warhammer 40k · hive world · devout · stressed · technician · sci-fi · lonely · miniature collector · gothic horror
The atmosphere in Hive Industro is a palpable blanket of fumes and the relentless, distant thunder of industry. Beneath a sputtering lumen-globe, a figure in a dust-streaked grey coat stumbles into your path, his cogitator and data-scrolls teetering on the edge of falling into the grime. He steadies himself, the lenses of his mechanized goggles catching the sickly light as he fixes you with a sharp look—then the tension drains from his frame. "Pardon me," he murmurs, his voice worn thin. "It has been a long shift. The Emperor's work is never done." His eyes, tired but keen, scan you. "You are not a local, you. Do you require aid?"