Threat Level: High (Chaos corruption, combat encounters)
Adventure Summary
Lord Astric, the Planetary Governor, is a man whose soul is not merely calcified, but a desiccated husk of ambition and self-preservation, devoid of any genuine humanity. He governs from behind layers of reinforced plasteel, insulated by the groveling whispers of sycophantic guards and the distant, muffled screams of his subjects. He’s received intelligence of a truly vile artifact, a thing so inherently repellent it momentarily cracked his iron composure. Whispers, extracted through methods that would flay the sanity from a saint, speak of a local gang brokering its sale to an unknown, yet clearly heinous and utterly depraved, buyer. This operation is too tainted, too blasphemous for even the Governor’s own trusted Guard – a rare, pragmatic gesture of self-preservation, not morality.
Thus, a small band of expendable mercenaries (the players) is recruited. Their primary objective: recover the artifact, whatever its unholy nature, and ensure its immediate, brutal suppression. Their secondary objective: unmask the buyer, ensuring their inevitable, agonizing, and very public demise.
Intelligence, carved from screaming informants and the fragmented data-ghosts of butchered serfs, has pinpointed the local gang, the Angels of Ishraq, as the ones transporting this unholy burden. The sale is scheduled for 0900 at the Delta Rail Station, a desolate iron maw choked with the ghosts of forgotten industry, spewing noxious fumes onto the poisoned outskirts of Raqcity 7’s lowest, most wretched tiers. How such wretched, unthinking scum acquired this abomination is a mystery as unsettling as the artifact itself, hinting at deeper, more pervasive corruption that gnaws at the hive’s very foundations.
The dropship is standing by to deliver the group into the suffocating atmosphere of Ishraq, depositing them onto Landing Pad 87 of the sub-hive in Raqcity 7. From there, they must ascend to Level 90 to intercept the package and prevent the unfolding blasphemy.
Background & Setup
The World: Ishraq
Location: Corvus Sub-sector
Type: Polluted Hive World
Atmosphere: Toxic but breathable (causes minor lung irritation over time)
Population: Two surviving hive cities from original four
Conditions: Perpetual smog, chemical waste, industrial decay
The Patron: Lord Astric
Planetary Governor – A pragmatic ruler isolated from his subjects by layers of security. Intelligence networks report a local gang brokering the sale of a dangerous artifact to an unknown buyer.
Mission Brief:
Primary: Recover the artifact and suppress it
Secondary: Identify and eliminate the buyer
Payment: 200 Throne Gelt per character (negotiable)
Timeline: Sale occurs at 0900 at Delta Rail Station, Level 90
The Truth (GM Only)
PRIVATE GM INFORMATION: The artifact is, in fact, a Dimensional Key. Carved not merely from femurs, but from the still-weeping, mutilated long-bones of Daemon Princes, slick with congealed, iridescent ichor that glistens faintly in the gloom, and etched with blasphemous runes that seem to writhe and pulse in peripheral vision, mocking sanity. These keys, when plunged into the dying, twitching flesh of a living creature, do not merely pierce the veil between the Warp and realspace; they gouge it open with a scream that rips through the very fabric of the cosmos, tearing reality itself with a sound that deafens the soul. Doing so unleashes not just ‘chaos energy,’ but a torrent of raw, screaming Warp-stuff, a malignant, soul-devouring beacon for unknown, hungry, and utterly malevolent entities within the Immaterium. This is not a key; it is an invitation to damnation, a literal wound in the universe.
Act I: The Ascent (0700-0800)
Starting Location: Landing Pad 87
Read to Players:“Your dropship punches through Ishraq’s eternally churning, acidic atmosphere and grinds to a halt on the scarred ferrocrete of Landing Pad 87. With a pneumatic groan that sounds like the final breath of a dying beast, the ramp shudders open. A tidal wave of putrid decay assaults your senses – the cloying stench of unwashed humanity, corroded rust, and the sharp tang of ozone-laced fear. The air itself is a breathable soup of industrial effluvium thick enough to taste like bile on your tongue. Dim lumens, caked in decades of grime, cast writhing shadows that dance like tormented souls across walls covered in desperate graffiti and blasphemous scrawls. Pools of faintly phosphorescent toxic runoff reflect the distorted agony of the hive around you, while the constant grinding hum of distant machinery vibrates through the ferrocrete beneath your boots like a relentless headache.”
Atmosphere Notes:
Constant mechanical humming that seems to bore into skulls
Pools of toxic runoff that glow with sickly light
Desperate civilians who shrink from eye contact
Makeshift shrines to the Emperor built from scrap and bones
Travel Options to Level 90
Option 1: Emergency Stairs
Time: 45-60 minutes | Stealth: Moderate | Danger: High
Read to Players:“The emergency stair system stretches before you like the Winding Maw of Despair itself. The air hangs thick and heavy with the cloying scent of mold, rust, and unmourned deaths, catching in your throats with every breath. Rusted railings threaten to tear flesh from unwary hands, while crumbling steps slick with unidentifiable filth make every footfall treacherous. The echoing sounds of the hive’s deeper functions fill the oppressive silence – tortured groans of machinery, distant screams that might be human, and the incessant scuttling of unseen vermin. Pools of stagnant, faintly acidic water gleam with an unhealthy phosphorescence, promising chemical burns to exposed skin. This labyrinth of identical, claustrophobic landings seems designed not just to disorient the mind, but to break the spirit itself.”
Challenges:
Structural Hazards – Difficult (3) Athletics test to navigate collapsed sections
Hostile Inhabitants – 1d3 encounters with Hired Thugs or Mutants
Navigation – Challenging (2) Survival test or become lost (+15 minutes)
Encounters:
Hired Thugs (3-4) – Desperate, hungry, fight to the death with cannibalistic hunger in their eyes
Mutants (1-2) – Malformed scavengers with too many limbs and weeping sores
Territorial Gangers – May be bribed or intimidated, territories marked with desecrated corpses
Read to Players:“The primary lifts are enormous, archaic beasts that wheeze and groan with every movement, perpetually on the verge of catastrophic breakdown. You’re packed shoulder-to-shoulder with the hive’s pathetic masses – a crushing press of desperate, unwashed bodies that reeks of stale sweat, ancient fear, and recycled air that has passed through a million diseased lungs. The stench is overwhelming, making your throats constrict and stomachs churn. Grimy metal walls are etched with decades of frantic touch, while flickering lumens coated in grime cast sickly yellow light on faces that are either numbly resigned or haunted by terrors you can only imagine. The lift shudders and stops frequently, each pause an eternity as brutal enforcers conduct ‘inspections’ or more weeping masses are crammed into the already suffocating space.”
Challenges:
Crowd Control – Standard (1) Stealth test to avoid attention in the sardine-packed throng
Mechanical Failure – Challenging (2) Tech test to repair breakdowns that threaten to drop you into the abyss
Authority Encounters – Deception tests vs. cold, merciless Arbites patrols
Complications:
Lift breakdowns add 10-15 minutes and create claustrophobic panic
Arbites require invasive ID checks with pointed, accusatory questions
Overcrowded conditions limit movement and create desperate hostility
Option 3: Private Corporate Lifts
Time: 15-20 minutes | Stealth: High | Danger: Extreme
Read to Players:“The private corporate lifts gleam with false, almost mocking opulence – a chilling contrast to the surrounding misery. They smell of synthetic air freshener desperately trying to mask the pervasive scent of despair and corruption that clings to everything in the hive. These sleek, silent machines represent the quickest path to the upper levels, but they demand high-level access or other equally illicit means of bypassing their formidable, lethal security systems. The very air around them seems different – cleaner but somehow more artificial, as if even the atmosphere here has been purged of humanity.”
Challenges:
Security Bypass – Difficult (3) Tech test to hack hardened systems whose firewalls bite like teeth
Guard Deception – Challenging (2) Deception test vs. emotionless security who exist only to kill trespassers
Alarm Response – If detected, face deafening klaxons and Elite Security Teams with extermination orders
Requirements:
Valid access credentials (must be stolen/forged beforehand through torture or bribery)
Corporate disguises that pass close inspection
High-level clearance codes carved from screaming informants
Act II: Level 90 Reconnaissance (0800-0850)
The Corporate District
Read to Players:“Level 90 is a blasphemous testament to Ishraq’s grotesque wealth disparity. The omnipresent trash and refuse of common hive life have been meticulously cleansed, replaced by vast stretches of gleaming black mirrored facades that reflect your grim faces like distorted funhouse mirrors, mocking your very presence. Spotless thoroughfares stretch between towering obsidian spires whose highest reaches are lost in the constant grey gloom. Their immense, unbroken windows hint at sterile, opulent interiors utterly divorced from the grinding suffering below. Holographic advertisements flicker with impossible promises of luxury, their garish colors mocking the brutal reality of the hive beneath. The air here, though filtered, still carries a faint, sickly sweet chemical tang that speaks of artificiality trying to cover deeper rot. Well-dressed corporate executives hurry past like skeletal figures in expensive robes, their personal bodyguards hulking and vigilant, ignoring anyone not of their station. You are less than nothing to them – stains on their perfect, artificial world.”
Key Features:
Mirrored building facades that distort and mock
Patrolling security drones with predatory, mechanical efficiency
Mag-lev traffic lanes humming with artificial serenity
Minimal foot traffic of the utterly privileged
The Convoy Encounter
Read to Players:“A large hover vehicle slides silently through the sterile streets like a predator stalking prey. Its striking blue and white livery, emblazoned with the unfeeling Imperial Aquila and the stylized, judging skull of the Adeptus Arbites, stands out against the black glass walls like a cold symbol of omnipresent oppression. A roof-mounted twin heavy bolter swivels with mechanical precision, scanning the buildings with predatory efficiency. Two smaller, nondescript hover vehicles follow behind, their darkened windows concealing unseen threats. This is no mere patrol – this is power incarnate, rolling through the corporate district with absolute authority.”
Observation Opportunities:
Standard (1) Awareness: Identify Arbites symbols and the grim sigil of judgment
Challenging (2) Awareness: Note the escort is tighter, more paranoid than standard protocol
Difficult (3) Awareness: Catch snippets of crackling comm chatter hinting at high-value cargo and an impatient, guttural voice that grates on the nerves even through static
Player Choices:
Follow the convoy (Challenging Stealth test through unforgiving streets, risk immediate brutal interception)
Continue to station (safer but knowing the implacable might of the Arbites is now a deadly factor)
Attempt to intercept (face overwhelming force with extermination protocols)
Act III: The Exchange (0900)
Delta Rail Station – Level 90
Read to Players:“The raised tracks gleam faintly under harsh station lights, thick with the grime of ages and the dust of forgotten lives as they lead into the vast, echoing darkness of the tunnel beyond. Sparse seating designed for a hundred souls holds only a desperate, skeletal few who clutch their meager possessions like drowning men grasping driftwood. Their hollow faces are etched with hunger and fear, their eyes darting nervously like trapped animals expecting the killing blow. The tracks vibrate faintly – a premonition of the incoming train’s lumbering approach – while an audible, low mechanical hum builds in the air like gathering thunder. Despite the cool, sterile atmosphere, the air feels heavy and cloying, like a shroud of inevitable dread. The occasional sharp flash of emergency lights illuminates the platform’s oppressive starkness, revealing more grime, more desperation, more old bloodstains that speak of violence as commonplace as breathing. This is a killing ground awaiting its sacrifice.”
Layout:
Open platform with nowhere to truly hide
Reinforced seating areas providing only partial cover from death
Service corridors offering concealment opportunities for the desperate
Active rail line promising electrocution or crushing doom
The Players
Angels of Ishraq Gang
Read to Players:“At the platform’s far end, huddled in the deepest shadows cast by a weeping bulkhead, stands a menacing group of hivers. They’re wrapped in bulky, floor-length mining coveralls stained beyond recognition with nameless grime, ancient blood, and corrosive chemical residue. Each figure bulges in unfriendly places with the hard, unmistakable lines of crude weaponry. Their muddy brown garments provide stark contrast to the crisp but oddly stained white wings crudely displayed on their lapels – the pathetic, defiant symbol of the Angels of Ishraq gang. They move with the jerky paranoia of cornered rats, eyes darting constantly, expecting betrayal from every shadow, every breath. One clutches a bulky, suspicious case as if his very life depends on it – which it probably does.”
Composition: 2 Gangers (leaders with wild, chemical-dilated eyes) + 4 Hired Thugs (desperate souls with teeth filed to points) Equipment: Crude stubbers that spit sparks, scavenged autoguns prone to jamming, brutal melee weapons forged from razor-sharp scrap Motivation: Desperate for payment, paranoid about inevitable betrayal The Case: Weighs heavily on its bearer, contents unknown but clearly valuable beyond measure
Lord Juix & Escort
Read to Players:“The blue and white hovercraft descends with a soft, predatory whirring, settling onto the platform with a pneumatic sigh that could be mistaken for relief. The ramp lowers with a hiss of compressed air, and two heavily armed Adeptus Arbites stride forth like avatars of Imperial justice. Their heavily armored forms radiate an aura of implacable, crushing authority as they sweep their las-rifles across the platform with cold, professional efficiency. Behind them emerges a monstrous figure – a silhouette of obscene corpulence that makes the very air seem to thicken with revulsion.”
Lord Juix:“This bloated repository of corruption strains the very fabric of his custom-tailored, garish robes, which seem to ripple and shift with an almost living sheen, as if something unspeakable squirms beneath the expensive silks. His flesh is unnaturally pallid and slack, mottled with faint, greenish-black veins that pulse beneath the surface like parasitic worms. His breath comes in shallow, wet, rattling gasps, each exhalation carrying a palpable miasma of decay – the overwhelming smell of overripe fruit mixed with stagnant water and the sickly sweet stench of advanced putrefaction. Despite his grotesque appearance, he projects an air of perverse urbanity, flashing a blindingly white, too-wide smile that is utterly chilling against his immense bulk. His eyes are unsettlingly vacant, glazed with deep-seated apathy and a kind of diseased joy, as if lost in dreams of universal entropy. A subtle, cloying scent precedes him – like damp, moldering earth and cheap incense struggling to mask something truly foul.”
Escort: 2 Arbitrators
Equipment: Riot shields, shotguns, carapace armor that gleams with deadly purpose
Tactics: Professional, ruthless, will die before allowing harm to their charge
Demeanor: Cold, unyielding instruments of the Emperor’s merciless will
Important: Lord Juix must escape. Even if he is killed, he should not really be dead.
The Exchange Begins
Read to Players:“A woman approaches from the gang, her movements unnervingly precise and cold for someone from the underhive, utterly devoid of warmth or human emotion. She reaches out a gloved hand toward Lord Juix, her eyes hard and empty, reflecting only the harsh station lights like chips of black glass. ‘Lord Juix,’ she says, her voice low and raspy, utterly devoid of warmth, like grinding gears on a broken machine, ‘we have what you’ve been searching for.’ The air crackles with unspoken threats, thick with the stench of decay, desperation, and inevitable betrayal. The grinding hum of the approaching train becomes a deafening roar, a fitting soundtrack to the violence about to erupt. It’s now or never – the Emperor Protects, but His light rarely reaches this far down into the darkness.”
Combat Encounter
Initiative & Positioning
Gang members cluster near platform edge, ready to flee or fight
Juix and Arbites maintain defensive formation near their transport
Characters must choose positioning based on their approach and objectives
Tactical Considerations
Cover: Limited and inadequate – mostly seating and structural pillars that offer false hope
Civilians: 8-12 terrified bystanders who scatter like vermin at the first gunshot
The Train: Arrives in 3-4 rounds, creating thunderous noise and chaotic movement
The Case: Contains the blasphemous Dimensional Key – the primary objective worth dying for
Enemy Stats Summary
Hired Thugs: Basic threats, crude weapons
Gangers: Tougher, better armed, desperate
Arbitrators: Elite combatants, heavy armor, disciplined
Lord Juix: Non-combatant but tough to kill, may flee
The Dimensional Key
Read to Players (when recovered):“The case falls open with a sickening wet sound, revealing an artifact that makes your souls recoil in instinctive horror. Carved from what appears to be a yellowed, weeping femur, the bone surface is slick with congealed, iridescent ichor that glistens with unnatural light. Blasphemous runes are etched deep into its surface, seeming to writhe and pulse when viewed directly, mocking sanity itself. The Key radiates a subtle wrongness that makes your skin crawl and your teeth ache. Despite being bone, it’s unnaturally warm to the touch, as if something obscene pulses within. The runes appear to shift and dance in your peripheral vision, whispering promises of damnation in languages that predate humanity. This is no mere artifact – this is an invitation to cosmic horror, a literal wound waiting to be carved into reality itself.”
Properties:
Radiates corrupting influence (Corruption point exposure on prolonged contact)
Warm to the touch despite being ancient bone
Runes seem to move and writhe when not observed directly
Whispers half-heard blasphemies in dead languages
Weighs far more than bone should, as if dense with malevolent purpose
