Solomon (http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Solomon)<em>is a densely populated and heavily industrialised Hive World of the Imperium of Man located within the Markayn Marches Sub-sector of the Calixis Sector. <br/><br/>Solomon is a blighted, slowly dying, and heavily industrialised Hive World where rebellion, superstition, and hate fester in the shadowed canyons of rockcrete and steel. Its hives are pollution-shrouded places plagued by suspicion, greed, and unrest. Between the towering monolithic citadels of Solomon's hive metropolises, thousands of square kilometres of rusting pipelines, thundering processing vats, and fire-belching pyro-towers cover the landscape and darken the skies with a thick haze of black smog. In the lightless spaces of these Interior Industrial Zones, or simply the "Interior" as the Solomonites call them, many terrors are said to haunt unseen. <br/><br/>Of these tales, the dark legend of the so-called "Curse of Solomon" or "Beast of Solomon" is perhaps one of the oldest, most consistent, and most widely recounted. It is passed from generation to generation among the unfortunates forced to dwell in the work-houses and labour in the depths of Solomon's Interior. It is a myth of some monstrous alien thing that stalks the darkness seeking only to kill, a shadow within shadows, and of good men taken without warning to gristly deaths with only bloody shreds left to mark their passing.<br/><br/>A web of conspiracy exists in the underhives of Solomon that has resisted attempts to dig it out from its roots for more than a millennium. The Sleepers -- to give them their popular name -- have long lived in local legend as the face of the night's terrors on Solomon, and their existence has become a part of the fearful landscape of this blighted Hive World, a tale to frighten children that is both disturbing and very real. <br/><br/>The alley depths clear by night, even though night is barely distinguishable from day. Hereditary lumen bearers retreat to caves carved from the crush and communal rooms that were once generatoria. Doors and shutters close, bolts are thrown, and Aquila charms hung and blessed. The blackness is absolute. Nightwalkers and thieves upon lumen-lit boardways and cable-bridges half a league above look down and make the sign of the Aquila as a ward against the depths. In the blackest depths lies the crush fundament, an alley floor made of ruins of the ancient hive pressed flat by the weight of years. <br/><br/>There on the boundary, outcasts, Sanctioned Thieves, and hopeless, excess workers of the Waiting Guilds tell their tales. These least-citizens believe in ghosts of the old hive, long-dead servants of daemons defeated by the God-Emperor and driven below. Dreams are a gate: dreamers must be protected by prayers and Aquila charms, lest murderous ghosts rise from the crush and wear their bodies. The lowhivers believe that Servitors and the recently dead are those who dream most deeply. Crushtop District mortuaries are shrines to the God-Emperor, and any appearance of labour-Servitors in the alleys is cause for disturbance and rumour.<br/><br/>The eyes of a possessed Servitor are glowing pools steaming with Warp-light, its churning dreams filled with murderous desire. Makeshift knife gripped in metal fingers, facial actuators clicking and twisting in ways beyond their design, the Servitor hunts its lone victims through the night alley depths, feeding upon the terror of their final moments. In the alley depths, many mornings see ritually dismembered bodies discovered at the crush boundary. The low-hivers make the sign of the Aquila and hurry to raise the remains to their shrine-mortuaries.<br/><br/>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. This is the tale of these times. It is a universe you can live today if you dare - for this is a dark and terrible era where you will find little confort or hope. If you want to take part in the adventure then prepare yourself now. Forget the power of technology, science and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. <br/><br/>But the universe is a big place and, whatever happens, you will not be missed.</em>