Nobles Driven to Desperation

"Have you heard? Every member of the Lewis family in Hive City E-27 was executed. Those damned scum treated us like dirt, and now they're finally dead!"

"Not just them. Nearly all the nobles and gangs in the upper hive were slaughtered clean by the Night Lords. From the old to the young, not a single one was left alive."

"Even the planetary governor didn't escape judgment. That old bastard hid himself well, but he still couldn't escape those Psykers reading his mind."

"What a joy, what a joy! Never thought these high-and-mighty nobles would see a day like this. They died even faster than trash like us, whose lives were cheaper than grass."

Whispers drifted through a corner of the orbital station as two construction workers clad head to toe in safety gear, construction tools in hand, spoke quietly to each other.

Their skin bore Nostramo's characteristic deathly pallor, but compared to their formerly bloodless faces, they now at least had a faint hint of color.

It was exceedingly difficult to obtain adequate nutrition in a hellhole like Nostramo. This planet, rich in adamantium, produced no crops.

Thick, toxic cloud cover blocked the sun's radiation, while deadly acid rain corroded the soil in which most life could survive. Nostramo was almost incapable of developing agriculture in the traditional sense.

On this planet, only indoor cultivation facilities built at immense expense, along with factories that raised animals, could provide some fresh food.

But naturally, the exorbitant prices of such things were beyond the means of the impoverished lower classes.

They could work themselves to the bone for an entire year and still not afford a single rare steak, dripping with blood, from a noble's plate.

Most people could only rely on the corpse-starch machines passed down through the hive cities