An Underhive Gang-Banger.

Across the Imperium there are Hive Worlds, each one home to one or more Hives: gigantic mounds of steel and synth stone which reach up into space and produce billions of tons of weapons, vehicles, parts, ammo, and armor for the Imperium's never ending war effort, not to mention millions of new recruits for the imperial guard every year.

Yet there is a darker side to the hive worlds that the Imperium does not acknowledge, The Under-Hive.

Bellow the surface of each hive world lies a seedy sub-culture of , , clannish familial pseudo-aristocracy and crime which feeds off the hive city above and provides only a lawless no-man's-land where those that don't fit in above can disappear, often never to be seen again. Down here, a crew will get you work, guns will help you keep it, and life is cheap but food expensive.

You are a member of one such crew on one such world, perhaps a recent outcast from the hive above, perhaps an old pro at the dance of allegiance and betrayal which makes up the life of an under-hiver. You most likely value these things above all, family, your gang mates, and a stiff drink, but also food and shelter, for it gets cold in the under hive, and down here you can't count on anything remaining available from day to day, not even clean air and water.

Yet, at the same time: there are riches to be made 'down hive': hidden troves of technology from long ago tempt many to try this lifestyle, and there are other sources of wealth for the canny and clever, 'protection' rackets, hunting mutant animals for skins and meat, distilling and selling booze, guiding 'settlers' from up hive through the wastes and badlands, bounty hunting, even 'legitimate' jobs like dross hound and scrap man.

Whatever you're day job you can wield a gun and knife, and you know, as does everyone down hive: you're life is only worth what the Trade Guilds' say it is...