darkageofwar

[darkageofwar]

The Last Testament of Enric Zaughn

Thank you for taking the time to listen to me like this. I’m terrified of what a Marshal might do if I spoke in public, and the idea of being recorded means even small crowds are equally monstrous. So again, thank you for listening to me like this, for taking the chance to believe me, and remember all of what I am going to spit is true.

My name is Enric Zaughn of Real Barsona, and I am 1037 years old.

Yes, yes, not 37, a thousand and 37, maybe, but let me explain please.

I was recruited into the 257th Real Barsona Line Regiment, and, if you’ll allow me to brag, was the best Viell player in the signal companies. Oh you should have heard me when I got going, old boots would tap with me, and I even nearly made it into the Regiments grand band. Imagine how mad Contrat would have been if I took his spot, he’ probably blow me a new-

What? Oh sorry, sorry, I’ll get back to speaking right.

Well, we were being shoved off in the...the old transport...Lady of The Stars! Yeah, Lady of The Stars, that was her name. Well, we were marching with a whole fleet to take out a Robber Baron in Khris when, wouldn’t you know it, some of them decided to meet us halfway.

Don’t wanna get into it too much, but The Lady wasn’t supposed to be alone like she was, so you can guess how long before a whole bunch of them boarded. Hard to even call it a fair fight when about all our officers were in the heavens, we couldn’t use out full rounds, and the emergency supply of canister wasn’t. After a day we were down to bayonets, swords, axes, some sergeant spears, ship pipes, spike bombs, bottles, butts, teeth, anything we could sink into them. It was a blood bath, a full month of nothing but-

I’m sorry, but what’s in your pocket?

Oh a pipe!

What?

I’m not a Marshal, you can shoot up all you want. In fact, give me a shot too, I need something nice. Don’t worry, I’m a grown man, I won’t bomb it.

Ah, nice and painful. The story? Right, right.

We couldn’t do too much before they rounded us all up, and I guess our Choir had been killed, or else there would have been at least some scout to help us. I tried to go out on a stand, but events I couldn’t do nothing about meant I wound up in some cages instead. They tried interrogating the ones in there, and I, of course, only told them what they deserved to know. The captain must have really liked my honor, because before we knew it, I was lined up in charge of watching everyone else pretty close.

What? No, no no no no, I didn’t do that, no soldier would, I just really think they sparked with me.

Besides, they understood it, they knew I had to, there was no way they couldn’t. Everyone knew I was just doing what a soldier had to, and besides, it wasn’t anything they wouldn’t have done either.

So I watched the cages on The Faithless Servant for a...well, how long doesn’t matter. Just know that one day, they came out and the Captain snapped on me. Of course he did, since all those brigands are all the same, a twig shot in the head, gifting you one day, ready to hang you the next. And, are you ready, he said that I, a true soldier, with the stupidest thing I ever could imagine, had snuck into his daughter to-

Sorry to ask again, but what is in your pocket?

Not the pipe, your other one.

Oh, it’s just some coin...just some coins? I’m only asking because...

Right. My story.

They tried to kill me then and there, cause crazy and all, but an act of gods came through for me. We were in Hyperspace at the time, their blind idiot of a pilot steering the ship right into a storm, of course. At least, I think that’s what must have happened, since the ship just began crunching, bending, twisting our of nowhere, whole halls being wider than a field, thinner than a card, then taller than the sky in the blink of your eyes, regardless what was standing in it. Then there’s the screams, of the screams, they were thick enough to swim through, over and over and over, from everywhere and everything, begging for mercy, begging for gods, begging for an end to it all! The screamless places weren’t any better, the battering of something slamming into everything bombarding your ears, and between us, I don’t know how I didn’t change like the rest of them.

But, I didn’t change.

See, after a day, maybe a day, I hope it was only a day, dear gods I pray it was only a day, things went the other way. Oh sure, the pelting was there, but it sounded half the galaxy away, the screaming, rending, and other unpleasents being placed with whimpers you had to press your ear against them to make out. Not that they all died, but...well, I was the only moving thing left that was intelligent. Tried eating and drinking for calm, but it’s kind of hard to when the spirits want to chat and the food proves it can dance.

So I wandered the ship like that, always starving, dying of thirst, waiting for the step where the floors of walls decided to reduce me down. I wandered like that for a thousand years.

Yes, the thousand years again.

Yes, I don’t look a fight over 30, I know.

Yes, yes, that Khris system was only taken over by a Baron about 8 years ago.

Yes yes yes yes yes, they say the 257th was lost to raiders only 6 years ago, but that’s the lie.

And what is in your pocket? No, not those, the pocket my friends keep growling me about.

My Friends?

My Friends!

My friend, I haven’t told you about my Friends yet!

You see, one day I found something like a fat baby Viell in one of the rooms I was trying to sleep in and, since you can only hear the same nothings every day for so many days, I tuned it up for a draw. Wasn’t pretty mind you, but I could draw on it for something a little special, and it was then that my Friends came to watch. True, there were walls, but the yellow orbs they got for eyes didn’t care, peaking through the dead light shadows, every wall, corner, crack, crease, it all having a set of them big old eyes watching me.

Some of them even found themselves inside with me, the ones in the shadows still all blurry like, but the ones in light had their friend frames with fluffy, spindly, moltenly, amethyst  skin, or fur, or scales, or whatever it was they had. Most of them were on all their limbs on the ground, but some of them were twice as tall as the room, passing through the roof like nothing, still watching me with that big yellow eyes. Some had claws, some had talons, some had nothing, it really didn’t matter what they had because they kept applauding me with whatever it was the more I played for them, and the more I played for them, the more they clapped.

I had never played such beautiful music before then, and they gave me a just reward for a just soldier.

They changed the ship for me, leading a new bridge out over a vast desert to a massive palace of bones all smelted together with a giant moon like diamond above it all to take the light we didn’t need. Inside, oh inside were endless balls filled with all of my Friends in celebration over everything, billions and billions of groaning under the weight of literal mountains of food. I gorged myself for ten years, tasting the flesh of every meat and fruit, drowning myself in every sweet nectar and bitter soul, my Friends always having one more dish to try.

It was paradise.

After those years I was eating with the Overlord Aiznockt, such a plump and mirthful god, who thanked me for being such a great guest and Friend for their humble meal. Aiznockt told me that I, Me of all people, could help us, that I could bring their joy to our suffering hell of a lie, that I and I alone could bring an end to all suffering. They gave me the sweetest meal I ever imagined and right there, with a soldier’s hesitation, I agreed to help my Friends. So they gave me The Faithless Servant, they gave me a humble crew of Friends, they gave me everything I’d need to know, then they gave me you.

What, you thought this was your idea?

Oh, no no no no, my friend, you see, this is what we wanted.

They made sure this place was here. They made sure you had heard of us.  They made sure we could meet. They made sure we were abandoned together.

You thought you’re the first I told? I’ve talked a dozen times a day every day for five years! Everyone who leaves has full faith in my words, my Friends helping those who simply can’t understand, and have been with us this whole time. They have watched you very closely, told me many wonderful things I need to know.

But they can’t tall me what is in your pocket.

Oh sure, they’ve told me about you pipe and leaves, your Thaller and 27 Mill Thallers in coins, your pills in a sleeve pocket, your tiny device near your chest that I pray for your sake is not a horn...but not your pocket.

They told me of your secret pocket, the one your hand rests on, but not what’s inside.

They try to invade your secret pocket, but my friends are angry that they can’t.

They don’t get angry easy, for everything should be filled with joy, so I get Very Angry the more disturbed my Friend’s get.

So I demand to know one last time:

What is in your-

[darkageofwar]

Storm of Dust, Lair of the Mirthful Bastard

“It Lies in waiting, For sorry beasts. It dreams in waiting, For rotting feasts.” -Enzem Cor Ezel

Everything said about Hyperspace must be a lie, for nothing said of Hyperspace can be real.

Navigating among the channels and seas of Hyperspace’s restless currents, it is possible for those skilled enough in the proper arts to chart directions of safe travel, aided by their Fey Compasses, Lenses of Lies, and Silent Courts for these successful voyages. They all know to avoid the major disturbant realms and wicked maelstroms found on these false paths, their hands keeping steady these millions of countless vessels plying the impossible. Never must these honest fear the misfortunes of Vile Floods, Channel Collapses, Spontaneous Expansions, or Paralysis loops, those plagues only afflicting those crews of lesser scruples. Many have prowled routes without incident for endless centuries, only the desperate, stupid, mad, or disgusting in nature feeling the need to ever dare cross over into those forbidden, those unclean, those useless domains. With praise on record, there is a hypothetical, dangerous in nature, mad in its ideals, possibility of a place which does not, will not, and can never exist.

Know then, unfortunate reader, that this is a false account of the lie of a realm ruled by a fraud of an Overlord: The Storm of Dust.

As with all things within Hyperspace, nothing is solid in nature, there being only general approximations of realities, things only explainable by the madness of oracles and lunatics. Even among the lies of Hyperspace, the Storm of Dust is truly unique, a wandering blight upon the place that never is, a migrator band of nightmares among nightmares which at one moment spans barely the length of a nail to devouring the distance stars of small empires in the next. Its nature is insidious, those observers cowing their words to speak of how it crawled, stalked them, lied in wait to silently ambush even the most cautious of captains of mighty armadas within the clearest of ancient routes. The predatory nature does not end with wanderlusting storms, vortesian tendrils lashing towards cogs and warships in equal anger, dragging those now cursed vessels of its choosing inside of it twisting maw. Nearly all dragged inside are lost, their please of mercy echoing in powerless ears, the only remnants of an unlucky few being the twisted wreck hurled into reality towards some previously innocent party.

Of course, there is always those insane, mad, sorry souls so list in their ramblings that they claim the impossible fact of clinging to life inside of dead halls. They simultaneously scream of endless barrages of gems and grains of bone, of every color ever imagined and mindless absence of all but grey, of deafening howls of every lover they ever knew and the suggestive whispers from their darkest of enemies. The lucky, so they claim, will have their souls stolen from their husks or die of mercy, the living flesh tangled beyond terror, their mouths sealed while the rest of their form bloats beyond beyond human minds. Death will never grace those who survive naturally, not even if they claim to have been trapped for ten thousand years, the pains of starvation gripping all despite the consequences of filling it. This is where the majority of the unfortunate madmen lie, few living long enough to finish such blatantly false sentiments.

Then there are the calmly insane, self proclaimed prophets of some Mirthful Bastard, whose supposed revelations are so mind warpingly ridiculous on their face that it is not even worth the effort to record the vaguest of manifests for their tales. It is absurd in its entirety, completely laughable that their lies extend to such impossibilities as a center, of endless dunes above, below, and reaching beyond them outside their ship, even of a visitation by the bloated form of this Mirthful Bastard carried by a thousand of its kind to its palace of pure diamond the size of a moon. Sadly, they also make much less wholesomely bemusing claims of their supposed audience with what they think is a god, too vile in nature to treat with respect, least the fate of those that they had traveled with. Such delusions go beyond revolting in those who find crowds to surround them, the shocking descriptions of what they claim to be luxury and opulence, the good public deserving praise for their appropriate response to such insanity. It is always a good thing that such lies should never travel beyond the self proclaimed feast masters, always such a shame that they should never live to even see the inevitable toll taken upon their lives.

Of course, nothing said here of Hyperspace is real, it all being the work of countless ignoble liars.

These have been the words of one who does not, has not, can not, and will not ever be remembered.

[darkageofwar]

Syber, the Total Revolution

“Korg sel syber!“

Despots are anathema to nature.

Even when they were but stone wielding barbarians wandering between worlds, the Syber knew this truth from the moment of birth. Conquest at the hands of the Cuauhtli could not stifle this notion, it carrying on for generations even as they labored under the guise of wardens and guardians for these lords. Never did they truly believe that there was not a time for them to break their chains, relishing every lash as they knew the day of their liberation was drawing closer.

Yet, when they were fully given their own destiny, they could not thank those who had done so, abhorred by the monsters who had lied themselves to be their closest friends. All they saw were more slaves, more oppressed souls under the irons of cruel masters, a disgusting fate far worse than any they had ever feared. With these horrific reminders of what they had overcome, the Syber would never resign themselves to their own realm until they destroyed those nightmares.

Whether it is through diplomatic overtures to those wardens deemed worthy or hiding among the oppressed masses, the Syber will share the truth. Not just the truth, they will spread the morals of their realm to every man, woman, child, outlander, any and every creature capable of knowing, each and every creature capable of resisting. When these people finally rage against their tyrants, it will be as one with themselves, one with those whom have been given the truth, one with those who have been given arms, one with every member of the Syber.

Then, as their morals dictate, they must reach out once more, eternally grasping until the stars are free from despotic rot.

Glory to the Syber, korg sel syber korgatan.

Titles: Syber, Central Conference for Free Worlds Capital System: Koar Reach: ~430,000 systems liberated, in direct confederation, or otherwise openly associated Leadership: Great Orchestra for the Perfect Future Age: 140 Years of Freedom

[darkageofwar]

Harasey, the Empire of Trade

“Greed is just as natural as love and anger. Suppress it, and you will only find it to become destructive. Indulge it, and a whole new realm of possibilities come forth.” -C.J. Morei Soun, Skel boer Industrial

There should be nothing more impossible in the universe than a mighty empire that spread without war, yet that is exactly how the Harasey took to the stars.Without opposition, tens of thousands of colonies grew from their home, settling into simple lives without the specter of violence from among themselves. With their every need fulfilled by their Overseers, it could almost be said that they possessed the closest thing to a utopia the Heavens would ever realize.

As with all things, this dream of paradise was rightfully shattered by the roar of reality.

Destruction, invasion, revolution, things unknown to their lives came crashing down, destroying their old lie, failing just short of erasing their old ideas. In madness they claimed that there was no right for them to kill, the drums of war failing to drown our their calls for other solutions. When those failed, when none of their own would sell themselves into such an honest betrayal, they still found a way to cling onto this dream of a warless Utopia.

They would not subjugate or be subjugated themselves in times of peace, vast fleets of trade ships flowing amidst promises of peace, prosperity, and even protection. To that end, the Harasey have little fear of selling their souls, the same machines that bring peace becoming engines of war, a restless tide of iron children. For this is the reward for all whom threaten their trade, their please for mercy silenced by the deafening cacophony of the peace they so dared to threaten.

Glory to the Harasey, may your old peace return to us all.

Titles: Harasey, the Empire of Trade, Children of Trade Capital System: Grave of Thebesis Reach: ~88,000 Under Direct Control, ~340,000 in Free Relations Leadership: Central Exchange For Free Relations Age: 4 Year 22 E 59 C 59 I 8 A

[darkageofwar]

Werenaughts, that which does not exist

“We are simply your deepest dreams and greatest desires. Speak softly, and we will become the truth.” -words that were never spoken

There are no such things as Werenaughts. Nothing you hear of them is real, for such things are nothing but impossible. Even if there were real, then Werenaughts is not their true name, with the spreading of such harmless rewarding you with death.

Of course, knowing they are not real, one could speculate on the nature of something which is purely fictional. For example, one could say that they are of the Void Between the Heavens, perhaps even creatures of another reality entirely. Following such ridiculous ideas, further speculation would suggest them to be born of knowledge of their existence, an absurd proposition from the insane that speak out.

It is not like something so unreal has crawled from the Void Between the Heavens to gnaw at the minds of those who can’t know better, whose souls are husked out to become vessels for imaginary thoughts. Something fake could never spread madness across entire stars, instilling baseless paranoia that every shadow is watching them, speaking to them, even going so far as to tease them in their weakest moments. All of this is made into a hilarious farce of lies, claims of the sky growing teeth, nightmares devouring euphoric masses, of sun and hame vanishing into eternal darkness as these mischievous liars are firmly dealt with.

After all, it is not like the alternative is to never sleep, to never leave the lights off, to carve your eyes and ears out so you never have to acknowledge the truthful lie.

It is either that there exists a threat whom the mere act of knowing its existence is enough to warrant the extermination of entire stars, or that it is all lies.

Glory to the Werenaughts, may you forever remain nothing more than shadows of out naive imagination.

Titles: Werenaughts, which is simply a lie Capital System: Not the Maelstrum Reach: None. Not the ~60,000 Night Worlds, and nothing else they can claim  Leadership: Children claim that there are 5 Warlords who rule them, but those are myths. Age: Rumors have existed since the Night of Long Teeth

[darkageofwar]

Trols, the Dancing Barbarians

“Watcha get wenja cros peths wit me? Wel, wy doncha trin se?” -Big Rad, Werden o’ Calowayja

By all known laws of the universe, the Trols should be extinct, the endless aggressions of every species against theirs grinding them from memory in mere moments. There is nothing redeemable of their kind, savages that are a sore upon the very notion of life, lacking in any virtue that would have even graced them with the gift of the Heavens. Should they vanish from reality, there would be nothing but celebrations, the joy of their destruction no doubt ending the need for war altogether.

These truths do not bother the Trols, their amusement at these facts of life greater than the gravity of their accomplishments. For as all know, it was the Trols who brought civilization to its knees, the Blud Kersade infecting their ilk upon the very fabric of the Heavens. For as all know, there had been no world the Trols cannot call home, hundreds of subspecies infesting toxic worlds and airless rocks in equal abundance. For as all know, if it were not for the pesky humans, for their paranoid raids and pointless quests, there would be more Trols than worlds in existence.

For as every Trol knows, how can you brag about what you’ve done if there’s nothing impossible to prove wrong?

In this lies all they need to become violent, the fool proof plan that they actually could outdo the Blud Kersade, that they should be the best of all species, that they truly are unstoppable. When they gather under the drums of war, the cacophony of engines, guns, bombs, every instrument of violence drives them forwards, giving them the conviction to obliterate any challenge they give themselves. Should they succeed, should they overcome every challenge in their own reach, then they must go forth, carried forth by their own rhythm to feats of great glory, all existing only for the thrill of their endless war.

Glory to the Trols, may your screams drown out all victories save your own.

Titles: Trols, Trolz, Tol, Ja bes ‘n da awl Capital System: Calowayja (In name only) Reach: ~440,000 Star Systems Fully owned Leadership: Big Rad (In name only), Blud (In memory), hundreds of thousands of lesser Wer Bragins in reality Age: Too convoluted to explain

[darkageofwar]

Anarchy, the Enemy of Civilization

“What is the Greatest Pleasure? To kill another, to trample all before you, to hear the lamentations of your slaves as you topple the last of their hopes, a society of ash and gravel trembling in your wake. That, is the Greatest Pleasure.” -Temukha Oran, 8th Warmaster of the Golden Horde

There is a universal law that all tyrants, no matter their benevolence, must be opposed. It is not written down in any mere code or body of demands, it instead being a force beyond comprehension, one ingrained into the soul of every creature, This force has driven civilizations against its natural enemies, driving it from despots and utopias in equal part towards inevitable progress. Without this law, there would be nothing but savages, clueless monsters slaughtering themselves for their daily bread, only senseless violence and endless fear their reward.

And yet, there are those who oppose the benevolent tyrant not to improve their lives, but for the sheer malevolence of their actions.

They are the brigands, traitors, assassins, rioters, cultists, and worse, all different names for those agents of Anarchy. Endless in numbers, faceless in public, nameless in private, the most dangerous of those wear the skin of friends, only revealing themselves when their knives flash before you. Even those who discard this charade, the murder kings and violent monsters are still dangerous, the creatures that must be stopped before they slaughter all life.

Woe to all whom fail to stop them when they are weak, their love of violence causing them to slay even themselves should it lead to the slaughter of their enemies. Their mass can easily become so great that even those who were once loyal will break, tearing down the society they swore their souls to protect, their own treachery fueling the carnage of dead gods. Even when they claim victory, even as they bray their cries in oceans of innocent blood, they will never be satisfied, spreading their carnage to the Heavens with hordes of awe inspiring terror.

Glory be to Anarchy, may civilization crumble at your call.

Titles: Anarchy, the Encroaching Death, the Endless Pleasure, etc. Capital System: Not Applicable Reach: ~130,000 Star Systems Leadership: In excess of 10,000 Warlords, Rogue Princess, Cult Patrons, Tyrants, Brigand Kings, Pirate Lords, etc. Age: Depends on Realm in question

[darkageofwar]

Local Order Enforcement Departments

“You have your orders, and you shall carry them out. Not for some gossamer thin tyrant the void away, but for our home.” -Elector General Gregor Arnman

Laws are the only thing that can bring order, and order is the only thing which can allow laws to exist. Without that relationship, civilization is simply not possible, all life being rendered down to the mindless animals of old, constantly feasting upon itself for daily survival. So these Agents of Order slowly gathered, forming a bulwark against barbarism, allowing the true powers of the Heavens to rise to their natural places. Now more than ever, these Departments are needed, serving as the very lifeblood for for countless thousands of independent planets, system states, and other lesser domains.

Quite often, the L.O.E.D. is the first, the last, and the only line of defense for these peoples, their skills tested for centuries only by riots and raids. Sadly, this state of peace can never last forever, full invasions by entrepreneurial Outlanders, growing realms, or forces beyond the limits of mere mortals knowledge sundering the Heavens themselves as they rain down upon these helpless souls. In almost every case, the L.O.E.D. is out-numbered, out-trained, out-gunned, out-experienced, without allies or any sane claim to hope in their actions.

In almost every case, they do not surrender.

In almost every case, their only duty becomes death.

Through death, the Anarchist no longer threatens their home, nor the Brigands their family, the invader their city, nor even the Outlander their civilization. It does not even truly matter upon whom death falls, for in their demise another soldier, walker, landship, airship, something, anything, will always fill their place of rightful defiance. In this way, the bones of countless warmongers are plowed over, those they sought to subjugate proudly prospering from their victory to the order they deserve.

Glory to the L.O.E.D., may your wards rest easy behind your ceaseless efforts.

Titles: Local Order Enforcement Departments, L.O.E.D., Minor Powers Capital System: Not Applicable Reach: ~1,680,000 Star Systems Leadership: In excess of 10,000 Regional Regents, Warlords, Alliances, Guilds, and other forms of minor powers. Age: Depends on Realm in question

[darkageofwar]

Utilian Empire, Realm of the True Flame

“What is Paradise? An infinite punishment of vice and lies, given only to the unjust. True Paradise, lasting perfection, is gained only through your deeds.” -Yargdres, Knight Lord of Order Telahma

In Ancient times, the Utilians were the same unclean sinners as all the other sentient species. They pillaged for the sake of greed, slaughtered millions of their own for the twisted thrills they found, even using the bodies of their dead to stave of the same famine that claimed every star at least once. All omens pointed to the Utilians being their own destroyers, consuming their species by the embers of a dead war, feasted upon by nightmares of their own desperation.

At what should have been the extinction of their species, a prophet crawled forwards, flanked on his sides by his holy warriors, a trail of a hundred and fifty apostles following in their path. Soon, his words of pure fire burned the vices before them, banishing the monsters to a realm that never was, guiding those remaining pure to their eternal flame. Order finally asserted itself forever upon their world, cleansed by the truth and flame so all knew of the glorious paradise they now ruled.

Then, as angels must, the Prophet raised them to the Heavens so they could begin their true work.

Unclean stars were made pure once more as the Utilians spread, bringing with them the holy tools of the eternal flame. Flagellant mobs seeking redemption, soulless ones given purpose, great orders of knights all band together as one host, brought together by the awe of the banner an Oracle’s Crusade. Everywhere the Utilians go they bring with the relentless light of their truth, burning every foundation of vice, slowly working towards a golden era where all are truly pure.

Glory to the Utilians, may your eternal crusade bring you everlasting peace.

Titles: Utilian Empire, Realm of the True Flame Capital System: Maal Delphes Reach: ~22,000 Star Systems Leadership: Oracle Knight, Speaker of the Oldest Flame, the Prophet’s Voice Age: 1470 SL (Holy Years)

[darkageofwar]

Vergession, Lords of a Dead Empire

“Vol Verum Verum.”

Once, Two Million stars knelt before their might, two million more begging for the honor of doing the same. Now the Vergession are nothing, a desecrated corpse mocked by those who once feared all they could do. Endless centuries of war have torn away all pretenses to civility, all heirs long since consumed by an insatiable need for power. All that rules now in their realms are the brigands and the warlords, what remains of their past cowering behind rotting walls.

But though they are dying does not mean the Vergession are weak.

Even in their death throes, memories of glorious millennia as living gods still fuel their dreams, still give them the strength to move on another day. Ancient Oaths taken in forgotten tongues by their first families still ring in their ears, clearer now than the moments they were sealed, silencing all doubt that could take hold. Heaven forged thoughts from the voids still come to life by those who can still command, primeval forces that would doom all others who would even dare tame them.

With such pride, such absolute legitimacy to godhood, the Vergession show no mercy to those who would harm them, unbroken generations of warriors behind even the lowliest of Militia. Should any be so stupid as to challenge them directly, entire families will come for those fools, gathered not by the petty blood or birth of their lessers, but by forces beyond mortal bonds. Ancient curses sing from their lips with the same devastation as their perfected arms scream in rage, a beautiful chorus of death controlled only by the honor their usurpers deserve. When finally the battle ends, with their collective gaze above unbroken mountains of foes or blank stares towards the heavens from their soulless husks, all shall share in the same, perfect, truth.

Glory to the Vergession. Vol Verum Verum

Titles: Vergession Empire, Sejj Vega Rij, Vergession Realms, Realm of Autumn Capital System: San Velorval (in name) Reach: ~12,000 Star Systems Leadership: Kind King (in name), ~77 confirmed warlords in practice Age: 200″ 232′ (Kind Years/Former Tributary Time)

[darkageofwar]

Binary Star Senate, Bastion of Freedom

“Liberty, Equality, Botherhood, Freedom. These are not demands, but our gods given rights.” -Arch Pontifex Dio Barundii Osalivus

The Binary Star Senate is not a realm of Tyrants. Rather, it is a place of equality, where former slaves, exiled masses, entire oppressed worlds gather together as one, only an endless roar for that which is theirs by birth. Hundreds of species gathered together as one, as a new brotherhood without fear, coming together to the great Golden City to form the greatest democracy ever known.

From this second star they spread, vanquishing the monsters of old, bringing freedom to places which never even dreamed of such a reality. Even when the Lord Tyrant betrayed their help, dragging his subjects back into the ignorant shackles he forced them under, they still persist, still spreading the news of their gods given rights to all.

But the Binary Star Senate brings more than words when a world truly demands liberation.

From the Monastery Forges of the Sanekii Cult come the very finest materials of war ever made, given to the greatest soldiers each race has to offer. Among these are the most elite of all, the anointed warriors of the Sol Cult lead with the eternal veterans of the Triarii, both capable of clearing entire armies before them. Completing this perfect force, even the Heavens bow before the might of the BSS, often being the first light of liberation that the peoples they fight for ever feel.

Glory to the Binary Star Senate, may the beacon of your second sun never dim.

Titles: Binary Star Senate, BSS, Senatus Binarii Stella Capital System: Golden City Reach: ~480,000 Star Systems Leadership: Binary Star Senate, The Triumvirate Age: 2877PT (After Tyrant’s Reign)

[darkageofwar]

Zahkan Empire, Domain of the Lord Protector

“There are no gods. There are no kings. I am but a man. I am only your Protector. Follow me, and I shall guide you all to victory!” -Lord Protector Zahkan Xaerexes, to the first Central Diet

The Great Confederation, the realm of a million stars, the greatest of all realms is the story of a single person, a single human, and his vision for the Galaxy. Before him when he first ventured into the Heavens was the Co-Prosperity Sphere, the officious corpse of a hundred thousand failed governments pretending to be the equals of uncaring Outlanders. After a century of war, all of that false power were gathered under the banner of the Lord Protector, his Coronation declaring to the Heavens that he would protect all he could for as long as he pleased.

This is a task he has never failed, ruling as the Lord Protector far beyond the lives of all who could oppose him.

Through an invasion of endless Outlanders, seeking only to drown the galaxy in blood, his Committee of Public Safety brought us salvation. Through the subversions of the Binary Star Senate when it tried to replace him, he came back to lead a great new army, sundering those traitors who had attempted to replace him. Through the endless rebellions, the endless wars, the endless invasions, and even the Great Shadow War, the Lord Protector has remained firm.

Those who opposed the Lord Protector find nothing by defeat before them: rows of bayonets and rifles millions of men long; endless rain of artillery of countless guns; fleets of landships vaster than any ocean; even the greatest engines of war every created, those capable of killing the very planets that dare tread upon them.

This is the Zahkan Empire.

Glory to the Lord Protector, may his reign last forever.

Titles: Zahkan Empire, The Great Confederation of Humanity United, The Realm of the Lord Protector, Former Co-Prosperity Sphere Capital System: Nefelheim Reach: ~1,200,000 Star Systems Leadership: The Lord Protector Zahkan Xaerexes of Nefelheim Age: 3748 ARC (After Royal Coronation)

[darkageofwar]

Upon this, The Dark Age of War

It is clear to all who can see such, that humanity has entered a Golden Age.

Across the known Universe, millions of stars bask in the fall of a mad tyrant, their cries of joy echoing over the vastness of the Heavens by raw power alone. Odes and Anthems bellow out praise for thousands of new Powers, realms which are free to rule themselves, None of which are alone in their desires for greater unity. Still, even these jubulations, praise carried forth by the throats of countless billions, are nothing more than whispers against the ballads of war, those carried by generations of martyrs to honor the four great realms.

Glory be to the Zahkan Empire,the Honorable Confederate of Protection, may The Lord Protector guide them for all eternity.

Glory be to the Binary Star Senate, the Lords of Liberty, may your people forever be your strength.

Glory be to the Harasey, the Empire of Trade, may your children remember your ancient deeds.

Glory be to the Syber, the Proud Userpers, may the embers of your Tyrants illuminate your future.

Above all, Glory be to all humanity, divided as we were by ten thousand births, United now under the greatness of our rule.

Behind us lie prostate the Outlanders, the races of senseless barbarians and failed despots of old. Before us are the Anarchists, shattered beyond any hope by the hubris of their Cults and Kings, drowned before us by the weight of our progress. Further beyond than any can see lies nothing we cannot conquer, no plague, no infestation, no curse, no force beyond our comprehension could ever hope to challenge us.

Truly, this shall be a Golden Age that lasts a thousand generations.