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A lore document currently containing the history of the setting has been added into the OP!
This seems Cool And Fun. I have a freaky alien in mind for this.


Welcome aboard then. I will be attempting to finish the history part of the lore for a separate thread today. Join our discord too.
I need more people with cool glowing eyes/shades in their PFP to join now that we have a possible trend starting B)

Anyways if you have any questions feel free to ask here and in the discord!








Please DM me if you want the discord.


It is 4237 and in the wake of a brutal three and a half year war across the stars, once again only empires remain standing...

Decadent and prideful atop the ruins of their enemies or crumbling and recoiling from the creeping spectre of obsolence.


A fitting summary for what is known as the Reckoning Of Empires. A vast expanse of worlds shattered, forged, and arisen from the aftermath of their brutality serves as a testament to the very cost of their existence. A cost offloaded onto their subjects and those who struggle amidst a new paradigm of interstellar power.

Gouged husks of former glory and burgeoning wealth of captured territories that span across systems define this age of ambiguity. Yet the course of empire creates the mechanisms for its destruction and the cost to be paid is steep and bloody.

From the wreckage of fallen worlds cast off of or revolted against prior masters, the Intranszjednota or simply the Intransigence has arisen as a revolutionary power uniting disparate worlds across the post-imperial spaces. A hegemon forged from the growing contradiction of imperial might, its roots lay in the years leading up to the Reckoning yet as its enemies slaughtered one another, it grew in power and now stands as a formidable entity on the inter-solar stage.



Amidst the ruination of fallen worlds and shattered dreams, you have been summoned to serve as their hidden knife against unsuspecting throats. Among your number insurgents, guerillas, rogue militants, pirates, mercenaries, even the defectors of empires - an unsightly morass of the dishonorable, scattered to the wind by the tides of upheaval and war. Now collected in the hand of the Intransigence, they form a network of hit-squads and deniable operation forces, answering through a fragmented network of communicators to the hidden powers of revolutionary leadership.

As the technocratic Black City Conglomerate, the corporate-expansionist Unified Celestial League, and the aging Yrrkradian Empire heat up their power games, the Intransigence is caught amidst their scheming powers. Yet they are not aware of the envenomed blade grasped in its hands, of which you are now the spearhead and now plunging head first into their hearts.

In a line of work fraught with conspiracy, subterfuge, betrayal, and shifting tides of allegiance,
you are the living embodiment of a hidden war.





Rules and Expectations




It is January 8th, 3860 of the Earth calendar and the Periphery trembles.

From a cluster of systems in its furthest eastern reaches, split by a great expanse, fleets of living mass and angular metal emerge from their resting spots on the boundaries of an emergent alliance. Some are like collections of pointed blades sharpened and pointed towards whatever doubts and ambiguities lay beyond the boundaries of their space, others predatory in appearance with flattened and long bodies overlapping with multiple rows of biometallic carapace armor, resembling the arthropod horrors of some prehistorical era. A massive mobilization is being undertaken, one for which the rumblings have been heard across the surrounding systems for the last two decades.



Normally this might not be particularly concerning. The Orion Sphere Revolutionary Front is not static and technically has had relaitons with many of its surrounding systems even before it was a fully solidfied political entity. Forged from the flames of conquest and resistance to such, its violent past belies its present stability.

This is in contrast to many of the worlds along the strip of Periphery systems past the great gap on which its eastern flank rests. In the epochs since the civil war and barbarian conquest, the peace other factions have enjoyed has not graced these worlds. Years of manipulation by post-Federation and barbarian remnant forces and the structures of power left in their wake have stroked years of violent tensions on and between worlds.

Worlds that in many cases, have seen what happened when that violence is not only unleashed but unified, organized, collectively applied. More importantly, aimed at the necks of those seated in positions of power. The Federation and its barbarian foe may be gone, but to many of these systems both were two different boots on a whole multitude of their own necks. When the Front retaliated with thousands of spears from a myriad of species, many of them started to get similar ideas.

Across the northern and southern flanks of the periphery, massive fleets of military vessels accompanied by large civilian vessels sweep into systems ridden with wars of decolonization, independence, and other forms of internal strife. As the outer edges of ex-Federation space are inflamed with violent conflict, one of its dominant regional powers moves in. Sympathetic militant-guerilla movements and governments notice - some with caution, others with elation.

The Front is cautious not to move too far northwards - it has not yet standardized any relations with The Kingdom of the Periphery. Neither faction has spoken with one another much, yet it is not uncommon for many of the war-ridden worlds between them to sometimes have a notable element of OSRF support. Whether from militant cells and separatist armies bearing the revolutionary ideologies and symbolism of the Front, to reports of "unmarked militants" of notable discipline and skill fighting among their numbers, it is an open secret that the Revolution of their namesake is not one that sits within their own borders.

Just as notable is the large fleet moving westwards, passing between not just the Kingdom but also the Aeronian Hegemony. The worlds between both are being explored, contacted, and the presence of trade flotillas suggests a more stable form of interaction. Yet most unusual is the fleet that moves through the rift splitting the Periphery from the rest of the region.

In this void where strange and unearthly things dwell, OSRF vessels are spotted traveling alongside what seem initially like dead husks of destroyed vessels.

Dead husks that twitch and move, warping to the sight and bristling with living carapace and bioluminescent scales beneath their blasted iron exteriors. Where they are exactly heading and for what purpose is difficult to distinguish. All that can be determined is that they are moving on a curving southward path, one that may stop them at the borders of the Ascendancy (if that is even their goal).

How hard are we talking?
Is there still room to join? When is this RP going to start? I might want to see how it rolls in action before committing but I am getting interested.
Rho-Hux had taken the lead as he swung into the treetops, swallowed by the cluttered bramble above and the thick shadows cast into the undergrowth the rest of the team crept and trundled. The day was not a bright one and the sunlight that did peek through had a faint, almost silvery colour to it as it peeked through the dense leaves. The ground below was its own maze but the treetops could not be said to be any better. Branches overlapped branches, bushy clusters of fuzzball like flowers competed for the thin beams of light, and dense moss and creeping vegetation colonizes where any rot on wood crept. Progress might be faster through such a path but the treacherous nature of the Sprawls spared through from its obfuscating grasp.

Traveling through the trees, a particular sensation began to creep and tug at the geatirocht’s senses. Like a faint electrical current that was woven through the air, the residual ether from the howitzer swamped the region around the heavy weapon’s firing pit, densest on the ground as Silver, Paris, and Zsresrinn moved through. Mere tendrils as opposed to the enveloping heat-wave like miasma occupied the upper levels of the wood, whispering the un-logic driven nonsense of the Abzu into quiet, unsuspecting corners of the mind. Below, the afterwash effect was fading but the three-person team, quiet as they were, would not be able to shake the feeling of the seeping, skin-crawling otherworldly power washing over them.

It was thick enough that Silver’s cloaking system was starting to gather it across his body. Invisible to sight but he would be able to feel it clinging to his armour – patches of piercing cold that dug into the skin and seemed to hum to his head. His armour naturally shielded him, even as the ether in the air slowly waned, but his cloaking system might not shroud him as much as he thought.

To anyone with sufficiently advanced scanning modules for their visors, it would appear that clumps of supernatural waste byproduct were gradually concentrating around an unseen, indefinite shape. That is not what the enormous creature on the ground noticed first however.

From his perch up high, Rho-Hux would be able to see the enormous predator – low to the ground like a crocodile slithering slowly, its gnarled arms thickening with bony outgrowths and muscle past the elbow as a squirming leech-like creature feebly thrashed against the leaves and the dirt. Gaseous hissing exited its tendril-lined maw, slithering head and serrated paddle tail writhing angrily against rows of interlocking triangular teeth slowly soaking in the blue-green of its blood. It was a large beast, not as dense as Zsresrinn but its body long and streamlined with powerful, brutish muscle and clustered of bony armour-like growth, like some enormous semi-reptilian creature.





The gealtirocht remained unseen to the creature as its attention turned towards the largest member of the party - Zsresrinn. For a split second, its jaws froze and its long tail with its four gore-drenched tips would rise over it almost snakelike, flickers of flashing red membrane around its four tooth-like prongs flashing at the approaching vrexul. Slowly it began to drag itself backwards, audibly scraping across the leaves and roots as the mechanical clunking of Paris neared.

Subtly, movement could be seen in the bushes. A scent unlike the raw and dry earthiness of the plough-head, wet and slimy like the creature trapped in its jaws. If she or the others could scan the foliage opposite to the plough-head, it was clear that its captive had not been abandoned. Clusters of quiet and creeping leafslithers lay hiding and still, their sickle like claws scraping against the ground as eyeless faces watched the grim spectacle play out before them. The dense ether in the air had marked them out, painting their skin in hues of light blue and yellow that those touched by the Abzu could easily see even through the miasmatic fog.

Were they frightened or were they enraged? They were not leaving one way or the other.

To the plough head, the Sect team wasn’t a random encounter – these were predators every bit as savage in tooth and claw as any dweller of the forest deep. The meat in its mouth, small as it was, remained its brutal livelihood; the iron-giant that stomped behind the enormous arthropod made it clear these two were in league with one another. It could feel a third, its void-receptive sensory glands detecting a shrouded presence causing its frill-plates around its head and neck to rise.

A deep, sonorous growl began to emerge from its throat, drowning the cries of its victim. Like a faulty heating unit it groaned, morphing ominously into a phlegmy, dragging growl. Too deep to merely be emerging from its mouth but radiating from its heavy body as its tail’s pincer grips grated across tree bark and its mid-limbs gripped into the dirt. It might be stepping back but with its hind legs coiled and tensed, there was no telling how it might react.

This prompted rustling in the leaves above, subtle but unheard amidst the plough head’s defensive response. Rho-Hux would hear the movements then see the leaves shift a few feet ahead of him. More leafslithers – slender bodies snaking through the clutter of branches and leaves, positioning themselves above and around the far larger predator below. One of them rose its head and froze. It did not need eyes for the gealtirocht to tell that it was looking his way, frozen still as if by command as its compatriots paused, hesitating at the sight of an unexpected presence up in the tree tops with them.

As this was ongoing, the surviving drone, re-entering the control range of Zsresrinn, had slowly hovered over the nearby hill. Image quality from the somatic link was erratic but not beyond salvation, even as it neared where the concentration was at its deepest. Sight of the insurgent howitzer pit was achieved – a deep wide depression in the earth, dug into the top of the hill and flattened out with wooden panels and morphic fungal planks. It was quite wide and large, connected to what appeared to be a small shack of some sort, quickly made with rapidly grown and maintain tarrhaidim biomass padding and infested plasteel, sporting a series of small antennae emerging from its slanted rooftop. A few trenches could be spotted around the sides that stretched off across the elevated ground to defensive positions, collapsed tents as well further to the heart of the emplacement.

The centrepiece however was the void-howitzer itself. The pit was deep enough to support this enormous, semi-cylindrical monstrosity. Its barrel had square-like protrusions apart of a normally cylindrical frame, lined with specialized ether-filtering grates that stopped an inch or so short of its wide mouth. Pointed prong-like appendages stretched out from a few inches behind, stopping over its top and lightly glowing in the dim aftermath of its recent burst. Energy modulation and projectile shaper attachments – high end equipment innocuous at first but capable of turning mere high explosive globs fired from a single charge to a hellish rain of smaller, rapidly launched shells. High tech equipment – a fairly recent invention but not the sort that typically ends up in insurgent hands.

Before the drone slipped away, it could tell that the small artillery position was on alert. A tall, powerful celaderaka encased in metal-laced carapace growled something out and a few tarrhaidim troopers got off of the artillery platform, leaving its computer systems and targeting attachments in exchange for picking up their bioelectric auto-rifles. Two more celaderaka were seen – unlike their leader hefting along what seemed to be an autocannon-derived battle rifle, these two had large and sickle-like blades attached over their left shoulders and dark green camo-patterned armour. Heavy duty shotguns were slung over their shoulders as they cackled and spoke – one of them had a bandolier of heavy duty slugs on his chest, the sort that you didn’t use for hunting, not game animals anyways.

A group of humans, roughly 12 or so, could be seen, lightly armoured by comparison (reconnaissance or security type armour, little augmentation capability) and with smaller calibre older generation rifles. Most were sitting in a circle around the artillery piece at the bottom of the pit and draped in sweat. A few were popping qillatu-diminisher pills or running checks on the still hot, smoking supernatural howitzer. Around where they were mostly concentrated were a few crates with a peculiar symbol on them – a U-shaped magnet with red and blue tips with a bullet piercing through its lowest end. A few of them were eating some sort of nutrient paste-gruel and one with a notably advanced looking visor, League tech by the looks of it, was moving over to the shed.

The growl from the plough-head had caught their attention and just before Zsresrinn’s drone vanished, the four tarrhaidim troopers had crept up over the top, rifles raised as they began to slowly advance down the hilltop. The heavy Kevlar like armour they wore and the exoskeletal servos across their arms and legs made it clear they could move quickly and hit hard if they wanted. Yet sharp as they were, the foliage was still thick enough they hadn’t caught sight of the standoff happening down below.

Given by the size of their rifles and the quiet, professional way they moved from cover to cover, always having one keep an eye out as the other three moved, it was clear it might not be long before they approach. The plough head seemed to notice but it had stopped, frozen in place, huffing coming from behind its jaws as it began to realize what was happening.

The window of opportunity was starting to diminish for the Sect team. Would they take the initiative, fall back, conceal themselves?
It took a few seconds for the humungous arthropod to detect two other presences. Soon he chipped into the com channel to get Frost on the line.

He hadn't seen the skala at first; not with his own senses. With his drones, his sensory perception wasn't relegated to his own body but distributed across multiple smaller ones, linked to the central nexus of his own conscious perception. He smelled, heard, and saw what they saw like a thousand eyes inside of his own linked to a brain already used to controlling multiple limbs, bodily organs, augmentative parasites and other such components with a precision at once naturalistic and borderline mechanistic.

"Vazyrin here. Skala group detected. Around 12 of them, no firearms. A click or so away from our position. I cannot tell if they are here to scavenge or if they are a territorial patrol. That's not all."

His drones had picked up another signature; something like a faint tingle on their waving, whispy antennae. This wasn't a scent but a strange tingling that was almost electric. Elecromagnetic in particular.

"There's something else - the pilot has gone to investigate it. I can't detect it properly from here with the atmospheric conditions however. Some sort of electronics. Someone ask them whatever it is they've made contact with."

Normally, he would have gone and told the skala to stay clear. He'd been among their kind before and this planet was not unfamiliar to him. It was a good place to hide away from Federation patrols and the locals understood that.

The problem was that getting up meant giving his positions away and with an unidentified, potentially hostile presence in the clear, that meant making himself a target in an area with poor cover and visibility.

"I can try to contact the skala through my drones. Maybe I can stall them or we can work out an agreement. What's your call?"
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