Post by The Emperor (Story / Action) on Jul 12, 2009 19:48:25 GMT -6
It is the 41st Millennium. 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 daemon-infested 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 tech-priests 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 cruelest 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 re-learned. 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.
For in the 41st Millennium, there is only WAR!
Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested 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 tech-priests 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 cruelest 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 re-learned. 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.
For in the 41st Millennium, there is only WAR!
WARHAMMER PROLOUGE
It is a dark time for The Imperium of Mankind. As so recently discovered, The Golden Throne, that which has kept the ever living soul of the God-Emperor alive for millennia, has been discovered to be failing; the repairs are not possible. Although not public knowledge, The Mechanicum knows that it won’t be able to keep the news hiden, or The Throne running, for ever.
Yet, it is a dark time for The Imperium. Mankind’s Realm finds itself beseeched on all sides by murderous aliens, treacherous and sin-filled men, beasts of unquestionable relenting nightmares, metallic aliens from before Ancient Times of the walking dead, new upstart aliens trying to cut out their own empire and a green cancer that grows infinitely exponentially. It is only through His inexhaustible armies that Mankind holds onto the majority of their territory, that, combined with Mankind’s undying faith and fealty to their God-Emperor.
Yet, it is a dark time for The Imperium. For the first time in over 40 millennia, Mankind faces the real possibility of becoming extinct; a small blotch and foot note in history. What will be their down fall? The options are so many, so many likely hoods and possibilities. But now is not the time for defeatism, now is the time to defend that which He has granted Man the ability to control and rule; now is the time for WAR!
Far from the soil and The Golden Throne that sits upon Holy Terra, the cradle of Humanity, sits a boarder system. This system contains 5 planets, four of which are inhabitable by Humans (not to say that almost everything else in this Emperor-forsaken universe can’t live there too). But the four planets have been sectioned as Agricultural Worlds; a man can fight with his bare hands temporary if he has to, but he can’t fight on an empty stomach. The system was deemed “Critically Important to The Imperium” by the High Lords of Terra; so the Imperial Guard went in to secure the area. An Imperial Fleet, 100 ships strong, 55 of these Heavy Cruisers, Battleships and Carriers, escorted the 4.9 Million Guardsmen ground forces into the system.
The Imperial Forces immediately set up military installations on the flanking moons of the planets, and on the planets themselves, digging in to insure they hold the precious food stuffs against any enemy incursions which they were sure would come; they were right… Regrettably, Mankind’s enemies seemed to come from everywhere at once. Unbeknownst to the Imperial’s, the Orks were already occupying one of the planets, and they had begun to branch out to the others. The damndable Tau had sent out scouting parties and their infiltrators to begin researching colony prospects on the planets; raiding units were on all four of the agricultural worlds. With the current 13th Black Crusade in full swing, the minions of chaos were searching for food and grain (and souls and flesh) to feed their need for carnage; finding both the agricultural worlds and the Imperials there were a sign from their Chaos Gods of their assured success. What Pyskers the Imperial’s had brought with them had begun to spasm and some die, screaming and foaming at the mouth, muttering something about “The Darkness of The Warp”; the Imperial Fleet already began to reposition. Reports also came in quickly from Imperial Scouts of the presence of ‘wispy shadows’, and the small ‘star’ projectiles known to be discharged from Eldar weaponry. Also, to their unknown horror, one of the small moons was currently housing the Imperium’s worst nightmare, and biggest possible extinction causer, the Necron.
The Simmer may be write for any race, side, etc., they so choose, however the main protagonists of this SIM is The Imperium (Imperial Guard, Imperial Navy, Civilian, Inquisition, Mechanicum, Sister Sorotias, Arbites, Adeptus Astartes [Space Marines], Commissariat, etc.).
It is in the Outpost of Long Shot, some Quartermasters joke, that the Simmer begins at. Long Shot was a primary defensive positions, housing approximately 30,000 Imperial Guardsmen and support personnel, not to mention advisors. They were on the 3rd plant, dubbed simply ‘Third’ by the Administratum for now as they were developed. The ‘Simmer’ awakes to a lot of pain, their body injured from some type of attack/fall/injury, and unarmed (rather no primary weaponry). All around him/her are the lifeless bodies of thousands and the large piles of debris and warfare material (lasguns, pistols, swords, canteens, tanks…) scattered all around; it’s up to the simmer to get up and get moving, to try and figure out what happened and where they are.