Two days without a thread edition.
1d4chan.org
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Galaxy has been beset by strife and torn by war. The Emperor, who had once dreamed of uniting the Galaxy under His banner, is long dead. Half of the Primarchs, his demigod sons turned against him, and in a climactic battle on Terra the Emperor was cast down. With his death, Terra was consumed by a Warpstorm and half the Imperium fell forever under the shadow of Chaos.
The Dark Imperium reigns in the ring of Segmentum Solar, where the watchful Eyes of the Warmaster consume the souls of the weak. A 1984 state of utter madness where groupthink doesn't even begin to describe things. The Warmaster's agents could be anywhere, and you can be sure they are watching you at all times. Dark foundries churn out metric gigatons of munitions for the Long War, Temples to the Gods of Chaos are found on every street and Daemons lurk in the shadows. Those who grow tired or too weak to work are never heard from again. Those who ask questions are never heard from again. Those who deviate, those who hesitate, all who are doubted even a hair, are never heard from again. Men who whisper dark rumors about the dark things that happen to those who are never heard from again, are never heard from again.
Surrounding the 'ordered' heartland of the Dark Imperium is the Chaos Marches, a screaming anarchy comprising hundreds of chaos warlord states. Some are ruled by Veterans of the Long War that still wear the colors of their legions, but most are ruled by warbands of outcasts, exiles and dissidents with their own ways. Some of these states may last for centures or millenia, while others rise and fall in a matter of years. The borders between them are constantly shifting as Warlords rise and fall. The citizens of this area live in permanent fear that the Angels of Hell may come from the skies to reap and enslave, to sacrifice and feast.