Grimdark

Vharax-Null (Warhammer 40k)

Ronan_From_Montfort

Set on polluted Vharax-Null, this campaign unfolds within and beneath two colossal Hive Cities.

Author's Note: Vharax-Null is 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. 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. 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. Morrak’s Rise is governed by a militant technocracy known as the Cohort Directive, who aim to one day eclipse Golganneth and bring all of Vharax-Null under one unified, logical rule. Mistrust runs deep between the two Hives—though they share resources via skyrails and convoys, open war is only ever one assassination away.

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Created	24 days ago
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Hive Secundus: Underhive

Area

Details

Size	0
Type	Underhive
Coordinates	(992, -2796) to (8044, -1695)

Description

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.