Realm of the Forgotten

[Dr. Nibbles]

The year is M41.914. It is the darkest of ages for the Imperium of Man. The taint of the Chaos Gods has remained ever strong in its growing campaign to engulf and enslave the mortal souls of humanity. It has taken every route possible to sew the seeds of treachery into the Imperium, the tragedy of the Gelmiro System, is such one attempt.

The Gelmiro star system, one of the biggest planetary Systems in the Calixis sector lays just inside of its borders. Composed of three earth planets and three terraformed moon, it acted as a trade center for all of the Calixis sector and even some neighboring Sectors. Gelmiro Prime; the capital planet of the system. It is a massive, buzzing hive world that governs all of Gelmiro with pure and holy intentions. So pure that it's only moon, Hope, is a dedicated shrine to the Emperor and his greatest heroes. Jericho's Reach; named after the famous Space Sector, is a dark and desert world that was terraformed by the cultists of the Adeptus Mechanicus, dedicated workers, engineers and scientists of the Machine-god. Jericho's Reach and its two moons became a vast Forge World under the command of Omniprophet Kalta Magnus designing weapons, vehicles and all aspects of technology for Gelmiro and all of Calixis. Lastly, A'suka, a peaceful Agricultural World, untouched by corruption and crime.

But alas, all great things must end. 100 years ago a vicious warp storm sore through material space and engulfed the entire Gelmiro System on the brim of the Calixis Sector. Its people were innocent and undeserving, but they were not fully pure. As Gelmiro's citizens remained trapped from the Imperium for 50 years they began to bind their own laws and in some cases denounce their God-Emperor for a higher power. Jericho's reach became Hell's Reach, a fiery maelstrom of cults and renegades. Gelmiro Prime was reduced to all but its largest city sector, Crisis, as it was newly dubbed. All that wasn't destroyed was a constant warzone between mutants, heretics and traitors. This ruinous wasteland is now simply: The Fray. The system had become lawless and descended into war and anarchy, and by the time the storm had cleared, all that remained was the husk of a once great civilization.

On the outskirts of the Calixis Sector, Xenos, Renegades and rouges took advantage of this system's disposition and made it a hub for illegal and heretical activities in the Calixis sector. It was not before long that the primary races of the Xenos would find home in Gelmiro. The Eldar Corsairs; pirates and deviants of their noble race have segregated to become a nomadic warlike legion of terror. They plunder and destroy all they encounter, surrendering prisoners to the insidious scientist Homoculi of their patron kabal. The Tau; a race that desires expansion of knowledge, technology and territory to their glorious and young empire. Their burst of knowledge fueled as well by a warp storm, the Tau find themselves akin to the people of Gelmiro. Though the Tau normally make enemies of the Imperium they find sympathy in these humans, and wish to free them from their crippling and ignorant government that has so carelessly forgotten so many of its own.

These two races, however, with goals much different than one another made instant Enemies. Clashing above the world beneath for absolute control. Years of war passed, gathering the attention of the Adeptus Sorritas, or the Sisters of Battle. The battle lasted a decade, but finally, by a landslide, the Eldar flagship The Basilisk, was downed, crashing into the Fray of Gelmiro Prime. The Tau fled to A'suka, promising its people protection if they were to harbor their fleet on this world. So the pact of Aliens and Humans began. But far sinster things than just anthro-xeno alliances lurk in Gelmiro.

Years after the wars, constant struggle and desolation ravaged these poor people. They're only hope against the lawless nature of their own undoing, is the merciless dedication of the Bounty Hunters. Several groups and warbands of neutral mercenaries formed, but none more infamous and deadly than the Restless Knights. Formed by a scourned Aribite, this team will take any task and execute any orders for the right price. Little did they know, their choices and actions would determine the fate of infinite lives. Those not only of Gelmiro, but the entire Calixis sector.

You are one such of these individuals, a resident of A'suka and a boarder of the Restless Knights tavern. You live your daily life carelessly executing orders regardless of their source for a pay check. As the sun rises on yet another A'suken day, you will awake unknowing of the vast and perilous journey that lies ahead.

 

[Unbeknownst]

Villa took a deep drag from a flavored lho-stick while poking at her bowl of... porridge... with a cheap metal spoon. If you could call the gray, tasteless glop porridge. Or the somewhat, kind of rounded, piece of scrap metal a spoon. Not that she actually needed a spoon to eat it, as she could probably use it for glue if she so wished. After sighing a puff of smoke at the bowl, hopefully giving it some semblance of flavor(doubtful), she took a bite. It wasn't bad, it was just odd. The porridge seemed to make some sort of null flavor zone, no matter what she mixed in it, no matter what she had eaten just before, the porridge always seemed to gun down flavor. She had found that it was actually quite handy at getting the taste of puke out her mouth though.

After swallowing the mouthful of porridge, she took another drag of the lho-stick, breathed the smoke at the bowl, then took another bite, chewing with intense thought of how it tasted exactly like absolutely nothing. As she did nearly every day after she woke up. Finishing the porridge, Villa then picked up the mug of hot, murky red liquid, taking a slow drink. Made with cheap amasec, caffeine, and hot sauce, it burned in almost every way possible on it's way down. Promethium, as the mixture was called, was very much an acquired taste. In fact, Villa was probably the only person that drank it regularly.

Smiling with that thought she settled back into her chair, lho-stick in on hand, warm mug in the other, she watched as the Tavern slowly came to life from her corner. Many of the Restless Knights knew she was a psyker and left her alone. Unless they needed a psyker, which was rather often as psykers are handy. As for everyone else, well, they probably just thought she was pretty fucking creepy. Not that she blamed them. She didn't particularly enjoy how she looked either. Once, her short hair had been a rich, chocolate brown, her eyes an entrancing green. Once, her skin had been a deep bronze color, colorful tattoos adorning her body. She had been quite the eye turner. Once. Well, she still was. Just in a different way. Her hair and eyes were now a deep scarlet, both the same exact color. Even her Emperor damned eyebrows. Her skin had become a pallid white, making her almost as pale as a void born. The worst part, in her opinion, were her tattoos. All the various and beautiful colors had bled to different shades of red. What once she had shown with pleasure, she now hid with hatred. Her body, the only part of her that had survived the mind cleansing process, had changed. Nothing was left from her previous life now. That part of her was truly dead.

She let out a single, derisive laugh. Oh yes, she couldn't blame them for avoiding her. Even she thought she was fucking creepy. She stared at her 'stick in a moment of thought before taking a drag, the light from the ember making her eyes glow. Scarlet they called her. It fit. Well. Especially since out of some sort of grim amusement, she had dyed all of her clothes the same color as her eyes and hair. It had an interesting effect on some people, especially as the only part of her that wasn't covered in cloth or armor was her face. Plus, the blood had finally stopped staining her clothes. With a smile, she took another drink of the Promethium, enjoying the burning sensations.

 

[Jaqueline]

Norizuka opened her eyes slowly in response to her blaring alarm clock. She blinked a couple times as if to make sure this was not a dream. If it was it was awful dull. And uneventful. She lifted herself up, her covers falling down to her lap as she sat on her bed. Looking behind her she reached and tapped the top of the clock and it went silent. With a yawn she stretched her arms and then slid out of bed, rubbing one of her eyes wearily. She shivered and clasped her hands to her biceps. It was cold this morning. Her cane went from leaning on the headboard of her bed into her hands and she shuffled to the restroom attached to her room. In ten minutes she stripped down, showered and dressed, taking her cane back up.

Her usual outfit was back on, a skin tight deep violet leotard that helped prevent her from succumbing to her hypothermic condition. It covered her feet and up to her wrists, also going over the back of her hands, the fabric ending in a tip and ring of string that went around her forefingers. She pulled her cloak from the short hat rack and snapped the clasp on. Another preventive measure against her low body temperature, the cloak's main use was as an emergency blanket or towel. She yawned again and exited her bedroom. Taking her time she made it to the kitchen and climbed up one of the special stools designed to accommodate her size. For breakfast she had a warm dish of eggs, toasted bread, a plate of grapes and a glass of milk along side a great number of pills and vitamins she had to take weekly, daily and almost every other hour. She thanked her chef and valet and climbed down, ready for the day.

One of the Restless Knights, a kind young man, held the door open for her like he did every day. She smiled and thanked him, walking into The Tavern at the same time she always did. Norizuka made a point to be punctual. She hobbled with her cane, wandering aimlessly for a moment before seeing Scarlet. She was glad to see her and smiled again, waving carefully with one hand, wary not to loose her balance as she tapped her cane to the floor in a drawn out rhythm with her feet hitting the ground, "Good morning Scarlet." Norizuka greeted, putting a hand on the seat next to Villa, "Is this seat taken?"

 

[Nihilistic_Impact]

His eyes were unfocused, hands clutched at a head that rumbled with the pounding of an artillery barrage; Temeluchus was propped up against the wall of the tavern like some fire and forget rocket tube. It was how he felt, empty and abandoned, as the last remaining contents of his stomach forced their way up his throat and to the ground at his feet, splattering his boots with blood and the cheapest of rot gut booze. With a sigh his eyes focused on the deplorable state he was in, oblivion beckoned him into its soft embrace that would only find him in an even worse state when it was to leave so he rejected it. Rejected it as he did everything else in his life, he ran away with fear in his heart and a certainty that he was only prolonging a doomed life.

Wandering hands fumbled for a pocket as fidgeting fingers clawed and grasped for the last pack of lhos. As the routine became familiar his tendons and bones became calmer and surer of their actions, a flick of the wrist brought a stick into sight, the light grip of the knuckles brought it to his lips and the spark of a flint gave flame to an oiled wick that set forth the conflagration that burned the narcotic and paper. Smoke and warmth entered into his body and filled him with the fleeting sensation of life and animation was temporarily restored to the shambling corpse which was the former Guardsman.

With a heavy head he pressed himself bodily against the door, his weight swinging it open on greased hinges. Cast into the gloom of the interior he felt himself unable to make any distinction of shape or form. In this state he nearly fell before catching himself as his eyes adjusted. Now able to navigate, if wayward and without distinct purpose, the former solider found his way to a table occupied. The deeply disturbing pysker and a thrice damned adept where together, the one exuding an air of the wyrd while the other was cheerful. Two contrasts that Temeluchus did not feel the need to expose himself to; but out side considerations over-road his inner desire to flee. Rattling a chair out from the table he sat bodily, sinking into the support as he regarded his fellow companions. They were all damned, all doomed and his stomach rumbled.

Leaning over the table he stole the porridge from the pysker and began to spoon it into his mouth and demanding gullet with his fingers. There wasn't any flavour to it, or if there was his sandpaper mouth refused to acknowledge it; but it warmed him as surely as any drink or the still burning lho in his other hand. If the women were startled he didn't show any concern, merely smiled a tired smile and asked the most important question there could possibly be.

"Any word on a job?"