Editing Marauder's Grave

"Run away, hide away Captain Cutthroat's out to play!" -Nursery rhyme recorded upon Oestala V

Deep within the dark depths of Oestalan space lies the star system known as the Marauder's Grave. Its twin stars dully illuminate the three planets orbiting them, once home to an unknown xenos empire whose eroded ruins still lay scattered upon the lifeless, poisoned world of Upas in the cold outer reaches of the system. The other two, a yet nameless gas giants with mighty dust rings and a small, freezing world with a thin atmosphere of corrosive gas and the remnants of a sturdy Ork settlement bear no signs of life either.

But it is not these planets of dubious value for which the system is known, but the graveyard that lies inward, in the middle regions of the system, sitting amidst dust clouds impenetrable to eye and auspex alike.

It is this cloud of wreckages, both xenos and human, ancient and recent, where lies the empty hulks of a fleet of five Chaos Reaver vessels, in the midst of them the Heavy Cruiser whose name brings vague fear to the few surviving human civilizations living in the ruins of the Oestalan Sector to this day.

The Cutthroat's Prize, as it is called, once lead this Chaos fleet on merciless raids, preying on the defenseless planets of the Oestalan Sector once it was engulfed by the terrible Warp storms milennia ago, seemingly not hindered by what made it impossible to traverse to all else. Yet the name and true likeness of the leader of this fleet, which played a crucial part in thrusting the sector into darkness once it was cut off from he Imperium has been lost, in an ironic twist of fate: The surviving cultures only know him as the Cutthroat Captain, He Who Descends From The Dark Sky, to wreak terrible havoc upon worlds and take away those who do not fall to the bloodied blades of his men or have their blood spilled upon perverse altars dedicated to thirsting gods, and many a child grows up fearing this bogeyman of distant legend.

What fate befell this Captain Cutthroat and his nightmarish fleet is unknown. Only the drifting hulks of these unclean vessels remain to tell the tale, and those few who found their way to the Marauder's Grave and dared board them whisper of distant screams of torment echoing across the airless corridors; and blood that still seems fresh dripping down the rusted bulkheads.