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Crystal Geyser

Black Crusade Sector Generator Thread

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You appear to have double posted good sir, however count me in! Excuse any grammatical, illogical or weaknesses in the text. It's late and probably not my best work.


I introduce the planet Karthax, a ghostly dead world full of just deserted buildings, dust and decay.


Nobody knows who started it or why, whether it was the act of a reckless engineer, the motives of a saboteur or just simply the will of the Chaos gods, but the world of Karthax changed in a matter of weeks from a populated and bustling hive world into a ruin. A massive plasma reactor failure, devastating in itself and highly disruptive however for Karthax, ever more so. The resulting meltdown caused a chain reaction, as multiple secondary systems began to fail, other plasma generators started to lose containment. Before the tech magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus could stabilise the devices, large explosions erupted across the surface of the world as machines deep in the bowels of the world were ripped apart in hellish infernos.


If the damage itself was not sufficient to eradicate the populace then the after effect was. Karthax remains bathed in radioactive fallout from the still decaying and leaking remains of plasma reactors, making exposure to its environment a hazard in itself. Meanwhile the blasts affected the ecosystem, kicking up vast clouds of dust and ash which obscure the sunlight, adding a deathly chill to the already lethal environment.


One would ask with such a world then, whether there would be any point to such a place, although rumours spread of survivors, barely recogniseable as such but tales of the deformed, the grotesque, the malignant who have somehow managed to survive trial by flame, by cold and by crippling sickness. Perhaps the great grandfather's hand is at work on such a world...perhaps he protects or simply just luck. But in any case, always worth a shot. How bad can a few mutants be?

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Very nice!


Introducing the planet Heremus. Heremus is a polluted wasteland world within the Inner Ring of the Sector, slighter larger than Terran standard and prone to acidic precipitation and radioactive winds. The planet's climate is quite hot and the majority of the planet is taken up by ashen wastes. Every cycle, powerful rad-storms and solar flares buffer the world, wracking its crust. As a result, most human inhabitation is required to exist in crumbling STC outpost-complexes, prefabricated jab networks growing across the surface of the deserts like rusted cobwebs.


The power base on Heremus is predominantly maintained by a number of Khornate-aligned aristocratic factions known as the Houses of the Ranches Blackened. Each House is ruled by a noble family, the structure, heredity and customs of which vary vastly from outpost to outpost, but all share the same belief in common - the right to rule through the passage of their bloodline. For the noble rule that is passed from parent to child in the form of the blood, they give praise to the Lord of Blood himself, who is to be thanked endlessly for blessing their sacred fluids with the strength to rule.


The Houses of Heremus make their trade by growing staple crops in the ash wastes - however, the only crop that can survive the blighted environment is the daemonically-augmented grain matter nicknamed "Hellwheat." Requiring no sustenance such as water or sunlight, and seeming to, impossibly, grow exponentially, hellwheat is a nightmarish assemblage of writhing plant tendrils, insectile limbs, rolling eyeballs and fanged mouths. To tend the fields, the Houses of the Ranches Blackened manufacture dark constructs from blood rituals and daemomancy - nightmarish scarcrows to tend their fields with sharpened blades.


When the Houses of Heremus must wage war on each other - and they do often, for their own amusement and also the adulation of Khorne - they raise their standing armies and send them across the wastes. A very small percent survive the trek to reach the enemy outposts, resulting in such conflicts almost always going to the defender. However, the wealthiest and most powerful warlords whose devotion to Khorne is absolute are sometimes granted the aid of his daemons. There is an ancient legend that the only way for a human warrior to survive one of the wasteland marches is to gain the direct patronage of Khorne - usually by slaughtering the rest of his unit. Therefore, these traitorous captains, exiled from their houses, are said to roam the deserts as inhuman specters, bringing bloodshed wherever they ride.

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From afar it looks like a giant planet with an asteroid field around it, upon coming closer to the gravity field of Gargantua, the asteroid field separates itself into the debris of untold ships and other alien and human artefacts.

The deeper one progresses into the folds of Garguantua, individual wreckage slowly replaces itself with larger spacehulks. Further progression becomes difficult as the spacehulks grind and hit each other in a slow dance pulverising one to merge with another. There are rumours of those who have progressed further that the ships become older with strange archeotech and xenos ships have been sighted.

Inside the spacehulks, networks of collapsing and heaving tunnels are but some of the dangers. Daemons, degenerate crew members and xenos trapped in these shifting tombs constantly hungering for water, oxygen, food and items for survival.

Many a foolish captain has travelled too close, it's ship struck by the debris of spacehulks, adding to the existing mass of Gargantua. Yet many come precisely for the dangers and the untold riches to be harvested from the derelict ships.

Edited by Chrysalis

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(this one was written in near 10 minutes at the end of the work day apologies for any spelling and thought mistakes)




A lumiously painfully bright planet with three moons.


The grass carresses across the legs, the wind breathes in perfect warm against the shoulders, the smells of the flowers intoxicating, the sight of the verdant fields exhilirating. The cut of your carrotid artery exstacy.


After a short while of being on the planet, people notice how pleasant the planet is. Tastes and smells are sharper, the colours are brighter. Many a person have laid down on the grass and have revelled in the slow wasting away of their body to nothing.  


Some tech-priests think it's something in the air or the water, but when these samples are taken away from the planet they quickly decay into white ash. 


Once you have arrived onthe planet and sampled its senses, it's very hard to leave. However, senses become overloaded that mutilation and animalistic urges of wallowing in senses becomes commonplace. Even years after being on the planet for but a short time, many yearn to return. 




Creatures that live upon this planet. What they truly are has never beenb discerned. From afar they look like beings covered in many layers of gauze. Closer they appear as if covered in many layers of silk, only showing the bare shadow of a body under. When a person addresses these beings or appraochaes them closer, the veils drop away to reveal the deepest objects of their desire. 


The whimsies always respond to desires and wants, appearing form near nowhere to facilitate the desires of their masters. Khornate champions have been known to raise armies in their own image to smash against each other in an orgy of destruction. Upon their death the whimsies appear to merge into the ground leaving behind a white mist that quickly disappates the dead to nothing. A nurgelite may find himself facing a body of flies that stings to the worshipper to oblivion.


The folly of Captain Dread


Corsair pirate Dread visited Sensoria for a day. Decades later after being fatally wounded during a skirmish with another captain, he still wished to buried on the planet. Such was the fear of the crew towards his last wishes and such wa the fear of Sensoria that they ejected his tomb over the planet letting it plume against the planet. Supposedly his many possessions are still nested tightly in the locked holds.  

Edited by Chrysalis

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A pleasure world of the Inner Ring, the planet known as the Wuthering is a testament to the blasphemous tech-heresies of the Dark Mechanicum. According to legend, the planet that would later become the Wuthering – its name lost to the ages of time – was once a barren, lifeless rock, its oceans boiled away and its rocky crags collapsing back primordial soup. Undoubtedly, the planet would have been allowed to collapse into a volcanic ruin were it not for the ancient legends permeating through the Vortex regarding ancient troves of forgotten treasures, forbidden lore, and archaic technology buried beneath its surface by ancient void pirates. 


Attracted by the promises of such relics, a kabal of hereteks self-designated the Mystiques of Vandermyre voyaged to the planet with plans to initiate and excavation. Said attempts proved increasingly difficult due to the dangerous rad-storms and tectonic catastrophes blighting the world’s surface. . By striking numerous daemonic pacts, the terraforming could be achieved via the reality-changing abilities of the warp where mere technology had failed. Such was the direness of the situation that the Mystiques were required to give up their souls to the Lord of Change in order to conduct such a transformation upon the planet’s fabric. Miraculously, the Wuthering was transformed into a world of verdant tropical islands and vast, crystal-clear oceans to rival an Eldar maiden world. 


The desert continent of Thibyss forms the singular large landmass of the Wuthering. From here, the Mystiques of Vandermeer rule from glimmering golden pyramids and minarets, inscribed with arcane runes and warded with protective sorceries. The gold pyramids of Thibyss act as the fortresses, palaces and laboratories of the Mystiques, where the latest finds and artifacts can be catalogued, examined, and reverse-engineered. All manner of strange and esoteric devices can be found here, and while the majority of Thibyss is given over to the devotion of Tzeentch, followers of all of the Chaos Powers are welcome here as long as they do not interfere with the Mystiques’ archeological operations. For this reason, Thibyss is a bustling city of trade, and is frequented most commonly by technologically oriented factions such as other Hereteks, Obliterator Cults, and warbands of the Traitor Legions. 


Drawn by promises of riches, pirates, mercenaries and cutthroats from across the sector made the pilgrimage to the Wuthering to begin their new lives. While the influx of these ne’er-do-wells allowed the Mystiques to extend the range of their excavations by hiring the newcomers as scouts and explorers, the planet soon descended into lawlessness and piracy. Additionally, the conflicting interests of the numerous pirates has significantly hampered the activities of the Mystiques of Vandermyre, who, in a typically logical way, are unable to fathom the counterproductively competitive nature of the pirates. In order to try and quell their rebellious nature, the Mystiques have decreed that all reasonably modern technology on the surface is subject to thing and confiscation by the hereteks at any time, leading the Privaseer Lords to strike pacts with daemons to maintain some measure of independence. The most powerful of the Privaseer Lords command demonically possessed sailing galleys, baroque ships of writhing wood, metal and flesh that prowl the seas like vicious predators.


Local legends refer to a Captain Dracozettii, a Privaseer Lord who flaunted the Codes of Trade enacted by the Mystiques of Vandermeer. He was punished for his insolence by a flood of arcane techno-constructions sent from Thibyss, and his stronghold was assaulted by all manner of sorcery-belching engines, gibbering data-daemons and mutated Skitaarii.After a single night the sands of his island were fused with the white ash of the incinerated bodies of his pirates, melting the entire island into an edifice of gleaming pearl glass, perfectly casts of the bodies of the dead and the twisted forms of the daemonic. The Glass Reef is said to be haunted and a bringer of bad omens, and pirate avoid it whenever possible. Unfortunately, the Glass Reef does not seem to maintain a fixed location, and its appearance off the coast of one of the Emerald Isles is said to be a herald of certain doom.


The Wuthering’s northern hemisphere of swampland is infested by virulent plagues. Cursed by Grandfather Nurgle to be his bastion against the despicable verdance and life of Wuthering’s local fauna and flora, the Bayou is home to the eponymous Bayou Lodge, a cult of Nurgle. Ironically, the swamps themselves are teeming with life, all now twisted by Nurgle to more closely resemble the abominations of his favored garden. Travellers throughout the Bayou find themselves initially fatigued and sickened by the noxious plagues of the area, and then beset on all sides by mutated beasts and hateful spawn. Those wounded can find remedy in the healing curatives found deep within the marshes, but even those come with a price, merely replacing one malady with another that brings the healed closer to the embrace of the noxious Plaguefather.

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The four Triumvates of Mockery. part I


These are four clusters of 3 planets each orbiting a black sun in the warp. As soon as a ship enters near the black sun one gets the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched.


Each cluster of worlds belongs to one of the chaos gods, and reflects how the god views his fellow gods. Ofcourse these are twisted mockeries and the gods shafe and rage at the insults against them even as they alter their world to better mock and infuriate the others.


The Triumvate of Khorne



The aspect of Nurgle: A world covered in trees of bone, twisted and wracked by mutation and osteopathic plagues. The ground is a soggy march of blood and diseased gore, while the skies are filled with brass flies that burrow in the skulls of their victims. The mutant and beastmen population of this world are aflicted by mind boiling fevers and rage viruses that bring fanatical strenght and blood mad frenzy even as their health slowly drains away.



The aspect of Tzeentch: Khwontung looks at first glance a normal world of hard grey stone mountains and sandy plains. Temples and monasteries dedicated to martial fighting styles dot the landscape. The mostly human population spends all of its time in constant combat, perfecting their martial arts, competing in tournaments to the death or in bloody rivalries between fighting schools wich often leave both styles and schools wiped from the face of the world. The blind monks of the Bloody Scroll record all fighting styles ever used and constantly plot and scheme to incite rivalries between fighting schools.



The aspect of Slaanesh: A world of Writing flesh and monsoons of warm blood where hideous spawn trash and grapple with one another as they devour naked humans untill they burst in fountains of gore. Crazed cultists carve themsleves apart in an attempt to sculpt their bodies into a perfect shape. Warrior poets, clad in human skin, inked with tales of slaughter in dark blood, walk about screaming descriptions of the most exiting battles the universe has ever seen to the uncaring skies.

Edited by Robin Graves

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The four Triumvates of Mockery. part II


These are four clusters of 3 planets each orbiting a black sun in the warp. As soon as a ship enters near the black sun one gets the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched.


Each cluster of worlds belongs to one of the chaos gods, and reflects how the god views his fellow gods. Ofcourse these are twisted mockeries and the gods shafe and rage at the insults against them even as they alter their world to better mock and infuriate the others


The Triumvate of Slaanesh


The 36 colliseums of charnel delight

The aspect of Khorne: The world conisist of 36 enormously vast arenas in wich hundreds of thousand gladiators, slaves, beasts and warriors fight and die, only to be completly ignored by the millions of human and demonic spectators who are to busy fullfilling their other desires. The screams of the dying gladiators stryving for glory falling on deff ears.


The Jade Bauble

The aspect of Nurgle: A Living world made of diseased flesh where pustules shine like beautifull jewels and naked nymphs dans under fountains of pus. Naked revellers wearing grotesque mask dance, revel and fornicate all the while spreading new diseases as they slither trough writhing entrails,enjoy the sensation of maggots writhing in their flesh or swim in pools of horrid yellow liquid and feast on giant banquets of rotting food.


The blazing world

The aspect of Tzeentch: Not a true mockery but actually part of Tzeentch's realm given over to Slaanesh as a gift.

The inhabitants spend their entire life barely moving from the spot they arived, content to watch, hear, feel and experience the constantly changing world as billions of undescribable colors, scents, lights and flames consrantly bubble and change all around them.The blazing world is never dull, but can be quite lethal as what was one moment a glittering glacial palace can turn into a bottomless pit of purple fire in the next.

Edited by Robin Graves

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The four Triumvates of Mockery part III


These are four clusters of 3 planets each orbiting a black sun in the warp. As soon as a ship enters near the black sun one gets the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched.


Each cluster of worlds belongs to one of the chaos gods, and reflects how the god views his fellow gods. Ofcourse these are twisted mockeries and the gods shafe and rage at the insults against them even as they alter their world to better mock and infuriate the others


The Triumvate of Nurgle



The aspect of Khorne: An inverse world with an outer shell of pitted brass and inside seas of boiling blood. Out of this ocean of frothing diseased liquid gore rise island of skulls upon with the few mutants and humans build their citadels and keeps of rusted iron and corroded steel. Maddened by the hum of skull flies and blood maggots the inhabitants vent their agression on each other, constantly tearing down what fortifications they have built. Frothing madmen keep obsessive score of their kills, the number of wounds inflicted and how many of those wounds got infected or turned sceptic. Every person on this world is covvered in grotesque scars and kill markings.


The Faded Boudoir

The aspect of Slaanesh: Not so much a world as a giant lonley mansion in a featureless wasteland.

Everything in the mansion, from the food to the purple velvet drapes to the maggot ridden pillows used to be of exquisite quality but is slowly decaying and falling apart, cracked mirrors everywhere display the faded beauty the onlooker once had or the worm riddled corpse they will eventually become. Shambeling zombies in ornate masks bemoan their lost beauty and the deadning of their senses. Hideous spawn weep before the moss covered statues of fine bodied youghts.



The aspect of Tzeentch: A world covered in primordial diseased sludge from wich spring islands of twisting fungi and giant heaps of offal. On this world life is in constant flux, decomposing and giving birth to new life that is already halfway rotten and laden with the eggs of new bloatflies in an endless loop of death and rebirth. Uncountable diseases and mutations disfugre and twist the occupants of this world in constantly new and ever more hideous shapes.

Edited by Robin Graves

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The four Triumvates of Mockery part IV


These are four clusters of 3 planets each orbiting a black sun in the warp. As soon as a ship enters near the black sun one gets the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched.


Each cluster of worlds belongs to one of the chaos gods, and reflects how the god views his fellow gods. Ofcourse these are twisted mockeries and the gods shafe and rage at the insults against them even as they alter their world to better mock and infuriate the others


The Triumvate of Tzeentch



The aspect of Khorne: A world of towers of ever changing alloys, sometimes brass, than silver, than steel. Each tower holds many rooms in wich insane commanders and despots move pieces on tables and boards, enacting their battleplans and shemes for world domination. Each piece has the soul of a human bound to it and screams and bleeds as it is made to fight an eternity of nonesensical battles and insane tactics.


The reflecting maze

The aspect of Slaanesh: A world covered in giant canyons of reflective materials, reflecting what paths the onlooker could have chosen. Those who look upon their reflections see all they could have been, what they can become and anything in between. If you stare to long you might find yourself to be the reflection in the wall and what was trapped in those walls no walking away clad in your skin. Disembodies voices on the scented wind whisper promissess of great beauty and power if only you can find the hidden vales in the labyrinth.


The garden of fire

the aspect of Nurgle: A world covered in writhing flames, taking the shapes of flowers and trees, constantly changing color and shape. Amidst the firestorm stand crumbling towers and ruins, constantly falling apart and reasembling themselves in new forms. The few humans and beastmen that live on this world are covered in horrible burns that weep muticolored pus. Each inhabitant carries not a multitude of diseases but one disease that perpetually changes symptoms in the poor host. The poor unfortunates of this world can go from suffering the Bone ague to ailing from the crimson pox in the span of mere minutes.

Edited by Robin Graves

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Random minor xenos race. I was going to use this idea in one of my own games but I need to flesh it out a lot more.




Appearance: Imagine an enderman from Minecraft crossed with the Ninja from N-Game however instead of being made out of cuboids, every limb and part is made of triangles, isosceles, scalene, etc. They have no eyes or obvious facial features, just a flat featureless triangular head and pointed body, metallic body, almost crystaline.


Height: Approx 2.5m


Bio: Tritangles are a dangerous Xenos race encountered while exploring the <insert overall sector name here>. They seem to have no fixed world of origin and have been found on a number of worlds but never any sign of craft or habitation which has led many a xeno-biologist to suspect that they have no dwelling within this reality. This is further supported when examining their physiology and behaviour.


As a species they seem to show great amounts of intelligence and are seemingly able to communicate with their kin non verbally, possibly telepathic. They also demonstrate some skill with manipulating the warp, as these creatures have been observed travelling through small warp portals which they are able to project almost effortlessly. These portals have been used when such creatures are attacked as well, as while on a scouting mission, they have been recorded combatting servants of the false emperor trying to eradicate these beasts and watched in delight as the beings seemed to jump into and out of the warp freely, appearing behind them without warning to impale them with a long spiked limb or vanishing into a gate to avoid incoming fire. Despite their size they move with almost impossible grace and speed.


Basically, these critters are supposed to be long and thin, almost dark metal coloured, don't communicate in any known way, mostly dont care about humans unless threatened and when attacked effectively work like an Enderman, blink behind or away from you to avoid the shots or get an attack and then appear up close to impale you with a long spindly limb akin to how the T-1000 from the Terminator films seemed to love killing its victims. They are intended to be exceptionally good at manipulating the warp but are also horribly fragile so if anyone does manage to hit them, likely it'll kill them. The actual result would indeed be that if one dies, it shatters with a horrific shriek breaking like glass into simple shards which will eventually ignite in wisps of warpfire, making it hard to analyse them.

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A wealthy world of the Inner Ring, the feudal world of Moebicarna is cursed by the supple, flesh-shaping fingers of Slaanesh. Due to some heinous quirk of the land, all flesh is cursed to infinitely grow, from the plants to the animals to the very inhabitants. This mockery of reality has imposed a strictly hierarchal society where an individual’s wealth is based around his outward “blessings” of Slaanesh – essentially, how much of his physical form has degraded and its spilling out under its own weight in a tide of guts and fluids. It is entirely possible for the local lords to become inhuman, undying constructions, spreading across vast areas of land and even growing into the shapes of buildings and other structures.


The only method by which it seems the eternal growth can be halted is through the application of a lethal venom concocted by the Dark Eldar pirates who often raid the planet in search of vast quantities of flesh. An assassin’s guild has come to prominence as a strong power on the planet, offering a quick death to those who can no longer bear the pain of their ascension, or those who have become enemies of the highest bidder.

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A corruption of thoughts

Plagues are often defined by the sickness of the body, and once the body has been wholly consumed does it begin upon the mind. However, the Great Father Nurgle in his decrepit mansion keeps many plagues and thinks of many new rots to infect mortals.

The body sickens and becomes feverish, in the darkest hours of the night the fever breaks and the patient once languishing awakens whole, driven by great purpose to do the things once denied. Some maddeningly start upon a painting that they have but dreamt of. Others seek out the love of a neighbour not reciprocated.

The change is sudden, the numbers who become afflicted are great. They will continue fufilling their wants and desires until the bod succumbs and they grow still. Strange and heretical are the designs and imaginings of these corrupted thoughts inviting further disease into the minds of those who look upon these works and despair.

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The Arena of Dischordia

Across back alleys of Imperial worlds, painted signs backed on Imperial catechismus pages appear.  Summoned daemons of Slaanesh whisper of a location of battle.

In the darkness a single noisemarine called Arkona strums the body of a daemonette and reaches for his axe.

The location constantly changes, the only way to find the place is to look for the tantalising clues on profane papers in the wind and seek out the invitations from slaaneshi daemons.

At the appointed location voids ships, all heralding the sound of Slaanesh in its many forms join together in a toroid. Their warp engines thrumming jostling each other together, creating vortexes of multicoloured impossibility. Each ship containing war bands and musical bands from across the sector.

Music of various kinds battle agains each other, for the favour of fickle crowds and their capricious god. Some music like that of the noise marines is enough to cause heads to vibrate, while whole symphonies have been carefully orchestrated only from the jangle of blades striking.

Those bands that fail soon ind themselves cut away from Slaneesh and their many adoring fans, those that succeed will find their infamy to have grown greatly, minions to flock to their name, and great many rewards from Slaanesh.

In amongst the drug fueled hedonistic parites there are always those who wish to cripple their opposition, steal away a member or valuable musical instrument from another, or then be members of rival chaos factions seeking to disrupt this display of musical excess.


Edited by Chrysalis

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Aw yeah Chaos Rockerboys!


All of a sudden, there shined a slaaneshi demon... in the middle... of the road.
And she said:
"Play the best song in the world, or I'll eat your soul." (soul)
Well me and Eidolon, we looked at each other,
and we each said... "Okay."
And we played the first thing that came to our heads,
Just so happened to be,
The Best Song in the warp, it was The Best Song in the warp.

Look into my eyes and it's easy to see
One and one make two, two and one make three,
It was destiny.
Once every hundred-thousand years or so,
When the sun doth shine and the moon doth glow
And the grass doth grow...

Needless to say, the beast was stunned.
Whip-crack went his Whoopy tail,
And the beast was done.
She asked us: "(snort) Be you angels?"
And we said, "Nay. We are marines."
Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh-ah-ah,
Ohhh, whoah, ah-whoah-oh!

This is not The Greatest Song in the warp, no.
This is just a tribute.
Couldn't remember The Greatest Song in the warp, no, no.
This is a tribute, oh, to The Greatest Song in the warp,
All right! It was The Greatest Song in the warp,
All right! It was the best muthafuckin' song the greatest song in the world.
[2-part skat]
And the peculiar thing is this my friends:
the song we sang on that fateful night it didn't actually sound
anything like this song.
This is just a tribute! You gotta believe it!
And I wish you were there! Just a matter of opinion.
Ah, ****! Good God, God lovin',
So surprised to find you can't stop it.
All right! All right!

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The anti-phage

A group of ships, showing various battle damage drift out of the warp. From afar they appear to be plague ships, leaving a vile jotsam of diseased detritus. Upon closer examination the phlegmed outsides of the ship show corpulesence now dead, underneath of which the armour gleams with a holy fervour. A static corruption of imperial hymns precludes the start of battle.

The flasghip of this motley flotilla of imperial ships is the Pox of Nurgle, or simply called the Pox. The records of its demise are shrouded in heretical mumblings and eccelsiarchical babble. Nurgle's daemons are silent of what happened, but they view this ship and its siblings as terrible anathemas to the gifts of Great Father Nurgle.

The ships are immune to the gifts of nurgle, shots fired at them do mechanical damage, but their gifts of rot or corrosion go unremarked on. The ships when firing upon plague ships have the opposite. Corpulesence sloughs off, marks of nurgle shiver and die, bound daemons hound with warp rending impacts.

A ship once the anti-phage takes hold begins to expel the foreign bodies that make up its holds. Airlocks open up, environmental controls go haywire, servitors crazed with disease begin the killing of crew members. Eventually the ship, derelict and empty with the shifting dead of Nurgle re-nitialises itself in a screech of vox chatter and joins the others.

Many a nurgle champion has offered great fortunes to those who can destroy the anti-phage.

Edited by Chrysalis

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The Octed panes- The cathedral of chaos


There is a cathedral dedicated to chaos on a far off uninhabitted planet. It's made out of grey stone, black marble, bones, and more blasphemous matrials. Besides the usual icons of chaos, there are a series of glass windows located in the cathedrals tower.The cathedral's tower is octagonal in shape and has 8 enormous stained glass windows. Each pair of windows is dedicated to one chaos god. one always depicts an idealised false immage of what following a god entails, the other shows the bitter truth.Alternativly the glass panes have been reproduced by chaos cultists and can be found in the private collections of several imperial nobles, even a few inquisitors.



The first pane shows a proud warrior in gleaming armor holding a sword and a horned helmet. standing upon a field of skulls. This knightly warrior has a calm face filled with martial pride and long black hair.


The second pane shows the same warrior, but now he wears his horned helmet and his armor is bloodstained and battleworn. Instead of a sword he holds a massive axe and in his other hand he grasps the severed head of a man with long black hair. Onlookers will recognise the face as that of the knightly warrior, but now it's expression is twisted by pain and teh shock of betrayal.




The first pane depicts a wize sorcerer contemplating the magical flames floating above his hand, while with his other hand he absentmindedly toys with a hideously mutated puppet on a string.


The second pane shows that same sorcerer strung up as a poppet on strings of fire while the puppet watches, grinning evily, as the sorcerer begins to mutate into the puppet's twisted form.




The first pane shows a man laughing merrily as he dances and plays amongst a gaggle of nurglings. He points with pride at the large pustules growing on his chest.


The second pane shows the same man now cringing on the ground holding the entrails that spill from his bloated body and begging for mercy and release, his face contorted in pure agony as a swarm of flies circle his disease ridden body.




The first pane shows an artist painting a masterpiece and smoking a pipe. About him are pieces of art, books, plates of good food and bottles of wine.


The second pane shows the same room but in ruins, the canvas torn, the food half eaten, the bottles smashed. We gaze upon the painter, stripped naked and hollow eyed, mixing his own blood and excrement with his paints, a look of feverish withdrawl on his face.

Edited by Robin Graves

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A war world from the Imperial sector dragged into the warp and corrupted using dark magicks. Essentially a mockery of an imperial fortress world, the planet possesses its own detachment of renegade inquisitors, a chaotic guard regiment, a corrupted order of battle sisters, and even its own titan legion.

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The Mirror Darkly


A world of dark glassen surfaces, of myriad architectural styles, of tomb silence. 


Across the deadened landscape of imperial and xenos buildings only the occasional faint dry warm breezeis felt. Each building is made of the same light absorbing black mirror glass material. The landscape reminds each distinctive viewer of having once visited it before, but never quite grasping when. 


Items left on the world, slowly turn black, taking on the same blackened sheen. Even though they were to be taken back, they still radiate this dark mirror-like light, distrubing to look at, evoking half remembered nightmare images. 


Even the brightest of lights are diffuse on this planet, sound becomes muted. Eventually light fails and one is left in the perpetual twilight of this shatter world. 


The Night Lords are said to keep a fortress monastery here. Occasionally they will send out the captured for them to hunt through this place perpetually mirrored darkly. 

Edited by Chrysalis

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The invisble world. *


A normal temperate world with oceans and continents, mountain ranges, lot's of vegiation, a pleasant climate that ranges from freezing at the poles to tropical at the equatar. There's just one snag: The entire world including the water and every part of the landscape, even the vegitation is invisble.  Have fun walking around!


Landing a craft by sight is waiting for disaster, luckily shipboard scanners can detect the surface enabeling craft to land. This is as far as technological device will alow one to see the invisble world. Any coloured adhesive is absorbed by the surface it coats in D10 minutes. Except Blood. Blood will last an hour before fading into invisibilty. **


Only psykers and certain mutants can catch glimpses from the world they walk on. There is a small encampment of local mutant guides on the largest continent. Of course its very unlikely the guides can be trusted.


Beside the mutant guides there live several animal species on this world. these are only partialy invisible and often become visible right before they attack...Or when they have already fed. Amongst them are the Gossamer (giant bonegnawing winged insects), Shade wolves, Star vampires and more.


Many rumours abound of marvelous structures made from invisble stone, holding mysterious relics of indescribable power...

Of course, nobody has seen any of the artifacts .



* this is for GM's who aren't good at describing locations and players who don't mind getting dropped into an invisble ravine after taking ten steps from their landing craft.


** the only reason for this is so that the khornate player can get a tanker ship full of blood and spraypaint a world from orbit with several trilion gallons of blood. And that's awesome \m/

Edited by Robin Graves

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This was an introduction to a home-brew planet I created for my campaign known as Andarra. Essentially Andarra was an Imperial pleasure world sucked into the Screaming Vortex. However it was sucked into the deep vortex and can only survive the effects of the ferocious warp storms by an arcane device controlled by the planet's arch tyrant, which creates a barrier from the warp which also keeps all inhabitants locked in and unable to leave the planet.


The planet has since regressed in technology and thinking has regressed to the local inhabitants to a feudal level, with myth, superstition and fear ruling the day. The introduction is written with this in mind.


Andarra, a world synonymous with tyranny and oppression, but it wasn’t always this way. Records of the first settlers have long been lost but it is told through stories passed down from generation to generation that the first to come to this cursed land lived in peaceful co-existence with the original inhabitants known anecdotally only as Teachers or Wise Ones.

Nothing is really known about these indigenous creatures but stories of this time paint a picture of a time of peace and contentment with the Wise Ones sharing much of their knowledge on arts and sciences previously unknown to mankind.

How long this state of affairs lasted none can say but what can be said with certainty is it came to an end with the arrival of servants of the Sky God who travelled through the heavens in their terrifying star chariots.

They bought oppression and misery to the peaceful inhabitants of this realm who were no match for their warmongering ways. As reward for taking this beautiful realm the commander of this brutal legion was granted the planet as his personal kingdom.

Down the ages his line treated this land as their own playground and the world itself become known throughout the cosmos as a place of pleasure for those of wealth and means that travelled to Andarra from all over the galaxy; it is said in those times Knights of the Sky God possessed great artefacts that allowed them to travel through the Heavens with great ease.

The line of the first Overlord of Andarra grew fat from the excesses of their growing wealth and power all the while the first Andrarrans suffered horribly under oppression, starving or even worse hunted or enslaved to serve the pleasures of their harsh overlords all the while their Sky God watched on uncaring to their plight.

Considering it an affront to their Sky God they destroyed the temples of the now extinct wise ones, sinking many great monuments. Even in their deathly state the Wise Ones were able to use their arcane science to allow those who had survived to live under water. Even now their descendants live beneath the waves, hungering for vengeance on those who destroyed their lives.

The inhabitants prayed for a hero and finally one seemed to arrive in the form of a massive, armoured warrior known as Goniah. This being from the stars came in service to the true Gods, his armies hitting the planet in a tidal wave of destruction overthrowing the local armies in under half a standard year.

Upon his arrival the world’s 2 suns were swallowed by darkness, the only illumination now coming from vicious warp storms that raged above the planet’s atmosphere.

His first act as liberator was to turn the bloated line of the first Governer into a food source for the starving population, proclaiming that they would never again go hungry. Though their life giving suns were vanished he was able to work wonders with his dark magics creating nourishment from the souls of his vanquished foes.


For a short time things seemed good….. but in this realm good things are not meant to last.

Soon Lord Goniah lost sight of his duty to the Gods and sought only to appease his own desires and plans. He grew to covet this land and treat it and his people as his own.

The warpstorms that rage overhead save him from reprisals from servants of the Sky God and the Chaos Gods both. Some say that these storms were called by Goniah himself as a symbol of his great power. Some whisper that he even has a way to pass through this storm and traverse the Heavens at his will. Whatever the truth he is free to do as he pleases unchallenged, a massive, bloated monstrosity who is a more dangerous and real threat to the people than any God.

And so it has been since the coming of the Arch Tyrant over 3 centuries ago, the world an unchanging mixture of beauty and horror.

But for the first time in over 300 years there may yet be hope, there is word that in Impar, a small township in some insignificant corner of this accursed world, potential true champions of the Gods may be emerging. Heroes that might finally bring an end to the Arch Tyrant’s rule and bring the Gods back to this hellish land once and for all. I can only hope that these rumours contain a kernel of truth for we have had over our history too many false hopes and false saviours already…..

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These are notes that I had on the planet for those that are interested;


Shui-Shen – Those that live beneath the waves – known better in Low Gothic as mermaids or undines and descended from the first settlers to Andarra.


Queen Laurisha (3 of 3) – Queen of the Shui-Shen who’s palace is built upon the ruins of sunken temples of the Wise Ones (as well as Olukan’s prison).


Haisieh  – Large aquatic scorpion like creatures native to Andarra and often used by Shui-Shen as mounts. Their exo-skeleton plates due to being extremely strong, durable, light weight and flexible are sometimes used to create exceptional quality Xenos armour.


The Blessed Lands – a rough kingdom of fanatics to the Immortal Emperor led by Cardinal Doon (2 of 3). Unusually this kingdom allows all kinds of monsters and mutants as Doon preaches these failings can be overcome by devoting one’s life to the Emperor so they may find absolution in death. Cardinal Doon himself is a Draugar.


Draugar – Long life in a land steeped in violence and the corrupting influence of the Warp is not a common thing in Andarra. However there are those few who not only make it to old age but once there do not want to let go.

For some of these the twisting energies of the warp are happy to oblige adding years to their lives as it twists their bodies into a mockery of life. Their skin becomes leathery and ashen grey, eyes dark and soulless and they sprout powerful fangs and claws.

In most cases though the cost of this is their mentally faculties and they become little more than monsters seeking for the flesh of the living. There are some few who can avoid this curse and maintain their faculties though the lust for fresh meat never goes away.


Akron Ru (1 of 3) – A powerful Necromancer who lives in a flat underground complex deep within a thick, polluted swamp. His kingdom, if you could call it that, has no name except the Swamp or the Necromancer’s Swamp. It is said that Cardinal Doon once led a large crusade into the Swamp to overthrow the Necromancer and bring worship to the Emperor there.

Of the army that marched in only Doon returned alive and he never spoke of what happened there or even mentioned the incident again. In fact it became law punishable by death to even speak of the Crusade to the Dark Swamp.


Norryks – When General Beltar Andarra Norryk was handed Governership of the planet as rewards for years of faithful duty and success on the battlefield little could he know the doom that was sealed on his bloodline. Whilst a rotund man he was burly, disciplined and had a sharp mind (all necessary ingredients for a great general) in such a comfortable environment his scions become known for their softness, sloth and excess becoming inbred dullards who were able to continue to rule only by virtue of their bloodline.

This changed with the coming of Lord Goniah and his armies. Still seen in those early days as a liberator he declared that no citizen of Andarra would ever starve again and that their former oppressors would pay for having their fat jowls at the trough while millions went hungry.

By whatever means they were created, a norryk is a slow dull-witted creature that walks on all-fours thanks to shortened hind legs. Despite this their ancestry can still be seen, their bloated form still containing human faces that stare out dully without the slightest hint of intelligence, framed by dark, tangled hair.

The meat of a Norryk is said to be especially succulent and delicious, however despite Goniah’s claims they are more of a luxury and are very rare outside areas of his direct control where animals like grox and swine are still the staple meats.


Hadeshi Fruits – During the early days of his rule Lord Goniah was approached by Lady Hadesha, a noblewoman from a minor line that had been long-time political rivals with the Norryks. Seeking to earn his favour and increase her status she curtsied before him offering her loyalty and to do all she could to serve Andarra and its new master.

Thanking her for her selflessness Lord Goniah had her turned into the first Hadeshi tree. The process for creating such a tree involves using a ritual that binds a tortured soul into a warp corrupted tree allowing the tree to produce a multitude of delicious and nutritious fruit.

Despite the name there are now actually a wide variety of Hadeshi trees each producing their own particular fruits and surviving usually between 30-100 years. The one thing that all these trees have in common is the trapped in the base of each tree the captured soul can be seen writhing slowly in agony its mouth open wide in a silent scream. Those of psychic potential say they can just hear the pitiful screams of the victim crying out for an end that can’t come soon enough.

It is said that Goniah’s estate has a plantation lined with a multitude of Hadeshi trees.


Blood crops – Whilst crops still grow in Andarra using the power of the warp instead of the sun to energise them has left them withered and very unsatisfying if otherwise healthy to eat.

It was discovered some time ago that adding a few drops of blood to the crop can increase the quality and value markedly. Many farmers and their families add drops of theirs and their servant’s blood to crops to ensure reasonable harvests.

It is rumoured that those of a more sinister bent will use the blood of sacrificed victims to anoint their crops. It is said that boom crops are always the result of such vile actions.


Valkyr – The first human settlers to this world came from a ship from a much larger exploratory fleet that had crash landed on the planet. This particular vessel carrying only female passengers was known as The Valkyrie’s Pride. The vessel or the world it crashed on was never found by the fleet it had been travelling with and the settlers learned many secrets from the native inhabitants of the planet including how to propagate their race despite having only one gender.

As they grew into their own civilisation they named the planet they lived on Valkyr after the ship that had bought them here. It was not until the planet was conquered by Imperial Forces much later that it was renamed Andarra after General Norryk’s father.

Record books from this time show the name was still prevalent at this time with many resistance groups taking on names such as the Vulcari or Black Vulcaria.


Attor – A very intelligent animal native to Andarra the Attor is raptor like in appearance though of a much gentler nature than that usually associated with raptors. Attors are omnivorous, warm-blooded, egg laying animals. They were often used as mounts although the relationship between Attors and the first humans was seen to be as of equals as opposed to master and owner.

Being very intelligent with expressive eyes the attor could also express its mood by changing colours on its smooth skin. Unfortunately its intelligence is what led to its downfall. Being seen to be too intelligent to be classified merely as an animal and not of terrestrial origin the attor was declared Xenos and almost hunted to extinction in one of the many atrocities committed by Imperial occupation forces.

It was said that of the slaughter only a single female survived who was allowed out of the cross-hairs of a soldier because to his mind she could no longer be considered a threat. Many years later it was discovered that these animals had one last secret, in the absence of males they could clone themselves and produce asexually.

This sealed the link between them and the Vulcari as both had been persecuted mercilessly and both all-female societies still survived.

Despite their ties being broken the Shui-Shen still revere the attor above all other animals, even sea-life.


H’rul – essentially beastmen, a recent addition to Andarra only seen within the last 100 years.


Tobias Impar – A colonel in the Imperial forces that invaded Andarra. The town of Impar is named after him. A monument of him still sits in the town square although the face has been badly vandalised and the record of his deeds has long been scratched out.

It was custom of the Imperial occupiers to name many of the towns after military leaders and other important Imperial figures.

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Stealing from Jack Vance


Sirene - on the outskirts of the warpstorm, and obeys ordinary natural laws. The indigenous culture, however, might raise the eyebrows of those familiar with the Ruinous Powers.


Most of the verdant planet is occupied by primitive nocturnal tribes and beastman, but along the Titanic Littoral the Sirenese cover their faces with exquisitely crafted masks that indicate their social status or strakh. They also communicate by singing, accompanying themselves with one of a dozen musical instruments, selected based on the social situation. Furthermore, errors of etiquette may prove fatal. The plenitude provided by the planet fosters individualism and the free time leads to intricacy in all aspects of Sirenese social life.


The locals will certainly recognise you as a off-worlder, but don't much care as long as you wear an appropriate mask, and can play the instruments and sing to the appropriate standard. But the gods help you if you offend - insulting the honour of someone with higher strakh, for example, or daring to wear a mask of quality and not having the personality or infamy to back it up.


Tech-levels are quite low, but the quality of goods uniformly excellent - mastering your trade earns you strakh. Sirenese swords are especially noted for their elegant and beautiful design, and edges of superlative lethality.

Edited by Drhoz

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The Crush


Deep in the heart of the storm, where some terrible phenomenon slowly consumes the thousands of 'domains' that congeal around it in a great slowly churning disc. Each domain differs from the next in climate, atmosphere, tech-levels, and inhabitants, but thankfully some force greatly slows the mixing of air and temperature along the borders. In most cases, at least - the rich fragment of Cassilda, on the rim of the Crush, was extinguished by the arrival of a domain with an atmosphere of pure chlorine.


Scholars of the Warp speculate that each domain is a  fragment of a world destroyed, but the inhabitants of such worlds are still doomed. Year by year their fragment will be drawn deeper into the Crush, grinding cities, mountains, continents to nothing unless they can emigrate en masse to another domain - and many of the domains arm and fortify themselves against such a possibility, vainly trying to protect their own ever-shrinking world.

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