Wrath Prime

The Penultimate and Verbombastic Adventure
in Which the GM Fustratingly Tries to Ned Stark Whichever One of the Acolytes He Can

Twas brillig and slivy nodes
did gyre and gimble in the screaming panic of sheer terror on the streets of the hive as a dead world bares down on a very aware and not in the slightest bit rational, population.

So Template decides s/he/it needs an engine for the getaway vehicle s/he/it recently learned to drive for the purpose of getting away from the freshly discovered warp bubble our heroes were currently considering for a good old-fashioned rape and pillage and blow-up-whatever-we-find-on-the-other-side mission. So Template and Plug head to the shop for an old broken down engine the acolytes distinctly remembered falling off the back of a truck. The two of them get the engine out of the shop and into the car. Template, forgetting why s/he/it brought Plug along, immediately and deftly puts the engine in the car and tech-knocks it in to perfect working order. As the vehicle purrs like an asthmatic kitten, the two tech-priests get in the car and promptly run over a sweet old lady who had somehow been able to avoid the riots well enough to collect a bag of groceries and hobble her way back home. She successfully rolls out of the way of the vehicles tires, saving her own life, but then breathing in the fumes from the car’s exhaust pipe causes the very recently victorious death-defying lady to die of a writhing and painful cancer not a few minutes later.

Back at the new temple base, Plug puts the finishing touches on the servo-skulls, also giving them the ability to play music appropriate to the situation. A small oily tear runs down the cheek of the skull formerly known as Singed as it realizes that the acolytes are kind of racist for making his skull a suicide bomber.

The acolytes decide to deck the ceiling with bows of razor wire for a lovely touch of which Martha Stewart would have been proud (provided she was preparing for unknown creatures to grow, fly and attack in an enclosed and unfamiliar space). Contrasting with the panic on the streets of London outside, the mood in the temple is nearly festive as grenade charges are placed through out the rooms and doors. The acolytes have gathered several Christmas trees worth of servo skulls, some gunses and a sword for Skoal.

Should the acolytes find themselves in a situation where they’re being chased by an unspeakable horror and not fighting it, (an estimated likelihood of 82.7% at some point or another) several booby traps have been set up in the rooms in addition to the charges, including pointy and ouch-tastic claw arms on either side of the building and rooms which once entered, should swiftly be exited by anyone who decides they don’t want to be swiftly locked in an blowed-up. Even the generator is rigged to blow a festive hole in the floor if necessary.

The acolytes don their halos of no fear and cuteness, when the Hive once again quakes and the warp begins to stir like no mouse ever could. With the car idling outside and wasting precious promethium (but what do our heroes care? They’re rich and this planet is dead to them anyway), the acolytes take their positions. Template at the door to the outside, Octia and Plug near the doors to the rest of the building, Freja and Skoal hanging back because, you know.

Plug pushes the button.

Time and space shift in way that—well you know the feeling. Within the room, the universe expands. The razor wire on the ceiling shatters and tinkles down like bits of tinsel and silver confetti. The millennia-old spirit of Martha Stewart sheds a single tear. Two borg-like alcoves with skeletal and heretical gribblies activating inside them manifest in two corners of the room. The dazzling spectacle fatigues Octia and Plug. Template shrugs and pokes at one of her/his/its own holes, utterly unimpressed. Skoal picks his teeth with his sword, and Freja twittles her thumbs.

The coveted heretech hovers over a levitation platform in the middle of the room, a hexagonal tube. Between it and Template are a set of steps and a pew for kneeling to worship said heretech.

Plug blasts at the gribbly nearest him and rolls the heck out of the room. Octia attempts the same maneuver but actually hits the damn thing. They announce to the group the location of the two monstrosities that want to consume and defile our heroes’ souls (in whichever order is convenient) and instruct Template to hide while the rest of us distract and hopefully kill the danged things.

Not understanding the meaning of “hide” Template rushes up the steps, the theme from Rocky blasting out his sweet 6 speaker system. He ducks behind the pew for half-cover. The Guardians somehow notice this and one, Guardian Quincible, blasts plasma straight at the damned fool. Lady luck giggles seductively and the plasma just barely misses Template. Then Guardian Senor Gruesome advances toward Template until there is but a lighting arc generator between the two of them. Skoal rushes in after Senor Gruesome and misses miserably. Freja runs to the door to check out the newly expanded room and admires the new architecture.

“Ride of the Valkyries” plays as the servo skulls make their awesome flying entrance. Plug sends one to attack Quincible and misses. Octia reenters the rooma and aims two shotguns at Senor Gruesome. Lady Luck licks her lips as one shotgun hits, and the other jams.
Template lays back and waits for Sr. Gruesome to come into her/his/its line of sight, gun on semi-automatic.

The servo skull music changes to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” and the Guardian Quincible will have none of it. He blows one of the C4 stuffed skulls with ease. Michael Bay’s memory curses fervently as the skull does not explode epically, but instead turns to ash and sprinkles its way to the floor.

As Sr. Gruesome makes a run for it, Template hits him in the gonads (which happen to be in the guardian’s right arm).

Skoal runs.
Freja attempts to inflict pain on Quincible. She end up doing something like shouting “wee-woo-wee-woo-wee” and nothing happens.
Octia paints the floor with a laser and then shoots Quincible nicely. Plug sends the servo skull formerly known as Singed, frag grenade inside, to blow up Quincible. It works! Then, Terminator style, Quincible rises from the explosion.

Template shoot Sr. Gruesome again with two blasts. Quincible runs at Freja and attempts to turn her into coleslaw, but mis-estimates and just ends up waving his scythes as impotently as a guardian can without being disabled or suffering Mehanictile Dysfunction.

Sr. Gruesome attacks Skoal, but misses through the tears in his eyes, remembering a time and a place long ago when Sr. Gruesome knew real love. Skoal counter attacks and Sr. Gruesome parries with what turns out to be a power weapon.

Freja compels Quincible to follow her. Her first success of the night is short-lived as the Lady Luck goes to fetch some lubricant and Freja’s spell knocks herself unconscious. Lady Luck returns and allows this whole thing to happen near enough to a Heywire grenade allowing it to go off, knock out Quincible and create a mechanical dead zone around the two bodies.

Plug proceeds to empty his gun into the prone Quincible. Octia likes this and attempts the same, only to have a 2nd gun jam.

Template hits but his ammo bounces off Sr. Gruesome. Plug fires more into Quincible. Octia runs closer and whips out two pistols, then pumps that Quincible sucker fulla lead. Template loads a Haywire grenade into his happy-fun-time launcher and takes out Sr. Gruesome for a little while with another dead zone.

Freja begins to snore. Plug knocks one of Octia’s shot guns back to life, shoots at Quincible and misses. Octia shoots, hits and does no damage to the now re-animating Quincible. The guardian then lunges at Plug and misses as Lady Luck does some cocaine. Skoal looks upon the knocked out body Sr. Gruesome and raises his eyebrows at the helpless target. He then attempts to eviscerate a creature with no determinable viscera The booming voice of God complains loudly to the chamber “Why is no one dead yet?!” Interobang. Freja starts to drool and grind her teeth.

Sr. Gruesome rises and Skoal is now peeved that his target is no longer helpless. “I hit you with a sword” he remarks, and kills Sr. Gruesome in two blows.

Plug aims are ferric lure into the now-standing Quincible’s innards. It makes the guardian fall to one knee. Octia hits the bastard twice but her gun only lightly peppers Quincible and does no actual damage. Quincible decides he isn’t here to make friends, and scythes off one of Plug’s arms below the elbow. Plug finishes the job by killing off Quincible. Octia insists Plug unjam her other shotgun before that happens. Freja dreams about chasing cars.

The battle finished Template and Plug harvest the power scythes. Freja wakes up and asks for a snack. Everyone looks at the floating hexitube. Plug sends a camera to fly over it, and the camera bounces off the electrical barrier. Template hacks the cogitators which had also appeared when the room expanded and finds the way to deactivate the force field. After half an hour of chanting and litany from the two tech priests, they finally press the sacred “off” button. The hexitube falls to the ground. After some more hacky-hacky, the acolytes learn that this is an alien-tech device that creates an anti-warp bubble and has something to do with Thool. The way to activate it involves a litany plus unguent.

“So we’re supposed to throw this into the eye of some vortex?” asks Freja.
“Whatever that means.” Octia replies.

The Hive quakes and Freja detects a vortex forming in the warp, but decides that couldn’t possibly be related to the task at hand. However, she does notice hundreds of thousands of demons swarming in her inner vision and that freaks her the f*** out. She then loses it. And by “it” I of course mean self-restraint and control of bowels.

The acolytes pile into the car, but instead of blowing the damned heretical temple into oblivion, Plug changes his mind at the last minute and decides to just seal it off forever. Freja is disappointed as she wanted to push the kablooey button.

Tune in next week, for the exciting conclusion of “Acolytes know Best”

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Tune In and Shard Out

Following their great battle in the elevator full of recently-widowed nine-month pregnant cancer-surviving soup-kitchen volunteers who were on their way to donate blood after working twelve-hour shifts at the Wrath Prime Burn Unit for Blind Orphans and Amputee Puppies of War Veterans, Plug and Template set about investigating their set of retrieved skulls. Three days pass with no contact from the Inquisitor Overlord, but a news report soon alerts the group of large-scale attacks and riots spreading through the Hive. Not even the arbitors seem able to restore peace and over one billion are reported dead. The group is also made aware of a ship that has docked bearing a strange cargo, though Template’s contact at the docks is unable to provide any further information.

Achieving technological séance with the severed head of Atelles, the group inquires after the Libre Nox. The magus’ head tells them sinisterly that the three true copies will transform mankind into gods if brought together. He reveals himself as an agent of Tzentch (a name whose mention causes the lights to flicker and the testicles to retract) and openly provides that the final book lies in the possession of the CEO General of the Skallen Hegemony. Prophesizing that the future of man lies on the newly-summoned broken world, he wishes a vigorous coitus upon both the Emperor and the Omnisiah, before his head explodes like a boiling cantaloupe.

Singe goes to see Tristana and is told that the Krellik Brothers have disappeared and that the Spiders have disbanded following the appearance of a new, unknown criminal group. This gang has taken over the drug scene, flooding the Hive with the season’s hottest new flavor of mindfuck: Shard. Lacking even the willpower of a flesh-eating bacteria on an all-meat diet, Singe squeezes a shard of Shard until it cuts into his hand, thus “beholding,” which is what it seems the kids are calling it these days. Whilst tripping balls, he experiences the summary hopes and dreams of some solipsistic megaverse of human consciousness, brushing the omnipotence of god and going just a teensy bit more corrupt. With the egg of his brain now in the frying pan of drugs, he spends most of the foreseeable future chasing the dragon and craving omelets

Within another two days, the mass addiction to Shard has brought almost total peace to the Hive. Template runs a thorough battery of medicae tests on the strung-out Singed, but discovers nothing odd despite Freja’s insistence that there has been a disturbance to his aura.

Soon, the temperature at the adventurers’ headquarters drops and the group passes out, awakening in the same prison-themed dreamscape their Inquisitor had summoned them to in their first encounter. Still milking the warden-gig, the Inquistor appears and instructs the gang to stop Skallen. Unexpectedly, he also says that all his other agents have fallen (dun-dun-duuuuun!). The group then wakes up for realsies, never having left their shop. Plug investigates the skull of the Skallen agent and, finding nothing, strips its technological implants for a closer look. The markings determine that the parts were manufactured on-site at Skallen HQ and that their technology is, like good sex, experimental and completely heretical. Further research by the team’s trusty arbitor reveals that Skallen’s CEO’s name is Julien K’klem.

Having learned nothing in kindergarten, the group rushes to their influential contacts to tattletale on the potentially culty, book-having CEO. Plug manages to broker a deal with the Adeptus Mechanicus, procuring some scrolls and a milquetoast offer of assistance. The arbitors are less helpful, but “allow” Octia to pinch some gear from their storage.

The group journeys to a Mechanicus Temple near Skallen HQ, hoping to examine the potentially heretical tech of that sect (which they believe to be in league with the Hegemony). Breaking in, they discover the complex to be gutted and its iconography defaced. The group immediately decides to transform the abandoned shrine into their base of operations, but barely have time to hang curtains before they receive a news ping. A large militarized force is moving aggressively across the planet, striking several targets simultaneously; including the Arbites and the Skallen Hegemony. Sensing distraction and the opportunity to let others do their dirty work for them, the group departs to peep the corporate HQ.

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Tyren Aynn
There goes the neighborhood, er, planet.

On their way home, the hive started shaking as they rode the Mag-Lev transport. A few Kilometers away a significant section of the hive caves in. Millions die. The mag-lev continues to its destination. Our heroes now saw the horrific scene of their eviscerated comrade. A sigil above the make-shift altar burned into the minds of all who looked upon it. Plug was overtaken by insanity was is Octiva who tossed Singed like rag doll covered in bees. Everyone else just went a little “drunken Mel Gibson” with the rage.

After recovering from the horrific scene of Corvus’s sacrificed body, and covering the accursed sigil, our heroes split into two groups: One who would continue with the investigation, trying to find the Libre Nox, and the others to investigate the scene.

Around the altar, the investigation found out what happened: Corvus, bound and gagged had been dragged by twelve men in dark robes then sacrificed in a ritual that ended with the giant hive-quake. Though the investigative team took a picture of the sigil to research later, the device used to record it began to bleed.

What else happened during the quake? The shops shook violently, and a colossal psychic phenomenon occurred causing the warp storm to enter the system and moons to crash. A dead world bled through. In a few hours the debris would descend on Wrath Prime. Evidently this whole thing was caused by Khorne worshipers.

To follow the Libre Nox trail, Plug, Octiva and Skul seek Tyren Aynn. They got to the mid-hive and the arbiters are trying to calm the chaos that has ensued. Two heavies (large dudes with guns) stood outside Tyren’s door. Octiva flashes them a little palm and the heavies go jelly-kneed. “If you leave now,” she said, “we won’t report you to the mofo emperor.” The dudes step aside. The team enters and a desk clerk tries to slow them down to no avail. A white-robed dude tried to stop them by shouting much profanity. Plug quietly replies “Libre Nox” and the man shuts up and brings them to his office.

Said office was full of all manner of heretical alien technology. Beautiful ornate wooden panelling decorates the walls. Octiva pokes an obsidian glass desk in the middle of the room, turning it on. Tyren quickly turns it off, so no one can see his porn collection.

Tyren acknowledged that he should have guessed inquisitors would come after him. He agreed to give our heroes all of his information on the condition of immunity. Cults have popped up all over the world. Tyren knew that his Libre Nox was a fake because he decoded and attempted the ritual. A secret organization owns the real book. Skul showed what a putz he can be by whispering to Tyren about how there was no immunity. Octiva then elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up. Despite Skul’s best efforts, Tyren continued to cooperate and gave up the name of Lord Attelus of the Tanthra Spire, lord of this planet and the promethium mines, this guy was going to be trouble. Tyren gave the three a data slate full of evil information for our heroes’ convenience.

Everyone expressed their extreme offense at the office and its technology. Skul stayed uncharacteristically silent. Evidentially, the xeno-tech all came from a caravan tribe of dog-like people. Oh look at that, tons of angry rabble rousers gathered outside Tyren’s book emporium. Rabbling and booing, the crowd demanded blood. Instead, Plug just started recording their faces for inquisition records.

Back at the death scene, Arbiters SMASH! Freja, Singed and Template find the sigil has been partially uncovered. Woopsy. After examining the blood and the hand and footprints all over the scene, forensics found DNA of Arkam asylum escapees and Lord Atellus, chief operator of the promethium guilds and an adeptus mechanicus. On the coms, the two teams realized they’d both hit the same lead.

Back at Tyren’s area, suddenly, “It’s Raining Bullets! (Hallelujah)” starts playing. Fight ensues. After two of the three shooters got thoroughly torn to bits,Plug decided to take a detour to the nearest tech shrine. Man, these non-tech-priests are dull and shooty, he complains to his new friends. When the third shooter was only mostly dead, Plug healed him just long enough to get information about who sent them.

The Skalen Har hegemony, dudes who like to destroy their own personality to make themselves better cybermen, want our heroes’ blood and the Libre Nox. They’ve been tracking the group for a while, not that this group has been subtle with all the palm flashing they’ve been doing. Skalen Har is the largest trading organization in the sector. They deal in star fleets.

Having obtained this information, the group take home the heads and anuses of the cybermen for further analysis.

Next plan: Tool up and head out the Tanthra Spire to kill and interrogate Lord Attelus (in some order or another).

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A Trip to the Drug Factorum
in which we find out just how dark our heroes can be

Arbiters Corvus and Octiva returned to the shop to find a rather messy front room. Singed was tasked with cleaning up the place and recycling the bodies, while Plug and Template sifted through the six months of information obtained last time. Meanwhile, “The Hole” reported that Psykers were being driven to insanity at a faster and more abundant pace than usual. Our “heroes” found a contract on one of the dead bodies that indicated the attack was by the KK (Kellik Brothers) Gang.

As one of the attackers ran away from the fight screaming, Skol insisted on following some leads to find him and the base from which he was hired.

The gang spread out with a few missing-puppy style posters with the final man’s face. Finally, Template found a solid lead at the “Armed and Hammered Pub.” The man was named Seb, and he recognized his brother Krog. “They’re gonna kill him!” He raved. Template and Skol calmed him down and convinced him that he could save his brother’s life by offering to work for the KK Brothers too.

Seb then lead Skol, Template, Octiva and Freja through the bowels of the hive, gang country. The people of the area, living in filth, had been driven to insanity from poverty, drugs and anything the gangers had to throw at them. Skol donned a urine-soaked set of rags and splashed himself with alcohol in order to blend in. Nobody else cared to follow his lead.

When rain began to fall inside the ancient structure which was now the hovels and factorums of gang country, the residents who were lucid enough acted as though water was the nectar of the living Gods. A notably scarce resource in this part of the hive, evidently.

Seb lead our heroes to an obscura factorum owned by the KK Bros. He and Skol knocked on the door asking after Krog. After being allowed in, the muscle-cakes running this factorum separated Seb and Skol, killing Seb with effervescent glee. Meanwhile, Template, Octiva and Freja outside failed handily at trying to drive the truck through the plasteal wall of the factorum. Instead, they knocked on the other door. Freja then proceeded to crazy town in an exchange with the guard on the other side of the door which essentially boiled down to the message that there was a docile and idiotic young girl outside just ripe for the killing and raping in whichever order they preferred. When the slabs of muscle opened the door, Template rolled in one of his/her/its favorite frag grenades and promptly blasted the balls off most of the crew. It was at this point that Skol engaged the guard watching him in a kung-fu style gun as melee weapon hand-to-hand fight, eventually breaking the guy’s face.

After much messiness, only two beefsteaks still lived: “face-guy” and a well dressed man who was now short one arm, who shall hence-forth be known affectionately as “Armsy.” The workers in the drug lab, being mostly innocent, were herded into a storage room for safe keeping. Unsure of what to do with the quite recently unemployed, Octiva said to the room of proles, “I’ll be back in half an hour, at that point, one of you gets to leave.” She then closed the door and after two minutes of commotion, there was a knock from the inside of the storage room. Thrown by this very quick decision making process, Octiva slowly backed away from the door.

After exploring the other rooms of the factory, Octiva found the office in which Seb had been shot and his brother Krog had been tortured. After much interrogation, Krog was deemed info-free and mercy killed by Skol. Interrogating Face-guy and Armsy in different rooms was a fruitless endeavor until Freja suggested bringing Face-guy’s head to Armsy. Happy to oblige, Skol, fetched the head and tossed it into Armsy’s lap, at which point the man sang like an ancient blue bird.

Armsy provided the name of his contact, Rotha, the password to his data pad (which Template transferred all the information from on to its data unit) and a bit of insight into the business and reach of the KK Bros.

Freja took the initiative to slit Armsy’s throat as Template was to slow to move on giving the wretch a quick death. The crew soon sent a message to Armsy’s contact “Employee revolt. Locked self in office. Send help.” Setting up Armsy’s body to explode once it’s moved, Template and Freja filled their pockets with some Obscura for weaponizing later. Octiva would have none of the drugs and Skol was itching for further killin’ times. They destroyed the rest of the drugs and set as much as they could on fire and headed home.

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Wrath Prime
Setting to Dark Heresy

In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium…

Wrath Prime

Type: Hive World – Imperial Reference 1343554/fvk/9801a.23/P
Gravity: 0.92G
Temperature: 53*C Average
Population: 47 Billion
Tithe: 1.3 Billion soliders per annum
Exports: Promethium fuel
Imports: Radioactive Wastes
Planetary Governor: Padishah Thorion Vesqu’lema
System: Wrath
Sector: Calixis
Subsector: Adrantis
Segmentum: Segmentum Obscurus
Prefix Inquisitoria: Stable

Date 791.M41

Wrath Prime is the principle world of the Wrath System and plays a vital role in the surrounding Adrantis sub sector. In a long forgotten past the world was founded by some of the first men to leave Holy Terra on the great sleep ships. Back then it was a desert world rich in rare resources but is now wreathed in thick bands of noxious pollutants, chemical smog and rad storms. Reclaimed by the light of the Emperor by the Rogue Trader Palidus Thren in M32 during the height of the Great Crusade, it was already a world of teaming billions ruled by a hereditary Padishah and an aristocratic hierarchy. The world itself was a global city of vast and ancient design and it was not long until the Adeptus Mechanicus harvested what remained of the planetary STC units. Even then the planet was the capital world of a multiple system empire and the centre of its economic wealth, producing vast quantities of promethium fuel from the planets colossal hydrocarbon deposits. The world saw the full force of Imperial strength rain down upon it, devastating the planets infrastructure and reducing its gleaming spires to atomic dust. It was not long until the world surrendered to Imperial rule. Since then the world has maintained its production of promethium and now also serves the Imperium by recycling the sub sectors radioactive waste.

Today Wrath Prime is a very different world, life outside the great protective walls of the city would entail a brutal choking death. The surface temperatures sore due to the worlds unchecked pollution, add toxic, highly corrosive rain and the result is a vast industrial wasteland of terribly ancient eroded structures. Terrifying storms of unbridled power wrack the planet, causing fires that can gut kilometers of hive with little to no services to help those affected. Life here is harsh and the iron first of Imperial ruler means everyone has their place and no one dare stray.

The underhive is layer upon layer of compacted levels of ancient technology and long lost glory, buried beneath hundreds of kilometers of plasteel and adamantium. These levels are mostly flooded with aggressive acidic and radioactive effluent which has slowly collected over countless millennia. Rumours of fantastic lost technology and hidden treasures from the dark age of technology lead many would-be scavengers and explorators alike here to their doom. There are shadows of things from the darkest of nightmares and the whispers of sentience’s best left to remain forever in their forgotten realm.

The mid-hive is a place of unrelenting toil as billions of souls trudge to their work stations from the hab blocks every cycle to repeat the same mindless tasks. This level is run and maintained by the factorum generals Lord Magos Attelus of the Promethium guild, Archemandrite Praetus of the Rad-works and the Baron Hathgor of the Administratum. These three individuals oversee the worlds major imports and exports, maintain the manufactorums and report to the Spire to the Planetary Governor, Padishah Thorion Vesqu’lema and his council and emissaries of the Skaelen-Har Hegemony and the ambassadors to the Machenko Dynasty.
This level of the hive is the focus of the hives massive and persistent crime organisations who trade in all manner of distractions for the local populations, from the Pale Pits to the ever present production and sale of drugs and the running of prostitution rackets. First among the gangs are the ever-present Scavs, low level scavengers and petty criminals who have infected almost all strata of the mid hive. The more recent problem of the Kellek Brothers who have carved out an empire for themselves in the mid and underhive. Finally we have the Spider Clan, the remains of a ancient hive culture which has ultimately hegemonised. The Spider Clan is a vicious and uncaring tribe of murderers and sadists who bring nothing but pain and misery to those whose lives they touch.

Above the bustling crowds of the mid hive we have the Lower Spire which is home to the Noble Houses, the affluent and influential aristocracy who live upon the toil of the untold billions below them. These families can all trace their lineage at least as far back as to when the Imperium of Man welcomed Wrath into it’s arms, still others claim their family’s history can be traced back further still. There are many Noble houses across the spires of Wrath, but the closest and most influential have to be House Gk’lem, who have had ties with traders from neighbouring systems for generations and bring many resources from other worlds to Wrath; House Jeok’lem, politicians by trade who have had many of their finest members join the ranks of the Council; House Hrek’lem who maintain land ownerships across the system and the sector; and finally House Veik’lem whose compacts with the varied Adeptus’ of the Imperium make them unparalleled in the brokering of profitable deals with the Imperial fleets and the many arms of the Ministorum.

Finally we have the Spire, this region is the sole province of the Council and the Padishah Thorion Vesqu’lema. Vast sealed domes containing green pastures, hanging gardens and the freshest pure air and water held aloft by the cyclopean edifice of the hive which stand up to 15 kilometers above the surface of Wrath Prime. The Council organize and command the entire workings and function of the vast world hive under the auspice of the Padishah while directly convening with Imperial envoys and diplomats. Very few people in the hives even know of such a place, let alone have the ability to imagine one. If such opulence was known to exist to the common man then rebellion could be a real threat.

You come from all different walks of life within the Hive of Wrath Prime and some from further afield and you all find yourselves dissatisfied with your place in the vast scheme that is the functioning of a Hive. Drawn together through chance you have all decided that the corruption present within the hive is too much; gangs threaten the safety of others, tyrannical factorum Masters work their crews to death and care little for the suffering of the population so long as quotas are met, darkness lurks within the hearts of the council and all around you you sense threat, not just for your lives but for the very souls of the billions around you. It is for this reason that you have all come together, outside the authority of your Masters, to work together to make this corner of Hell just a little nicer.

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Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

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