long march in exile. Her flesh and blood had been ripped out and replaced with burning machinery and freezing coolant before she could walk properly, with the corpse memories of her predecessors fed to what little remained of her humanity serving as her mentors in place of their uncaring creator.
Having survived the corpse chute that had claimed so many of their siblings, 74 served first as part of the skitarii garrison of their home forge alongside her womb and natural born sibling-skitarii. Her conduct considered acceptable, Epsilon was then selected by her tribune to be suitable replacement candidate for her predecessor in Praetors.
Having been formally accepted into Praetor ranks, Epsilon has served several years in their ranks with deployments both as part of proper Praetor strike teams as well as shadow deployments as infiltrator and assassin.
Other: Due to previous communication problems with non-augmented personnel, Epsilon has a habit of self-narration when talking.
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SUPPORTING CHARACTERS
Character name: Archmagos Augustinari III
Age: 220
Appearance:
Image of Magos Augustinari following the fall of Caedis V. During the following decades he would be forced to drastically alter his appearance and form to fend of ever creeping dread of time. While the actual body has changed overtime, the messenger-servants tend to be shaped after this long gone form.
Personality: Having refused to undergo the rite of pure thought under the justification that it would downgrade his skill by removing his hatred for flesh, Augustinari is distant figure who's humanity has been reduced to afterthought by the long war. Having been forced to watch as his creations are reduced to nothing more than endless list of casualties while the false idol sits on their throne built on top of defiled god-machines for endless decades, only spite towards the galaxy and the hope for the great work keep him going.
Homeworld: Caedis V
Background: Having been born as false man within vitae-wombs of the forge world Caedis V and having worked as magos generator within the order before the collapse, little records remain otherwise of his activity before the fall of Caedis due to the devastion taking its toll on the databanks.
What is known is that Augustinari had left the forge world after losing a political gambit with the forge-parlament with him departing with his followers into the frontier decade or so before the collapse. What he had been doing there remains a mystery.
His ship supposedly had been stranded during of great waagh by errant warpstorm, with it reappearing from the immaterium during the early years of Regency leaving his circle stranded without support from rest of their magi and on ship that was nearly a hulk. During those desperate hours, he was approached by the master of Sanctus Excelsior and was offered a blood pact. In exchange for providing magi and skitarii for the rogue trader, they would in return use their connections and wealth to secure a new home for the exiled priesthood. With the only alternative being forced to bend the knee to the carrion-regent, the acceptance was inevitable.
With the contract sealed, the inhabitants of certain city in the Helvara were introduced to their new masters via the bayonet point of skitarii. This was several decades ago and under the tyranny of the archmagos, the city plate continues to provide their tithes to the guard and the rogue trader as dictated with few outsiders having ever visited the city deeper than its cargo port, and even fewer have returned from their intrusion into endless rows of foundries and worker-slums that the forge city is built upon.
Archmagos himself rules over his new forge from on top of temple-pyramid dedicated to the glory of the machine god with him preferring to use messenger-servitors for communication while he stays in his sanctuary himself.
SANCTUS EXCELSIOR CREW
Captain Flint
First Officer
Master of Auspex
Master of Ordnance
Flight Officer Junith Flint
Name: Nilam Sudarja
Age: 30s
Gender: Male
Rank: Senior Chief Petty Officer (AKA "Voidmaster", equivalent to a senior noncommissioned officer rank in the Guard like Sergeant First Class)
Description: Tawny tan skin, curly oil black hair, considered by most on the Sanctus to be the handsomest bastard in the Voidsmen contingent aboard
Name: Pyper "Frag'em" Fraigum
Age: Late 20s
Gender: Female
Rank: Petty Officer (AKA "Sergeant-at-arms" basically the same as a Guard squad lead)
Description: Pale skinned, short platinum blond hair, very sharp cheekbones
Name: Emileo Krayl
Age: 20s
Gender: Male
Rank: Armsman
Description: Large body frame, bullnecked, bulky shoulders, big arms, good for carrying his big rotor cannon, teeth are crooked as hell
Name: Billie Maizal
Age: Early 20s
Gender: Female
Rank: Corporal
Description: Brunette and fairly young faced, Fraigum's second in command of her squad
Name: Smutny Gronnir
Age: 20s
Gender: Male
Rank: Armsman
Description: Warm umber-dark skin, black hair, bright blue eyes, quiet and taciturn, carries the squad's las volley
Name: Merralum "Merri" Chal
Age: 20s
Gender: Male
Rank: Armsman
Description: A gangly limbed sort with too big a mouth for his own good, the token wise ass of the crew
Name: Gamma-76
Rank: Skitarii ruststalker
Gear: Sicarian body armour, twin transonic blades, stubcarbine.
Description: Vat-grown skitarii that has undergone the ruststalker procedure. Outside of their metallic arms and hands, has the appearance of standard ruststalker painted in dark blue and black and to most unaugmented, identical to their Gamma-77 counterpart.
Name: Gamma-77
Rank: Skitarii ruststalker
Gear: Sicarian body armour, twin transonic blades, stubcarbine.
Description: Vat-grown skitarii that has undergone the ruststalker procedure. Outside of their metallic arms and hands, has the appearance of standard ruststalker painted in dark blue and black and to most unaugmented, identical to their Gamma-76 counterpart.
Name: Theta-84
Rank: Skitarii breacher.
Gear: Reinforced Skitarii war plate, weaponized heavy rock drill, liberator Autostub, demolition charges
Description: Natural born skitarii conscripted from the miner population of Helvara. Heavily augmented with both skitarii and mining bionics with their four arms being the most distinctive and clad in weathered dark blue carapace, Theta is the most faithful of the unit with them usually reciting phrases and prayers from holy texts in binary when idle.
Name: Delta-44
Rank: Skitarii ranger
Gear: Reinforced Skitarii war plate, Hellgun and heavy laspistol directly wired into cybernetics, observation and targeting array, data-tether vox relay.
Description: Vat-grown skitarii that is approaching alpha status himself, having been designated as one of the Tribune-captain Able's chosen. Tall and clad in carefully maintained suit of war plate painted in same dark blue as rest of them, Delta's augments and mental conditioning have been designed to better blend in among the unaugmented guardsmen.
LOCATIONS, SHIPS AND NPCs
Notable planets in the Aurelian Empire
Sub-sector Caedis: the capitol
Caedis III
Type: Feudal World
Population: 400 million
Main Export: livestock, fish, ore
Caedis III is a dark and dismal feudal world. It is an undesirable backwater, significant only for its vast natural resources that fuel the manufactorums of the forge world Caedis V in perpetuity. Although it is a primitive, miserable place with very little direct Imperial oversight, it is certainly under the control of the Imperium. The limited technology of such feudal worlds means it is impossible for them to secede and ensures they are forever beholden to meet the tithes demanded in the name of the Emperor. The Imperium cares little for the internal squabbles of nobles and monarchs, or who rules the planet – only that the tithes are met. Some thousand years ago, when the quarterly tithe was a week overdue either through treason or incompetence, Archimandrite Novus of the Adeptus Mechanicus dispatched a single cruiser to correct this mistake. Ever the logician, Novus made his point in the most brutally efficient manner possible. And so, with a single volley from the vessel's macro battery, he set back their technology, art, culture and population by ten generations. So it was that the floating city of Orlankan became the oldest city in the world and the new capital of Ascandia.
The tithe was never late again.
For the majority of citizens on Caedis III, the mythical Imperium are merely another set of masters above their own. They know all that they need to: the Emperor requires ores to build His battleships and selects the chosen few to fight in His holy crusades among the angels. Those who ascend into the heavens to become the Emperor's warriors are never seen again, resulting in more fear than reverence of being chosen. For some, it is all they desire in this life. Most of the ordinary citizens never raise their heads long enough from their daily toil to contemplate what lies far beyond the bounds of their world.
The same cannot be said for the domineering class of nobles, who more often than not claim their titles through either poorly-forged documents or simple brute force. Land equals status on Caedis III and the lords of the realm are in constant conflict, both openly and clandestinely to rise above the rest and advance themselves, all in the name of gaining greater favour with the High King, who in turn has the favour of the great and powerful Imperium – so long as the tithes are on time.
The High King's realm, known as Ascandia, spans the majority of the northern landmass, stretching for thousands of miles. It is a land of rugged mountains, dark icy forests and endless lonely plains, broken only by primitive villages and stinking grey gruel fields or the precarious towering sky mills. For many years, there was relative peace and stability. However, after High King Rholarus Rhozan died five years ago without naming an heir, the lands have run red with the blood of thousands in a brutal civil war between his two daughters. This has been a prosperous time for many of the nobles, allowing them to take advantage of the mayhem to expand their domains or settle old scores. It has also drawn more off-worlders to Caedis III, selling their skills as fighters or advanced weapons such as the mighty lasgun.
As ever, the Aurelian Empire - still the Imperium as far as the locals are concerned - cares not for such inconsequential things as a minor power struggle on a backwater planet when the threat of the alien, the mutant and the heretic constantly threaten His realm. It was five years into the war before anyone in the Empire noticed. The remnants of the local Adeptus Administratum had to eventually explain to the Regent that this war was the result of a new, carefully devised plan to foment competition between the warring factions. Evidently, this had in fact increased the level of tithe paid over the past few years as each ambitious lord attempted to gain the Imperium's favour. The Adeptus Administratum even suggested this tactic may well work on other worlds to increase production, although a brief investigation by the Regent's agents later revealed that the entire war was, in fact, the result of a clerical error. The adept who received the request for the Imperium to choose a successor in lieu of a clear line of succession had accidentally omitted the last two letters in the name of the new Queen. The Imperium's official reply commanded that Princess 'Rhoze' would be new High Queen, and therefore Planetary Governor. This inevitably led to some confusion between Princesses Rhozena and Rhozeia. Both had the fealty and support of numerous liege lords, all of them fickle and regularly switching sides, seemingly no end in sight for this bloody civil war.
In the end, [REDACTED] was dispatched to investigate rumours of death cults and unspeakable monsters killing citizens in the city of Olrankan after several low-ranking agents failed to report in. Official records are not entirely clear as to what transpired in the days that followed - all that is publicly known is that neither royal heir ascended to the throne, with their uncle Alaric named as the new High King of Ascandia. There is a tenuous peace for now, but the lands and people of Caedis III are broken and exhausted in equal measure. Whether or not the next tithe is paid on time will have dire consequences for the future of this world, and the future of the Aurelian Empire.
Caedis V
Type: Fortress/Forge World
Population: 9,000,000,000
Main Export: Weapons, ammunition, vehicles, aircraft
The ancient capital city of Salvator, once the beating mechanical heart of Caedis V; a monument to techno-architecture and a testament to the infallible labour of nearly three thousand generations of workers, was reduced to ruin a century ago by a nearly unstoppable ork invasion. It was ultimately defeated, at the cost of the lives of nearly every man, woman and child on the planet. Billions had died in the conflict; civilians, soldiers and xenos alike. Notably, an entire company of Salamanders space marines gave their lives so that a few civilians could make it to the safety of vast underground bunkers.
Few records remain to explain what transpired in the final hours of the war, but the official story is that Captain Xecaon of the Salamanders managed to finally slay the vile warboss Gorkanak Fleshtearer with his bare hands. Legend says he alone held the last bridge to the central Mechanicus enclave, an Angel of Death empowered by Him on Terra, slaying thousands of xenos monsters and holding the line long enough for the Mechanicus to activate a devastating radiation weapon that scoured all remaining life from the planet's surface. To this day, a great marble statue stands on the sacred ground where he valiantly gave his life. It is both a place of pilgrimage, and the place where Cassandra Aurelia declared herself Regent, with the greatest hero of the sector as witness.
Now the beating heart of the Aurelian Empire, this former forge world is the capital of the Regent's regime. The Adeptus Mechanicus hurriedly sent to this world a hundred years ago were merely the vanguard of a larger fleet which never arrived, and were quickly forced into subservience. Since then, the planet has been restored to maximum productivity with millions of citizens from other worlds forcibly relocated from across the Empire. Not only were the drab, grey cities and manufactories rebuilt, so were training grounds and defenses ten times over. What was once a stronghold of the Adeptus Mechanicus was now a true fortress world, born out of the fires of battle and tempered by a constant state of war readiness.
A colossal, fortified palace was constructed in the ruined heart of Salvator City, projecting the authority of the Regent to any who would doubt Her power. The people of Caedis V effectively live in indentured servitude, even more severe and brutal than their predecessors under the Mechanicum. The simple, logical lifestyles under the Cult Mechanicus and worship of the Omnissiah have been replaced with a society of soldiers, remolded into a poor imitation of distant Cadia. Even those deemed unworthy to join the Regent's armies, instead forced to work the rest of their lives in the Manufactorums, are given basic combat training. Every person on the planet owns a lasgun, expected to put down their tools and raise arms if this irreplacable world is ever threatened again.
Despite the legend of Xecaon taught in education facilities and held as the example for every new recruit to the Regent's Guard, there are still a few descendents of those who emerged from the bunkers who whisper the names of forgotten heroes fighting an impossible monster. Any who are caught questioning historical fact by the Regent's enforcers are quietly taken from their homes in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.
If the system-wide vox broadcasts of news are to be believed, Caedis V is stronger than ever before. Its people are content, faithful and united in purpose. It is an exemplar of martial strength, a beacon of power keeping the local planetary governors in line, slaved to its might and begging for its protection. But there have long been rumours of discontent in the quiet, dark places where the Regent's eyes cannot see. There are mutterings of dissent, and possibly even rebellion. With each passing decade, the populace grows wearier of its indentured servitude to a merciless ruler who demands they work themselves to death or die in Her wars. Only time will tell if these whispers ever manifest as outward defiance, or worse still - a fully armed uprising.
Imperial Prison World 95432562/beta AKA Orn's Lament
Type: Penal Colony
Population: >20 million
Main Export: Servitors, corpse starch, penitent engines, arco-flaggellants
This bleak death world is a miserable little ice ball in an unremarkable star system. It serves as a penal colony for the most vile criminals and heretics from across the entire sector. Given a choice between death or a life sentence on Proditor II, any sane person would choose death. It is alleged that the intake of prisoners is so consistently high, that the subterranean facility housing over ten million inmates maintains a gargantuan servitor conversion factory, courtesy of the deceased Archimandrite Novus. The internal culture amongst the prisoners is comprised of vicious gangs who will regularly kill each other to avoid overpopulation as often as possible. When the capacity is exceeded despite the best efforts of the forsaken creatures who call this place home, the merciless Wardens descend and march thousands into the conversion factory. Many choose suicide by enforcer rather than face an eternity as a mindless servitor. Those who manage to survive in this frozen hell are consigned to work sixteen-hour shifts in the network of mines beneath the prison until either they lose too many fingers to frostbite and can no longer lift a pickaxe, or simply die. Parole is not a word that exists on this world, and death is the only escape. It received the nickname Orn's Lament several millennia ago, when a filing error resulted in an innocent enforcer named Orn being incarcerated on charges of sedition. Unfortunately for Orn, several hundred of the inmates were criminals he had arrested and they recognised him immediately. By the time the mistake was realised and corrected, Orn had been dead for fifteen years.
Varengheist's Paradise
Type: Hive World
Population: Unknown, previously >20,000,000,000
Main Export: raw materials, chems
Despite its name, this hive world is nothing more than a polluted, barren wasteland. One of the most distant worlds from the capital, communication with this planet is sporadic at best. Travel through the warp storms surrounding its star is considered a fool's errand at the best of times. Despite this, the Regent continued to send mass haulers to collect the vast resources produced by Varengheist's Paradise to fuel the forge fires of Caedis V. Unfortunately, the warp storms have intensified and there has been no contact with the planet for nearly ten years. It is widely accepted as a foregone conclusion that any single world isolated from the rest of the Aurelian Empire could not possibly have survived for so long against the endless incursions of aliens and traitors alike. Only in recent months, a few semi-stable routes through the storms have emerged. A few daring trade vessels have boldly made the journey, as well as a single Imperial Navy cruiser sent as a scout, but none have returned. The Regent has since forbidden all travel to Varengheist's Paradise.
"Three things make the Imperium great; faith, steel, and firepower!"
- Lord Marshal Nikolas Ducreux, Last Apostle of Saint Jacyn of Caedus
Alterra
Type: Shrine World
Population: 2,500,000,000
Main Export: Livestock, promethium and other fuels, Conscripts
Once famed for its regiments of Imperial Guard, the people of this world were left as broken as its cities by the ork invasion, for all its noble sons and daughters chosen to fight for the Emperor were sent to distant Caedis V instead of defending their home. Eventually, the meagre PDF forces prevailed and began to rebuild their desecrated home. Many had died in the fighting and even more were displaced to help rebuild the Regent's capital. Those who remained had little else left but their faith.
When a large fleet of ships arrived in orbit, carrying an Ecclesiarchal delegation and a war hero of the lost 173rd Alterran regiment, everything changed. Flocks of priests preceded thousands of pilgrims, with all the money and resources of the Imperial Truth directed into rebuilding this shattered planet. Preachers cried on every street, telling the story of Saint Rukowski, vanquisher of xenos and scourge of heretics. In a matter of years, cities were rebuilt in the shadow of magnificent cathedrals and a small Adepta Sororitas convent was established to protect this now consecrated world. New generations of Guardsmen were trained here, inspired by great works of art and statues depicting the now legendary Saint Rukowski, saviour of Caedis V.
This new legend was a direct contradiction to the narrative told by the Regent, leading to numerous small faith wars between those who would accuse each other of believing heretical lies. Ultimately, the Regent had no choice but to accept the Sainthood of a random grunt from a dead regiment, as Alterra had become an Ecclesiarchal shrine world of significant power. The Regent needed its legions of zealous soldiers and the Ecclesiarchy needed the weapons and equipment produced by Caedis V to arm them. Officially, both worlds are a part of the Imperium even in isolation. Unofficially, a tenuous alliance exists between the Aurelian Empire and the ruling Cardinal of Alterra, as both rely on each other for continued survival.
Alterra is now engulfed in war once more. It is one of a dozen frontlines, where Battle Sisters and Guardsmen stand shoulder to shoulder in the trenches of a neverending war against Drukhari raiders, roaming ork warbands and dread servants of the Dark Gods emerging from the Great Rift to continue their Long War.
Alterra
Type: Shrine World
Population: 2,500,000,000
Main Export: Livestock, promethium and other fuels, Conscripts
Once famed for its regiments of Imperial Guard, the people of this world were left as broken as its cities by the ork invasion, for all its noble sons and daughters chosen to fight for the Emperor were sent to distant Caedis V instead of defending their home. Eventually, the meagre PDF forces prevailed and began to rebuild their desecrated home. Many had died in the fighting and even more were displaced to help rebuild the Regent's capital. Those who remained had little else left but their faith.
When a large fleet of ships arrived in orbit, carrying an Ecclesiarchal delegation and a war hero of the lost 173rd Alterran regiment, everything changed. Flocks of priests preceded thousands of pilgrims, with all the money and resources of the Imperial Truth directed into rebuilding this shattered planet. Preachers cried on every street, telling the story of Saint Rukowski, vanquisher of xenos and scourge of heretics. In a matter of years, cities were rebuilt in the shadow of magnificent cathedrals and a small Adepta Sororitas convent was established to protect this now consecrated world. New generations of Guardsmen were trained here, inspired by great works of art and statues depicting the now legendary Saint Rukowski, saviour of Caedis V.
This new legend was a direct contradiction to the narrative told by the Regent, leading to numerous small faith wars between those who would accuse each other of believing heretical lies. Ultimately, the Regent had no choice but to accept the Sainthood of a random grunt from a dead regiment, as Alterra had become an Ecclesiarchal shrine world of significant power. The Regent needed its legions of zealous soldiers and the Ecclesiarchy needed the weapons and equipment produced by Caedis V to arm them. Officially, both worlds are a part of the Imperium even in isolation. Unofficially, a tenuous alliance exists between the Aurelian Empire and the ruling Cardinal of Alterra, as both rely on each other for continued survival.
Alterra is now engulfed in war once more. It is one of a dozen frontlines, where Battle Sisters and Guardsmen stand shoulder to shoulder in the trenches of a neverending war against Drukhari raiders, roaming ork warbands and dread servants of the Dark Gods emerging from the Great Rift to continue their Long War.
Alterra: An Abridged History, Volume I
The history of this storied planet of shrines dedicated to the iconic figures of the Imperial Cult began near a score of centuries ago in the bleakest and most forlorn underhives of humanity's Throneworld. Deep in the dark amidst the gloom and madness of forgotten corridors where the light of Sol had long passed into the fevered dreams of beggar-soothsayers a young woman prayed by dim torchlight. The traditions of the church say that she was prisoner, fettered in chains and locked away in some misplaced gaol for years, although by whom and for what reason are details lost to the mysteries of corrosive time. What is known is that there the woman prayed day and night, beseeching her master, the one true god of humanity who sat in undiminished glory upon his throne of gold somewhere above her in halls far more leagued in glory than the dark pit she was trapped in. Forgiveness, redemption, absolution, these were the things she humbly asked for, begged for in that dark and windowless prison cell from which freedom was but a passing memory. But chief amongst that which she fervently prayed for in those shadowy depths, though her heart quailed and mind recoiled at the thought of spending the rest of her life in chains, was that His will be done, not hers. Every entreaty of hers that she loosed from desperate lips was tempered with the humble request that His holy plan be revealed to her. If only she could glimpse the barest hint of His truth, she reasoned, then all else would not require explanation. After all, what mortal mind could truly comprehend the mysteries of His glory?
It was in this state of supplicant prayer that the young woman find her answer. And in so doing she would take the first step on the journey that would see her beatified and hence raised up amongst the legions of the God Emperor's most holy saints. A golden radiance would suddenly fill the chamber where she was held captive, blinding and destroying all who guarded the unholy prison with thunderous rapture. So swift was the display of this power that the woman did not see how a massive suddenly entered her cell. All that she knew was that before there had been walls of plasteel and ferrocrete holding her in thrall and now it was as if the mere presence of the radiance had caused the structure to wilt and retreat. The most massive silhouette she had ever witnessed now stood before her, a giant armored in gloriously auric warplate cast a long shadow over her, shielding her eyes from the excoriating light behind him. His tall, scarlet plumed war helm hid his face from her view and his waist and shoulders were draped in royal purple robes of the finest velvet. By his side he wielded lightly a spear of such size the woman was sure three such as her would not equal its weight. Just as her mind was beginning to contemplate its demise by the effortless stroke of this godlike warrior, the figure made to move and extended one flawlessly bejeweled gauntlet towards her, beckoning her to step forwards. Her senses, atrophied by captivity and further assailed by her apparent savior's furious assault, did not initially notice the Imperial Aquila displayed proudly on many of the giant's armored plates and so this initial offer was met with feeble hesitation.
"Come." The giant spoke with a gentleness that belied the power of its command. "By his will we must leave this place."
"By whose will?" She asked in return, her voice a cracked and frail croak in comparison to the giant's throaty rumble. "By whose will am I alone to be freed from this place?"
"By the will of the Master of Mankind," boomed the golden giant. It was all the answer the young woman would require which was just as well as it was the only answer she would receive from her imposing savior.
"By the will of the Master of Mankind," boomed the golden giant. It was all the answer the young woman would require which was just as well as it was the only answer she would receive from her imposing savior.
What the young woman was to discover rather quickly after her liberation was that the golden giant did not speak lightly. He was one of the Ten Thousand, the brotherhood of demigodly figures endowed and privileged to guard the God Emperor himself. The doomscryers of the Imperial Palace had given him a prognostication that the young woman's life was indispensable to the safety of Terra. But how? This was something only she could answer.
Her name was Alonya and she was fated to become a martyred saint of the Imperial Creed.
With her baroque and blessed guardian by her side she found it easy to coax the common masses of the Throneworld to heed the message she would go on to spread as far as she could; the Emperor had given her a vision of worlds yet to be found, of shrines to his glory yet to be raised, and of human ears yet to hear of his glory. It was up to her and those who would follow her to seek out these places and these people and bring the one true faith to their horizons. A dozen quickly joined her, and a dozen more besides. First a hundred then a thousand, then ten and some hundreds of times more flocked to Alonya's banner and cause until at last her voice carried in the ears and hearts of a million zealots and the small fleet of ships needed to complete her vision. A dozen or more hulking merchant cruisers disappeared from Terra's orbit into the void, slipping the bonds of reality into that blighted realm of unreality and carrying within them the hopes and dreams of spirits aflame to spread the Emperor's word to the far reaches of humanity's galaxy.
Precious few would ever be seen again.
Precious few would ever be seen again.
The fickle tides of the Empyrean domain are feared amongst sailors across the breadth of the galaxy for good and wise reasons. It would be many years before the Pilgrim's fleet of Alonya the Blessed would be seen again in the confines of real space and when they did reappear it was only as a pale shadow of the million strong company that set out from Terra's blessed light. So treacherous had the journey been, in fact, that it was said Alonya herself did not survive the journey but perished in a valiant sacrifice fighting the perils of the warp so that her flock might survive to see the end of their road. Their Emperor, blessed and merciful, smiled upon their efforts in the end, however, and despite the loss of their charismatic leader the remains of the fleet would re-enter the galaxy near a set of worlds yet uncharted by Explorator scouts far to the East of the Astronomican's source. Men sobbed and women wept as they beheld a beautiful and idyllic planet through their viewports; a vision of the glory of humanity's cradle when it was yet young and vibrant and full of natural life.
The beleaguered settlers sent their vanguard to the surface. There they raised the Imperial Aquila and christened this world in honor of their leader who loved them so much as to give her last breath for their cause...and the world she was born on.
This world would be Alyonis-Terra. And centuries henceforth the lowborn tongue of Imperial Gothic would have it known by its more widely used and truncated name: Alterra.
The beleaguered settlers sent their vanguard to the surface. There they raised the Imperial Aquila and christened this world in honor of their leader who loved them so much as to give her last breath for their cause...and the world she was born on.
This world would be Alyonis-Terra. And centuries henceforth the lowborn tongue of Imperial Gothic would have it known by its more widely used and truncated name: Alterra.
Alterra as it was upon its discovery by Alyona's pilgrim fleet, Circa M40
The Interim
By all accounts Alterra operated as a model Imperial world for the next millennia and a half. Though its population started small and there were initial concerns for the safety of the colony due to the hostility of the native fauna as well as a population of vile semi-sentient mutants that competed with the colonists for resources and occasionally levied war against them, their numbers were soon to be bolstered by the intervention of passing Rogue Traders who treated the world as a place to recuperate after their various adventures in yon wilderness space. These freelance Imperial agents would often bring either goods to trade or refugees to offload, further bolstering the colony's economy and population. Oftentimes upon these visits an opportunity was found for these rather bored but powerful princelings to engage in a quick bout of military adventurism via safari into the planet's many untapped badlands. This sort of steady progress through the passing fancy of well to do conquistadors in need of a port of call would eventually and inevitably result in the rise of a rather standard class of nobility on Alterra intertwined through fortune, politics, and marriage to the aristocracy of other Imperial systems throughout the sector as is the tradition of most high born societies throughout the Imperium. In several generations Alterra would burgeon and then flourish, blossoming from its humble beginnings as a frontier world of sparse populations into a fully civilized planet of billions of loyal Imperial citizens with a rising industrial output.
This development inevitably lead to further exploration and colonization of the other habitable planets in the Alterran system as well as worlds in nearby systems over the course of several centuries:
Vaquero
Type: Frontier World
Population: >500 million
Main Export: Livestock, promethium and other fuels
The next planet within the Alterran system to be colonized was, naturally, the one next nearest to the local star. Vaquero is a dry, arid world of scrub covered mesas, windswept deserts, and vast plains of sparse, hardy vegetation that has adapted to an environment of little rainfall and temperatures that can vary wildly between sweltering during the daytime and freezing at night. The original settlers were ill prepared for these climes and initially required frequent shipments of supplies and food from off world in order to survive as most of their attempts with cultivating sustenance themselves met with failure in these unforgiving lands.
It was in this predicament that Vaquero would find its future calling. As fate would have it one of these supply shipments was delivered by one Conrad Von Calderon, a Rogue Trader who was contracted by the Administratum for the job but found that he was only able to show up to the colony's doorstep with holds full of foreign livestock instead of the prepared foodstuff that the colonists were used to recieving. With little other choice between accepting this new burden they stood unprepared for an starving to death the colonists set about becoming ranchers and grox barons with little to no idea how to actually accomplish this.
It was in this predicament that Vaquero would find its future calling. As fate would have it one of these supply shipments was delivered by one Conrad Von Calderon, a Rogue Trader who was contracted by the Administratum for the job but found that he was only able to show up to the colony's doorstep with holds full of foreign livestock instead of the prepared foodstuff that the colonists were used to recieving. With little other choice between accepting this new burden they stood unprepared for an starving to death the colonists set about becoming ranchers and grox barons with little to no idea how to actually accomplish this.
The Emperor would smile upon his long-suffering and patient servants, however, as it would only take a single generation of stampedes, herd-born plagues, and other disasters of minor note before the colony began to flourish via the export of Vaqueran raised stock. These days how far those initial hardy settlers propelled their descendants is a thing of envy for many worlds as there is hardly a banquet thrown by the nobility in the entire sector that does not host some morsel of Vaquero's toil upon one of its dining tables.
At some point between its founding and the current day, surveyors also discovered vast quantities of promethium beneath the shale and soil of the planet owing to its distant past millions of years ago when it was covered with jungles and fauna that have long since died out from the natural course of shifting climates. This naturally resulted in massive pumping wells and gargantuan refineries dotting the landscape and their products thereof forming one of the two pillars of the world's economy.
Helvara
Type: Mining World
Population: >50 million
Main Export: Ores, gems, and other minerals with industrial applications
The last planet in the Alterran system to be colonized and conversely the first planet in the system in order from the local star. Helvara is a world of extreme conditions, extreme hazards, and extreme potential. Mechanicus explorators sealed the planet's fate when they discovered via probing that the makeup of its crust was dense with ores and minerals desperately needed by the sector's forge worlds to maintain their output of material for the Imperium's war machines. Unfortunately for the initial population of miners made up of convicts of Alterra's penal systems, this vast material wealth was hidden above dangerously unstable tectonic plates, rivers of boiling magma, and pockets of unseen radiation. As if the planet itself wasn't bad enough, conditions were further complicated by the viciously territorial and highly dangerous fauna that called Helvara's caverns home. In the early days of its habitation entire mining teams were known to disappear into those sulfurous depths with little indication whether they had been a victim of the claws of a nest of Ambulls or the sudden eruption of an undiscovered geothermal vent. Very little precipitation falls on Helvara and the atmosphere is quite thin resulting in most of the populace living in underground cities where the precious supplies of air and water are scrubbed of pollutants by vast mechano-filter complexes and the streets are lined with buildings sat atop great quake-absorbing coils that prevent the many ground-tremors that are a near daily occurrence on the planet from causing widespread devastation.
Zernopol
Type: Agri World
Population: >100 million
Main Export: Agricultural products
A world of inland seas, river valleys, vine choked wetlands, marshy bogs and humid swamps. Zernopol was, upon its categorization by explorators, marked as the most likely candidate for light years in any direction to serve as the epicenter of Imperial food supply in the subsector. Most well known for the ziggurat like hydroponics facilities that dot the shores of its mire, Zernopol's uninteresting population of dour faced landscapers who toil their days away in rubberized protective suits and the rebreathers needed to keep them from inhaling the pesticides used to protect the planet's crops from the myriad of biting insects that coat its surface nonetheless form a crucial link in the sector's supply lines.
Rylost's Haven/Rylost's Rest
Type: Paradise World/Cemetery World
Population: >20 million
Main Export: N/A
The world of Rylost's Rest began its history as an outpost for the use of Imperial nobility quite accidentally as it would turn out. A miscalculated Warp translation would throw Sorgan Rylost and his Rogue Trader vessel Finum Proxima into the planet's system unexpectedly where, after a sensorium sweep of his surroundings, he would go on to claim this world in the name of the Imperium. Upon landing, Rylost was shocked to find a world of such natural beauty and pastoral charm that it was said to make him weep openly. He would go on to build a sprawling estate of his own there and quickly discovered that this particular world did not exist on any major Imperial star chart which was a fact that he would exploit ruthlessly in his long career as a void born privateer. Rylost would continuously return to this world after his many and storied raids, so much so in fact that a conspiracy that devolved its way into one of many of the sector's legends was that old Captain Rylost had hidden all his treasure somewhere at his haven world and that any who found it would manage to become one of the richest people from this swathe of space to Ultramar.
Many would search for Rylost's Haven but none would manage to find it. The legend would become moot, in any case, as after a long career of stellar debauchery Rylost was a man with many debts to settle and seemingly few assets to do so. In an ingenious bit of diplomacy he would manage to settle most of these debts by selling the rights of settlement upon his mysterious haven to many of his creditors who would be disappointed to find no vast amounts of hidden wealth but mollified at least that they were now in possession of some of the finest real estate to be found in most of the sector's Imperial society.
This tradition would continue for centuries with multiple families using their exclusive rights to own property upon Rylost's Haven to settle debts between them until owning some sort of plot upon the world was, while certainly not ubiquitous, considered a sort of rite of passage in the sector for a noble family on the rise; you would know you had made it to the real court of the sector's movers and shakers if you managed to politick your way into having a family estate on Rylost's Haven.
It would remain a nominal state of affairs until recent events within the Caedis subsector would force the various Imperial administrations to reassess priorities rather heavily. So it was that Rylost's Haven was targeted for reassessment of tithe grade by the new organization of various Administratum departmentos established by the Aurelian Protectorate in the aftermath of the Noctis Aeterna and the appearance of the Cicatrix Maledictum. This was deeply unpopular with the sector's nobility and it could have very well ended in costly bloodshed at a time when Imperial forces could not afford to be fighting amongst themselves with the enemy so brazenly at the gates of the sector. Fortunately for all parties involved the matter was settled when representatives of the Ecclesiarchy interceded in the disagreement and proposed a solution that could satisfy all; Rylost's Haven would continue to host the estates of Imperial nobility but its landscapes would also be given over to the burying of the valorous dead with all those martyrs giving their lives to save Pax Imperialis within the Caedis subsector afforded a plot of idyllic paradise in death whether or not they could afford one in life. With this agreement Rylost's Haven would become Rylost's Rest and to this day the feats of artifice and architecture present in the pearlescent abodes of the rich and powerful there are only eclipsed by those which are found in the marbled mausoleums standing just across their courtyards.
The surface of Bastilium Maximus and its Schola Progenium complex
Bastilium Maximus
Type: Schola Progenium
Population: >20,000
Main Export: The finest servants of the Emperor
Population: >20,000
Main Export: The finest servants of the Emperor
The desolate, wind sheared badlands that cover most of the surface of Bastilium Maximus form what is considered by the local overseers to be the perfect setting for the planet's only major Imperial settlement; the Schola Progenium complex that dominates the largest caldera of its northern hemisphere. It is here, surrounded by occasional magma flows and reliably erupting geysers of groundwater that the Progena, the orphaned students that make up the Schola's learning body and singular purpose, are trained in the skills they will require to serve the Emperor dutifully and without question or doubt.
For generations the sparsely vegetated and volcanic landscape of Bastilium has provided the perfect means by which to acquaint each student with the bleak hardships they are surely to endure in their lives of stalwart dedication to the Throne. Employing the natural ruggedness of the planet for this purpose is often as simple as sending a class of Progena out from the walls of the fortress academy with little in the way of provisions and instructing them to make their way, over land and on foot, through the treacherous flats and wastes, over near vertical cliffs, and amongst craggy canyons to one of several supply depots set up in the distant hills specifically for the purpose of facilitating these treks. Treacherous terrain ism however, not the only hazard a prospective Progena will find on Bastilium's surface. The officios of the Ordo Tempestus, having long understood the common wisdom that extraordinarily dangerous training will inevitably produce extraordinarily dangerous soldiers, have long ago seen fit to acquire several stocks of dangerous lifeforms from the menageries of passing Rogue Traders in order to fill Bastilium's landscapes with an even higher level of mortal peril. Such events are not every day occurrence on Bastilium but are usually reserved by the Drill Abbots for one of a cadet's Trials of Compliance. It is just as well, as the survival rate of these journeys are not often high. These results are considered acceptable for truly how can the weak be expected to shoulder the burden placed upon the most dedicated of the Emperor's soldiers and warriors?
In addition to this Schola Progenium complex upon the planet's surface there also exists, in synchronous orbit around Bastilium Minimus, the planet's only moon, a small space station built around all that remains of an ancient and traitorous fleet; the sundered remains of a flagship known as the Vow of Oblivion. The facility is likewise manned by Drill Abbot instructors attached to the facility on the planet's surface and equipped with a plethora of kill servitors which stalk the darkened decks and aid the Abbots in instructing their students in the rudiments of zero gravity warfare. Among the Progena of the Schola this training regime is referred to with dark humor and it is said that those students who are undergoing these lessons are "taking their vows."
Damnios
Type: Knight World
Population: Unknown, estimated in the tens of millions
Main Export: Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots
The Imperial history of Damnios is shrouded in a certain amount of dubious mystery. No official Administratum records can be found of the planet's initial contact by Imperial explorators but recent events have convinced most functionaries of the various Adepta of Imperial administration that this is because the records were lost or destroyed in the byzantine depths of Imperial record keeping. As a result, officially, Damnios was discovered in the last five centuries by the advent of a Rogue Trader dynasty, who, unbeknownst to their organization, had been trafficking a Lance of Knights in service of their oath of Questor Imperialis that the wider Imperium had no knowledge of. It was only after this small group of nobles, by way of their Rogue Trader allies and within their magnificent steeds of adamantium cladding, aided in repulsing an Ork incursion on Helvara that Imperial officials took notice that the world from which these men and women claimed to hail had no records on any official star chart or in any official ledger that could be found pertaining to the subject of the sector's inhabited worlds. The nobility of Damnios, when they were eventually confronted by Imperial diplomats on the matter, found this predicament to be quite humorous as their own family histories of glorious service to the Emperor on Terra were very much complete. The Knight Houses of Damnios have since graciously allowed the Administratum mostly unlimited access to these family histories as a means of repairing its incomplete official records although the process by which this is being accomplished is slow due to the rather grandiose and exaggerated character of such local archives.
The planet itself is a fairly harsh place where the nobility's feudal subjects live in the shadow of their mountain straddling castle redoubts and make a living scratching subsistence from Damnios' rocky soil or conducting open air markets in one of the planet's walled city squares. As is the obligation of the war engine piloting class of Damnios' society, the Knight houses often sally forth to protect these settlements from bands of raiders, xenos incursions, and rampaging megafauna alike, their praises for such acts of chivalry sung by the common folk in every hall and upon every street corner. All noble houses upon Damnios swear fealty to High King Tristan Sanagua Mortivahl of House Mortivahl who rules the world from his seat in the Ebonspire; the highest tower built upon the highest peak of the highest reaching mountain range upon Damnios.
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In the next post: The Noctis Aeterna, the Cicatrix Maledictum, how this area of Imperial space survived, and how it stands in the present day a century after the invasion of Caedis V...
The Sanctus Excelsior
The Sanctus Excelsior is an ancient starship, with some records claiming it saw service during the Great Crusade. Although this is a matter of some dispute among historians and Tech Priests alike, the near-priceless value of such a vessel is undeniable. It bears little resemblance to a typical Star Galleon after millennia of modifications by fifty-seven different captains.
Despite its size, a Star Galleon is a heavily-armed and armoured freighter rather than a true ship of the line. Nevertheless, a skilled crew and experienced captain could potentially best a hostile cruiser-class vessel in a one-on-one engagement. The most notable features of the Sanctus Excelsior are the modified launch bays where some of its cargo holds used to be and the three double-barrel lance batteries mounted along its spine. This additional weaponry places extreme demand on the venerable vessel's generators and as a result have been known to overload other key systems when used in extended battles. Most of its captains view this as an acceptable trade-off, as they can either overpower most opponents and any they can't beat in a fair fight they will simply flee. The additional launch bays, a more recent alteration, allow for a fighter squadron to be dispatched within seconds. This has proven invaluable in the last century, where an otherwise slow ship would be easy prey for torpedoes and bombers without an escorting fleet.
As with all capital-class starships, within its hull is a functional city. Generations of void-born live and die in space, as did their ancestors and as will their progeny. The average crewman will never see a natural sky above his head and would likely die under the strain of Terra-standard gravity. Most of them live in relative comfort compared to crews of the Imperial Navy or even other Rogue Traders, a privilege of which they are regularly reminded. Meanwhile, the officer caste live in greater luxury than the vast majority of humans in the Imperium could ever dream of. Their quarters account for nearly half as much space as the rest of the crew quarters combined. For the average crew member, their wildest dreams begin and end at the most slim possibility of being noticed by their superiors and earning a coveted promotion to the ranks of the officers. The captain likes to promote one or two every few decades, to ensure the rest of the crew remain motivated in their work in the hopes of ascending one day.
The most striking feature of the Sanctus Excelsior is invisible to the eye. Beneath rows of macro-batteries and tightly-packed crew quarters is the heart of the machine itself. The machine-spirit of this ship is a temperamental old soul, often slow to be roused into action but powerfully willful in the heat of battle. No less than three separate navigators have served under the current captain, as the ship's spirit overpowered and rejected two of them. The Sanctus is a proud, bashful beast and refuses to yield to the whims of the weak-minded. This ship witnessed the time of the Emperor, the greatest crusade in history, and carries the memories of a hundred-thousand different worlds. In the quiet moments sailing the sea of stars, when its spirit remains mostly dormant, it dreams of past glories and yearns for new adventures. It does not suffer fools or disrespect, and once infamously seized control of its own lance weapons to fire upon another ship when the Rogue Trader Dravos Starworth made the mistake of calling it a 'tired old bucket' over the vox.
Hull: Transport/Cruiser
Dimensions: Approximately 5.1 kilometres long, 0.7 kilometres abeam at fins
Mass: Approximately 30 megatonnes
Acceleration: 2.1 gravities maximum sustainable acceleration
Crew: [last census: 064.M42]
- 31,723 servitors
- 20,500 indentured human crew [labourers, gunnery-slaves, mechanics, cleaners, cooks, cargo loaders etc]
- 2500 officers
- 4000 armsmen
- 25 Tech-Priests
- 45 non-servitor bridge crew
- estimated 2000-6000 unknown [mutants, void-scabs and dregs in the lowest decks]
Weapons:
28 Mark IV Mars-pattern Macrocannons
3 Twin Lance Batteries
Strike craft:
24 Fury Interceptors
Shuttles:
10 Arvus Lighters
4 Aquila Landers
1 custom Gun-Cutter
Gunship Omicron-9-3-7-2/Delta-3-5-1-4 AKA 'The Shrike'
The Shrike is the primary drop ship and mobile command centre for Praetor team Primus. It is a heavily modified Gun-Cutter, designed for long-term autonomous operations. It boasts a fully-stocked armory, medical bay and provisions for up to a month. Although lacking the speed of Fury Interceptors or the agility of a vulture gunship, it more than makes up for these shortcomings with reinforced armour and an impressive array of weaponry.
Cruising Speed: 2,000kph
Crew:: Pilot, co-pilot or servitor, Engineer, 2 gunners or servitors
Carrying Capacity: quarters for 6, max room for 30 or equivalent cargo
Length: 37m
Width: 18m [at wingtips]
Decks: 2
- cockpit, gunnary cabin, auspex array, engine room
- armory, wall bunks, common area, brig [capacity: 2], med-bay [capacity: 1 patient], cargo hold
Weaponry:
- 1 Mk IX Hellfire Rotary Cannon [nose-mount] [Pilot]
- 2 Multilaser turrets [Defensive] [Gunners]
- 2 twin-linked lascannons [wing-mounts] [Co-pilot]
The Lord Bastille
Dictator-class cruiser
Dimensions: 5.1 km long, 0.8 km abeam at fins approx.
Mass: 29 megatonnes approx
Crew:
- Standard complement: 85,000 crew, 15,000 flight personnel
- After last battle rotation: ~60,000 crew, 7,000 flight personnel
Weapons:
- 8 macrocannons
- 6 prow torpedo launchers
- 16 Launch bays
- capital-class power weapon (ramming spear)
Accel: 2.5 gravities max sustainable acceleration.