rapture prime
The crimson planet
Private
That dread and holy world of the Omni-Imperium. I am but a lowly Private, Elias Thorn of the 47th Crusade Legion, stationed within the towering Hive City of this accursed exoplanet.
Behold the city! A colossal hive of iron and stone, stretching unto the blood-red heavens, owned wholly by the sacred Omni-Imperium. Its spires pierce the firmament like the spears of vengeful angels, and its walkways and hab-blocks are crammed so tightly that a man may scarce draw breath without touching his brother in arms. Everywhere the Emperor’s troops stand vigilant — rank upon rank of foot soldiers, ever watchful beneath the crimson sky.
bastion of the omni-imperium
Long ago, our noble ancestors did hide within the heart of this world the sacred Umbral Artifact, a relic of unfathomable power. By its grace doth the planet run red, bathed eternal in this bloody glow. It powers the mighty forges, the star base, and the very life of the Hive itself.
This artifact is most holy, for it giveth unto us an endless bounty of energy, that we may live lives worthy of the God-Emperor’s gaze. Without it, all would perish in darkness. Thus do we swear upon our blood and bones: we shall protect the Umbral Artifact at all cost, for the glory of the God-Emperor and the eternal dominion of the Omni-Imperium.
The Hardships of Rapture Prime
Yet these be grim and trying times upon this world. Rapture Prime is a most wretched place to dwell. The infrastructure lies in ruin — crumbling walkways, leaking habs, and failing machines that threaten to crush the unwary at every turn.
It is a rarity for any child to see their fifth year, and rarer still to behold a woman’s face amid the throng, for death and toil claim them swiftly. The lands yield no good soil nor fair weather; naught but ash and barren rock stretches beyond the Hive. Ever is the air warm or hot, thick with the stench of sulfur that burns the lungs and stings the eyes.
The shadows of sin and war
Crime and violence run rampant through the lower levels, fueled by the cursed Exorcists — foul heretics and warp-touched madmen who sow chaos wherever they tread. Outbreaks of possession plague the populace without warning, turning honest men into slavering beasts that must be put down by bolt and blade.
Yet still the Emperor’s will endureth. Upon this planet stands a great Military Star Base, dedicated to the mass production of grunt soldiers such as I. Day and night the forges birth new warriors for the Astro Military of the Omni-Imperium, that we may carry forth the Emperor’s light across the stars.
A Soldier’s Final Words
Such is the lot of a private upon Rapture Prime, to stand eternal vigil in the crimson gloom, rifle in hand, knowing full well the horrors that lurk in every shadow.
But soft! I hear the tread of the Intelligence officers approaching. Their minds are sharp as razors, their aptitude for war unmatched by mortal men. I must return to my duty and serve them with all loyalty.
Fare thee well, stranger. Remember Rapture Prime, and the Umbral Artifact that burneth eternal in its heart. For the God-Emperor! For the Omni-Imperium!
Private Elias Thorn, 47th Crusade Legion