The Ravens Syndicate

[Jarkov Malachai]

Righty then biznitches, this will get done slowly but it shall be done. Please note, yes most of my shit will be extremely cryptic. If you have a problem with it... well to bad. Its supposed to be cryptic, its how my crap works. The Gm knows everything about my stuff so never fear, I am well monitored.

 

[Jarkov Malachai]

Legends of the 7 Realms/ The Serai'Drakhoul
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Space is vast, infinite and unknowable in its entirety. Filled with explorers, vagabonds, starships, people and the flitting blinking lights of stars as they rage against entropy. Time goes on as the beings that make this unforgiving place known as space, the Final Frontier, their home. Their triumphs, stories, loves and hates echo out across the black space between the starry lights burning brightly oh so far out of reach.


Tales of heroism, of evil, fate defied and fate inescapable whispered in the bars, the frontier taverns and in the cramped bunks of men as they hunch around each others and tell stories of their exploits, both true and outrageously exaggerated.


Our story is the mark we leave, the footprint left behind when the rest of our bodies and lives have returned to dust. A legend to pass on, for someone elses lips to speak, for someone elses soul to remember.


But then there are those that are not spoken of, words whispered in a rush then cut off and a fear filled glance cast around as if the walls themselves have ears. Stories never told, but simply shared with a grim, hopeless look before they who shared this unspoken tale go their separate ways to meet the darkness which gathers about them.


These stories all spacers know, for to go out into the black is to face the unknown and all of its fears. The only way to prepare thyself is to listen to the legends… listen, and pray to the maker you never have to remember them.


There are beasts out there, creatures such as the like man is incapable of comprehending. Unable to understand for they are forged on a world that plays by different rules, crafted by a mind that had been shattered and cared not for the laws that governed other men.


One does not speak of such things, for simply uttering their name might bring one of their ilk near, it is impossible to know.


The nightmare of every Captain to wander these forgotten reaches.


The Serai’Drakhoul… Or as others might know them as simply the Dredge.


The Children of Broken Dreams.


Fear is an old friend, a foe of which is known well to those who tread amongst the stars. Some would say they fear nothing, others would say they fear but have the courage to act. But it does not matter, all fear the Dredge, their passing, the thought, the idea. Even fools who say they do not.


It is not unheard of for colonies to go dark out on the fringes, for starships to vanish in transit along the hyper-routes and lightways. Things go wrong, mechanical malfunctions are common out in space and pirates strike more often than you would think out here. The creatures, and we shall simply call them as such for names have power and those of the dark more so than others, are sometimes blamed for these occurrences of which no one questions much. The fault is laid on them often enough that average spacers have developed a healthy fear of the beasts.


But this fear, it is unwarranted... for the creatures are much much worse.


When a Dredge attacks, when one is found, when one is unleashed, it leaves unmistakable signs.


For when a ship arrives in port, not responding to any hails be curious,


When it sits there in dock and no people come out or cargo comes in be concerned,


When her bulkheads are cut open and the sight of red painted hallways greets you be cautious,
When you find the first bodies, warped and twisted masses of flesh, be strong.
When you realize the walls are red not with paint but blood be courageous.
When you see the creature above you, clinging to the ceiling, be awestruck.
When it comes for you, six eyes blazing and fiery maw from hell... be afraid.
When it tears into your fellows, their screams of terror cut short in their throats... be dead.
Be Dead, dead of body and of mind so you can forget what you have witnessed forget the eyes...
When your dead... be afraid


Men have hunted them, have feared them, worshipped them. Some claim mastery over all that lays within their domain but remain ignorant of the beasts that yield to no one lurking in their midst.
Souls with legions of men at their disposal have declared war upon them, some who think themselves gods challenged what they believed to be the key to their ascension.


Entire planets have been quarantined for the simple possibility that a Dredge has been sighted. Continents have been razed, ordered by fearful men of things they have no hope of understanding or controlling.


It doesnt matter, they all die just the same. Their corpses, their worlds shattered husk, the wretched rivers of blood will remain to tell their story. For those who meet the Dredge, its all that is left. The tale, of the Children of Broken Dreams.


Be afraid.


           An Excerpt from the Book of legends,
As written by Keeper Bellatori.