King Erasmus Tolkien, Warlord of Aercanum

Dressed in an sleek, gilded feudal plate polished to an impossible shine, with opalescent inlays and almost hypnotic lumen-heraldry of impossible, twisting runes. Has a large sword that appears well taken care of, but otherwise an average feudal-world bastard sword, and a long, billowing, magnificently soft blue cloak that almost appears to twist into another dimension, flowing in the wind even when there is none.

Lord Varius the Sycophant, Seneschal (Sniveling servant of the King)

Grey-skinned and snivelling, without any suggestion of eyes, as if he never had any. Dressed in a red, richly adorned, hard leather armour with jagged studs and skeletal adornments. His mouth looks almost dried up, yet his nose is constantly running, his mouth full a chaos of twisted, jagged, ragged teeth.

Lord Tarkin Blind, Advisor-General to Erasmus Tolkien (Super-Attentive Astropath)

Dressed in green, somewhat ragged robes, seemingly never washed, reminiscent of those robes seen in the Astropathic Spire of the Chains of Judgement (some may recognize as Astropath robes). Appears attentive, almost jittery, with a piercing stare, but no eyes, only black voids that almost pulls you in. Has smooth, spotless skin that has started to peel back towards the top of the head and back, where scales has started appearing.

Unnatural Perception (8), Perception 60, Unnatural Senses (10). Psyniscience and Awareness +30. Diviner and Telepath.

Count Aaron Tremblay, Lord-Colonel of 1st Jovial Warphawks (of Cadia)

Count Tremblay appears to be, despite his firm jaw and stern, matte purple eyes, a cordial, almost festive man. Clad in a stained, somewhat foul-smelling carapace of unknown pattern, he and his Jovial Warphawks appear to equip themselves with very large, very sharp blades that are attached to the underside of their forearms, and some kind of jump-packs or grav-chutes of equally unknown make. They all smell terrible, but make good company.

Count Tremblay does not hang out with the other councilmembers, and is the head of security aboard the station, staying at home base in The Dead Court.

"Do your worst, 'Inquisitor'. The Thousand Sons will never fall or falter."

~ Mteph'atun , of Cult Athanaean

Mteph'atun is, to the regular human, a mountain amongst men. Clad in red and gold, marked with the Seal of the Scarab and the white Star of Prospero. For reasons unknown, the illustrious Space Marine was at some point taken prisoner by the Inquisitor Linetta Res, and held in some form of stasis in the bowels of Port Wander, guarded by her faithful.

The Space Marine exudes an almost otherworldy authority and appears impeccable, as if every part of his massive power armour was polished earlier in the day, every gear oiled and every prayer sung. Constantly on guard, it is evident that Mteph is nothing if not a veteran of possibly thousands of battles.

Speaking of the Lord of Fate and the God of Hope, Mteph unquestionably proclaims the greatness of the Thousand Sons and maintains that he is on a mission in the name of time itself. To seek the Thirteenth Station of Passage, and take command of the waypoint to the stars, the watchtower of the Screaming Vortex.

Palmere Grath, Fleet Merchant (Aurumian Halls & Slave Pens)

An elderly man that wears decadence like a second skin, dressed in gilded robes of the finest silk, covered in expensive jewelry, he nonetheless exudes an aura of discipline and fortitude. His black hair, now broken up by strands of grey and white, is combed neatly over his head, and the grease now covering it is suggestive of the fact that he in many ways appear to live a double life. He appears neat and well-dressed, yet decadent and shameless, he appears disciplined, yet always carries a wide grin or smile.

Some may recognize this man, although his description and vision is never given, from Rivals For Glory. I intend to run at least part of Rivals For Glory at some point, and thought I might as well introduce him already, as a trade contact aboard the station and throughout the Screaming Vortex (and beyond, since he trades both in the Screaming Vortex and the Imperium).

The Central Basilica & Throne Command

The Central Basilica is a large structure that rises towards the centre of the Star Fort, locked away and secured by soldiers of every make, model and origin, different parts of it seemingly guarded by different, disparate groups of people. Richly adorned, many parts of it seems to have been deliberately defaced, every aquila torn down, every stained transpariplas window either smashed or replaced by disturbing yet perfected mockeries of the original imagery.

At the centre of the Basilica lies the Throne Command, containing a large, raised command throne, the far ends of the room and the many floors lining sides the large open space contain countless cogitator arrays, the vast majority of them seemingly unmanned. In the centre of the room stands a out-of-place, large and somewhat makeshift table, lined with seats of various sizes, with several hololithic displays displaying imagery of the station and scans of nearby vessels.

Docking Piers

The docking piers are abuzz with activity, with several docking arms going too and from ships both large and small. They seem to be able to accommodate everything from the smallest of ships to the truly gargantuan, most often attaching themselves to no more than two average-sized ships each.

The state of the Docking Piers is highly questionable, and it is hard to make a general judgement based on only one. They seem to differ greatly in quality and degree of maintenance, some being little more than half-empty, decrepit corridors.

Radioreactive Core & Automization Centre

Underneath the Central Basilica, this could be no closer to the station's heart, but instead of the regular plasma generators, the area appears to have had it's heart and soul ripped out and replaced by machines billowing smoke, the entire deck awash with a dull light and flickering lights, the very air slightly prickling your skin, as if every so slightly aflame.

The hulls and decks surrounding the Core is full of automatons, servitors, repair shops and reclamation centres. Many of them lack any light whatsoever, the servitors coming and going seemingly at random, navigating without any difficulty. The area is filled with pict-recorders, some of them pointing straight into walls. The servitors appear unnervingly attentive, their eyes sometimes following you in a way the eyes of someone lobotimized never should.

Autoastrogation & Re-Ritualization Chambers

Towards the outside hull of the east quadrant lies the autoastrogation and re-ritualization chambers, their position clearly underprioritized in case of battle. Controlling the vast network of astrogation relays and astromancy spires, the fields of humming cogitator arrays work ceaselessly to calculate the many local spatial anomalies and chart the course of the station or any fleet meant to pull it from it's stationary position.

The Re-Ritualization chambers is a number of derelict chambers containing makeshift shelters, rows upon rows of bookshelves filled with lore, and arcane symbols scribbled haphazardly across walls, ceilings and even floors. This is the centre of the station's sorcerers, put in charge of the much-needed task of re-drawing and re-ritualize the many wards and protective runes across the hull of the station, keeping it from slipping into the warp or be invaded by uncontrollable chaosmatter.

Aurumian Halls & Slave Pens

The Aurumian Halls are enormous hallways, the ceiling gilded and adorned with golden busts and gargoyles depicting profane scenarios and impossible shapes that seemingly twist and turn even as the onlooker tries to pin it down with his sight. The halls are filled with merchants and the many halls wind and twist in manners that makes no sense, the merchant quarters and stalls seemingly larger than they could possibly be.

The Aurumian halls is also the home of the many slave traders of the station, ranging from filth-ridden beast with their tongues cut out, to the most alluring and mind-bendingly beautiful escorts sold at the highest bidder. It also houses smiths, gelt brokers, food stalls and violence, the wares offered changing at random.

Corridors of Terror

The so-called Corridors of Terror is a massive, enormous, cramped hab-complex, without any obvious rhyme or reason to it. Filthy, derelict, filled to the brim with drug dens, *****-houses and makeshift homes, there appears to be no central authority whatsoever, and no-one seems to have the wish to enforce one. Small gangs appear to have set up shop in some of the larger rooms, and there is a constant smell of musk and sweet scents in the air - or what passes for air in a region of the station where the air filters have obviously been compromised.

The Corridors of Terror is also house to what passes for medical care aboard the station, a long range of "clinics" having been set up, the constant scream of the sick and infirmed filling the air. It is impossible to make out if the screams are out of pain or pleasure, if it's medical care, torture, or deviancy at work. Most likely, it is all of the above.

Irradial Forge of the Mechanicum

Towards the bottom of the station lies the Irradial Forge of the Mechanicum, housing the wash-ups of the dark mechanicum, refugees of the adeptus mechanicus that have fled the oppression of the Imperium, and the many hopeful that wants to learn from greater minds or hear the sermons of truth and the machine.

The Irradial Forge churns day and night, the decks of the mechanicum being ever at work, every floor filled with a thick layer of rust, the smell of decay and decomposition filling the air, and an ever-present taste of iron filling the mouth with every breath. The many tech-priests and heretek savants at work seem oblivious to the fact that their workshops and forges are in shambles, appearing happier than any adept of the Omnissiah ever have the right to be, even the chitter and chatter of binary seeming unnaturally chipper.

The Dead Court

The Dead Court is, despite it's name, filled with the sounds of drinking, cheering, singing - and violence. The clash of soldiers and revelers appears to be a constant, and this is where you would expect to find fighting pits, if it wasn't for the fact that the fighting appears to be going on everywhere, to various degrees.

The entire section, a mostly open-air room filled with walkways and square buildings of varying size and quality, is filled with a mild red light, some lamps flickering, some pink, some brightly red, some casting unnatural, dark-red, almost brown anti-light. It appears to be some kind of entertainment district, but judging from the thin crust of dried - some fresh - blood, you can't be sure. At the top of the enormous room there appears to be a larger structure protruding from a wall, overlooking the chaos below. It would seem the only place not embroiled in constant drinking and bloodshed.

The White Sepulchre

The white sepulchre is an oddity, incredibly out of place. As you walk down a hallway towards it, the metal of the station and it's flickering lights in the ceiling slowly starts making way for sleek, clean marble surfaces and a nearly blinding white light. The entire section appears manned by clerks or clerics in white robes walking around silently.

Along the sides there are many alcoves leading into equally pristine rooms featuring an endless number of horrific statues depicting daemons of chaos, some of them inlaid with various metals or gems. Some of these rooms are veritable cathedrals with small altars covered in different offerings, in front of massive statues.

* Khorne - A massive hooded figure with enormous clawed hands, half-sitting, squatting, with large goat-like, hoofed legs. From inside the blackness of the hood, there is a constant stream of condensed anger and heat, a malevolent and hateful stare falls upon any that peer into it.

The altar is covered in fresh blood, despite the area around it being incredibly warm.

* Nurgle - A large, bloated, rotund figure sitting back in a lotus position, it's face obscured by a large hood on a cloak with it's enormous belly exposed. A large tongue hangs out from within the hood, the six arms of the statue stretched out as if beckoning you for an embrace. The room is filled by a foul smell, but the statue exudes nothing but paternal love.

The altar is covered by spittle, flowers, pieces of meat, and various organic knick-knacks of indeterminable origin. You are fairly sure that at least one of those things is not mud.

* Tzeentch - A impossibly twisted figure that is barely resembling a humanoid, it is hard to make out where the statue starts and where it ends, and while hooded, you get the sense that nothing is in fact obscured by the marble hood, it merely being a decoy for the true face of the beast. You have an incredible urge to stay and leave at the same time.

The altar has seemingly random items placed upon it, including a laspack, an empty can, a discarded pack of rations, a few coins, and several paperclips.

* Slaanesh - A large, lithe figure completely covered in robes, this statue is the most human you have seen yet, although it's face similarly obscured. It is impossible to make out the gender of the depicted figure, the only hints of it's inhuman nature being the very long, very sharp claws that adorns the naked hands and feet of the otherwise hooded figure. There is a sweet smell in the air and you feel strangely inadequate.

The altar is covered in knick-knacks of haunting beauty, including beautifully adorned and polished skulls inlaid with gems, a flawless painting of the Aercanum Star Fort from the outside leaning against the altar, and a knife that gleans in the bright light, perfectly crafted and without a hint of a jagged edge.