Our Inquisimunda campaign ended spectacular fashion! In a giant four-way battle, the Void Cult, the Imperial Guard, the Arbites, and the Gene-Cult all fought desperately for survival. When the dust settled, it was the Arbites who reigned supreme. Law and Order has returned to Domilcus Station!


Specialist Tzarka (better known as “Free Fall”) leant against the top of the refiner stack, his breath fogging the eyepiece of his long-las. Below came the dying screams of his comrades. All hope that they would hold the choke point and defeat the attackers had vanished with the death of the Sergeant. Beaten down by a hulking ogryn, the Sergeant’s head lay split upon the deck like a melon.

All around, arbites laid into cultists and abominations, ruthlessly pushing them back. Every guardsman had been killed. What was once a simple repression team had transformed into a ruthless kill machine, press ganging dock workers and metting out the Imperium’s imperfect justice. But now they were dead. Well, all of them except Specialist Tzarka.

Behind the guardsman came the sound of bootsteps on cold plasteel.

“It’s over guardsman,” came the low, harsh voice. “Give it up.”

Tzarka turned, holding his long-las in his hands. Far below he heard the echo of a shotgun blast and the steady chug of a heavy stubber.

“I’m not done here,” breathed Tzarka, dropping the long-las and pulling out his combat knife. He rushed towards the surprised arbite, roaring with rage.

Caught off guard, the arbite tumbled to the ground, taking Tzarka with him. Rolling back and forth on the narrow catwalk, neither could gain the upper hand. Struggling through his teeth, the arbite raged at his opponent.

“You had no jurisdiction! The entire station is awash with blood because of you!”

“We had orders!” gasped Tzarka. “The Admiral told us to lock down the station!”

“No!” shouted the Arbite, “You aren’t the law. . . ”

Rolling to the side, the Arbite kicked at Tzarka, sending him tumbling across the deck. Scrabbling with his fingertips, the guardsman reached for a handhold, but it was too late. Amidst the din and the chaos, guardsman Tzarka fell to his death.

From the catwalk above, a lone arbite bellowed. . .


. . . “I AM THE LAW!”


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