Upriea, a vast hive world on the edges of Imperium controlled space. Claimed thousands of years ago, it is many times the size of Holy Terra, the cradle of humanity. It was even once a verdant garden world, rich in resources and natural beauty, and even the fauna was harmless to a human-sized creature. Now, it is a polluted cesspool of a planet, constant manufacturing to fuel the Imperium’s armies has left the planet in a pitiful shape. The masses of humanity that call this place their home, number in the billions, each of which is practically a slave to the Imperium of man. Each of them works for hours on end, toiling endlessly for nothing. For many of them, getting off world would be a dream coming true, to see other worlds. But sadly, that is a fate that hardly any of them will experience, for they will die as they lived, working, to fuel one of the largest armies in the universe, all the while nobles and the upper echelons of the city laugh and squander money as if it was nothing, uncaring for those below them. This is a lawless planet more or less; the Imperial Guard maintains little over three hundred soldiers, and the local Planetary Defence Force, or PDF, maintains just over one hundred men. Four hundred men to maintain control of billions. Instead, the guard are used only to for the upper spires and the space port, leaving the lower classes to their own devices. In the lower tiers, pit fighting, hive gangs even smuggling is completely commonplace, as the belittled population has found a few ways to bolster their incomes, whether or not it is legal however, remains to be seen. The only redeeming feature of this whole planet is the vast space port which it maintains, the largest of its kind in that whole sector of space. Luckily for the Guard, none of the normal citizens are smart, or resourceful, enough to take one of these vessels. But you are no normal citizen...<br/><br/>You have found yourself upon this planet, this place of nigh on slavery and mindlessness, in a seedy bar upon the lower tiers of the planet. You have two choices to take. You either steal a space vessel and get off planet as quickly as you can, plying your trades across the stars, or plundering the vessels of others. But be warned, the Imperium is vast and its fist is among the most powerful in the universe, and they do not tolerate lawbreakers in the least. The other option? Stay, work, and die knowing that your only chance of a better life flew away to some other planet with people that could have been you, living a life that could have been yours, even if it wasn’t as cosy as dreamed. Alongside you will be aliens and heretics of all manners, from hulking barbaric Orks, to the lithe and graceful Eldar, or perhaps even the giant bioengineered warriors of the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, or their heretic brethren, the Chaos Space Marines. Whatever happened in your past, you find yourself inside a seedy bar in the hive’s lower tiers...and the option, is yours.<br/><br/>Whatever happens you. You are but one amidst trillions of your kind, you will not, be missed…<br/><br/>---------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>A large brutish looking Ork entering through the bar’s doors with an almighty bang as he threw open the doors with a casual flick of his wrists, at least seven feet tall. He was dressed in the garb common to Orkish kommandos, including goggles and numerous little useful survival bits and pieces, though it was kept in an inordinately pristine condition, considering Orks rarely took much care of their equipment. Across the brown squig-leather and metal plate attire, were scattered numerous ‘klan’ symbols, these in particular took the form of a soot-darkened leering yellow moon with crooked teeth, marking the Ork as a Bad Moon. In an Ork’s saying, more money than sense. His skin was gnarled and leathery, the hue slightly darker than common amongst his race of savages, while his face was split with a large toothy grin, exposing two boar-like tusks.<span style="color: #00FF00">“Oi!  Oooman! Get us a drink will ya?”</span>He spoke with a loud and guttural tone, oh so sadly common amongst his extraordinarily loud kind.  The human that he was indeed addressing, a fairly plump man with a slightly wrinkled face, had grown all too accustomed to this particular Ork, yet he still obeyed the creature’s command, and prepared it a drink of liquor.<span style="color: #40FFFF">“Here.” </span>He answered the hulking green creature. Not expecting any form of payment, as the first time he had asked that, the Ork had placed a large bag of its teeth upon the bar.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">“Ah, now derz a gud drink!”</span>The Ork exclaimed upon seeing his beverage and tasting the orange coloured liquid. It was nothing quite like the Squiq ale brewed by his fellow Orks, but it was good enough, though he was disappointed that it was one of the stronger drinks brewed by the humans, and it barely got him tipsy. Picking up the large glass fairly carefully for someone so brutish, the Ork took the glass over a spare seat in the bar, and observed the other patrons. He had taken a liking to this planet, enough squishy humans to intimidate like Gretchin, and just enough ‘Ard’ humans that fought he was a monster as to never get boring. But it was nothing compared to the grand battle that had brought him to this place, now that, that was a real fight.<br/><br/>Downing the orange coloured alcohol with a single large gulp, he belched loudly then shouted to the other patrons of the bar.<span style="color: #00FF00">“Now den! Iz Morskrar Grorkruk Da ‘eadstompa! Any of you panziez wanna fight like a proppa Ork?!” </span>Many of the other patrons looked at him with some mild level of fear, some with disinterest. But there was one human that walked towards him, an aged man in rags than walked towards him shouting.<span style="color: #FF0000">“Emperor damn you creatures! I lost my whole family to you creatu-“</span>His ranting and raving was cut short by a thunderous uppercut by Morskrar, sending the human flying across the bar and onto an occupied table in a mist of blood and knocked out teeth. The occupant of the table merely looked at him with some mild level of disinterest and anger that he both interrupted them and spilled their drinks. Yet they didn’t dare challenge him.<span style="color: #40FF00"> “Datz right, stay like grotz ya panziez. Skulkin’ away from a proppa fight! Nun a ya could be Orkz!”</span>When he finally finished his ranting, he sat back down upon his chair, raising his hand to the barkeeper in a request for ever more booze…which the barkeeper obeyed with an irritated expression upon his face. The Ork had only a toothed grin, not at the booze, but because of what he saw entering after him.<br/><br/>--------------------------------<br/><br/>Already sat in the tavern, was a creature slighter in height and build than a human, but no less deadly. Its face had features that some may even mistake for that of human, but the creature’s leathery cobalt blue skin marked it for it truly was. A tau, and it was clothed in attire that suited a casual situation, a pure white shirt covered its torso, with a brown jacket over the shirt. A pair of black trousers finished the look, though there numerous symbols of the Tau fire caste upon her clothing. A “Y” Shaped slit upon its face, marked it as a female among its race, though the bag upon its back was filled with the tools of its trade. For she was no mere tourist, instead she was something far greater. A Shas’Ui of the Fire caste, a pathfinder veteran sent to this thrice-damned planet to spy on the Imperium, and see what they were producing to fuel their war effort in the sector. She was Shas’Ui T’au Ash’Vren.<br/><br/>She was merely staring a series of paper work when she heard a tremendous noise emanate from the front door. Instinctively, she placed a hand upon her orange and white coloured pulse pistol, just in case the soldiers of the Imperium had finally cleared up their act upon this planet. The very documents that she was reading just moments ago explained just how grossly undermanned the Imperial guard and police forces here were. But that didn’t matter at the moment, and for a few seconds she stared at the doorway, taking her hand off of the pistol when she found that it was an Ork that was entering the Bar. Ash’Vren had noticed him a few times, a loud-mouthed lout by any account, but also savage and immensely strong, apparently possessed of a cunning seldom seen in Orks. However, he was blighted with his race’s ever present aggression, and forever lusting for a good fist fight. Thus far, he hadn’t bothered her all too much, called her a ‘blu-skinn’d weerdo’ once before, but little else. If anything she took it as a sign that the creature wasn’t blind, and could actually differentiate colours.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Maybe not so much of a lost cause."</span>She muttered to herself.<br/><br/>Ash’Vren just watched as he proceeded to challenge everyone in the bar, as was common for Orks if he was the average, and as to be expected no one answered his challenge bar one…severely outmatched Gue’la, or human, that showed signs of aging. The fight was ended before it began, as the human male was simply punched flying across the bar by the Ork commando, who then took delight in his next few words of why everyone in the bar was a ‘panzie’ as he called them, Ash’Vren merely sighed and returned to her documents.<br/><br/>-----------------------------------<br/><br/>A gargantuan sized man followed the Ork, except he was no human. Instead he was something far more potent. A Space marine, more to the point, a Chaos Space marine of Tzeentch. He stood at a height of at least eight and a half foot with a bulky, muscular build. His skin is extremely pale, but looks weathered and has a texture not unlike leather. His eyes are a deep green in colour, much like the armour of the Salamanders chapter, while his short hair is colour of tree bark. He is clad in an ancient suit of power armour, dating back perhaps to the Horus Heresy; it is mostly composed of pieces of the Mark V power armour, most commonly used during the Heresy. It is pained gunmetal grey, with yellow and black chevrons upon his right pauldron and left shin. His left pauldron has numerous studs upon it, a hasty repair due to a lack of parts perhaps, or just a simple uncaring attitude. Upon the powerpack on the back of his armour, two large spikes have sprouted from the centre outwards. Also upon his back, is a dark green cloak made from heavy duty cloth. Upon the breastplate of his armour, is a large skull in the style of the Iron warriors. He was an immensely intimidating man by all accounts, and many of the human patrons merely looked with awe and fear, but none acted.<br/><br/>The Chaos Space Marine marched into the bar, directly towards the barkeeper, whom also had a look of fear upon his face.<span style="color: #4080BF">“A drink, if you will.”</span>The corrupted Marine said to him, his voice deep and gravelly. The barkeeper’s face had taken on the complexion of a piece of paper due to the immense fear which he felt.<span style="color: #40FFFF"> “Y-yes… it w-will be done in just a moment!” </span>He answered, terror clear in his tone as he hastily prepared the drink. Meanwhile the Chaos Marine had looked away from the terrified barkeeper, and had turned his baleful gaze upon the other patrons of the bar. He saw, nothing, special. Bar a large Ork drinking merrily, and a, Tau? Most likely some form of spy, or disgraced soldier that disobeyed a superior. Oh how the Chaos Marine loathed such a thing, to see whole regiments disgraced due a failed order, or being stretched too thin and failing. The latter had been something that the Loyalist dogs of the Emperor had done to his own legion to a degree stretched them into nothing more than support.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FFFF">“I-its ready.”</span>He heard from behind himself, the barkeeper had apparently finished with his drink. Turning around to look at him, the Chaos Marine said to him.<span style="color: #4080BF"> “Good work wretch.” </span>He answered the human, before taking the drink and sitting at an unoccupied table. In such places, all the scum of a planet like this could be found…He would be delighted to see who or what…strolled through those doors…