Venaro sector

Venaro sector

The Venaro sector is a homebrew sector of 40k's Milky Way created by /tg/ between the 30/04/2019 and the 02/05/2019. Venaro is an out-of-the-way Sector with no significant present threats, this serves as an excellent place for the Imperium to put things that they want to keep an eye on, and as an excellent place to hide from prying eyes, as nothing of note is supposed to be there. These means that the system is effectively a prison, rehab facility, and, training ground historically fairly safe from threat. With the Astartes chapter serving as unseen wardens. More recently however, there has been an increase in the Xeno and Chaos activity. Only time will tell if this is indicative of a threat presenting itself. The climate of the worlds within the sector is unusually harsh so much so that it seems almost as though the system was the location of terraforming research before the age of strife., and while most systems are habitable, the populations living them are hardy by nature of having adapted to their environment. This makes some of the more populated worlds excellent recruitment ground for both Astartes chapters, and the imperial guard. However, even these densely populated worlds are nearly barren by some standards. As the sector itself was never valuable enough for hives to be constructed worldwide anywhere, though there is a singular large city located on the world of Venaro I, the center of government in the sector and sector’s namesake, though even here the presence technology is somewhat lacking. Heavy Inquisition presence due to the use of the sector as a dumping ground for undesirables. It contains the following elements.

Notable systems

Cydrasil: Homeworld of Astarte chapter 0x0777D131 gamma (Cydrasil III) Apophis: Homeworld of the order of the [redacted] (Apophis II) Certion: Fortress world where a Guard regiment is stationed (Certion VI) Total known systems: 134

0x0777D131 gamma

Also known as the Predators and many other names, a Space Marines chapter.

Homeworld

Cydrasil III, a feral world mostly covered by vast, incredibly dangerous jungles. The creatures and plants contained within are able to absorb metals and minerals from their surroundings, making them more durable, and sharper than would be reasonably thought possible. Of the normal humans who enter the jungle, few make it out alive. Chapter fortress is located at the heart of the jungle.

Charge

Officially charged with the oversight of the undesirables relocated to the Venaro Sector, they have developed as a side effect a responsibility for eliminating high-threat targets of the imperium. Though this is often a function they often take upon themselves.

Heraldry

This chapter does not have a ridged heraldry pattern which they adhere to, rather they recognize the usefulness of camouflage and permit their troops to recolor their armor as they see fit on missions.

Chapter organization

Organization of this chapter is loose, with most deployments being of no more than 12 or so marines. If they feel the need they can deploy more, but doing so requires the authorization of the Grandmaster. To deploy, any high-ranking Hunter may seek authorization from a master by providing an explanation of their quarry and goals. Granted this, they may gather a team of Astartes from the chapter at their own discretion, and present the team to the master again. Authorization once again granted, the Grandmaster is given an opportunity to briefly review the hunt at which point he may then permit or deny deployment. At any time, the Grandmaster or a master may demand a hunt of a particular target. A team is then assembled and dispatched with haste.

Ranking within the chapter is very loose, with there only being a few clear ranks. These are defined loosely as follows:

• Grandmaster of the Hunt: fills the role of a chapter master. Has absolute authority within the chapter and, owing to the Chapter's power and influence, is one of the senior Imperial officials calling the shots in the Venaro Sector.
• Master of the Hunt: Roughly fills the role of captain, assists the grandmaster with the management of the massive chapter. Also serve as instructors for novices;
• Vulture: A chapter-specific term for Apothecaries;
• Hunter/Predator/Stalker: the rank-and-file battle brothers of the chapter. The Specific name is dependent upon the specialty of the Astartes. These correspond to Marksmanship, Melee combat, and stealth/tracking respectively;
• Novice: A trainee who has not yet reached full inductance into the chapter.

Additionally, there are a few other honor-based positions which are granted to worth battle brothers. These are:

• Headhunters: Daemon killing specialists. These Astartes are regarded as the premier force within the chapter when faced with forces of the Immaterium. They wear a skull with a hole and crosshair on their pauldrons;
• Shadows: Marines who have served in the Deathwatch are granted this honor. This is somewhat informally regarded as a marker of seniority within the chapter.

Name fluff

This chapter derives their official name from the Adeptus mechanicus designation for them, which they simply never bothered to change. However, due to the unique way in which the chapter operates, groups of battle brothers within the chapter will often form informal groups termed "lodges" of anywhere from just a few marines to over a hundred, with whom they will hunt and deploy with regularly. Though the camaraderie within the chapter as a whole is still as one might expect, these lodges often form especially close bonds, and frequently choose a name for their group which they feel reflects its nature. Additionally, due to the lack of an "official" heraldry, lodges will often agree on a particular element of their power armor to become standardized across all hunts they undertake. This commonly is the pauldrons, which are often emblazoned with a lodge crest, leading lodges to often become mistaken for separate chapters. This has led to an immense headache for those who see them as overly influential or would see them broken up, as the chapter itself is immensely difficult to track down, and has no fewer than 74 separate false entries into the Imperial records, due to numerous eyewitness accounts of a new chapter in operation.

Banishment groups

Banishment groups are teams assembled by the grandmaster to address a particular threat. Handpicked from the ranks of the Astartes under his command, these hunting parties stand ready 24/7 for their quarry to be located, and are deployed immidiatly at that time. Oftentimes these are named parties, the most notable of which is the banishment squad “banishers of the night” tasked with eliminating the Daemon Prince the chapter has stalked for millennium when it appears.

The Grand Hunt

On occasion a threat may appear which is considered so serious or so hated that the might of the entire chapter will be brought to bear on it. This is referred to as a Grand Hunt and has occurred exactly twice during the chapter’s history. The first was during the invasion that saw the Banisher cement his place in legend. The second was when the Emperor's Children assaulted Extremis Six, where it is alleged that Fulgrim the Kinslayer himself was present. A great many hunters died in both instances, though they claimed the lives of at least twice as many traitors, brutalized corpses left behind as a promise to any traitors who escaped.

Heroes

• Unnamed scout, Banisher of the night or “The Banisher”: Legendary slayer of the Daemon Prince during a major Daemonic invasion in the sector. After their leader was fucking dunked on like a bitch, the forces of chaos were thrown into disarray and disbelief, and were quickly routed.
• Grandmaster Skyron - deceased: Founder of the Chapter and first Grandmaster. Was originally a high ranking member of the Iron Hands, but was captured by the Night Lords. During his time in captivity he was tortured extensively as a favored target by his captors, who tried every method or torture they could to break him, ultimately failing. Upon his escape (resulting in numerous dead Night Lords) he quickly came to realize that the combination of the Night Lords terror techniques with the mechanical precision of the Iron Hands was exceptionally effective in clandestine operations, and quickly gained prestige in his chapter due to his squads’ abnormal effectiveness in disruption operations. This eventually led to his appointment as the first Grandmaster of a new successor chapter which was founded in the 39th Millenium.
• Grand Vulture Mengele: Devious fucker who has taken a particular interest in finding out what makes Xenos tick. A highly competent medic in his own right, and is responsible for many of the interrogation techniques used by the chapter.

Notable foes

X’anathor the Shining (derisively referred to as “X’anathor the Seething” by hunters): The original Daemon prince of Slaanesh defeated by the scout of legend. Regarded as a High-value target by the chapter at large. So much so that there is a banishment team specifically tasked with hunting it down whenever it appears. This banishment team bears the same round used by the scout, recovered after the battle, and uses its unique link with the Daemon to slay it when they track it down. So powerful has this bond grown after 12 recorded uses, that the round is said to return to the firer upon the destruction of its target. Further, due to its chapter-Unique construction and materials, the living metal trees within the jungles of Cydrasil, Daemons slain by one of these unique rounds appear to retain their wounds even across manifestations. This makes identification of the Prince easy as it has been described visually as having twelve separate wounds:

One blazing in the center of its forehead One Piercing its chest plate, black steam rising from its wounded heart One, directly where the spine meets the pelvis One upon its wrist, oozing silver ichor One on the side of its thigh, a hamstring shot One down its right palm, exiting the shoulder One, a throat shot, its words escape it as hissing growl One, through the jaw, making it slack lopsided One, Pierced the ankle mid stride One, a hole center mass, directly below the heart shot One, through the side of the neck, slightly above the throat wound One, destroying one of its three eyes. The banisher took a bolt of warpfire to his own eye as he delivered the blessed shot. He hunts with the emperor now.

Of these, the blast through one of its eyes is the shot delivered by The Banisher of legend. There is a prophecy according to which the thirteenth shot will be his True Death, the increasingly strong psychic link between X'anathor the Seething and the bullet guiding it with unerring accuracy.

Notable equipment

Blessed Cyberwood Bolts: Forged over years from some of the oldest trees within the jungle of their homeworld, Astartes Hunters use these rounds to inflict crippling, permanent damage upon high-threat Daemons and Chaos entities. These serve to not only banish the Daemon to the warp now, but also to weaken them upon their return. These rounds are reserved for only the strongest of foes, as the process of their fabrication takes decades to complete and candidate trees are rare.

Order of [Redacted]

Also known as the order of last resort.

Battle cry

"Purge and make pure!"

The basic gestalt

An order beholden to convent Prioris, and allied with the order of sisters Famulous. Technically charged with the oversight of imperial nobility they have proven themselves incapable of this, as their hatred for abhumans, who they see as a blight on the purity of mankind, often clouds their vision. This belief was the cause of their separation from the predecessor, a minor order, who’s name has been lost to time. Following a catastrophic incident involving the unsanctioned exerminatus of their own homeworld when the local guard forces refused to execute a large detachment Ogryn brought in to help against an impending orc WAAAGH! The entire order was relocated to the world of Apophis II in the Venaro sector by the Unnamed Hunters of the local Astartes chapter at the behest of the Inquisition. Ever since the hunters have kept a very close eye on the genocidal sisters, frequently intervening as needed to avoid worst case scenarios. This notable “flaw” aside, the Order is seen as remarkably zealous and effective, even as compared to the high standards of the orders of sisters militant. Believing that to show mercy or compassion to the enemies of the emperor is a sin and recruiting only those deemed exceptionally pure humans, they have maintained fully combat readiness in anticipation of the day that they are called upon by the inquisition to completly ruin some poor heretic’s day. Colloquially known as the order of last resort, these sisters are called for only when the situation becomes so untenable that the situation could not possibly be made worse by their zealotry. As such they have been the final answer for a number of difficulties faced by the inquisition, such as the rattling uprising of Lepunschrom IIV. Following their new home following their “relocation” the world of Apophis II, is a mostly barren, feral world covered mostly by imposing deserts and hostile wastelands, though what little indigenous life to live on this forsaken world is relatively harmless. The sisters largely hold their homeworld at an arms distance, including the smaller settlement dotting the surface, seeing themselves as being above the world they inhabit, and have minimal influence in the operation of the Planet as a result. However, though they may have little influence on their world, the wield a disproportionate, amount of influence off-world, due to the relationships the have with the local naval battlefleet.

Deeds

Their greatest triumph was recovering a sacred relic. Their most holy relic is the writings of a saint. They deviate from the standard method of organization used by the Orders Militant of the Adepta Sororitas. They consider their methods of worship sacred, and that they must be kept from others. Only members of the Order may know of and participate in their rituals.

Tallarn 666th Infantry

As its name doesn't suggest, this regiment has not recruited from Tallarn in a long time.

Recruitment and training

The regiment was originally of Tallarn, but it suffered horrendous casualties after the coming of the orks to Certion VI. The Administratum then decided to keep the name, but recruited soldiers from the local abhumans which were then trained by the original survivors of the 666th.

The abhumans are from the planet's underground. Originally a untouchable caste forced to build and maintain the qanat systems, millennia of duty turned them into nightsider abhumans, albinos with bulbous eyes and improved vision. When the Imperium came, the qanats' entrances were then locked and fortified, turning them into prisons from which only those chosen by the Emperor might leave to perform their privilege of dying in His name.

Training follows standard Imperial Guard training, with a heavier emphasis on stamina and marksmanship. Each soldier must be able to walk twenty miles on the dunes on a single day and shoot an ork tooth from two hundred yards before he is considered fit for combat.

Equipment

• Sidon Pattern Las-jezail - This is a variant of the las-lock, created by sidonic scav-workshops from broken lasguns. These long-barreled weapons are quite accurate and pack a strong punch. The stocks are handmade and ornately decorated with ork teeth, featuring a distinctive curve which is not seen in the stocks of other lasguns. A las-jezail is often fired from a bipod.
• 4 Lasgun Charge Packs
• Flak Cloak - Owning to the hot climate of Certion VI, the 666th adapted their armor as a form of sleeveless cloak. It can also be quickly removed if necessary. In case of a melee, many of the abhumans will wrap the cloak around their left arm, using it as a sort of shield.
• Scimitar
• Garb - While uniform standardization does not exist, the style of dress for most abhumans is relatively similar: a long white tunic and a headcloth.
• Suicide vest - Every nightsider carries this under the flak cloak. The vest contains a variable amount of homemade explosives, a flask of blessed promethium, shrapnel and a detonator.
• 3 frak grenades
• 2 Smoke Grenades
• Rucksack
• Basic Toolkit
• Mess Kit and Two Water Canteens
• 2 Weeks' Rations
• Grapnel - Grapnels use a small launcher or gas-gun to fire a hooked or magnetic grapnel, connected to the launcher with a coiled 100 metres' length of thin but strong line. Once the grapnel attaches to the desired spot such as a rooftop, a Guardsman can manually climb the line or activate a powered winch. Common sets can hold 150 kilograms, while the best can support 200 kilograms.
• Blanket & Sleep Bag
• Dog Tags
• Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer - A staple piece of gear that Guardsmen are required to have on them at all times—this piece of kit is never to fall into the hands of the enemies of the Imperium. It details everything a Guardsman needs to know: principles and regulations of the Imperial Guard, issued arms, attire, apparatus, and equipment, basic battlefield policy and Imperial Guard organisation and structure, elementary battlefield medical instructions, and a detailed guide on the foes of the Imperium. No Guardsman should ever be found without possession of a copy of the Uplifting Primer, the punishment is severe.

Their vehicles also field the Abus-pattern lascannon, more accurate and farther-ranged than the standard pattern. However, its weight precludes it from being used by infantry heavy-weapons teams.

Organization

Officers

• Colonel ("Çorbaci") - The commanding officer of the Tallarn 666th regiment (“orta”). He is elected by the guardsmen from among their veterans. The Çorbaci is expected to carry an atomic bomb in his backpack. If the battle is lost, he must detonate it so the enemy won’t survive.
• Captain ("Boluk-Bashi") - Each of them commands an entire company (“boluk”). They are subordinate to the Çorbaci.
• Lieutenants ("Bayraktar") - These officers command the platoons. They must display discipline and willingness to self-sacrifice at all times, examples for his men. "Sancaks" also are the flag-bearers.
• Commissars ("Çavus") - The 666th’s abhumans are terrified of Commissars, for =dying on their hands does not lead to atonement. On the other hand, the Commissars attached to the 666th usually approve of the version of the Imperial Creed given to the nightsiders, and mostly try to ensure that the guardsmen die for= good reasons instead of wasting their lives away.

Elite units

• Cataphracts - This battalion uses Tallarn-Pattern Sentinels and Leman Russ Annihilators, armed with the abus-pattern lascannon, to snipe important targets on the battlefield. These may be enemy commanders, particularly tough creatures and distinct armored foes. To achieve this, the lascannons are equipped with improved targeting systems based on a servitor scanning array mounted in the weapon. This enables the user to hit enemies up to two miles away.

Noteworthy engagements

Ork Raid Number3.449(399.M38)​. A mix of boss and weirdboy claims dominance over the Scrap Citadel, triggering a small [[[Waaagh]]]!. A caravan of ramshackle vehicles departs to the north pole, seeking violence and plunder. They raze many outlying farms and some towns, catching the attention of the 666th. They fortify nearby communities, uncertain of which one the orks are going to strike next. The roar of engines warns the inhabitants of Tamaklan of the coming green tide. In the midst of battle, a single Sentinel snipes the head of the “weirdboss”, vaporizing it with its lascannon. This provokes a chain reaction, in which the heads of all the orks burst like grapes. A victory with few casualties is almost too good to be true. The success of the tactic leads to its implementation as doctrine and the development of the abus-pattern lascannon by sidonic techpriests.

The Welcoming Darkness (251.M39)​. Desert tribesmen find ruins of an ancient human city revealed by the shifting sands. Greed takes over cautiousness, and they enter the twisting maze of streets. This serves only to awaken the terror which doomed the city in the first place. Demons of the Old Night, the divs are like hairy ogryns with horns and claws, capable of possessing people through their shadows, as well as traveling from one shadow to the other. The lone survivor is forced to send an emergency signal to the megabastion, so the demons acquire more victims. This is their undoing, for three battalions of nightsiders are sent. The battle starts poorly for them, but once the demons’ abilities are noticed, the abhumans move towards the deepest tunnels they can find. There, in the supreme darkness, they feel like home and without any shadows for the Divs to use. The underground melees cost many lives, but the demons are slain.

Notable allies

The Administratum appreciates the 666th. Their hope for redemption and background as maintainers of the q'anat systems leads to them being very responsible with their wargear, not wasting even fuel or ammo unless necessary.

Notable individuals

Father Mattius​: current Chaplain of the regiment. He was initially against being grouped with abhumans, but came to admire their self-sacrifice and sense of duty towards the Emperor. However, he also noted that the regiment’s suicidal tactics often failed to accomplish anything worth of their faith. So he added two ideas to their creed: through their worthy sacrifice, abhumans might atone, and be born as normal humans in their next life; but, a sacrifice which accomplishes nothing is as much of a sin as being an abhuman, for this wastes the life that is the Emperor’s due.

Planet of origin

Certion VI This is a desert planet, mostly covered by large erg deserts. In the equatorial regions, a single day might see water boil under the sun and freeze at midnight. There is also the danger of the sand tornadoes and the hypnotic singing sand, which can somehow induce hallucinations. Numerous cities, even entire civilizations lie beneath the dunes, and there are legends abound about it being haunted by evil spirits that mislead travelers. Life is only possible deep underground, in the extensive cave system used by the orks to travel throughout the planet. The poles have more temperate climates, although they’re still very hot during the day and cold at night. Ancient ruins of human origin, buried under the sands, suggest that the planet wasn’t originally like this. The sidonic techpriests theorize that the planet was turned barren by faulty terraforming equipment, likely damaged during the Age of Strife.

The north pole is a large plateau and houses the imperial population in the Samarra region, a belt of fertile farmland around the plateau. The latter is crisscrossed by thousands upon thousands miles of underground tunnels, the qanats, which supply water to the farms and few cities. The single megabastion in the planet is Malwiya, a spiraling cone one kilometer high, located right at the magnetic north pole. The mighty Dardanelles Defense Railgun rests atop it, capable of crippling enemy cruisers with a single shot.

The south pole is dominated by the orks, They raised the Scrap Citadel, from which they launch raids into the north pole. It's believed the orks’ fortifications have been built over the original terraforming systems. The Sidonics frequently launch expeditions to ascertain this. If they find this to be the case, they will invade the planet to rescue the archeotech.

Lord Inquisitor Eustace

Inquisitor Haverson

Outsider from the Venaro sector, his reports to Terra are one of our sources of information and an intradiegetic narrator.

Sidon Void-Forge

Overview

The Sidonic techpriests operate from Sidon, a derelict hull of ironclad design which drifted towards a Lagrangian Point between Celberian III and its moon, during the Dark Age of Technology. A mechanicus explorator fleet sailing from Temaxia in the 32th millenium found it. They were forced to settle after learning their forge-world of origin was razed by Orks. Sidon and the fleet’s forge-ark were merged into a Mechanicus Forge-Temple. Nearby asteroids and comets were towed and integrated into it, providing raw materials for repair and growth. A web of maglev tracks, macrofilaments and mine shafts extend from and under the main facility, connecting bunker habitats, vault-forges and ore processing stations spread throughout several half-consumed and interconnected asteroids. Over the millenia, Sidon grew into a shipyard which supplied the nascent sector fleet with ships in the ancient Ironclad patterns, due to the local discharges of the Celbrian sun requiring thick ceramite shielding, as well as interacting violently with Void Shields. It has also built some defense monitors and their own Classiarii macroclades for self-defense. Their current leader is the Forge Lord Balthazar-915Y4865X.

The harsh context forced these techpriests to salvage, reprocess and recondition whatever they could, becoming so proficient at it that they developed a smaller molecular bonding stud. It is weaker, but useful in all sorts of minor repairs. It has become a signature of sidonic craftsmanship throughout the sector. Some outsider techpriests think that this device is used too often, and that sidonics should spend more efforts in painstakingly restorating the original design gleaned from STC templates. Said tech-priests could act according to their thoughts, if there wasn't a space marine chapter nearby. The Forge-Temple’s higher number of Reclaimators and the regular coming of Rogue Traders led to a healthy black market.

Sidon is willing to use its archeotech repair systems in exchange for specific resources such as the manpower abundant in the Imperium yet sparse in the sector. The local mechanicus have an near-exclusive expertise in plasma engines, refitting hulls into ironclad configurations and maintaining them. Only a few Rogue Traders, the Imperial Navy and the Predators chapter are worthy or wealthy enough to have the "Sidonic Protocols" that allow one to approach and enter the shipyard without being targeted by the kill-sats’ lasers.

The Lagrangian Point also had the remains of a Void Kraken which tried to consume the forge-temple in M34, slain after being baited by a Fire Ship. It has been hollowed in search for unique silicon compounds. The corpse now houses a minor Genetor temple. The main priest, Metasurgeon Utica-67092376G, went as far as installing thrusters on its body. The remaining tentacles also suffered macro-surgery, having giant mechadendrites installed on the inside. This mobile temple now serves as the flagship of the mining barques, bringing more asteroids and comets from within the Celberian system. The novelty of it all has brought some prestige to the biological arts, with some techpriests going as far as whispering that the “Void Kraken’s flesh isn’t weak”. Utica-67092376G seeks to acquire megatonnes of organic material so he might clone and develop his own tamed Void-Kraken.

The powerful plasmoids from the Celberian sun’s unstable magnetosphere influence many to join the Electromagnetic Mysteries, cults of the Electro-priests. They build small craft with powerful heat-shields to gaze the sun as close as possible. Some of them believe there is meaning in the complex energies of the Celberian sun, perhaps even a message from the Motive Force itself. The other mechanicum sects see only a dangerous disturbance to their constant activity in the void of space.

The sheer hostility of cold vacuum and lack of human resources at the beginning made the local tech-priests protective of its inferiors, providing companies of void-hardened adsecularis miners with medicae servitors and employing automated systems whenever possible. The seams of minerals, tholins and volatiles such as frozen carbon are mapped out by swarms of earthworm-like C.A.T.s communicating through tectonic waves. Even so, the sidonics disdain battle-automata, considering cyborgs and servitors more reliable and flexible.

Their macroclades and tech-thralls are vac-sealed and have mag-spikes on their feet. These enhancements carried over from their origins as a Classiarii force from the original Explorator Fleet. A controversial trait is not using the traditional robes, prefering to paint their augmetics and war plate in space-dark and crimson-red.

Besides the ironclad-pattern ships, Sidon has some unique creations:

• The lacraia-pattern servitor, whose jaw-drills are equally effective against rock and armour. Its body is based on centipedes, having many pairs of spiked legs for easy locomotion in the surface, as well as the underground, of asteroids. Many were repurposed into machines of war, as effective as any combat servitors.
• Sat-skulls are disposable sensor-servitors, each equipped with small anti-grav plates and solar wing-sails of woven carbon. Hundreds of them are deployed around the volatile Celberian sun. Their function is to analyze and monitor the Plasma Storms raging on the sun’s magnetosphere, providing early warning about dangerous Plasma Winds, Jammer Storms and Macrolightining Strikes, phenomena capable of destroying whole cruisers.
• Their main food supply comes from dark radiotrophic fungus grown on cooling chambers around their atomantic reactors. The combination of radiation and water creates vast hydroponic jungles of plankton-like fungus. Originally a nuisance to the machines, it was filtered and discarded until a Biologis techpriest ascertained how to process it into nutritive gruel. Menials and servitors alike are fed this "black soup" directly into their stomachs, preventing them from wasting it due to the foul taste.

Celberian III - Knight World

A small world, scarred by mining long before the Great Crusade came to be. Long open cast mines and canyons measured in kilometers accumulated the thin atmosphere to the point that the air pressure is suitable for humans at the bottom lands. Seen from orbit, the planet seems as scarred as a veteran of many wars. Most water sources are heavily contaminated, making pure water a treasure worth killing for. The non-mutant feral natives live in citadels surrounded by terraced farms, fighting with daggers and axes equally useful for climbing. Still, it has useful ores and ancient machinery, so Sidon gave it to the Knight House which came with the original Explorator Fleet: House Lusotanann. Its ranks greatly expanded in the millennia since. Each Knight controls a canyon, its narrow passes and its handful of water sources, watching over feral miners and sanctioned scavengers.

However, the sidonic techpriests were unable to fully reproduce the throne mechanicum. As a result, most of the Knights of House Lusotanann aren’t imprinted with strong feelings of fealty and obligation. While as brave as a Knight should be, they eschew duels and tradition, always seeking advantages in war and outside of it. Their roguish ways gave them infamy among other Houses and armies with which they fought. Besides, many Lusitana vassals became Freeblades, abandoning their duties to seek glory and fortune among the stars, often reinforcing Rogue Traders’ forces. Even so, House Lusotanann is a powerful ally to what amounts to a single Forge-Temple, capable of fielding two dozen walkers while retaining a further dozen to defend Sidon and Sabratha III.

The local PDF is unremarkable besides being armed with rustic autoguns and specialized in mountain warfare. The leader of the Lusotanann House, Tartessa Lusotanann XIII, actually keeps control through a network of servitor-guided artillery platforms in the heights where the air is too thin to breathe. Tarragona, her bunker-castle, was dug into the only glacier on the entire planet, which to the natives is as living in a golden building. The exterior was carved into a image of the Omnissiah using His axe to cut through the planet's surface, leading to the ferals' belief that they can only live in the planet because He made it possible.

The mutant banditism is chronic: fearful of being shelled, they live in caves too narrow for Knights during the day and rob at night. Hunting mutant bandits, finding their dens and eliminating them is what the PDF is for. The Knights are above such ignoble duties. It’s only when the bandits acquire scraps of archeotech that a Knight will intervene, anxious to acquire technological blessings from the AdMech.

Warp Riders

Chaos Warband devoted to Slaanesh, making liberal use of Warhound Titans.

A fan-fiction

Tariel had seen horses before. In her pict-books as a child, in the holovids shown at midday during the worker's break. They were noble things, she had thought, holy animals from blessed Terra, bearing aloft nobler men and women. She had wished for one since before she had taken her mother's place in the pressing lines, wished to ride out into the stars on the mythical creature and leave the soot and smoke behind. She had not wished for this.

"Tarieeel..."

The voice that spoke to her was like brittle glass, broken shards of sounds slowly scraping against her ears, working its way into her head with a bloody ache. It didn't matter how close or far she was, still it seeped into her. She cringed involuntarily. The voice of a demon.

"Bring him to meee..."

Tariel pushed herself up from the floor, kept her eyes to her feet, winced as blood rushed back to her tingling legs. The metal grating beneath her feet was always cold. Not like home, where the pounding rhythm of the foundries shuddered through every inch of the planet, where the forges wicked away heat to all corners of the industry sector. She wore as much as she could find, as many socks and coats and ragged cloaks as were left by the others. But it wasn't enough. Was this what the stars were like, she wondered, or was it because of... them?

The Pale Gallantry they called themselves. Like knights from the pict-books. Like noble things from the stories. Only, far from the books and vids and the pleasant dreams. She had thought they would take her from her home, to a place more noble and beautiful, and she would be able to breath clear air and sleep without the hammering of machines waking her in the mornings.

She leaned her weight against the massive dead-bolt latching the pen shut, the cage she watched for her new master. It creaked with cold and age and slowly ground open, and the thing inside beat against the gate in its eagerness. The gate slowly swung open with a hideous squeal and Tariel pressed herself back behind the door, trying to hide herself as the beast inside paced out. She tried to ignore the sickly sweet smell of perfume and decay, the trickles of blood dripping from the creature's muzzle, the scraps of clothing trailing behind its feet.

Her master swept up to the creature, pale hood cloaking its features and paler armour hiding its form, and gripped the barbed reins wound around the creature's skull. A low hum, a halting melody, crept into her ears again as her master leaned closer to the beast. Armoured gloves stroked down its sinuous flank.

"You do wellll, Tariel... You shaaall be rewarded for your sssservice, have no feear..."

Tariel cringed back, pressed her back to the cold wall and sunk down to her haunches again. She clamped her hands over her ears, shut her eyes tight and wished for the din of the forges and her mother's smile again.

"Have no fear..."

In the deep was where the other things lived.

Like the city where Tariel was born, her new home swelled in every direction, countless levels upon levels of metal and wire, hatches and grates and heavy hissing pipes that thrummed with life. The walls were near, and the floor hummed beneath her feet, just as her home had. The more spacious hallways were unusually empty, and she was free to roam them, exploring the hidden places and empty rooms, sometimes wondering at the scratched marks on the walls left by those that had come before her, just as she had as a child.

She roamed to keep her mind from the things she did, but as she walked, the world around slowly blurred into her memories. Walls of metal like home, a twist of cable curling around a corner vent just as it had in her childhood hab, the way the lights flickered from time to time. She knew she was on a voidship, her new master had told her as such, but it didn't feel like it. She couldn't see the stars, or even find the edges of her world. It felt no different from home, save for the cold, and the quiet.

But in the deep...

Her master had told her not to stray far, but his words hurt to hear, hurt to remember. Tariel tried to forget them as she tried to forget everything else, but she knew he had not spoken them idly, and she often found herself skirting along the edges of the deeper levels, the stairwells and ladders and cargo shafts that led down into the dark. Sometimes she heard voices coming up from the deep.

The closest she ever came to the deeper levels was an open hall, a dozen levels below the pens housing her masters' pets, so tall and wide that shadows formed within that covered everything with a thick haze. A tent sat just short of the entrance, and oddly seemed to be the only thing within the huge room. Pallid cream cloth, almost out of place against the dark, cavernous black. Stains crept along the bottoms of the tent's sides, where it brushed over the ground on a perfumed breeze coming from deeper within the hall. She couldn't see much past the little fabric hut, and she had no desire to find out what lay beneath the shadows that clung to the hall.

Tariel dipped her head and brushed aside a flap of cloth, stepping into the almost-familiar room. A table sat in the middle, surrounded by a stack of sealed boxes, each marked with words that hurt to look at. One of them was for her, a part of her new duties, and her eyes strained to pick out the strange runes she was forced to remember.

"Second from the top, sweet, on the corner."

Jaram stood behind the table, a soiled knife in his clean hands. Tall, lithe, perhaps handsome in the gloom. His was one of the only names she knew in her new life, though she wasn't sure if she'd call him a friend. Not exactly. Jaram elegantly gestured with the tip of his knife, smiled at her, and turned back to his work.

Tariel shuddered at his smile. A smile too wide, teeth too long, tongue too sharp. His eyes were a pale lilac, and his skin was smooth and soft. If she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, he almost looked like a boy she had known in her foundry, though the boy had been much younger than her then. Almost looked like him until she looked closer and remembered that she was far from home.

Jaram hummed as he worked. Hummed a broken tune that stopped and started as he worked his knife between cartilage and bone. She tried not to look too closely at the neat piles of meat on his board, and tried not to listen to the sounds the blade made as it parted sinew and flesh. She heaved the box Jaram had pointed out from the stack, settling it on the floor with a huff of effort. The name on her box danced in her eyes and she sat down on it to keep it from her sight.

For a moment she simply caught her breath, considering the route back to her pen. The box was heavy with Jaram's work, and the path back was long and winding. She almost considered asking Jaram for help, but a glance to the boxes surrounding his table cut that thought short. Jaram always seemed to be working. She wondered if he truly spent all his time here, at his little table, working his knife and humming his lilting tune.

"You'll never know if you never ask, Tari."

She flinched at Jaram's voice, a jolt sparking up her spine, as if he had read her mind. She anxiously worked her aching fingers around the edges of her cloak and blinked away the beginnings of thin tears. He was smiling at her again with his terrible smile, hands still, his lilac gaze gently meeting hers.

It seemed an odd word to describe it, she thought. Gentle. But she couldn't help the feeling. Her master was surely not, nor the creatures kept in cages and cells. The other people she met in the metal corridors tended towards silence, or simply disappeared before she could catch up to them. But Jaram smiled and crooned softly with his broken voice, almost friendly as he worked his bloody knife.

"I think... I think the answer would scare me more than asking, wouldn't it?"

Jaram cocked his head, paused, bowed his head and nodded sagely. He slowly set his knife down beside his work. His eyes flicked between hers, perhaps looking for something in them, though she didn't care to know what. His smooth lips curled up again, snaking into a lopsided grin.

"The answers will come, sweet, whether you ask for them or not. Do you understand? Best make sure you ask the question before you receive the answer you hadn't wished for."

Tariel tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't. She couldn't look into those pale eyes, so instead she simply nodded, worrying the frayed fabric of her cloak. The box creaked beneath her, something shifting ever so slightly inside, or perhaps just her nerves. She wiped a hand across her eyes and looked up again to find Jaram standing in front of her, apron streak with red, back stooped slightly to meet her eye line. He almost lazily scooped up a trio of boxes beneath one arm, barely straining with their weight.

"But that is a thing of the future, is it not? Come, I find myself in need of distraction, and you have work of your own to do. Shall we walk together?"

He offered a slender hand, long-boned fingers curling slightly in front of her. Spotless hands, clean and smooth as silk. Tariel stared at his fingers for a moment, then pushed herself to her feet. She heaved her own box into her arms, hesitated, and reached a clumsy hand out to meet Jaram's. He smiled again, softly, and led her from his tent, back into the metal hallways and the cold and quiet where she had come from, humming gently as he went.