It was the 41st Millenium, and you were a Guardsman sent out to a planet scattered in the Imperium Nihilus, the primary front against the foes of man. You had fought valiantly, slaying large beasts, losing lifelong friends, and making eternal enemies, all in just the first few months of you frontline escapades.

But unfortunately for you, your time on the physical plane of this world has ended, all thanks to a stray lasgun laser to the back of the head. Goddamn rookies... Did they even attend basic training at the Imperium Eschola?! Ah well... No matter for that now... Because your soul was going straight to the Warp...

However, as you were blazing through the hellish plane of souls and Daemons, you felt... A sort of tug on your soul. And that feeling kept coming back, getting stronger and kept coming in with lesser and lesser time between each tug.

And then, without warning... Your soul went down. Well, how you perceived as down. Opening your eyes to your new surroundings, you saw various Deamons... Working? No, wait, not working. Slaving. Everything was extremely hot, evident by the very aggressive fires. You could hear the strangely satisfying clang of metal echo through the environment, paired with the strained grunts of Daemons. Oh... You were in the Soul Forge.

A few months later, you were having a peaceful sleep in a very high-quality bed made by your girlfriend herself. Speaking of...

She suddenly burst through you door, with a small gong held in her hand.

"UPAND AT 'EM ASSISTANT!"

She yelled, making you jolt.

"The Forge ain't gonna manage itself! And I know that you know your presence increases production."

Oh yeah, she was very industrious. Down to her very manner of speaking. Hell, she didn't refer to you as her boyfriend, she liked to call you her "Emmtional Feelings Assistant", whatever that means...