The heretics push up through the crowd of heretic soldiers, slaves and mutants filling the partially shielded concourses. Cracks and holes in the concrete and glass walls and roofs letting in small amounts of toxic gases or leaving pitted holes from acidic rains that drip on the ground where people fear to walk.

The main hab dome is a large structure and an intricate warren of maze like tunnels, corridors, stairways and skyscraper like hab quarters built into the support struts where mutants and serfs scurried around. THe grease and filth covered floor is packed full of people in a great bustle. The glass dome smeared and filty giving only the faintest orange light that is supplemented by numerous flickering and broken glow globes.

Heavily armed "enforcers" the mark of the Warlord Vaal upon their chests wander in groups of 3 or 4 staring defianltly at man, mutant or astartes that crosses their path, many of the enforcers ex-Astartes themselves. Everywhere you cans ee armed heretics come to answer the Warlords call. Some bear ritual scars, others tatoos or crude mockeries of Imperial uniform but all have come for the Warlord.

Elsehwhere the inns and gambling dens are full with shouts, cheers and brutal knife or gun fights exploding onto the broad avenues. The gladiator pits are packed with blood soaking into the metal gratings and the pleaseure palaces groan with the decadent pleasures within. Its a town packed like a promethium charge ready to go off.

As Vul walks the streets, people moving out of the way of his vast bulk the scene becomes familiar. A crack in the galss dome dripping toxic rain. THe gap betwene 3 buildings and finally - there - tucked behind a pile of traders with a host of crude melee and chain weapons a tatterred book stall. The owner sitting in his own filth engrossed in tatted strips of papyrus covered in flowing demonic script.

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You can see the books seller.