Once a relatively populous world, the ravages of the Great Rift have left it a pale shadow of its former self. Imperial contact with the governing aristocracy of the world has been sporadic at best since the emergence of the Cicatrix Maledictum. For the general populace the Imperium is a half-remembered curiosity; in some quarters public records have been tampered with to deliberately alter collective memory. Communication with small settlements at the edge of the larger cities is regularly lost. What scant word that makes it back is full of superstition and fear. Maddened survivors speak of strange lights appearing at night and leaving nought behind but empty homes and dust.