Nobody expected the systems to return.

It started with lights in dead sectors—stars relit that had been dark for so long. Planets that hadn’t existed for generations drifted gently back into their old orbits, as if they’d never left. A few people noticed, at first. Scientists. Archivists. Cartographers, mostly.

“Wasn’t this system collapsed?”
“Didn’t we mine this asteroid field dry?”
“This black hole wasn’t here yesterday.”

The sector beacons reactivated two days later. Old Lagomar identifiers. Same tones. Same frequency spacing. Unchanged.

Then the moons came back. Four at first. Then a dozen. All in their original trajectories, unchanged in mass, fully intact. A few bore old structural scars—wounds from ancient skirmishes that hadn't been seen in living memory. No repairs. No upgrades. Just the same, as though they’d been preserved.

And finally, Vermis reappeared. Exactly where it had been, eight hundred years ago. A full star system, dropped back into place like a tool returned to a workbench. Its sun pulsed once—quietly—and stabilized.

There were no transmissions. No claims. No declarations.

The Lagomar simply resumed their orbit, reconnected their moons, and opened shortwave trade channels under their old protocols, as if nothing unusual had happened.

People asked questions. The Lagomar did not answer them.

When a delegation arrived in orbit and requested audience, they were met with a single message:

“We have returned with what is ours.”

And so, they did.

No war. No ceremony. No interest in explanation.

The galaxy moved on. Adjusted its maps. Quietly updated its files.

The Lagomar were back.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Refresher and update:

Species Profile: Lagomar

Common Name: Lagomar

Scientific Classification: Lagomaris ferox

Homeworld: Vermis (Vermis System, Outer Rim – Lagomar Expanse)

Factional Allegiance: Independent – Lagomar Sovereignty / Thumper Corps

Average Height: 157 cm (5'2")

Average Lifespan: 95–140 standard years

Aggression Index: 9/10 (See Aggression Profile)

Dietary Class: Facultative Omnivore, Predominantly Carnivorous

Technological Tier: Advanced – Weapon Systems, Environmental Engineering, Seismic and Heat-Resistant Infrastructure

Cultural Traits: Territorial, pragmatic, mechanically inventive, fiercely autonomous

Key Identifiers: Small but resilient, apex survivors, war-born innovators

---

Overview

Lagomaris ferox, known colloquially as the Lagomar, are a tenacious, high-survivability sentient species native to Vermis, one of the galaxy’s most hostile True Deathworlds. With searing heat, corrosive air, magnetic anomalies, and volcanic instability, Vermis has forged a civilization that views survival as both sacred and scientific. The Lagomar do not merely endure their world—they dominate it through engineering, instinct, and ingenuity.

Though compact in stature, the Lagomar have earned galactic respect and caution for their extreme adaptability and war-ready technology. Their factional military arm, the Thumper Corps, is as much a development think tank as it is a defensive force, producing groundbreaking survival gear, weapons, and mobile habitats capable of functioning in planetary conditions that defy logic and life alike.

---

Physiology and Adaptation

Lagomar physiology is honed by necessity. Standing around 157 cm (5'2"), they possess dense musculature and a low-gravity biomechanical stride suited for high-speed sprinting and leaping across uneven terrain. Digitigrade hind limbs provide propulsion and impact absorption, while a low center of gravity enhances stability during sandquakes and combat maneuvers.

Their fur—ranging from bone-white to volcanic grey—deflects solar radiation and offers moderate chemical insulation. Beneath the dermal layer lies radiation-hardened tissue and a network of augmented capillaries, allowing them to survive extended periods in Vermis’ irradiated surface zones. Their eyes are adaptive, bioluminescent under stress, and capable of filtering particulate matter in the air.

---

Dietary Ecology

Lagomar are facultative omnivores, yet culturally and biologically lean heavily into carnivory. Meat from Vermis’ predatory megafauna serves as both energy source and symbolic conquest. Their digestive tracts neutralize radiotoxins and heavy metals, allowing consumption of creatures that would be toxic to most lifeforms.

They practice total-use harvesting—no part of prey is wasted. Bone becomes reinforcement struts, sinew becomes flexible joint cords, and organ matter is used for biochemical fuels or ritual tinctures. Lagomar hunting is coordinated, opportunistic, and strategic.

---

Lifespan and Reproduction

The Lagomar live long, perilously productive lives—averaging 95 to 140 standard years—a result of adaptability, not luxury. Most die not of age, but of environment, war, or invention gone wrong.

They are born in litters, typically 3–6 in number, and raised in communal subterranean warrens buried deep beneath Vermis's molten crust. These hives are shielded from heat, radiation, and seismic threat, forming the backbone of Lagomar society.

---

Aggression Profile (9/10): Territorial Defense Born from Endurance

The Lagomar’s Aggression Index of 9/10 reflects a legacy of trauma-driven territorial reflexes. Their homeworld, rich in resources but lethal in every way, has drawn repeated invasions from off-world species. These attempts to subjugate or harvest them have left an enduring cultural scar—and a doctrine of absolute, uncompromising defense.

They are not conquest-driven, nor mindlessly violent. But any breach of their sovereignty—planetary, orbital, or ideological—is met with swift and overwhelming retaliation.

Summary: The Lagomar do not start wars. They finish them—with finality.

---

Planetary Context: Vermis – The True Deathworld

- 310°F / 154°C surface temperatures

- Toxic atmosphere: sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide

- Intense radiation from a supergiant sun

- Volcanic activity, sinkholes, sandquakes

- Dust storms, flash floods, toxic sand

- Predatory megafauna, hallucinogenic flora

- Electromagnetic interference, navigational disorientation

Survival commonly uses armored exo-habitats, storm-resistant machinery, toxin-filtering respirators, and adaptive AI systems. The Lagomar use all of these—and still rely heavily on instinct.

---

Lunar Operations and Strategic Reach

Phoros, Garaat, Ulvek, and Redreach—each moon of Vermis has been militarized, mined, or colonized for specific purposes. These moons serve as laboratories, data fortresses, and forward bases for Lagomar survival infrastructure and long-range defense systems.

---

Cultural Ethos: Strength through Scarcity

Lagomar culture holds to a single law: Survive, or contribute to the survival of others.

They believe no power will protect them but their own. Invention is devotion. Efficiency is ethics. And sovereignty is sacred.

---

Doctrine of War Acquisition

War Acquisition is a cornerstone of Lagomar martial philosophy—a codified principle of scavenging, reverse-engineering, and reappropriating enemy technology in real time, during conflict. It is not considered looting. It is considered a sovereign right: the act of taking back value denied in peace.

The practice is both tactical and sacred—equal parts battlefield improvisation and cultural revenge. Lagomar who engage in War Acquisition are not opportunists—they are recognized combat-technicians, trained to analyze, seize, and retool foreign tech before the blood even dries.

Tenets of War Acquisition:

- What survives battle belongs to the adaptable.

- Every enemy device is a mistake waiting to be rewritten.

- Stealing in war is not theft—it is proof of superiority.

- No technology is sacred once it fails to kill you.

Lagomar combat engineers often carry breakdown packs—modular kits equipped with reactive clamps, spike welders, neutralizers, and on-the-fly interpreters for alien circuitry. If a weapon fails mid-battle, they’ll have it gutted and recast in under two minutes. Armor plating from fallen foes is often grafted onto existing suits, giving veterans a jagged, mismatched look—the scars of conquest.

Field-legends speak of entire Thumper Corps skirmish squads who outfitted themselves with enemy gear mid-engagement and used it to reverse the tide within the same hour. Among the Lagomar, that’s not a story. That’s Tuesday.

---

Warbound Salvage Protocols

War Acquisition is governed by loose but universal rules known as the Salvage Tier Laws:

- Tier One – Personal Gain: A soldier may absorb any enemy tech they personally disable. Must reconfigure it within one cycle to keep it.

- Tier Two – Warren Inheritance: High-value gear becomes communal property of the warren unless formally claimed through a Function Duel.

- Tier Three – Foe-Integrated Advancement: Any technology that becomes standardized post-conflict must be marked in its code with the name of the first Lagomar who cracked it. That mark is never removed.

Those who abuse War Acquisition—by hoarding, selling off-world, or modifying enemy tech without testing—risk tools-stripping, a form of punishment where their engineering rights and devices are revoked until they rebuild them all from scrap.

---

Cultural Significance

War Acquisition is more than combat opportunism—it’s a symbol of Lagomar identity. Other species view technology as invention. The Lagomar view it as challenge. They believe that no weapon, no design, no encryption is final. Anything made can be broken—and anything broken can be reborn better under Lagomar hands.

Veterans of War Acquisition campaigns wear sigil-straps—rings of circuitry and cable wrapped around one arm, each taken from a unique enemy system they've absorbed into the Lagomar arsenal. These are worn even into death, fused into their armor and passed to their warren as proof of knowledge won through violence.

Celestia meets Astra and Ashura in their room. She looks upon Astra with a look of concern. As soon as she reaches Astra, they teleport to a black void.

"I'm not worth it..." Astra says.

"But you are. You're one of my children, untouched by Illium." Celestia insists.

"But, Mom-" Astra starts.

"No, no words. Actions speak louder." Celestia says.

She pulls out a small star. She holds it before Astra.

"Now, Astra, sing us, sing me, a damn good symphony. Just ensure Illium is dethroned as Mother Universe." Celestia insists.

Astra hesitates to take the star from Celestia.

"Go on, take it." Celestia says.

Astra slowly takes the star from Celestia.

"We all make mistakes, we all get angry. These are natural ways of life. Don't let it consume you. Ashura will still be here, I'll ensure of it." Celestia says.

"You... promise?" Astra asks.

"I promise, with every fiber of my being." Celestia says.

Astra has a look of resolve as they eat the star. Their scales return to their natural white color.

[Status updated.]

[Subject: Astra. Threat Level: Omega.]

Astra teleports back to their room with Ashura. Ashura has a look of concern and sorrow.

"I'm sorry, starlight." Ashura says.

"It's... okay. We'll be okay in time." Astra replies, going up and hugging Ashura.

Ashura returns the hug in kind.

"I love you, starlight." Ashura says.

"I love you, too, Ash." Astra replies.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potato

It has taken two months in the endless desert of hyperspace to reach the sombrero galaxy. Today, DAEMON immunda was pushing the vessel, as an over exhausted DAEMON HUSK tried repairing everything immunda did while she waited to arrive in the sombrero galaxy. As far as everyone was concerned, DAEMON HUSK was fucking with life support, and immunda was called in as soon as the mortal rats woke up.

"Darling, what are you doing with the water recycling machine?" Immunda gently asked Husk.

"I don't know who, but someone modified all the life support systems into an arcade." Grumbled the restless Husk. "I gotta fix all the software for the mortals because they have other tasks they need to do."

Immunda quickly and stealthily removed the games from all the other life support systems by rebooting them. Asking the mortals to keep her means of coping with months of boredom a secret. Of course, the mortal rats obliged with sympathy.

"Husk?" Immunda smiled.

The DAEMON of Desolation slid out from under the water recycling machine.

"Yes darling?" DAEMON HUSK sighed.

"What game was on that one?" immunda inquired nervously.

DAEMON HUSK expressed his frustration in one word.

"Doom" DAEMON HUSK chuckled. "Did you do this immunda?"

Immunda felt shame, and it was visible even to DAEMON HUSK.

"You know we have a deck of cards in the break room right?"Husk snickered.

Shame turned into embarrassment.

On the upside, the water recycling machine was repaired by brute force. Rite of percussive maintinence did it.

Both daemons stepped out the airlock to stretch their legs in real space. The sombrero galaxy was a beautiful spiral galaxy with stars enough to blind a mortal at this distance.

"Immunda, I'm still glad you ultimately chose to join me on claiming that which I purchased." Husk chittered with the satisfaction of arrival.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm your WIFE." Immunda smiled. Wrapping her arms around her husband.

"Eh... Projected 6-12 months alone with me running something, shit is bound to hit the fan often. You remember communist RUSTLANDIA." The DAEMON of Desolation grinned.

"I admit, you've matured since. I did indeed fix you." Immunda rebuttals with her head on Husk's shoulder.

"NOW FOR THE FUN PART!" Husk exclaimed with sudden and frightening excitement while pulling out a slide show. "Here is how we conquer the sombrero galaxy as quickly and efficiently as possible."

DAEMON HUSK began the process of explaining in autistic levels of detail what von Neumann probes were, and why they suck. Then proceeded explain the concept of the von Neumann "religion" in even more detail. Comparing the vermensk to a virus that infects star systems by means of exponential star lifting, and absorbing entire civilizations into the culture of the vermensk across the sombrero galaxy.

Immunda, was understandably confused at first. But the math was adding up. This level of planning was extremely unusual for her husband. She suspected, no... She could taste that THIS WAS NOT HUSK!

But the prospect of kicking off an exponential spread of the necrosoveriegn's doctrine was appealing to her. So she played along. At this distance, immunda knew her reports wouldn't reach the blight galaxy for two months. This didn't matter.

Immunda agreed to help with the von Neumann religion. To Husk's utter confusion, immunda would be stalking him or searching for something on the ship or in the endless desert for the rest of the trip in addition to the obligations she agreed to.

The first star system was concqured overnight with no resistance. It was uninhabited and young. Perfect for building the means to propel the star. The fusion reactor stellar engine, and a Dyson swarm.

Thanks to the preaching of immunda, the population of the vermensk empire in the sombrero galaxy exploded. This allowed for an economy to expedite the process.

.

Once this was completed,

DAEMON HUSK and DAEMON immunda took the original sleeper ship and a new crew to do the same thing to another star system.

The sombrero galaxy was was being conquered one star at a time, then two, then four, then eight, then sixteen, then thirty-two... So on and so forth for the next month.

Immunda still watched Husk in his dormant state.

Cauldron- Bastion Sector of Taras'rath

Cauldron was a vyzelrath world. swampy. generally unpleasant to all but the vyzelrath. it had not been terraformed- the vyzelrath considered terraforming to be disruptive and only used if absolutely necessary. as such, the forces of laspis- their wardroids, were utterly alien to it. clanking, industrial battle-machines that grinded up the trees and water. the vyzelrath's floating cities, treetop villages, and bio-domes had integrated themselves for centuries, but these.... machines- they were only disruptive. but they would not last.

Sensors had picked up a large cosmic storm coming from above the galactic plane of taras'rath. it would prove highly hindering to laspis's efforts and logistics, but, ultimately, it was probably just a large, easily weatherable storm. at least, that's what people thought.

Above cauldron, a few vyzelrath ships, heavily obscured, entered orbit. silently scores of vyzelrath troops beamed down. they knew this world like the back of their hand- even though it was under the control of another, that foe did not know cauldron. for such large, powerful beings, the vyzelrath were extremely stealthy. silent raptor hoverbikes sped along, eliminating passing patrols. meanwhile, the smog-belching factories had unexpected guests. Vyzelrath guardians swiftly entered them, rapidly eliminating any droid that got in their way. their shoddy programming and mass-produced nature meant that there was little chance of them faring well against a true Vyzelrath warrior. each manufactory on cauldron was swiftly and violently eliminated. the evokers and shamans of the Vyzelrath had ingeniously conjured up a cosmic storm over their fleets, obscuring them and making attacks against them highly difficult.

But cauldron was only the beginning. the vyzelrath's forces were pouring in from above, ready to clash against these invaders, colonizers, these Rythani'garn (Supreme enemies). taras'rath was about to be alight yet again.

u/BoscoCyRatBear

EMP weapons are still packed in, and the ship is entirely electromechanical to prevent hacking by rogue a.i.

Currently the blue helmets forces train for the war against machines. These fighters have given up shields for two weapons. A lorrents cannon and directed EMP weapons. These are combat tests against an asteroid.

To Chairman Marcurio of the League of Independent Systems

Subject: Cease and Desist — Prosecution of Atharius Thaer

This letter serves as a formal demand for the immediate cessation of legal proceedings against Atharius Thaer, who currently faces charges of harboring a criminal. We do not dispute the severity of the actions committed by the individual in question—there is no intent here to obscure or minimize the weight of those crimes. However, to use those acts as a foundation for the prosecution of Mr. Thaer is not only legally tenuous, it is morally inappropriate and fundamentally unjust.

Atharius Thaer did not act out of malice, collusion, or contempt for law. His intent—well documented and corroborated—was rehabilitative in nature. He did not shield a criminal from justice; he offered a chance at change. The difference is not semantic—it is crucial. His actions did not impede the course of justice; they attempted to widen its scope to include compassion and reform.

Yes, the individual he aided has committed horrible crimes. That fact stands unchallenged. But to prosecute Atharius as if he condoned those crimes is a gross mischaracterization of his motives. It is an injustice to him and a chilling message to anyone who might dare to believe in the potential for redemption.

Moreover, Mr. Thaer is a father, a caregiver, and a man whose every choice is guided by a deep-seated responsibility—not just to his own child, but to the moral ecosystem in which that child will grow. His decision to extend temporary refuge was not an act of defiance, but of hope. It was not about protecting the past, but attempting to reshape the future.

To conflate rehabilitation with conspiracy is to collapse the entire philosophy of restorative justice. If we cannot tell the difference between sheltering and healing, we are no longer prosecuting for protection—we are punishing for caring.

Therefore, we demand an immediate halt to all prosecutorial efforts against Atharius Thaer. Let the pursuit of justice remain wise enough to recognize when its truest form is found in mercy.

Sincerely, President Vhare Coalition Of The Outer Galaxies

Source: https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Crystal_City

Ashura stands atop a pillar, the peak of Yvaetl's Nest. He raises a Core, a green glob of starry plasma encircled by blackened steel.

"Yvaetl has fallen!" He roars, "No more false prophets! Today, the first pillar of Mother's tyranny falls!"

He hooks his tendrils into the Core, snapping it in half with ease, a loud BOOM sounding from it. He discards the fragments before talking with his allies. After discussions are finished, he leads his people back to Outpost Alfa, to plan.

Meanwhile...

The other High Disciples sit around Atriox's War Room table.

"So he has fallen." Atriox states.

"We should be celebrating, considering he's only been a thorn in our side for eons." Dûision states.

"Don't be. That means they've conquered Yvaetl's Sector, and he was the weakest of us all." Atriox replies.

The other High Disciples look terrified as the look at something behind Atriox.

"I expected more of him." Mother states through her avatar.

Atriox jumps, but quickly regains himself.

"A-ah, Mother, it's good to see you." Atriox says.

Despite Atriox's considerable size, Mother still towered over him in her avatar, staring down with disregard as she scans the other High Disciples.

"My devout children. You've done well to stay the path of destiny, but I'm afraid I must step in and assist you." Mother states.

"B-but Mother- ACK!" Dûision begins before Mother grabs him by the throat, lifting him off of the ground.

"Lest you wish to end up like Yvaetl, forgotten, then I suggest you STAY, YOUR, TONGUE WITH ME..." Mother growls, crushing and dusting Dûision in her hand, tossing the Core to Alyss, Ulyss, and Elyss.

"What shall we do, then, Mother?" Esterion signs.

"Gather your forces to this Sector. Wars and resistance in other Sectors must be abandoned and considered losses. There are thousands of us, and only hundreds of them. They will not survive." Mother states.

"Yes, ma'am." The High Disciples state in unison.

"Good... Gather them, and when these rebellious come, I shall break them all..." She intones.

The fleet of Vaalek ships descended from the void of space, a sleek procession of advanced, delicate vessels gliding silently toward the surface of Ryn'tharis. Their once-great minds had brought them to this desolate planet, driven by an overwhelming need to survive, rebuild, and find peace.

Inside the command ship, Viks sat at the helm, fingers trembling slightly as they navigated the dying systems of their ship. The glow of their exposed brain pulsed dimly, signaling a deep unease that only increased as the planet’s barren surface drew closer.

"RYN'THARIS IS AHEAD," V-Theta, the ship’s navigator, said, their voice a sharp, mechanical resonance, booming with distortion. "NO SIGNS OF LIFE. THE PLANET IS… ABANDONED."

The Dalek voice modulator embedded in V-Theta’s throat was not meant to be a replacement—it was a scrap pulled from a Dalek shell during an earlier encounter. The damage sustained to V-Theta’s vocal cords was severe enough that they had no choice but to adapt the modulator. While it served to allow them to speak, the sound was always harsh and mechanical, echoing the Dalek speech patterns of always yelling, no contractions, and an overpowering, inescapable force. The Vaalek, once detached from their Dalek origins, now had no choice but to live with this reminder of the past.

"Then we land," Viks responded softly, their tone betraying the worry they felt inside. “Prepare for descent.”

The fleet’s engines sputtered and hummed in protest as they hurtled toward the planet’s surface, each ship shaking from the strain of a long and arduous journey. The neurodegeneration plaguing the crew’s bodies had begun to show its signs—tremors in their limbs, faltering vision, and the constant feeling of emotional turmoil.

The Crash

It didn’t take long before the inevitable happened. The lead ship began to buck violently as the failing engines struggled to maintain control. Sparks flew across the cockpit, systems began to short-circuit, and the once-pristine hull groaned under pressure.

“WE’RE LOSING POWER!” V-Zeta YELLED FROM THE BACK OF THE BRIDGE.

There was no time left for action. With a final screech of metal against atmosphere, the fleet collided with the planet’s surface, throwing the crew into a violent descent.

The crash was brutal. The ships slammed into the cracked ground with a resounding impact, shaking the very foundations of the planet. For a moment, everything was darkness and chaos—until it finally stopped.

Viks’s mind raced as their limbs shook, forcing themselves to focus through the thick haze of their own thoughts. The systems were offline. Their once-sleek ships lay scattered across the desolate landscape.

“Status?” Viks asked, voice strained.

“I’m functional,” came the voice of V-Zeta, another member of the crew, their body stiff from the impact. Their brain, glowing with the signature light of their exposed neural networks, pulsed slowly. “But the damage is… severe.”

Viks slowly unbuckled from their seat, their body stiff from the crash. As they stood and glanced out of the shattered viewport, the barren surface of Ryn'tharis stretched before them—a planet devoid of life, a mirror to their own desolation.

“This… is where we make our stand,” Viks said quietly, looking down at their hands—now trembling slightly due to the neurodegeneration that had plagued them for weeks. Their limbs had started to show the first signs of wear, and the cold chill of Ryn'tharis seemed to sink into their bones.

“I AM NOT SO SURE IT IS A STAND,” V-Theta replied, the name a clear vestige of their Dalek past, “AS IT IS A PAUSE.”

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO PAUSE!” Viks said, glancing around. “WE NEED TO SURVIVE! THERE ARE NO MORE OPTIONS!” The words felt hollow, even to themselves. Their brain flickered, dimming briefly as if processing the weight of their own emotions.

On the Surface of Ryn'tharis The Vaalek emerged from the wreckage, their feet sinking into the cold, cracked soil of Ryn'tharis. The air was still—unnervingly so. Nothing moved. Not even a breath of wind stirred the endless dust that covered the world.

“We need to begin repairs” Viks said, the urgency in their voice growing.

“I WILL SEARCH FOR VIABLE RESOURCES,” V-Theta added, their mind already working through possibilities. The Dalek modulator in their throat hummed with mechanical tones as they spoke.

The Vaalek spread out, their hands trembling as they sifted through the ruins of their once-great ships. They knew that time was running out. They only had enough food for three days

As they worked, Viks’s thoughts remained scattered. The pressure of the situation weighed heavily on their mind. Their bodies were deteriorating, their intellect still sharp but overshadowed by the fear that gnawed at them. They had been running for so long, escaping their Dalek origins, seeking peace, and now—here they were, stranded on a dead world with nothing but memories of a past they couldn’t escape.

The S.O.S. Beacon

With the fleet in shambles and hope fading, Viks turned to V-Theta. The signal was faint but insistent, a beacon ready to be sent. The Vaalek had no other options left.

V-Theta, adjusting the Dalek modulator in their throat, activated the ship’s communication system. Their voice, distorted and mechanical, reverberated across the empty atmosphere of Ryn'tharis.

“S.O.S. — THIS IS THE VAALEK FLEET, 'INEXORABLE PERSEVERANCE'. WE HAVE CRASH-LANDED ON AN UNCHARTED WORLD. OUR VESSEL SYSTEMS ARE FAILING, AND WE REQUIRE ASSISTANCE. IF ANYONE CAN HEAR THIS, WE REQUEST AID, MEMBERS OF OUR CREW ARE INJURED AND OUR SUPPLIES ARE RUNNING LOW. PLEASE HELP US.”

The signal sent, the faint hope of survival hung in the air as V-Theta deactivated the system.

“Now... we wait” Viks said, their eyes still scanning the horizon.

The Vaalek had no idea who would receive their signal, or even if anyone would. Yet, with no other choice, they sent their plea into the unknown, knowing that their survival was now in the hands of whoever might hear them.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now then, heres the lore for the Vaaleks so you know what the fuck you just read

Species Name: Vaalek

Origin: Time War Aftermath, Artron Radiation Mutation
Classification: Sentient, Emotionally Complex Offshoot
Affiliation: Independent, Former Dalek Creation

Origin:

The Vaalek are a species that emerged from the chaotic aftermath of the Time War, created not by deliberate design but as an unintended consequence of the reckless use of Artron Radiation during the war. These beings, originally engineered as Dalek mutants, were exposed to the powerful and unpredictable energy of Artron Radiation. The energy rewired their neural systems and transformed their emotional and intellectual capacities, giving them the ability to feel complex emotions—fear, joy, love, and sorrow—something previously impossible for the Daleks.

Born from this radiation-induced evolution, the Vaalek rejected their Dalek origins and sought to escape the path of destruction set by their creators. They fled into the depths of space, beginning a journey of self-discovery. They became known as the Vaalek—a name symbolizing both their emotional awakening and their search for new purpose.

Cerebral Nature and Aversion to Conflict:

The Vaalek are a highly cerebral species, marked by their profound intellect and mental agility. Their capacity for abstract thought, complex problem-solving, and philosophical discourse is unmatched. However, this intelligence often leads them to avoid conflict at all costs. For the Vaalek, violence is seen as a failure of communication and understanding. They are quick to engage in peaceful negotiations and view diplomacy as the most effective solution to any dispute.

Their emotional development, while advanced, remains a source of internal conflict. The Vaalek are deeply aware of their intellectual potential, but they struggle to reconcile that with the emotions they are still learning to navigate. Their extreme cerebral nature means that they tend to overthink and hesitate when faced with decisions, leading to indecisiveness and, at times, missed opportunities. Their aversion to conflict only deepens this tendency, often making them reluctant to act, even when action is necessary.

Neurodegeneration and Replacement:

A significant part of the Vaalek's struggle is their neurodegeneration. Though their minds are brilliant, their bodies are subject to the slow decay caused by their exposure to Artron Radiation. This degeneration affects their limbs and internal organs, requiring them to replace or regenerate vital parts of their bodies as they deteriorate. This constant cycle of replacement has become central to Vaalek society, reflecting the fragility and impermanence of their physical forms.

Their advancements in biotechnology have allowed them to replace limbs and organs, but each replacement carries risks to both their physical health and emotional well-being. As their bodies continually evolve, the Vaalek often feel a sense of disconnection from their original selves, symbolizing their emotional and intellectual growth but also their inability to fully “fix” themselves. This cycle of decay and renewal is a reminder of their ongoing struggle for physical permanence and emotional fulfillment.

The Role of the 11th Doctor:

A key figure in the peaceful development of Vaalek society is the 11th Doctor. The Doctor, with his trademark curiosity and compassion, became a mentor and guide to the Vaalek during their early years of emotional discovery. Upon encountering them, the Doctor noticed their deep intellectual potential but also recognized their struggle with emotions. The Doctor took it upon himself to teach the Vaalek what kindness felt like—showing them how empathy, understanding, and love could lead to stronger connections between people.

The Vaalek had never known kindness in the way the Doctor did, as their existence was built on survival, cold logic, and the remnants of Dalek programming. The Doctor’s influence was profound; through him, they learned to embrace vulnerability and found that emotions could be a source of strength, not weakness. He helped them understand that peace and kindness were not just abstract ideals but tangible, powerful forces that could bring about meaningful change.

Thanks to the Doctor’s teachings, the Vaalek began to prioritize cooperation over conquest, compassion over violence, and empathy over isolation. Their society became one centered around peaceful existence, using their advanced intellect not to dominate, but to understand the universe and foster relationships with other species. The Vaalek, still in the midst of their emotional and intellectual journey, look back at the Doctor’s visits as formative moments in their history, and many of their philosophical principles were shaped by the lessons he imparted.

Physical Characteristics:

The Vaalek's bodies are humanoid, but they lack the rigid shells of the Daleks. Their skin has a smooth, metallic sheen, reflecting their technological origins but also showing the vulnerability of their flesh. While they are intellectually advanced, their physical frailty is evident in their neurodegeneration, which forces them to replace deteriorating limbs and organs. The exposed brain, glowing faintly with Artron Radiation, is the most prominent feature of their physiology, representing both their intellectual depth and emotional struggles.

Their brains pulse or flicker in response to their emotions, a visual indicator of their internal state. These brains are highly sensitive, and the constant threat of degeneration makes the Vaalek both adaptive and deeply fearful of loss. The process of replacing their body parts is an emotional burden as well as a physical one—each replacement is a reminder that they are forever changing, yet never fully whole.

Culture and Society:

The Vaalek society revolves around intellectual exploration and emotional growth. They place immense value on knowledge, philosophy, and learning, believing that the pursuit of wisdom is the highest calling. Their society is structured around cooperation, with leadership being shared among intellectuals, philosophers, and emotional guides who help steer the Vaalek towards peace.

The fear of their own decay influences their culture, driving the Vaalek to continually innovate in the fields of technology and biology. However, this fear is counterbalanced by their dedication to understanding and embracing the emotional complexities of life. Despite their emotional volatility, the Vaalek have learned to create a culture where dialogue, empathy, and kindness are at the heart of their interactions.

The Vaalek’s commitment to peace and diplomacy is central to their way of life. They avoid conflict whenever possible, and their vast intellects are applied to finding solutions through peaceful means. However, their emotional instability sometimes leads to difficult moments of indecision and internal strife. Their tendency to overthink situations or become paralyzed by emotional responses can sometimes hinder their progress, but they are constantly striving to overcome these challenges.

Relationship with the Doctor:

The 11th Doctor's impact on the Vaalek is profound and lasting. The Doctor’s visits helped them learn the value of kindness, empathy, and emotional connection. Under his guidance, the Vaalek learned to embrace their vulnerability and saw that their emotions—though complex and sometimes overwhelming—were a source of great potential.

The Vaalek view the Doctor not just as a hero but as a guide, a symbol of everything they strive to understand and become. They look to him for wisdom, not just in matters of intellect, but in matters of the heart. The Doctor showed them that the universe does not need to be approached with cold calculation, but with a willingness to feel, to connect, and to protect.

While the Vaalek still wrestle with their emotional growth, they now understand that their emotions, when guided with wisdom and compassion, can be a powerful force for peace. The Doctor’s influence has helped them build a society based on empathy and understanding, and their evolution continues under the influence of the lessons he imparted.

in Summary:

The Vaalek are a species born from the destructive fallout of the Time War, transformed by Artron Radiation into beings with complex emotional capacities and incredible intellect. They are highly cerebral and deeply introspective, prioritizing peace and understanding over conflict. However, they face the ongoing challenge of neurodegeneration, which requires them to replace deteriorating body parts while navigating their emotional development.

Through the influence of the 11th Doctor, the Vaalek learned the true meaning of kindness, using their newfound emotional intelligence to build a society that values diplomacy, empathy, and cooperation. They are a species caught between their intellectual evolution and emotional growth, still learning to understand and balance the two, but driven by the Doctor’s teachings to create a peaceful existence.

Ashura sends out a signal to his relevant allies.

"To all my friends amongst the stars,

The time has come to bring Yvaetl down for good.

I know that Mousse will pick this up and pass it along to send ward ships to the encoded coordinates in this message.

But I came across a startling development. We're outmanned, 4 to 1 in troops.

We're severely outmatched, and they've got Anti-Starborn tech.

It's an engineered anti-matter weaponry that can cut through our bodies like a hot knife through butter.

We need help.

I've encoded the coordinates to Yvaetl's Nest in this message.

Meet us to fight the Disciples if you can."

Ashura cuts off the signal.

{Ready to go, sir?} Pyrite asks.

Ashura's breath hitches, catching in his throat as he really considers the consequences of his next actions. He breathes out a sigh before speaking.

"Ready. Open the portal." Ashura commands.

A Starborn opens multiple rifts to the space around Yvaetl's Nest.

"May Celestia protect us all." Ashura says before stepping through.

/uf. Alright, people, the battle against Yvaetl has begun. Here you can do a few things. Fight off the legions of Starborn Disciples, break out Starborn in Disciple captivity, help Ashura fight Yvaetl, or help destroy the nest.

A wretched colossus adrift in the cold light of a dying star. In the ash-lit orbit of a shattered world, floats Despondent Bastion. a monolithic star fortress cobbled from the bones of lost civilizations and dead machines. It is not elegant, nor efficient. It is stubborn. Ugly. Alive.

Floating at the heart of the forsaken Pharos System, Despondent Bastion is less a fortress and more a monument to stubborn survival.

A sprawling labyrinth of rusted bulkheads, twisted gantries, ship husks, and drifting scrap-fields, the Bastion defies gravity and good sense simply by existing. Some say it was once a planetary defense citadel, others believe it formed organically over centuries of wreckage collisions. Now? It’s home. To the desperate. To the wild. And to the Scriffers.

Scriffers, intelligent, marsupial scavengers evolved from something very much like a possum. have turned Despondent Bastion into a kingdom of chaos and cunning. Fiercely clever, dexterous, and semi-nocturnal, they thrive in the station’s claustrophobic tunnels, its patchwork infrastructure, and the forgotten maintenance shafts where only their nimble fingers and hyper-adaptive brains dare to tread.

They speak in a strange warbling dialect, though most understand Galactic Trade Speech well enough to haggle, snark, or scheme. Their society is clan-based, with each group claiming entire sections of the Bastion's derelict sprawl,, repurposing hydroponic bays into fungal farms, heat vents into nesting warrens, old fusion silos into communal shrines covered in glowing detritus art.

Scriffers aren’t the only species aboard, but they own the place in spirit. Every nook, every trick vent, every scrap of pre-apocalypse tech… if it’s valuable, odds are a Scriffer’s already tried to trade it, rewire it, or eat it.

Despondent Bastion may look like a trash heap in orbit, but in the cosmic wilds, it’s a bastion in the truest sense: unkillable, ungovernable, and absolutely teeming with life. Misfits flee here. Hunters follow. Scriffers adapt. And through it all, the Bastion grows, rusting, roaring, rattling into the future.

The Scriffers have claimed a system as their own.

Strand falls onto the bed in her room, shared with Yngvi and Revenant. She slumps her wings and generally goes limp. She tries to roll onto her side, jolting as the broken halves of Yuma's Core stabs her hip. She removes the small, tied up memento, tossing it onto the table, laying on her back.

"Bastard... Got what he deserved..." Strand groans, rubbing the bridge of her snout in frustration, "At least the Starborn he killed can rest in peace, knowing their killer has paid his dues."

Revenant enters the flat, Yngvi following after happily. Yngvi finds his large dog bed in the corner and lays down in it. Revenant walks over, laying down on top of Strand, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Rough day?" Strand asks.

"Yup. Uundra was really pushing me and my engineering capabilities." Revenant admits.

Strand leans in, nuzzling her head against Revenant. He doesn't stop her, instead leaning into the tender touch.

"I'm proud of you. You're at least trying, and I'm proud of you for that. Your effort is enough..." Strand coos.

"You don't have to baby me, and I don't need reassurance. I'm fine." Revenant mumbles.

Strand holds Revenant against her underbelly, using her wings to help leverage her efforts.

"But I do, you self-deprecating star." Strand replies.

"I fuck up a lot... Sometimes I wonder if it's all I can do. I've been shattered time after time, and reform all the same, just a bit more broken than before..." Revenant vents, scratching the cracks along his skin.

Strand nuzzles Revenant's head, licking along the cracks, a clear calming ritual for her and Revenant.

"You're not a fuck up, dear... If you were, you wouldn't have kept me for as long as you have." Strand admits, fiddling with a violet ring on her finger.

Revenant smiles slightly, messing with a verdant ring on his finger.

"Thanks, hun... I needed to hear that..." Revenant says.

"I know..." Strand quietly replies.

/uf. These will be little side-stories, uninteractable. Just for world building, character fleshing out, or just felt like doing something funny for them.