“Bring Hell From The Heavens, For The Throne Of Volk” -motto of the Volk First Royal Airborne as of M31.004

The Volk System is mired in conflict as embers from the Burning of Prospero make their way to its relative sanctuary. A humble standard bearer risks their life to accomplish an impossible task and is rewarded with lifetime service to the Crown of Volk and its soon-to-be wearer, one Freya Foxway. It's a long way to have come for an orphan raised by the proprietor of a bar in the seedier parts of Sokarin, but the gods' favour is always earned and this soldier will not yet reach Valhalla. After all, they still have work to do.

While this is fanfiction for Warhammer 40k/Warhammer: the Horus Heresy (it’s a whole thing ask about it at your own risk), I like to think that prior knowledge of the universe is not required for full enjoyment. If you'd like to learn more about something I mention ask about it in the comments!

Note for Warhammer nerds: this fic does take place during the Horus Heresy, however, I have never read any of the books and I do not intend to. If I commit a lore crime, you are welcome to call me out, but note that I am not bound by the cannon. (For example: I will include female space marines. If you don’t like it then please keep that to yourself! Thanks!)

psst, if you're here for the Mecha tag, you gotta wait until chapter seven.