It is a cruel age. A restless age. An age when a single life carries little value. No place was this ever more true than on the Imperial world of Gelt. Located on the outskirts of the Cadian Sector, Gelt with its hive cities and manufacturums provided much of the war machines needed in the never ending struggle against the forces of Chaos. It has remained as part of the bulwark, the first line of defense of the Imperium against the ruinous powers housed within the Eye of Terror. The year 999 M. 41 was no different.
Following the Fall of Cadia and the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the survivors and defenders of Cadia found themselves taking refuge on the world of Gelt. Unfortunately for them, Gelt proved to be no more welcoming than the Great Rift itself, for like all other Imperial worlds, life on Gelt was hard for the those outside the noble houses. Even without the constant wars against the xenos and the heretics, violence was part of daily life in the lower spires and the underhives. Gang wars that rivaled those on Necromunda we’re common place. In the upper spires, intrigue was a part of everyday life for the nobles as they plotted against each other for political and economic supremacy.
Athene looked down from the giant landing pad on the mid tier of the hive city of Proxima, the capitol of Gelt. The landing pad was large enough to accommodate a flight of Thunderhawk landing craft. It was one of several landing sites where the surviving defenders of Cadia and refugees were arriving from the fleet in high orbit. She was weary from the previous months of fighting. Her black sororitas power armor was covered in dirt, grime, and scratches. The red robes she wore were torn and stained. Her Goldwyn Diaz pattern bolt gun was in desperate need of an armorer, but for the time being, the regular field stripping and cleaning kept it combat ready.
“Elohiem,” called a voice from behind her.
Athene didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Sister Caroline had been Athene’s second for years. They were novitiates together and were both orphans of Cadia. “Yes, sister,” Athene replied.
Caroline stopped next to Athene and looked out at the landscape before them. Below them, the smog choked lower tiers of the spire and the industrial fields surrounding the hive stretched out as far as the eye could see. The dregs of society and worse resided within that toxic miasma. “The squad has disembarked from the shuttle. Abott Trelane has said that we are to remain here while the local convent makes arrangements to transport and berthing arrangements,” Caroline said.
Athene nodded. No doubt word of the fleet’s arrival travelled slowly through the local bureaucracy of the Administratum. Otherwise such arrangements would already have been in place. She looked up at the sky as the faint glow of the Great Rift. For now they would wait. Just as the world of Gelt awaited whatever fate had in store for it.
Following the Fall of Cadia and the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the survivors and defenders of Cadia found themselves taking refuge on the world of Gelt. Unfortunately for them, Gelt proved to be no more welcoming than the Great Rift itself, for like all other Imperial worlds, life on Gelt was hard for the those outside the noble houses. Even without the constant wars against the xenos and the heretics, violence was part of daily life in the lower spires and the underhives. Gang wars that rivaled those on Necromunda we’re common place. In the upper spires, intrigue was a part of everyday life for the nobles as they plotted against each other for political and economic supremacy.
Athene looked down from the giant landing pad on the mid tier of the hive city of Proxima, the capitol of Gelt. The landing pad was large enough to accommodate a flight of Thunderhawk landing craft. It was one of several landing sites where the surviving defenders of Cadia and refugees were arriving from the fleet in high orbit. She was weary from the previous months of fighting. Her black sororitas power armor was covered in dirt, grime, and scratches. The red robes she wore were torn and stained. Her Goldwyn Diaz pattern bolt gun was in desperate need of an armorer, but for the time being, the regular field stripping and cleaning kept it combat ready.
“Elohiem,” called a voice from behind her.
Athene didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Sister Caroline had been Athene’s second for years. They were novitiates together and were both orphans of Cadia. “Yes, sister,” Athene replied.
Caroline stopped next to Athene and looked out at the landscape before them. Below them, the smog choked lower tiers of the spire and the industrial fields surrounding the hive stretched out as far as the eye could see. The dregs of society and worse resided within that toxic miasma. “The squad has disembarked from the shuttle. Abott Trelane has said that we are to remain here while the local convent makes arrangements to transport and berthing arrangements,” Caroline said.
Athene nodded. No doubt word of the fleet’s arrival travelled slowly through the local bureaucracy of the Administratum. Otherwise such arrangements would already have been in place. She looked up at the sky as the faint glow of the Great Rift. For now they would wait. Just as the world of Gelt awaited whatever fate had in store for it.
