Noctis Ferrum.
A world spoken of only in whispers among voidfarers and archivists.
Officially listed as a lifeless husk. Once home to great hive cities, now nothing more than rusted bones beneath an eternally grey sky.
Centuries ago, the Imperium declared it a Dead World. Uninhabitable. Cursed. Void of usable resources. Explorator fleets of the Adeptus Mechanicus reported nothing of value among the shattered ferrocrete.
No signs of life. No remnants of technology. No reason to return.
For over three hundred years, Noctis Ferrum was consumed by a violent, unnatural warpstorm. No Vox contact in the sector. Chartist maps were sealed. Even the Black Ships gave it wide berth.
And then — as suddenly as it came — the storm vanished.
In the days that followed, an automated listening post on the edge of the Borion Expanse detected a signal. Weak. Corrupted.
Repeating. Familiar.
The signal bore unmistakable binary rhythms—ancient in structure, yet perfectly patterned. When compared to Mechanicus databanks, it triggered dormant STC protocols, matching echo-patterns linked to Standard Template Constructs from the Dark Age of Technology.
This should not be possible.
Within weeks, augur arrays across Segmentum Obscurus began to triangulate the source. All paths led to the same origin:
Noctis Ferrum.
Now, the galaxy moves.
The Adeptus Mechanicus claim divine right over the discovery.
The Imperial Inquisition demands containment.
The Astra Militarum sees opportunity.
And xenos and heretics — Eldar, Drukhari, Genestealer cults, Necrons, even the Archenemy — move in the shadows, each drawn by the siren call of forbidden knowledge.
The surface of Noctis Ferrum is a graveyard.
Its hives are collapsed tombs of dust and echo, haunted by what was — and what may still linger beneath.
Only the most fearless, zealous, or desperate warlords dare set foot within its blasted ruins.
Whatever the truth of the signal, one thing is certain:
The first to uncover its origin will not leave unchanged.
The Five Hive Ruins of the Ferrum Expanse
Ferrum Spire
Once the tallest spire-city on the planet, it still looms over the ash plains — barely intact. Its upper towers glisten with frozen oxide and shattered glass, while its base levels are choked with rubble and collapsed sublevels. It is the most intact… and therefore the most dangerous.
Hive Tenebrus
Bathed in permanent twilight due to orbital debris and atmospheric corruption, Tenebrus is a city of shadows and silence. No signal reaches more than a few meters, and dataslates here die mysteriously. But some say the ground itself hums.
Ashen Hold
A military-industrial bastion reduced to molten ruin. High levels of radiation and toxic ash storms sweep the skeletal remains of this city, where once tanks and titans were forged. Burn scars mark the land for kilometers.
Crucible Delta
A subterranean complex of refineries and storage vaults, Crucible Delta is more tunnel than city. Its corridors echo with the screams of collapsed ceilings and vaporized rail systems. Many who enter its depths never return — not from combat, but from losing their minds in the dark.
Mournhollow
Flattened by unknown forces, Mournhollow no longer rises from the ground. It is a field of crushed ferrocrete, twisted rebar, and buried ghosts. Yet beneath the rubble, something pulses… as if the city itself breathes in silence.
