Archaic Think Chamber

The reason is simple - infantry need to be able to go inside buildings. War aims are frequently found indoors. Powered armor that is too big or heavy to go inside is just a very small vehicle. So when designing your futuristic sci-fi toys, you need to take into account how much weight the average stairs can hold and how wide and tall the doorframes are. The cramped hallways of a space ship during a boarding action will be even more limiting.

This frequently stretches my suspension of disbelief in 40k stories. Perhaps the Imperium's architecture takes into account that an 8-foot tall primaris marine bedecked in Gravis or Terminator armor might pass through, but there is no reason why alien civilizations would make their structures navigable to such giants. If they are aware of Space Marines, they might intentionally construct cities and fortresses to frustrate oversized invaders. Marines would be forced to come in through the loading dock.

Speaking of loading docks, armored vehicles are likewise limited by the roads and bridges of the cities they will be operating in. People and things tend to be in cities, so war aims are almost always inside cities, if not the cities themselves.

It therefore follows that before you can start designing, testing, and manufacturing the equipment you will use to conquer a planet, you need to know where you will be fighting.

This isn't a problem in Dropfleet (where the main invasion targets are conquered human colonies) or Battletech (where architecture is reasonably standardized throughout the Sphere), but again stretches credulity in the diversity of 40k.

@auxryn yes, it's the main foundation of his fighting style established very early in the series:

Me and a bunch of psychos on Tumblr are celebrating the death of some old Roman politician.

The Slayer, they called me then. The Monster of Sentan. I’d killed nineteen people… I remember that number because I was so furious that they stopped me so close to my goal of twenty-one. And I didn’t just kill ordinary people, no, but the Chosen of the Gods. The Great and Good. They were terrified of me. So they locked me away, to die forgotten.

It had been a little less than a hundred years when the king died without heir, and a civil war tore the country apart. When the fighting was all over, the losers were dragged down to the deepest cells under the castle, and the new king and his soldiers stopped and stared at me. “Who… who is this?” he asked, frowning. “Some victim of the usurper?”

People like cooks and jailers and scrubbers don’t change as easily as kings. The same man who’d been bringing me my meals since there was still brown in his hair and beard shuffled forward, hunched and grey now. “No, yer majesty,” he said humbly. “That be a special prisoner, from before the old king died.”

“Special? Special how?” He frowned, moving closer to my cell. “The old king died more than ten years ago. This woman must have been a child then. What could she have done to - “

“Don’t get too close, yer majesty,” the old man said sharply. “That’s the Monster of Sentan… an’ she bites.”

That was true. I do bite.

-site:pinterest.*

Uh…

I mean, there’s not much to consider here, her whole thing is being a human in a world of magical creatures. Humans in D&D are all about being stubborn enough to stand out despite being “not special”. They can do anything they set their minds to it. Plus the human build is much more flexible than any other race in the player’s handbook, even if you pick the variant human with +1 to 2 stats and 1 feat of your choice. D&D humans are adaptable, and I say Luz has adapted to the Boiling Isles pretty well.

If by your question you mean “how to build Luz Noceda in D&D”, that’s a different beast altogether. I’m not by any means an experienced D&D nerd so there might be a better way to do this this, but I think I’d go for either an Evocation Wizard build (elemental spells and all, plus Luz is very smart!), or a Lore Bard for the early Magical Secrets ability (using art instead of music as flavor – check with your DM and all that jazz); I’d probably do both if the character character lives long enough in the campaign. Scores from highest to lowest:

Cha

Int

Dex

Wis

Con (I playing a low Con caster is D&D on hard mode, but Luz is very smart and also a twig of a person. Oof. You should get an Ioun Stone to help here)

Str

This is just off the top of my head, from what I can remember from the Player’s Handbook. I’m sure there’s more builds that can be used to play Luz in D&D in the WotC library, and if there aren’t any homebrewing is always an option.

I forgot the point I was trying to make. What was the question again? Ah yes.

Settlement: Rotbottom

Background & Environment: A goblin fishing hamlet located in the center of a vast and fetid swampland, Rotbottom considers itself to be a haven for outcasts, scoundrels and the unsociably odd. Rotbottom is a ramshackle place, built of salvaged wood and stolen nails, and against all odds operates under a spirit of optimism despite the overwhelming sense of decay. The people there are ramshackle too, the many goblin families accepting and even adopting those found monstrous or maligned by other settlements. 

Mood & Themes: Moral degeneracy and acceptance, the entire settlement is “the wrong side of town”. 

Who’s Hiring:

Despite Rotbottom being ostensibly lawless, someone has to prevent the all the malcontents from terrorizing the innocent fisher folk and instituting some kind of stabbing based hierarchy of thugs. That’s where bugbear Thumbscrews McThunk comes in. Thumbscrews ( or “Screws” to his friends) is the settlements self appointed enforcer of the common good, Maintaining that order in a place like Rotbottom is about three things: 1) Respect, 2) Kindness 3) Gutting anyone who doesn’t respect you alive and hanging them out by their noodly-bits over the dockside to send a message. McThunk has recently been laid up in a brawl with a local gang interested in throwing their weight around and he’s willing to pay the party to do some legwork ( read: kneebreaking) for him. Doing so will not only net the party some coin, but respect around Rotbottom for outsiders such as themselves.

Aside from the goblins and other wretches who trawl the swamp’s waters netting and spearing as they please, the biggest employer in Rotbottom is the Wiggleworm Distillery: an industrious operation that produces a number of uniquely gobbish goods and hawks them all along the waterways of the swamp. Easy to spot by its hook & worm branding and mismatched chimneys belching foul miasmas out over the already polluted lake, the distillery spends each day producing bottles of rotgut, wormwood heavy absinthe , and a surprisingly artisanal selection of spirits distilled from the local root/berry/algae species.  Frozen out by more “respectable” rivals in towns outside the swamp, Wiggleworm is happy supply the players as bootleggers, with the intention of creating a public demand for their products to use as leverage in future trade negations. 

Castigated and exiled after delving into heretical knowledge, an occult scholar has made a begrudging home in  Rotbottom, residing in a skeletal wooden tower as far away from the village’s stink as they can. Willing to trade spellcasting services for coin and civilized comforts, the occultist can also send the party on numerous missions in the hopes of gaining enough power to “make those fools rue the day…. (yada yada)”. Regardless, they pay well, and if their attempts at revenge don’t end up causing the end of days, they’re sure to be entertaining to watch.

Rumors & Goings on:

In an effort to curb street violence (and have something more interesting to bet on) The Rotbottom chamber of commerce has introduced the “Rotbottom Bugball League”, a completely fictitious sports bracket for a competition they made up in the moment. Rules are fluid, but generally involve two (or more) teams trying to move a ball down a dock, jetty or quay that’s been roped off for the event. As if the game needed any more chaotic elements, the ball itself is infact an oversized woodlouse native to the area, which after being thoroughly tenderized by numerous kicks and slams is to be devoured by the victorious team.

Anyone around Rotbottom can tell you that Catfish Cait is the most trustworthy of riverguides. Unlike most who come to the hamlet, Cait isn’t a criminal at all, and simply grew up in the swamp and loves ferrying people through it on her proudly maintained skiff. An old hand at avoiding beasts, robbers, and the shifting banks of the fen, its supprising that Cait hasn’t been seen in some weeks. Folk are starting to worry, as even though they might be a town of cutthroats and outcasts, the people of Rotbottom have hearts, and truly do care for their own.