It is the 41st Millenium For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of 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 souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemoninfested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the techpriests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. The Lighter, Sequestered from the Imperial Navy Cruiser Hand of Wrath The Enterior of the Lighter is spartan, with most of the space usually filled with either Navy Ratings or Imperial Guard Troopers empty save for your small group, clustered, along with your belongings at the rear end of the lighter, you have spent the better part of a month with your fellow acolytes, though in that time you did not truely get to know them all that well, their quirks and habits are, if you deigned to pay any attention to them, known to you, as is the appearence of your fellows, though whilst you are all aware of each other's former career paths, just how skilled or trained they are remains vague, though you assure yourself that having been handpicked by the Inquistior for training, surely they know their crafts, whether it be the Imperial Guard's aptitude for combat and tactics or the Administratum Adept's skill with data and research. One question gnaws at the back of your mind, being the reason for your being assigned to this mission. In his breifing, Inquisitor Van Yastobaal's tone suggested that he was not fully confident in your ability to handle this task, even to the point where he subtly hesitated before admitting you all into the breifing chamber, but the dire need for the matter to be resolved and the fact that yours was the closest group of acolytes by a matter of two months travel force his hand. But Brief you he did, you know that Sepheris Secundus is of vital economic importance to the sector, you know that some foul rebillion sprung up and that it required a regiment of the Imperial Guard to put down. The Inquisitor also mentioned that the fighting was heaviest and the casualites highest in the Gorgonid Mines, and that reports from that particular action report hellish creatures and other 'madness' filtered back, soon reaching the ears of the Inquisition. Thus it came to be that your band of Recruits, once bound for the Inqusition Training complexes on Scintillia, were sent to the Gorgonid mines. the Lighter decends slowly at first, the Cruiser slowly dwindling from a behemoth that consumes all the space outside the portholes to a small silhouette in the sky. Swathed in the Crimson Robes of an Mech-Wright of the Mechanicus, Cain Jericus, known as "Crisis" to the Skirarii of the Mechanicus Vessel Purity of Logic for his desire to participate in combat drills and his habit of making important decisions quickly, but with less compassionless arrogance than the other Tech-Preists on board the vessel, shifted his position quietly, the Tattoo's that were etched in unperceptable patterns across the left side of his face pulsed weakly, the Tech-Preist sat in what could be called a light sleep, for he knew that all too soon the decent would be over, and their trial by fire would begin, though around him, the others held conversations over the rythmic hum of the lighter's engines. OOC: Okay my fellow Acolytes, its 'getting to know you' conversation time, though remember, you have a basic knowledge of each others habits and personality quirks already this is jsut whether or not you get along with each other, that sort of thing. to look at it another way, this is where you all get used to each other's characters as you play your own, 'coz pretty soon your not gonna have that much time to 'shoot the breeze'