War wasted worlds are the blasted, poisoned ghosts of once prosperous worlds where the survivors meek out bleak existences on the fringes of their now post-apocalyptic landscapes. All war wastes are fundamentally tied by global scale wars culminating in nuclear, biological, or chemical super weapons wiping out the vast majority of life of the world. The battle for survival in the horrid conditions of such world reshape the remaining population as the world slowly dies around them. Mutation, depravity, and a degeneration of culture are all staples of the war wastes, equally creating a breeding ground for heresy, mutation, and war-forged heroes.

    Avicious killer from the mean streets of Hive Primus on Necromunda, Damian Bloodhound fell from being one of the Emperor’s loyal servants to a fugitive from Imperial justice… The Schola Progenium is a vast, galactic-wide organisation that schools the offspring of loyal Imperial servants in preparation for the day that they will take their place in serving the Emperor. Many of these children grow to become officers in the Imperial Navy or Commissariat, while others rise to become the Princeps of the mighty god-machines in the Titan Legions. But others have talents that would best serve the Emperor by enforcing His laws upon its citizens, and join the ranks of the Adeptus Arbites, the Judges. The Judges are the ultimate enforcers of the Emperor’s law, faceless, incorruptible and utterly without mercy. They are the first line of defence against rebellious  planetary governors and their very presence is often enough to quell any disloyal thoughts among a truculent population. Members of the Adeptus Arbites never serve on their home world or even worlds within a dozen

    There are two parts to each weapon; the bit you hold (the handle) and the bit you stick into your enemy (the head). At the most basic level there are three types of head - sharp, edged and blunt as seen in spear, sword and mace, for instance. There are likewise three types of handle - short, medium and long. Short and medium represent one and two-handed weapons while long handles represent the very intelligent idea of putting as much distance as possible between yourself and the person who's trying to hit you.

    There are exceptions to the above (a staff is all handle and no blade, and a throwing dagger is all blade and no handle) but look at it this way - only half as muh weapon to sculpt! There, doesn't that feel better?

    Over the ages Inquisitors without number have proven themselves able to harness the energies of the Immaterium, bending them to their will and shaping reality around their desires with the force of their indomitable minds. It is not uncommon for an Inquisitor to influence the mind of a lesser man, to open a door or portal with but a wish, even to hurl incandescent bolts of balefire at his foes. But even the most innocuous cantrip can open a pathway for possession, attracting daemons from the warp like sharks to a drowning man. The fate of those unshriven in the eyes of the Emperor is often far worse than any divised by man, as a psyker unsure of his talents can be torn inside out within the blink of an eye – his mortal soul the cost of his ignorance. Thus only the most capable and psychically gifted Inquisitors dare to use their powers on a regular basis, knowing full well that the slightest lapse in concentration could cost them, at the very least, their mind.

    Through the icy darkness of the void, the rock hurtled towards the ocean blue planet below, trailing all manner of dust, a tail of water and gas being left in its wake. Orbital satellites had tracked it from its initial entry into the star system, and now mapped its trajectory as it began its final descent into the atmosphere. The meteor began to glow red-hot as hit the upper atmosphere, and the thin layer of gases surrounding it were burned off in an instant. With a fiery trail behind it, it hurtled through the skies, losing altitude at a phenomenal rate. The inconceivably vast oceans beneath it reflected the red glare as the rock grew closer and closer to sea level, until the projectile was scant metres above the surface.

By Peter 'Avicenna' Bell

Peter is lucky enough to enshrine all that is great about Inquisitor. He has an active imagination that loves to tell stories, create backgrounds and play with his characters. He is also a fine painter and converter! Yes, I'm jealous as well! With all this in mind we asked him about his Warband, how he created and painted his characters as well as what's going on in his latest campaign.

Aliachemoranthrashe’ill, broadly translating as ‘the swift and final twist of the crescent blade’, was born on Craftworld Biel-tan eight hundred standard years ago. The youngest of two siblings, his father Morecthias was an incredibly accomplished Dire Avenger Exarch, as was his father before him. Millennia ago, Alanthrasil’s ancestors had pioneered the martial discipline of Imaluan, hinted at in the teachings of Asuryan. These learned warriors taught their many
disciples the virtue of total grace and economy of movement. When the masters of the art performed the complex dance of war, not a single iota of energy was wasted. Every action and reaction was perfectly executed, every cut and parry timed to precision, achieving an almost supernatural state of grace.