11-26-2006, 12:19 AM
OOC: Here's to hoping that more people join!
IC: The year is 998.M41 or 41,998 in the terms of the day and for over ten-thousand years the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Holy Terra (Earth). He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the dark age of technology. He is the carrion lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand psychics die every day, for whom blood is drunk and flesh eaten- Human blood and human flesh, the stuff of which the Imperium is made.
To be a man in such times is to be among untold billions, trillions even. It is to live in the cruelest and bloodiest regime imaginable. This is a dark and terrible era where there is little comfort or hope. Forget the power of science, technology and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace in the galaxy, only an eternity of carnage, and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods. The universe is a big place and whatever happens, you will not be missed. In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.
In these dark times, the Imperium of Man stretches for more than 70,000 light years from the western fringe of the Segmentum Pacificus, to the far, untamed wilds of the eastern Ultima Segmentum. This story, however, begins in the galactic south, in the Segmentum Tempestus, on the Forge World known as Gryphonne IV. The entire surface of this globe is covered and encrusted with massive continent sized factories, machine shops, and other such manufactorums. These places clank and hiss, constantly throwing up pollutants into the ravaged sky as tens of billions of servitors and their tech-priest masters toil night and day to produce munitions and tanks. To the adepts who labor here, the concept of rest is a dangerous blasphemy, for the armies of the Imperium in this part of the galaxy cannot function cannot function without the constant flow of war materials from this steel skinned world.
Such is the truth of all Forge Worlds such as this, as they are the backbone of the Emperor
IC: The year is 998.M41 or 41,998 in the terms of the day and for over ten-thousand years the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Holy Terra (Earth). He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the dark age of technology. He is the carrion lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand psychics die every day, for whom blood is drunk and flesh eaten- Human blood and human flesh, the stuff of which the Imperium is made.
To be a man in such times is to be among untold billions, trillions even. It is to live in the cruelest and bloodiest regime imaginable. This is a dark and terrible era where there is little comfort or hope. Forget the power of science, technology and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace in the galaxy, only an eternity of carnage, and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods. The universe is a big place and whatever happens, you will not be missed. In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.
In these dark times, the Imperium of Man stretches for more than 70,000 light years from the western fringe of the Segmentum Pacificus, to the far, untamed wilds of the eastern Ultima Segmentum. This story, however, begins in the galactic south, in the Segmentum Tempestus, on the Forge World known as Gryphonne IV. The entire surface of this globe is covered and encrusted with massive continent sized factories, machine shops, and other such manufactorums. These places clank and hiss, constantly throwing up pollutants into the ravaged sky as tens of billions of servitors and their tech-priest masters toil night and day to produce munitions and tanks. To the adepts who labor here, the concept of rest is a dangerous blasphemy, for the armies of the Imperium in this part of the galaxy cannot function cannot function without the constant flow of war materials from this steel skinned world.
Such is the truth of all Forge Worlds such as this, as they are the backbone of the Emperor