The Atalantos Worlds

This page details people, events, and organisations from the /tg/ Heresy, a fan re-working of the Warhammer 40,000 Universe. See the /tg/ Heresy Timeline and Galaxy pages for more information on the Alternate Universe.

History of Atalantos

Basilikon Atalantos
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Primaris
System	Atalantos
Population	10,000,000
Planetary Governor	Chapter Master

Near the Galactic Core, life is harsh and brutal. Intense radiation coming from the tightly clustered stars and the monstrous black hole at the Galaxy's heart sterilize all life from worlds that draw too close. It is an all too common lament for many stillborn races that the vagaries of gravity draw their system's orbit into this tempest, burning them from existence in the uncaring glare. However, the Galactic Core is also one of the most vibrant places in a Galaxy that elsewhere is cold, dark, and all too dead, filled with a plethora of rare resources and ancient ruins that outlived their luckless owners. Many a planet in this region holds ancient troves of knowledge and relics, left behind after their masters demise.

It was these legends that drew Arelex Orannis and the War Scribes inward towards the roiling cauldrons of fire, flush with the successes of the early Great Crusade years and eager to bring back treasure and impress the Emperor. The quest to secure these planets was an arduous one, a slow slog of claiming dead worlds, armoring them against the Core's radiation, and then examining them in minute detail for anything useful. Slowly but steadily, the War Scribes pushed the Imperium's boundaries inward, facing off against hideous beings of pure energy, twisted monsters wielding gravity as a weapon, hellish mutants thriving in the wash of radiation, and other things too terrible to mention.

Though progress was slow and the number of habitable worlds claimed was small, the Emperor looked upon these unnatural, eerily powerful beasts with contempt and hatred, proclaiming that it was right and proper that the War Scribes dedicate themselves to their eradication no matter the cost or time required. Additionally, the War Scribes had uncovered many fragmented relics from humanity's past and the STC fragments had proven very useful for upgrading the armies of the Legiones Astartes as a whole.

These planets became centers of Imperial might, flush with resources and greedily exploited by humanity. Life on the surface was extremely difficult, though not impossible, and most of the habitats and industries were deep underground to protect the people from radiation. Each of the War Scribes' planets could match the industrial output of much larger Imperial worlds, and they became one of the primary producers of supplies for Imperial operations in the Ultima Segmentum, greatly shortening the supply chains that otherwise would have to run all the way from Terra or Mars.

Culture of the Atalantos Worlds

If your life has no point, earn points for your family! Enlist in the PDF today, and earn extra rewards for time served!

If your credit's run dry, you can still die! Enlist in the Atalantos Guard today, and get double points for your loved ones to remember you by!

Sample posters from various worlds in the Atalantos Sector

Once, Atalantos was a name to inspire wonder and joy among the Imperium, a shining beacon of what was possible for humanity and what might someday become standard for the entire Imperium. Such was Arelex's dream. In the modern era however, Atalantos is a shadowed realm, mighty yet battered, whose struggles closely mirror the greater Imperium.

The glories of Atalantos still exist, but without the Primarch's guidance they have become nearly unsustainable on their own. More inefficient manufacturing techniques and the slow attrition of time have demanded ever larger supplies of raw materials to compensate. It is not uncommon for an archaeotech foundry to require two or even three times the material and energy to create the same item as it did in the 30th millennium.

Most of the Atalantos Worlds are merely enormous mining colonies, fed by an inexhaustible stream of expendable, barely sentient manpower from the seven Remnant Worlds and their associated Hive Cities. These people were mindless savages when the War Scribes discovered them, but through brutal genetic and bionic modification they were raised to the level at which they could use tools. Though useless for warfare, they are almost immune to radiation damage, the heritage of their survival near the Core, and they make ideal slave labor within the endlessly hungry mines. Though life in the mines is brutal, the War Scribes at least make it no harder than necessary. They care nothing for the workers, but they do not impose punishments for no reason, as that would cut the efficiency of the process.

Likewise, the Atalantos Worlds as a whole are a meritocracy, enforced by the Scribes. If you serve well, you are rewarded and your skills are adapted for use elsewhere. If you serve poorly, you are sent to the mines. If you still perform poorly, you are executed so that your food rations can be given to more useful citizens. The people are tracked and watched at all times, constantly gaining and losing "credits" based on service. Earn enough, and one can advance up the social ladder. In theory, a truly gifted person could rise from the lowliest gutter scum to become a Planetary Governor. As the Scribes are quick to point out, this has actually happened more than once, something unheard of in the greater Imperium without resorting to open rebellion.

A curious system of passive warfare has emerged because of this social imposition. Direct combat hinders both parties credits, because time spent fighting is time not spent earning points, and gets both combatants sent to the mines. Instead, families compete to be better producers than each other so that their rivals will look bad by comparison, and be sent to the mines or the PDF. More than one mining conglomerate has been destroyed en masse when their rivals edged them out in productivity.

While these policies keep the industrial output of the Atalantos Worlds running at a fever pitch, it places immense stress on the population, who rarely even sleep for fear that their neighbors are getting ahead of them. Suicide was commonplace, until the War Scribes, responding to the steady rise in Necron encounters, issued a decree stating that anyone willing to give their lives to fight the Necrons could earn massive points for their families.

Throwing one's life away by suicide is seen as a taboo almost beyond any other, since it carries a very real risk of wiping out your entire family and possibly other families who relied on your work to support their endeavors. A family related to a suicide will often enlist in the Guard en masse save for the youngest children and their caretakers, to wipe away the shame on their family name.

Atalantos is a strange land, where people eagerly hurl themselves into the most brutal of conditions, or stare down the guns of implacable monstrosities, but then again Humanity is a strange species. So long as they feel their efforts matter, they will put the whips to their own backs. A 16-hour work day might be brutally hard, but at least it's not as bad as other Imperial worlds, or so the miners tell themselves. At least for them, the labor is self-imposed. "On those miserable planets, they work like dogs and get nowhere. At least we may better ourselves!"'

And so they go, and so they toil, and so they live, and so they die.

Hazards of the Atalantos Worlds

Necrons

Aside from the dangers posed by mundane threats like radiation, wandering singularities, rogue planets and supernovae, the Atalantos worlds are often beset by enemies of a more calculating nature. Though the low human population near the Galactic Core offers little food for the Ruinous Powers to feed upon, a significant number of Tomb Worlds have been located in the vicinity during the course of surveying expeditions.

Some of these Tomb Worlds are still inactive, but as the milennia have progressed, the Necron threat has grown significantly. Much of the War Scribes' time is spent containing and repelling these reawakening xenos, attempting to shield the rest of the Imperium from their predation. It is fortunate that the Necron Dynasties seem to despise each other as much as the Imperium, and their infighting has kept the immediate risk lower.

Several Tomb Worlds have been destroyed by the War Scribes, but each time it has come at the cost of a brutally devastating war, a long recovery time, and the depletion of what few Dark Age weaponry the Chapter still possesses. The War Scribes have become more frantic in their quest for relic weaponry lately, spurred on by the fear of being caught unprepared by a major Necron invasion.

Known Active Necron Dynasties

• Ulkhesh Dynasty (Known for excessive proportion of Deathmarks. Escaped notice by larger Dynasties by basing much of their forces in alternate dimensions)

• Zelrakh-Khemta Dynasty (Unusual Dynasty with co-ruling Phaerons. Believed by Imperial Scribes to be a merged Dynasty by the Necron equivalent of marriage.)

• Il'Kholas Dynasty (Known for being largely fleet-based. Since activation of Tomb World, majority of forces have warred with other Dynasties for control of spacelanes and resources. Tomb World largely abandoned.)

Other Xenos

Though the War Scribes and their Primarch shattered many empires of the native xenos, their hateful remnants still remain, lurking in the glare of enemy stars.

Deathpulse

• The deadly xenos species known only as the Deathpulse is composed of pure stellar plasma, riding the currents between stars in endless loops and feeding off any life they encounter. As massive as a small moon, a single Deathpulse creature can sterilize a planet in less than a day. For now, the remaining Deathpulse keep a wary distance from the Atalantos Worlds, held at bay by their vulnerability to plasma weapons, which can disrupt their equivalent of a nervous system. Someday though, they will avenge their dead brethren with the burning of worlds.

Void Eaters

• As insidious as the Deathpulse are bombastic, the Void Eaters live in the shadows and cracks of the Galaxy. Wherever there is a dead world, a dead star, or a dead life form, there may be a Void Eater there, feeding off the essence of death. They are creatures of total blackness, absorbing any light that falls on them into their core, never to be seen again. Their guns are all gravitic in nature, and can twist a man in half with contemptuous ease, or bend a tank back on itself. Though they look like holes in reality, there is a living being of sorts underneath their void-black exterior, and by the grace of the Emperor, sustained bolter fire can bring them down. Las-weapons have no effect on these monsters, nor do plasma weapons or electromagnetic assaults of any kind. When hit by such devices, the blast simply... disappears. There may be only a few Void Eaters, or there may be billions. They are the nightmare that disturbs the thoughts of the Atalantos Worlds, for none can say when they may return.

The Codex Atalantos

Atalantos

Atalantos
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Primaris
System	Atalantos System
Population	5,000,000
Planetary Governor	An Veles Rezuhon
Orbital radius	1.08AU ± .2AU
Gravity	1.05G
Temperature	Temperate

Atalantos is the jewel of the conglomerate of worlds that shares its name. More distant from the Core than most of the Atalantos Worlds, its surface is actually habitable for unshielded humans, protected by an unusually strong magnetic field. It is a young world, hot and tectonically active, and its biosphere is energetically fecund. Atalantos has few accessible resources, unusual for a Core World, and instead of producing mineral wealth, Atalantos feeds a dozen mining worlds as one of the most productive breadbaskets in the Imperium. Almost every scrap of land is dedicated to cropland, and the oceans have been channeled and mastered by the Scribes in order to ensure proper irrigation at all times. The light of the stars is bright enough that the night sky is never darker than a deep blue color, and plants grow at all latitudes year round.

The capitol city, known as the Basilikon Atalantos, is a fortress formerly constructed by Dark Age Man for purposes unknown. Though the people that lived within did not survive, the nearly indestructible buildings did, and it was these relics that first attracted Arelex's attention. Much knowledge was recovered from the deep catacombs, and Arelex was able to deliver these treasures to the Emperor personally.

It is here that the War Scribes test their recruits for physical and mental strength. The colossal Basilikon has endless rooms for exercising the body and the mind, and the Scribes have filled the building with everything they need to support the Chapter and its successors. Below the Basilikon are some of their mist advanced manufactorums, assembling the most powerful weapons of war available.

Other Agricultural Worlds

• Kelemvor III

• Belerog IX

• Broken Stone

• Dantolis

Yojan VII, Primary Mining World

Yojan VII
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Yojan
System	Yojan System
Population	10,000,000 (Miners) 20,000 (Rogue Traders/Others)
Orbital radius	436AU ± 8.3AU
Gravity	1.24G
Temperature	Temperate/Irradiated

Yojan VII and its massive moon Yojan Beta orbit a brilliant blue giant star of roughly 30 solar masses, only barely avoiding incineration by virtue of their distended orbit, more than ten times as distant from the parent star as Pluto is from Sol. It takes slightly more than 2,000 years for Yojan VII to circle its star, so no man ever celebrates his first Yojan birthday.

Though Yojan VII has less than four million years before its star dies, that is more than long enough for the Imperium's needs. No life exists on Yojan VII, though the planet does possess liquid water and a full water cycle. It is harsh and rugged, barely finished cooling its oceans and solidifying its crust. In the mines dozens of kilometers below the surface, it is said that one cannot fire a mining laser for more than 30 seconds without striking some valuable node of ore or priceless jewel, and the endless conveyor belts and smelters are full to bursting with wealth. No world in the Atalantos Cluster produces such value for the Imperium.

Yojan Beta has few of the mineral resources its parent carries in such abundance, much like Luna compared to Holy Terra. To conserve resources and save on travel time, the gigantic moon's crust has been all but hollowed out and replaced with city-sized smelters and ore purifiers of every type. Yojan Beta is larger than Mars, but even with its titanic machinery can barely keep pace with the parent world's output.

Life in the mines is brutally hard for the indentured servants, but a large number of independent mining companies and even a few Rogue Trader dynasties have also made treaties with the Scribes to exploit Yojan VII's immense wealth. These individuals tend to be able to afford better equipment for their skilled laborers. Both groups, indentured and salaried alike, are required to provide the Scribes with recruits, and those Scribes that come from Yojan VII are tough, rugged individuals even by the standards of Space Marines, well used to backbreaking labor and other tests of endurance.

Other Mining Worlds

As time marches on, the Atalantos Worlds have become more and more dependent on increasing supplies of raw materials to maintain their ancient relics. To meet the demands, even the most barren, blasted planetoids are being examined for mineral wealth, and the War Scribes are claiming them at a breakneck pace.

Most Mining Worlds in the Atalantos Worlds are sparsely populated, largely given over to armies of tunneling machinery and transient populations of indentured servants, slaves, and criminals.

• To-Lek Prime

• Arphalos III

• Delta Ophan II

• Mologe Valonis

• Fleshboiler (Penal Colony)

• Tenalor II

• Porit-Xen Alpha

• Tikon Eklem

• Firefall

• Blackstone

• Korvis X

• The Bad Lands

• Golden Cave

• Boteh'nel VI

• Ophachix I, II, III

• Teleos V

• Aklan Maklen

• Uriel Prime

The Remnant, Primary Hive System

Bastion Orannis
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Remnos
System	Remnos System
Population	14,000,000,000
Orbital radius	1.5AU ± 0.23AU
Gravity	1.11G
Temperature	Temperate

The Remnant is a strange collection of planets, seven strong in all, orbiting farther above the galactic plane than the other Atalantos Worlds. From this vantage point the spiral of the Galaxy can be partially seen, as well as a good angle on the Galactic Core above the clouds of interstellar dust. The Remnant worlds are ancient beyond the knowledge of the Imperium to discern, dating back to the Dark Age of humanity. Cut off from the rest of civilization for millennia, the people of these worlds devolved into savagery and barbarism, crawling through the colossal relics of their ancestors with no more comprehension of their potential than a grox has of the inner workings of a Plasma Drive.

When the Scribes came upon these planets they immediately set to work reclaiming them for the Imperium. After two decades of brutal culling, genetic manipulation, bionic enhancement and relentless training, the people of the Remnant worlds regained some of their humanity and intelligence after millennia living as mindless animals. At the Emperor's request, the Scribes constructed a mighty observatory on the largest Remnant world, using its powerful optics to look down on the galaxy and help guide the Great Crusade by spotting threats in its path through the Ultima Segmentum.

Now that the Crusade has passed into myth and legend, these telescopes are used to examine the Galactic Core, seeking new worlds emerging from its furious heat into space where the Imperium may harvest them.

The Scribes lament that the regression of the Remnant Worlds' former inhabitants destroyed almost all relics of value, but nevertheless appreciate the bounty of seven closely linked hive worlds from which to recruit Marines and draw an endless stream of indentured labor for the Atalantos mining worlds.

Remnant Worlds

• Thanden (Capitol world and later, primary Cardinal World of the Atalantos Cluster)

• Keilos (Hive World)

• Volgaz (Agri-world)

• Beneumos (Manufacturing world)

• Xivo (Hive World)

• Cerelex Loja (Hive World)

• Bastion Orannis (Fortress World, Observatory location)

Other Notable Worlds of the Atalantos Sector

Narhadul, Legion Naval Yard and Resupply Center

Narhadul
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Narhadul
System	Narhadul System
Population	8,000,000,000 (Surface) 10,000,000 (Orbital)
Planetary Governor	Dock Lord (Title)
Orbital radius	1.2AU ± .025 AU
Gravity	1.09G
Temperature	35 C

Narhadul, azure jewel of the Atalantos Worlds. Narhadul, the Ringed World. Narhadul, supply world for the greatest naval fleet of any Legion. Primarch Arelex labored long and hard to forge the enormous naval base above Narhadul's atmosphere, and as the War Scribes' fleet expanded, so did the dockyards. By the time of the Heresy, they had grown to encompass the planet entirely, forming an enormous broad ring of industrial might, capable of servicing any number of vessels.

For a time, the entire Imperial fleet for the Ultima Segmentum returned to Narhadul for resupply and repair, though as the Crusade pressed onward to the Galactic Fringes, other hubs of industry would take up some of the load.

The world is of immense importance to the War Scribes and to the Ultima Segmentum as a whole, and so it would draw the eye of Hektor himself, who had visited it on more than one occasion to see what his brother had created.

Commanding the Sons of Fire and the Eternal Zealots to do whatever was necessary to remove the industrial power of Narhadul, Hektor Cincinnatus sealed the world's fate, though it would be Arelex himself who struck the most painful blows.

The two Traitor Legions descended on the world in force, choosing it as one of the very first targets for what would come to be called the Burning Crusade in Imperial histories. The Naval Yards burned though the ring itself was simply too massive to destroy outright, and the true prize lay below. On Narhadul itself were endless ranks of manufactorums, producing Warp Drives, power plants, naval weaponry, armor, ammunition and ten thousand other essential ingredients for a functional naval fleet. All these things were put to the torch, defenseless in the War Scribes' weakened state after Isstvan.

Knowing that the planet could not be saved, Arelex ordered the few ships surviving in orbit to deploy their payloads of Phosphex torpedoes, condemning the planet to fiery contamination for a thousand years.

---

• Narhandul: 009 M31, the Dawn of the Burning Crusade.

Aubrey watched as the first of the orbital strikes hit to the north. There was a blinding flash, and rising green flame mushroomed into the air beyond the horizon, heaving thousands of feet into the air. Others were coming down overhead, closer than the first. Aubrey sheathed his twin blades as he mused over this development. For the enemy to unleash world-killers was a stunning development. It was not a strategic possibility that he had even considered the War Scribes Legion undertaking. He had thought they would rather bleed and die to defend the enclave they had carved out for themselves then give in to despair, allowing him to give their souls to the Dark Gods and further the great path.

'This world is going to die, along with countless thousands of two Legions, yet you seem impressed my Lord,' said Master of Signals Cadauzes. His voice betrayed a note of unease. He did not know how they would get offworld now.

'I am,' said Aubrey, already reaching out for the power the Gods had granted him. 'I didn't think they had it in them.'

There was no way anyone would believe that Arelex would ever sanction the use of phosphex on such a scale, particularly against one of his own worlds. The blame would surely fall on him and Inferox for this. It matched Inferox’s MO, after all.

He had ordered the evacuation, but there was little chance that more than a fraction of the two legions deployed would make it off-world before the bombs struck. Now, the vox was awash with static.

Aubrey chanted the words he had learned in the heart of the void, and felt the power he had been bestowed come to him. His body became surrounded by a nimbus of corpse-light.

‘Is there any news of Inferox?’ he asked Cadauzes.

‘Nothing my Lord.’

‘Get to the ships. We’re far enough away that there’s still some time before the Phosphex reaches us.’

‘And you my lord?’

‘I go to find my brother.’

---

After the Heresy, the War Scribes suffered immense hardship trying to rebuild Narhadul, successfully bringing the dockyards back online after a century of labor.

The Phosphex bombs were eventually undone, though it took enormous effort to devise methods by which Phosphex fires could be slowly contained and extinguished. More than five hundred years would pass before the first manufactorum again rose upon Narhadul's surface. They would never again regain their full glory, but Narhadul is still more than capable of servicing the War Scribes and many other Chapters and it is honored in their annals indeed.

Of all the Chapter Serfs none is more honored than the chosen Dock Lord of Narhadul, charged with overseeing every aspect of Narhadul's operation from the lowest laborer to the mightiest war vessel. Though the War Scribes maintain a Marine presence in the system, day-to-day administration is performed by lesser men.

Volhak Seinal, the Power Core

Volhak Seinal
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Volhak
System	Seinal System
Population	8,000 (Power technicians) 1,000 (Various researchers)
Orbital radius	.5AU ± 1.6AU
Gravity	.32G
Temperature	1200 C

Volhak Seinal is a world forged in death and fire. A remnant of an ancient supernova explosion, the planet collected itself from leftover debris after the death of its parent star. The War Scribes took advantage of the pulsar's raging torrent of energy and set up facilities to tap that endless flow of power.

The planet, though small, is coated in row upon row of power collectors, and an endless stream of vessels plies the transport route to and from Volhak, collecting full capacitors and deploying new empty ones to be filled. The sheer quantity of electromagnetic interference is ruinous to machine spirits, so it is brute manpower that controls these vessels. Few crews survive more than a handful of trips into and out of the system, as no shielding is sufficient to protect the living tissue inside, and this duty is the final punishment in the Atalantos Worlds' codes of law and justice. Only the most heinous criminals are sentenced to this transport run, and their deaths are not lamented.

The Power Core provides much of the energy that fuels the technology of the other Atalantos Worlds, powering the mining equipment and the more power-hungry Dark Age relics, as well as fuel cells for the War Scribes' vehicles.

Strangely, the Volhak Seinal system is one of the few Atalantos Worlds to have never known the touch of Necrons. Something about the pulsar's radiation seems to disrupt their reanimation protocols, and they dare not approach. Were the system not so hostile to human life, it would be a valuable safe haven.

Gomelis and Wolasqu, the Frenzied Worlds

Gomelis and Wolasqu
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Talek
System	Talek System
Population	900,000,000 (Gomelis) 1,500,000,000 (Wolasqu)
Orbital radius	1.09 AU ± .03AU
Gravity	.96G
Temperature	Warm Temperate

These two planets appear very friendly and welcoming to human life from orbit, drifting around their parent star at a nearly ideal distance for habitation, and bursting with all manner of flora and fauna. Indeed, perhaps in some long-lost era of humanity, this system was engineered for use by humanity, but any evidence beyond vague genetic links has clouded the truth of this matter forever.

What is known is that Gomelis and Wolasqu are perhaps the richest worlds for 1000 light-years for biomass and species diversity. Some of them bear a passing resemblance to Terran life, causing hypotheses of a common origin, but just as many match no known species. Essentially all of them are deadly to human life though, and they violently slaughtered the original colonists seeking to carve out what they hoped would be a new pair of Agri-Worlds in the vein of Atalantos.

Instead of a garden of Eden they got a vicious pair of hells much like Catachan, but unlike Catachan, no native human population existed to make it worth their while to use as a recruiting world. Instead, the War Scribes blasted holes in the endless jungle from orbit, and the colonists put down armored fortresses and prefab buildings in the craters before the forests could reclaim them. For the past ten thousand years, the War Scribes and the colonists have waged savage war against the irrepressible biospheres, buying land a mile at a time with the blood of millions.

With the passage of time, several Hive cities sprang up on each Death World, armored and sealed against the probing tendrils of the biosphere. It is a tenuous balance, and on more than one occasion the War Scribes' fleet was required to clean the outer surfaces of the armored walls with orbital fire.

The Frenzied Worlds do produce valuable agricultural products, but most of their output goes to feeding the colonists rather than the rest of the Atalantos Worlds. Less than half of either world is remotely safe for human habitation, but the War Scribes have embarked upon this quest, and they will not stop until the Frenzied Worlds are tamed.

The battle for these two planets has entered a new, more intense phase of its existence because of the increased Necron predation of recent centuries. The War Scribes predict that without these two worlds and their potential output, the Atalantos Worlds will be unable to feed the manpower necessary to repel the xenos. Tithes have been increased Sector-wide, and a full quarter of the War Scribes' fleet has been dispatched, along with the entire 5th Company, to bring the planets to heel.

If they must, they will incinerate the entire biosphere and re-seed the world in the fertile ashes. The Atalantos Worlds can accept nothing less than success.

Greyland, the Ancient World

Greyland
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Atalantos
Sub Sector	Meleau
System	Meleau System
Population	100 archaeologists, occasionally a couple War Scribes Marines
Planetary Governor	None
Orbital radius	3AU ± 0.001AU
Gravity	.87G
Temperature	30 C

Greyland, orbiting the pale white star known as Meleau, is a strange world drifting in a lonely orbit around a lonely star. Two minute moons circle Greyland, along with a large, slender ring system of tumbling debris.

Greyland is the oldest known planet in the Galactic Core, an anomaly in a region of such tumult. Usually, planets in the Core are very young, just born alongside their parent stars, or reassembled after some cataclysmic explosion or impact. Not Greyland. This world is nearly as old as the Universe itself, at least ten billion years of age, if not more, and the Imperium cannot explain how it came to be here. Indeed, the planet is older than the star it orbits!

Imperial scholars suspect that Greyland was somehow moved into our Galaxy for reasons unknown, and this theory is supported by the ring system, which contains uncountable forcefield generators and null-stasis devices, all conspiring to keep the space around Greyland inviolate from all forms of stellar hazards. What is truly odd is that no habitation has ever existed on Greyland of any kind, but evidence of xenos industry, agriculture, manufacturing, mining, and storage is everywhere. It is as if the planet was moved here, ready to become an important world in some xenos empire, but for some reason was never used. These xenos ruins are very concentrated into small areas, and much of it is underground, so from orbit or from the planet's surface, it is nothing but a grey expanse of emptiness.

Though many have considered claiming Greyland for the Imperium, something causes any settlers that attempt to land to leave within a year. It is simply the most boring, quiet, unnatural planet that humanity might choose to live upon. There is no vegetation, no color beyond the black, white, and grey shades of the planet's minerals, and sound itself seems oddly dampened in the still, stormless air. Humanity cannot abide such thundering, crushing *absence*.

The War Scribes use Greyland as a mediation world, requiring prospective Captains to take a pilgrimage into the trackless emptiness and meditate on the Chapter's long history, the lore they've learned, and their place in the Imperium and the cosmos. It is a distinctly humbling experience, forcing the warrior to confront just how small a thing he truly is in comparison to the Galaxy.

A few Scribes return to Greyland time and time again, embracing the peace and stillness and using Greyland as a sort of sensory-deprivation chamber.

RECORDS FOR CHAPTER MASTER EYES ONLY: Greyland is also the cold storage facility for any Chaotic relics the War Scribes uncover and cannot destroy, as well as dangerous archaeotech. Something about Greyland exerts a dampening effect on rogue devices and Chaotic taint, just like it does on the flora, fauna, and any that try to settle upon it. The Inquisition maintains a small presence on Greyland to help keep an eye on such items, and to assist in research and purging efforts.

Hod's Hole

Hod's Hole
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	-CLASSIFIED-
Sub Sector	-CLASSIFIED-
System	-CLASSIFIED-
Population	4,000,000 (Servitors/Cybernetica) 200 (System Overseers/Maintenance specialists)
Planetary Governor	Overseer Primus Rallim Feldus
Orbital radius	12 AU Perihelion, 1,327 AU Aphelion
Gravity	.65G
Temperature	-300 Kelvin

Hod's Hole, located by Rogue Trader Hod Wellmarn in the early 31st Millennium, is a tiny chunk of rock on an extraordinarily elliptical orbit around its small red dwarf parent star. A frozen iceball, the planet never reaches its star's warmth, and spends most of its existence alone in the vastness of the void. Normally the minute orb would never meet the Imperium's notice. It has no mineral wealth, no strategic position, no xenos stronghold in need of purging. But Rogue Trader Wellmarn was hunting elusive prey. The Void Krakens. His family had lost dozens of ships to the beasts, but with the help of the War Scribes the shoe was on the other foot, and Hod was on the warpath. Over the course of several years, he and the Marines hunted down almost a dozen of the titans and at last came to Hod's Hole where the Kraken broodmaster dwelled. Over the course of countless unknown years and generations, the Krakens had etched a hole completely through the planetoid, eating and feeding as they pleased. Inside were hundreds of destroyed ships from every race and time period in the galaxy, chewed up and digested. Their remnants were embedded in the tunnel's walls, encased in vile excretions created by the Krakens to strengthen the tunnel and prevent gravity from crushing their nest.

Once the void-beasts were slain to the last, the War Scribes took possession of this unique planetoid and sought what relics they could in its wreckage. Fifty years went by with no results. The Heresy came and went, and from the ashes of that horrible conflict, an idea was born. The myth that the Imperium was unshakeable and immortal had gone, to be replaced with a new and bitter pragmatism among the Scribes. And so they began to build in secret. Hod's Hole was a perfect hiding place, unknown to all and nearly invisible in the blackness of space. No wealth was ever found there, so no treasure hunters sought to trace its location through myths and legends. The Rogue Trader who discovered Hod's Hole died a satisfied man, full in his accomplished vengeance. But he died alone with his knowledge, the last of his Kraken-eaten lineage. This world would belong to the Scribes alone. Their tool of last resort, the ultimate trump card to be used when all else might be lost.

As the Scribes learned more of the dangers Chaos represented, they also noticed that the power of Chaos seemed to grow thin at the Galaxy's edge. Explorations across the Milky Way confirmed this. Perhaps beyond the Galaxy, there was no Chaos at all. Over the next ten millennia, the Scribes quietly diverted a small fraction of the Atalantos Worlds' immense industrial output, layering Hod's hole with vast arrays of cogitators, batteries the size of battleships, staggering quantities of capacitors and relays. And through the hole dug by Krakens, they embedded a colossal mass driver, Ultimum Dictamen Vernerum. A staggering two thousand kilometers long, an almighty Ordinatus engine capable of hurling a projectile out of the Galaxy's gravity well with brute force alone.

Knowing full well that the circumstances in which this gun might be used would likely mean that the Gods had tainted the Warp irrevocably, this launcher would obey Materium physics exclusively, rejecting the Warp's seductive swiftness. Though the journey might take two and a half million years or more in real time, the projectile itself and the inhabitants within would travel at almost the speed of light. For them, the time-dilated journey would be over in a few years. And at the end of the road lay the vast unknown called the Andromeda Galaxy. With this device, perhaps some fragment of Mankind could be saved. Or perhaps it was all a fool's errand, and those resources might have saved this galaxy instead of being wasted on another. But such is the way of the Scribes. If they deem it necessary, no project is too vast in scale to be considered.

For now the question remains unanswered. The supergun rests idle in cold storage, tended by a small army of servitors and cybernetica. Only a few hundred living beings reside here, having given their lives in tithe to monitor the facility in exchange for familial rewards. It is possible the Vernerum may never awaken, never be needed. And it is the fervent hope of every War Scribes Chapter master that this be so.

But only time will tell.

Slagshed Station

Slagshed
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Peltru
Sub Sector	Ortremen
System	Philovia
Population	750,000,000 (mostly mutants)
Planetary Governor	Slagmaster Borx "the Burner" Chelmon
Orbital radius	30 AU
Gravity	1.64G
Temperature	-200C (darkside) +1,200C (sunside) +10,000C (during Flare)

Deep in the Galactic Core lurks a behemoth star. Nearly eighty solar masses, Philovia boils with energy, shedding hot gases and ionizing radiation across a dozen Imperial sectors. It is a marvelous sight, a brilliant blue-white titan which humbles all those nearby. One could easily be forgiven for overlooking its much smaller partner. Just beside Philovia lurks the Slag, a tiny neutron star. The Slag is all that remains of another massive companion, Philovia's long-dead sibling. But the greedy dead still need to eat, and a tendril of indescribably hot gas connects the two. A vampiric umbilical cord devouring Philovia a little piece at a time.

The Slag is wasteful in its consumption, and the entire system is shrouded in hot gas and tumbling debris that missed its mark. From these ashes, a handful of planets clawed their way into existence at the system's fringes. Life would never evolve here, and even if it did Philovia would soon join its sibling in death, as do all massive stars. No time for evolution. The Slagshed is by far the largest of these remnant embers, quite a lot larger than Terra. It is barren and lifeless, awash in radiation. No useful minerals, no water. Slagshed cannot even boast an atmosphere despite its large size.

But there is one characteristic that the Imperium has found use for. The binary pair have a very regular history of abuse. Once every eighteen hours, clockwork precise as the finest Imperial timepieces, the Slag consumes too much. Its accretion disk overflows and a colossal shockwave propagates through the system at incredible speeds. By the time the outburst reaches Slagshed, it is spread into a gigantic cloud, and the planet's exposed hemisphere roasts for hours as it passes through. For unknown millennia this cycle has repeated itself, turning one half of the slowly rotating world into molten lava, while the other half remains perpetually frozen.

The Atalantos Worlds produce a titanic amount of raw material and industrial goods, but despite Arelex's best efforts they produce an equally tremendous amount of waste. No recycling or reclamation system in the galaxy could handle such a burden. Except for the Slagshed. Every day, thousands of merchant barges dump gigatons of material onto Slagshed's sunside. And every day, those gigatons go up in flames all at once. The repeated cycles of melting and remelting allow the heavy metals to sink and the lighter materials to rise, serving as a colossal molecular sieve for everything imaginable. Organic compounds are broken down, and everything is totally sterilized. By the time any given point on the surface has made it to the night side, it has seen hundreds of flares. As Slagheap's lethargic rotation finally brings cool relief to the boiling material, thousands of Imperial mobile refineries salvage everything they possibly can from the newly cooled slice, launching valuable payloads into the sheltering darkness of the Slagshed's shadow. As the dawn threatens to catch up, they move a few dozen kilometers, burrow as deeply as they can, and wait for the next flare.

The only law on Slagshed is that work means life. Most of the laborers are hardened criminals and Imperial deserters. Mutants are commonly shipped here in droves. The punishment for any crime is to be given a void suit and chained to the surface, awaiting the victim's final sunrise. And yet, Slagshed is a kind of refuge for many. Despite the danger, most of the work is maintaining machinery. The actual digging is done by colossal mining bores and dredge haulers, for no amount of human labor could do the job quickly enough. It is a harsh, unpleasant planet, but the Slagmaster is fair. Without prejudice or malice, he adheres to the one law of Slagshed absolutely. All workers are equal in his eyes, so long as they work. Philovia's seething sunlight provides them with all the energy they could possibly need to sustain life's necessities, and virtually anything can be synthesized from the slag residue. Hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, and dozens of other raw elements feed into the recombinators, offering luxury undreamt of on most worlds. Inside the vast machinery, there is clean air, distilled water, and endless food. Everything is pure and unpolluted, for it is created fresh after each flare delivers new energy. Pollution never lingers long in a world designed from the ground up for reclamation and purification.

In this way Slagshed has become a rallying point for mutants across the Atalantos Worlds. Though they are despised in the public eye, Slagshed gives them a safety valve when faced with execution, a bolthole to hide in. If one can get past the fear of living next to a routinely exploding star, caged in a shell of moving metal, Slagshed is actually a cut above many other worlds. Even the most wretched mutants can sometimes be purified here. Freed of the environmental toxins from their birth worlds, many mutants begin to expel their poisons and heal. Deformed parents occasionally give birth to healthy children, to the celebration of all. The War Scribes use these lucky ones as propaganda, trumpeting the resilience of the human genome over all obstacles in order to mock the xenos. Not everyone can be cleansed in such a way, but it provides something more essential than air, water, or food. Hope.

A most unusual world.

Precipice

Precipice
Segmentum	Ultima Segmentum
Sector	Core
Sub Sector	Core
System	Sagittarius A*
Population	100 researchers
Planetary Governor	Magos Entrem Go-Shang
Orbital radius	3.7 Light Years
Gravity	Variable
Temperature	Variable

Welcome to the Precipice. Go no further.

Beyond this point there is nothing. This is the final stop. The power within the Milky Way's heart has consumed all else. Only a handful of stars get anywhere near this close, whipping around the central black hole faster than any other natural object ever moves. Precipice is even closer in. Time flows strangely on Precipice. As does gravity. As does space itself. All are linked here, and all bear immense strain.

Precipice itself is largely a nickel-iron ball, probably the remnants of some ancient gas giant. Only a little rocky crust yet remains from its formation, mostly scoured off by stellar encounters of unimaginable energy. It has no parent star to give it light, only the countless points of flickering energy filling the sky. Precipice is a world awash in radiation of every type, spared from complete annihilation only by the remarkably quiet nature of the Milky Way's black hole. Though heavier than 4 million Suns, our galaxy is among the 10% that slumber deeply. Few flares emerge here, and no relativistic jets carve swathes through the heavens. Indeed, were it not so, life might never have evolved on Terra.

Precipice's one protection is its incredible rate of spin and massive molten core. Its magnetic field is hundreds of times stronger than Terra's, deflecting much of the radiation from reaching the surface. Inside this protective envelope, a handful of Magi have established a research base on the black hole's very doorstep. From here direct observation of Sagittarius A* is possible, and despite the planet's immense size and gravity, at the equator its incredibly rapid spin counteracts what would otherwise be tens of G's. Far too much force for even enhanced Magi to bear. There is even some atmosphere, though the winds regularly top 2,000 kilometers per hour. And it's largely inert Argon.

This may be the single most dangerous place in the Materium, save for a planet orbiting an impending supernova. At any time, infalling gas or debris could cause an apocalyptic outburst, sterilizing everything for hundreds of light years around. No trade ships dare traverse this part of space. Only the Mechanicus' most hardened vessels can make such a journey, and only with rigorous preparation.

And yet there is much to learn. It is a physics laboratory beyond compare, where extraordinary events are laid bare for the observation on a daily basis. Every new mote of gas drifting past, every asteroid, every doomed star, all these and more offer precious data that could not be obtained in any manmade research facility. With the assistance of the War Scribes, a single Ark Mechanicus has been constructed to supply Precipice, the mighty Last Horizon. It carries no armaments, instead sheathing itself in adamantium plates a hundred meters thick, and powering dozens of shield batteries with genetoriums the size of hab spires. Nothing less could survive the trip. Every three years it makes the perilous trek, delivering sustenance and harvesting thousands of datastacks.

From these efforts, much fruit has been yielded. Few can say what exactly the Mechanicus have done with their data, but the annals of the War Scribes provide valuable historical context. Without the efforts of Precipice's scientists, the Legion's Jetbikes, Land Speeders, Centurions, and Grav-guns would long since have ceased to function. Their knowledge of the bending of space and time has allowed the Scribes to continue replicating the wonders of the past.

Step not forth from the Precipice. But do stop by and have a look around.