Set on polluted Vharax-Null, this campaign unfolds within and beneath two colossal Hive Cities.
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| Created | 22 days ago |
| Last Updated | 1 days ago |
| Visibility | Public |
Chainbarrow Forgefield
Chainbarrow Forgefield is a roving, semi-mechanized forge zone, a crawling patchwork of old manufactorum machinery and scorched railways that never stop moving. The entire district exists on massive, heat-shielded crawler platforms that stamp out low-quality parts—rebar hooks, bolt pins, flak-plate rivets—on the move. The forges belch heat day and night, and the air tastes like rust and cinders. Dozens of crawler lines move in slow, perpetual loops, running over broken workers and dragging their remains into collection ducts for recycling. The ground is scorched to black glass in places. Exhaust stacks bleed flame. Screaming is common—and often ignored. The only law here is the output quota. Fail to meet it, and your food, shelter, or air ration is cut off. Stop working, and someone else wears your boots.
Detention Sector Gamma-12/4 "The Vault Cells"
Buried deep beneath the Bastion, far below even the motorum and blast-locked transport shafts, lie the Vault Cells—a cold, soundproofed labyrinth of ferrocrete corridors and insulated detention blocks. The walls here sweat moisture, and the air is thick with recycled rot and chemical sterility. No light shines unless summoned by the wardens—most prisoners here forget what vision feels like. These are not cells. They are tombs waiting for permission to close. Each cell module is lined with psycho-reactive plating to suppress aggression and warp resonance. The air is thinned, the rations drugged, and the water bitter with sedative filtration. Prisoners are kept isolated, physically and cognitively—no communication, no exposure, no idea of how long they’ve been down here. If someone is placed in the Vaults, it means one thing: They will never see the sun, the stars, or mercy again.
Hive Primus: Golganneth Spire
The largest and most ancient of the Hive Cities on Vharax-Null, Golganneth Spire stretches miles into the tainted sky. It is a fortress-city built atop the bones of a crashed Ark Mechanicus, its foundations infused with forgotten STCs and cursed tech. Its original purpose—research and weapons manufacturing—was twisted over the millennia into sheer production might. Ruling Golganneth is the Dominatum Synaxis, a collective of ancient cybernetic nobles and tech-barons, half-machine and barely human. They maintain order with vast legions of servitors, hive enforcers, and gene-bred worker clans who live and die in the endless foundries. Legends say the deepest vaults still hold The Heart of Golganneth—a dormant AI core with sentience banned by Imperial Creed.
Hive Primus: High Spire
The High Spire crowns Hive Primus like a rotting halo wrapped in gold leaf. It rises into the smog-choked heavens, its uppermost levels piercing the atmospheric crust of Vharax-Null. Here, the elite of the hive dwell in decadent isolation, breathing filtered air, walking beneath stained-glass ceilings, and whispering orders that doom millions below. Unlike the brutalist might of the lower levels, the High Spire is a maze of ornate decay—vaulted halls, silver-chased vaults, blood-red banners, and cathedral towers built atop cathedral towers. It is less a place and more a monument to power, carved by hands that haven’t touched labor in generations. Here, wealth and paranoia sit side by side. Every corridor is watched by servitor-eyes. Every banquet is laced with hidden agendas. The Emperor’s name is spoken in gold here—but understood as law, not faith. Function: Command, inheritance, and isolation—the hive’s ruling summit
Hive Primus: Lower Hive
The Lower Hive of Primus is a choking expanse of stacked hab blocks and smog-belching manufactoria. The streets rumble with the constant motion of cargo servitors and tram-chains, ferrying supplies to the spires above. Massive generatorium towers thrum with power deep beneath the deck plating. Vox Systems repeat Imperial propaganda and Imperial litanies around the clock. Primus’ Lower Hive is old—rusted, patched, and repaired a thousand times over. Cracked aquilas and faded propaganda murals stare down at exhausted workers as they shuffle between shifts. The smell is a permanent mix of coolant vapor, sweat, and oil. Life here is defined by labor—those who do not work, do not eat. The sky is still obscured by the levels of above the Lower Hive, the lowest parts of the Lower Hive are subterrainean and underground still. However in some parts of the lower hive the sky is barely visible, choked with fog and pollution which the sun has no hope of penetrating.
Hive Primus: Mid-Hive
The Mid-Hive is the vast, industrial heart of Hive Primus—a choked tangle of function and fatigue. It sits between the privilege of the upper levels and the grinding despair of the lower hive. Here, life is built on routine, ration, and regulation. Skyscraping hab-blocks lean into each other like worn teeth. Elevated walkways and transit rails crisscross overhead, dripping with condensation and black grease. The air is thick with industrial haze, tinged with the acrid bite of promethium and machine oil. Dim amber lighting spills from reinforced windows, casting long shadows over the endless corridors. The people here are workers, scribes, and low-level Mechanicus personnel. They file into manufactorums, relay stations, and vox-towers in rigid shifts, overseen by enforcers and cogitator schedules. Most know nothing of the Spire above or the Underhive below—and prefer it that way. Vox Systems repeat Imperial propaganda and Imperial litanies around the clock.
Hive Primus: Mid-Spire
The Mid-Spire is the rigid heart of Imperial order, where endless data flows like blood through fiber-optic veins, and every breath is recorded, judged, and logged. Towering stonecrete halls, labyrinthine corridors, and fortified vox-nodes dominate this level. It is less alive and more a machine of policy and punishment. It is here the Hive’s commands are generated, enforced, and etched into the lives of billions. The Imperium’s true voice is spoken not with inspiration, but with ledgers, writs, and lashings. This is not a place for wandering. One only comes to the Mid-Spire to be noticed, corrected, or silenced. Function: Bureaucracy, Imperial Law, Religious Authority, Internal Surveillance
Hive Primus: Spire-Root
The Spire-Root is a vast, heavily armored layer that serves as the skeletal anchor of the High and Mid Spire, housing the beating heart of the hive’s military infrastructure, Mechanicus control relays, and secure passageways for arbite deployments, munitorum convoys, and high-priority tech-adept operations. It is not a place of politics or public life—it is a fortress, layered with servo-turrets, blessed cogitators, and gothic-grade bulkheads, patrolled by Skitarii, Arbites shock units, and Mechanicus kill-clades. No civilian is ever meant to set foot here. Cathedral-like corridors of black steel stretch endlessly, flanked by statues of fallen martyrs, enshrined servo-skulls, and automated purity censer-racks spewing incense into stagnant recycled air.
Hive Primus: Sump
The Sump is the hive's final grave—a vast, putrid mire of chemical waste, decomposing matter, industrial runoff, and the forgotten detritus of a thousand generations. It spans miles beneath Hive Primus, pooled in uneven craters, rusted sub-chasms, and hollowed-out sectors that collapsed long ago. There is no true floor—only sinking islands of hardened sludge, tangled rebar, and derelict hab-carcasses floating in a choking ocean of black sludge, luminous in places with phosphorescent mold or reactor-tainted algaes. The air is thick with corrosive fog and gas pockets that explode without warning. Screams echo faintly, never sure if they're real or the sump’s memory. Faint lights drift just below the surface—some say spirits, others old servitor eyes still twitching.
Hive Primus: The Apex Sanctum
The Apex Sanctum is the crowning citadel of Golganneth Spire, perched at the very pinnacle of Hive Primus—higher than stormclouds, higher than sunlight, surrounded by ionized smog and the corroded bones of ancient void towers. It is a sanctified realm of decaying opulence, arcane machine-rituals, and cybernetic nobility so inhuman they are often mistaken for statues or mechanisms. The Dominatum Synaxis: The eternal ruling elite, their original bodies long gone. They exist as throne-bound techno-phantoms, obsessed with control and recursion. This is where the Dominatum Synaxis rules. They are not people in the conventional sense—they are entombed intelligences, cyber-sarcophagi of once-great lords and tech-barons who fused themselves with corrupted cogitators, memory vaults, and servo-altars to survive millennia. They do not walk. They are carried. They do not speak. They transmit.
Hive Primus: Underhive
Beneath the towering might of Golganneth Spire—its blackened stacks and techno-arcane spires—lies the oldest, deepest, and most populous underhive on Vharax-Null. It has no proper name anymore—just “The Hive Primus Underhive,” a pit so ancient and vast its original blueprints have long since been lost, corrupted, or sealed away. The Hive Primus Underhive is a living hell-machine, an ecosystem of collapse where human life, machine waste, and industrial entropy intermingle. Unlike the desolate hush of Hive Secundus’ depths, this place is constantly alive—with motion, noise, and danger. Titanic cogitators hum like dying gods. Conveyor belts still turn, though no one remembers why. Entire sectors run on rerouted power and salvaged machine-spirits, coaxed into obedience by gangers and hereteks. Fires rage. Gangs rage. Machines rage. Everything burns—including hope. It is on a deep subterrainean level, there is no sun.
Hive Primus: Upper Hive
The Upper Hive is the grinding, gasping machine-lung of Hive Primus—a sprawling, monolithic zone of smokestack towers, processing cathedrals, bulk refineries, and fortified hab-complexes. The walls are streaked with ash, the skies perpetually gray beneath layers of chemcloud. Here, guild control is everything. It is a level of function masked as order—work crews march in timed shifts, endless megatrains roar through cargo arteries, and local enforcers operate with military discipline. It is not lawless like the depths, but the law here is profit—and Guild Law is absolute. Steel corridors reverberate with vox-chants urging productivity. Banners of the local guilds hang like faded saints in a rusting cathedral. Fires from the foundries burn day and night, and the air tastes like metal and duty. Function: Massive-scale industry, guild governance, regulated habitation
Hive Secundus: High Spire
The High Spire of Hive Secundus crowns Morrak’s Rise in chilling silence. It is the apex of logic and dominance—not a place of celebration or decadence, but of pure governance, unflinching order, and flawless data purity. In contrast to the corrupt nobility of Golganneth Spire’s golden peaks, the High Spire of Secundus is cold, disciplined, and terrifyingly serene. This is where the Cohort Directive rules absolutely—through biometric control, surveillance-fed logic matrices, and neural-linked governance chambers. It is not a palace. It is a machine of control, and the humans who dwell here are mere extensions of it. High Executors, Logic Cardinals, and Cohort Primes—augmented humans whose flesh has been nearly erased by data-loyalty augmetics. Vox-Scribes, Lex Adepts, and Memory Regulators ensure no deviance from the Directive. They log and revise all decisions before they are even delivered.
Hive Secundus: Lower Hive
Far beneath the cold precision of the Mid-Spire and the brutal order of Morrak’s Rise, the Lower Hive of Hive Secundus rots under its own weight. Though it was once meant to house logistical infrastructure and manufactoria overflow, time and pressure have warped it into a labyrinth of failing function, quiet desperation, and engineered neglect. Here, form follows neither faith nor beauty. It follows optimization by abandonment. The Lower Hive is built in tight vertical layers, stacked like forgotten dataslates—each one a mixture of worn ferrocrete passageways, buckled lift shafts, and broken bulkheads sealed off by rust and rerouted protocols. Worker castes toil in mostly automated production lines they no longer understand. Many are born, live, and die in assembly cells where the final product is either unknowable or irrelevant.
Hive Secundus: Mid-Hive
The Mid-Hive of Morrak’s Rise—Hive Secundus—is a vast, thunderous continent of grinding gears, molten forges, and regimented habitation stacks, where the ideology of the Cohort Directive is most brutally visible. This is not the decayed understructure of Hive Primus. Here, the hive functions—harshly, efficiently, and without reprieve. Everything is calculated. Everything is categorized. Even misery is measured. Gargantuan, flame-belching forge complexes dominate entire districts—sealed temples of industry powered by plasma cores and cooled by recyc-fluid runoff that scalds the air. Conveyor lines stretch for miles in every direction, carrying ferrocrete bricks, adamantium slates, and promethium canisters to loading cradles and lift-stacks. Workers toil beneath watchful optic lenses, their performance recorded, analyzed, and compared in real time. Too slow, and your rations are cut. Too weak, and you're reassigned to recycling units—corpse starch fodder.
Hive Secundus: Mid-Spire
Suspended between the crushing weight of ancient infrastructure below and the cold authority above, the Mid-Spire of Hive Secundus is a fortress of logic, control, and industrialized divinity. This is the domain of Tech-Priests, logi-engineers, corporate stewards, data scribes, and neural-linked servitors—the administrators and sustainers of the hive’s mechanical soul. The Mid-Spire does not produce goods. It produces stability—regulating the labor flow of the lower levels, ensuring energy delivery to the Upper Spire, and keeping the entire city’s machine-spirit on the edge of functionality without allowing it to collapse or ascend. The air is ionized, dry, metallic, humming with low-frequency data pulses and filtered whispers from vox-shrines. Silence is never true here—every wall hums with machine breath, and every soul is tracked by neural signature. Lights glow dim white-blue—neither comforting nor hostile, simply precise.
Hive Secundus: Morrak’s Rise
Hive Secundus, known formally as Morrak’s Rise, stands as a cold monument to calculated rebellion—built by a splinter faction of the Mechanicus who broke from the ruling tech-barons of Golganneth Spire. Founded centuries after Hive Primus, Morrak’s Rise is smaller in scale, but far more disciplined, efficient, and militarized in design. Rather than reaching for the heavens in grandeur, its structure is squat, sharp-edged, and ruthlessly optimized. Macroplas-reinforced towers rise like precision-forged blades against the toxic sky, their exteriors layered in adamantium ribbing and void-shield emitters. Its internal infrastructure is newer, tighter, and largely free from the corruption and decay that plague its rival. Here, logic and function rule above all else. The architecture is brutalist and modular—intended for maximum control and zero waste. Surveillance is total. Every breath, movement, and neural pulse is recorded in some fashion.
Hive Secundus: Spire-Root
Nestled between the cold detachment of the Upper Hive and the industrial dominance of the Mid-Spire, the Spire-Root of Hive Secundus is a realm of silent precision, ancient function, and sanctified infrastructure. It is the architectural spine of the hive’s ascendant structure—a zone neither fully administrative nor industrial, but critical to the hive’s survival. Where other hives degrade into superstitious underlayers, the Spire-Root of Morrak’s Rise remains coldly operational, maintained by ancient systems and unblinking machines that have never stopped calculating. Vast pillar-voids stretch upward into reinforced strata, supporting the entire Mid-Spire’s weight through gravity-balanced ferro-column arrays. Enormous gravitic dampeners and anchor pylons maintain the hive’s vertical alignment, recalibrating in micro-adjustments imperceptible to those above.
Hive Secundus: Sump
Deep beneath the precision-cut foundations of Morrak’s Rise, far below its modular towers and rigid surveillance grids, lies the Morrak Drain—the sump of Hive Secundus. In contrast to the chaos of Hive Primus' bleeding depths, the Morrak Drain is a controlled rot, a system of decaying industrial infrastructure maintained just enough to avoid collapse, yet far too foul for reclamation. The sump of Hive Secundus is not a place of wild gangs and rampant flame like in Hive Primus. It is sterile in its horror, where rusting pipes vent poison in precise intervals and pools of chemical waste are charted, measured, and logged. The Drain is patrolled by forgotten servitors, scrubber drones, and malfunctioning maintenance units that haven't seen human touch in centuries.
Hive Secundus: The Pinnacle Directive
The Pinnacle Directive is the apex of Hive Secundus—a glacial, geometric spire of black macroplas, etched alloy, and anti-orbital shielding that rises in perfect symmetry from the hive’s core. It is the cold, silent brain of Morrak’s Rise, home to the highest echelons of the Cohort Directive, and one of the most secure, surveilled structures on Vharax-Null. No banners hang from its walls. No gargoyles leer from its battlements. Instead, pulse-lights flicker like synaptic signals across its surface, data-patterns flowing across reinforced panels like living neural code. The very walls hum with encrypted vox-traffic and command relays that control entire sub-sectors of the hive below. The Central Cohort: The supreme technocratic rulers of Hive Secundus reside here—augmented humans barely distinguishable from their machines, connected directly to sub-hive command grids and predictive logic engines.
Hive Secundus: Underhive
The Underhive of Hive Secundus, buried beneath Morrak’s Rise, is not the anarchic warzone of Hive Primus’ festering depths. It is a different kind of horror—clinical abandonment. A world beneath the machines, forgotten not because it was lost, but because it was never meant to be remembered. Here, decay is regulated, silence is enforced by absence, and the people who survive in the dark do so beneath a weight of data that no longer recognizes they exist. A crumbling maze of decommissioned transit lines, rust-hemorrhaging cooling shafts, and forgotten cogitator stations. Long tunnels stretch like arteries through bone-dry halls—some once data lines, others ancient supply routes now clogged with bone and ash. Drones sometimes appear in perfect synchronization—cleaning vents, replacing bulbs, then vanishing. No one sees where they come from. Surveillance lenses exist here—but they blink slowly, aimlessly, as if trying to remember their purpose.
Hive Secundus: Upper Hive
The Upper Hive of Hive Secundus is the clinical crown of Morrak’s Rise—a realm of cold steel towers, data-fed governance, and sanctified logic, where aesthetics are secondary to stability, and authority manifests in silence and surveillance. Unlike the noble opulence of Golganneth’s highborn, the elite of Hive Secundus reside in regimented purity—not above the law, but made of it. This is not a place of luxury, but of precision, discipline, and technocratic supremacy. Towering macroplas spires stretch toward the smog-veiled heavens, their surfaces etched with unit codes, sensor relays, and directive mantras in binaric. Monumental archive halls where every breath of the hive is recorded. Populated by data-monks, file-servitors, and vox-librarians who maintain the unbroken continuity of identity, resource flow, and control. Mistakes are punished with erasure from the record—a fate worse than death.
Malfian Sub-Sector
The Malfian Sub-Sector lies within the Calixis Sector of Segmentum Obscurus, an embattled Imperial frontier near the Halo Stars. Known for its ancient noble houses, shadowy politics, and deep-rooted corruption, Malfi—its capital hive world—is second only to Scintilla in power. The sub-sector is infamous for its internecine rivalries and Inquisitorial intrigue. On its rimward edge lies Vharax-Null, a polluted hive world with twin hive cities, serving as a grim bastion of industry on the sector’s fringe. Life here is harsh, control is tenuous, and the looming Great Rift has only deepened isolation and unrest. The Malfian Sub-Sector endures as a decadent power bloc, where loyalty is a currency and heresy festers in the shadows.
Precinct Fortress Gamma-12/4 "The Black Bastion"
Designated: Precinct Fortress Gamma-12/4 — Judicatrix Enclave Primus The locals call it "The Black Bastion" - it is the Adeptus Arbites’ fortified outpost in Sector Gamma-12—a brutalist, slab-sided fortress complex built into the skeletal remains of an abandoned manufactorum junction. Squat, wide, and impenetrable, it sits like a black tumor in the middle of the hive’s arterial transport grid, surrounded by reinforced kill-zones and automated turrets. Visible from nearly every major corridor, its armored facade bears no banners—only a single gilded Aquila and the inscription: "LEX TALIONIS."
Sector Delta-4
Sector Delta-4 is a sprawling, brutal expanse of rusted metal, scorched earth, and endless noise—a place where the Imperium’s forgotten grind themselves into the machinery of survival. Positioned far below the Mid-Hive, it lies wedged between failed utility strata and leaking thermal cores. The sector’s infrastructure is barely functional, powered by rerouted energy from failed sub-reactors and held together by scrap welds and cog-prayers. The air is choked with chemical fog, smoke, and drifting ash. Lighting is sparse, limited to flickering hazard-strips and the glow of active forges or chemical vats. The temperature fluctuates wildly—stifling heat from furnaces during the day-cycle, and a bone-deep chill when the engines fall silent. Most of Delta-4’s population are born here, die here, and are recycled here. Few in the upper hive know its name. Fewer care. For the Imperium, it serves its purpose—barely.
Sector Gamma-12
Gamma-12 is among the most vital and overburdened industrial districts in Hive Primus’s Mid-Hive, operating like a wheezing lung beneath the Spire’s gilded authority. It serves as a central artery for manpower, cargo, data, and energy, linking multiple adjacent sectors through its tangle of elevated transit rails, power spines, and sealed cogitator cores. Towers of aging hab-stacks and data-shrines lean into each other like the ribs of a dying beast, their external supports reinforced by generations of patchwork steel, scrap welds, and half-forgotten rites of maintenance. Rain never reaches this deep, but condensation leaks from vent-lines overhead like a sickly dew. Gamma-12 is defined by absolute structure: shifts begin and end with voxed litanies, meal rations are determined by quota compliance, and movement between blocks is dictated by access tiers stamped into each citizen’s ID-writ. No one lingers. Everyone walks with purpose—or at least the performance of it.
Segmentum Obscuras
The Segmentum Obscurus is one of the five Segmentums, divisions of the Galaxy, of the Imperium. It is located to the north of Holy Terra, and its Segmentum Fortress is located at Cypra Mundi. One of its most notable features is the Eye of Terror, home of the Chaos Space Marines. Following the conclusion of the Thirteenth Black Crusade and the resurrection of Roboute Guilliman, much of Segmentum Obscurus has become stranded within Imperium Nihilus. Within the Segmentum Obscurus lies the Calixis Sector and the Malfian Sub-Sector. It is within the Malfian Sub-Sector where Vharax-Null is located.
Slagmarrow Sprawl
Nestled between collapsing ferrocrete pillars and rust-eaten ducts, Slagmarrow Sprawl festers at the edge of the Lowerhive’s industrial throat. It is a sprawling, makeshift “neighbourhood” cobbled together from collapsed thermal ducts, abandoned processing nodes, and the hollowed-out bones of hab-blocks long since declared uninhabitable by the Cohort Directive. What makes Slagmarrow unique is its population: they are not convicts, indentured, or chainbound like the workers of Chainbarrow Forgefield or the Grindspan. Instead, Slagmarrow’s residents are “free” citizens—a relative term in the hive. They voluntarily work in the furnace-crawlers and slag-pits for ration bonuses, stable shifts, and the promise of a few hours outside the Sprawl each day. The gang that claim this territory are known as The Rust Thorns, who wear barbed copper piercings.
Sub Level J
Sub-Level J is a rotting labyrinth of rusted maintenance corridors, flooded sump-channels, and reeking vat runoff. It earned its name from the constant dripping of water, sludge, oil, and worse—from above and below. The walls weep, the floor oozes, and the air tastes like metal and mold. Once a thermo-regulation substation, the level was abandoned after a reactor leak and multiple servitor malfunctions. Now, it's a place of forgotten tech, fungus-choked vents, and rumor-thick shadows. It is inhabitated by Scrap-Monks of the Rust Choir: A whisper cult that scavenges vox-parts to “sing” static-prayers to a corrupted Machine Spirit and the Blind Eater Servitor: A rogue butcher-servitor with no head, moving by sonar and sound. It hunts anything that splashes too loudly. The level is underground, there is no sun or sky.
Sub Level K
Sub-Level K was once a transit and data-routing junction, filled with sealed archive stacks, cogitator towers, and Mechanicus relay nodes. A catastrophic system overload—caused by conflicting machine-spirit commands—ignited a firestorm of surging code and raw plasma. The decks above buckled. Control was lost. Level K was buried beneath slag and left to rot. Access is only possible through broken sump-pipes, old maintenance shafts, or forbidden drop tunnels. The air is damp, metallic, and laced with data-static. Emergency lights flicker like dying fireflies. Everything drips. The gangs that run this level are the Iron Maw Crew and their rivals, the Coil Dogs.
The Charnel Mire
Nestled between the industrial titans of Hive Primus and Hive Secundus lies the Charnel Mire—a festering, nightmarish expanse where the sump runoffs of both hive cities have bled together over centuries. Once a mountain valley scarred by mining and orbital bombardment, it has long since drowned under a toxic deluge of sludge, chem-waste, and corpse runoff. Toxic swamps sprawl across the mire’s basin, thick with luminescent ooze and writhing chemical slicks. The waters bubble and hiss as unstable compounds churn, often spontaneously combusting or freezing in reaction to unseen pollutants. Dense smog clouds, tinged green and orange, hang heavy in the air. Breathing without filtration is suicidal—exposure burns lungs and boils skin in minutes. Chemical geysers: Jets of pressurized gas or liquid chemicals erupt unpredictably, capable of melting armor or blinding anything nearby.
The Grindspan
The Grindspan is a sprawling belt of low-tier industrial yards, production bays, and conveyor gauntlets—designed to break flesh and grind spirit. Located deep in the Lowerhive, this sector handles the menial, repetitive, and most degrading tasks that keep the greater Hive functioning: ore sorting, cable stripping, cog-greasing, bolt threading, trash separating, and unshielded chemical extraction. There are no proper living quarters. Workers sleep against conveyor belts or beneath vat-feeders, if they sleep at all. Overseers control the work rate via broadcast vox-chant, and quotas are measured by sound—if the machines get too quiet, someone is punished.
The Milky Way Galaxy
The Milky Way Galaxy is a vast spiral galaxy, ninety-thousand light years across and fifteen-thousand light years thick, containing roughly four hundred billion stars. The Imperium is the largest empire in the Galaxy, centred around Terra in the galactic west, consisting of at least a million worlds which are dispersed throughout the entire Galaxy. Space ruled by the Imperium is divided into five fleet zones, known as Segmentums: Segmentum Solar Ultima Segmentum Segmentum Tempestus Segmentum Pacificus Segmentum Obscurus Space is then further divided into Sectors, which typically cover seven million cubic light years equivalent a cube with sides almost 200 light years long; Sub-sectors, which usually comprise between two and eight star systems within a ten light year radius.
The Vox Imperator
The Vox Imperator is not merely a vessel—it is a floating cathedral of command and devastation, entrusted with the sacred task of monitoring, judging, and—should the need arise—purging the surface below. Originally constructed in the dockyards of Hydraphur during the Nova Sol Crusade, the ship was later reassigned to the Vharax Sub-Sector as a bulwark against rising heretical signals and potential planetary insurrection. A veteran of the Osirian Warp Incursions and former Frateris Templar, Erasmus Trask commands with zeal and rhetorical fire. Known as “The Voice of Flame,” Trask has turned bridge-command into a liturgical experience—each battle order delivered as part of a sermon, each torpedo strike a divine punctuation.
Vharax-Null
A forgotten frontier world on the edge of the Segmentum Obscurus, once an industrial jewel during the Great Crusade, now a polluted wasteland scarred by millennia of overexploitation. The largest and most ancient of the Hive Cities on Vharax-Null, Golganneth Spire stretches miles into the tainted sky. It is a fortress-city built atop the bones of a crashed Ark Mechanicus, its foundations infused with forgotten STCs and cursed tech. Its original purpose—research and weapons manufacturing—was twisted over the millennia into sheer production might. It's neighbouring hive city constructed centuries later by a breakaway faction from Golganneth, Morrak’s Rise was founded by a rogue Fabricator-General named Morrak Varn, who sought independence from the Synaxis. Though smaller, Morrak’s Rise is more efficient, colder, and far more militarized. Its upper towers are reinforced with macroplas and adamantium, its infrastructure less corrupt and newer by comparison.