1 member
Grim Harvest Corps / GMHC
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Piracy -
Resources
“We come like the scythe. Ships burn, hulls break, and every scrap is claimed. Grim Harvest Corps doesn’t raid—we reap. Run if you like. It won’t matter.
‘Nothing wasted. Nothing spared.’”
History
The Grim Harvest Corps traces its bloodline to the fractured shadows of the UEE Navy during the late Messer Era. Soldiers of the 88th Naval Shock Division, we were forged in campaigns where commanders treated lives as disposable assets, squandering men and steel in pursuit of political favor. Again and again, victories were abandoned to incompetence, and blame fell not on failed admirals, but on those who had bled under their banners.
Disillusion hardened into defiance. We turned inward, bound not by orders but by survival, loyalty, and the will to succeed where leadership had failed. When our refusal to obey incompetence became open defiance, the Navy branded us unstable and unfit for service. Yet when the Vanduul pressed the frontier, when outlaws tore through supply lines, and when political fallout demanded deniable action, those same commanders quietly unleashed us. Too effective to destroy. Too dangerous to acknowledge.
Whispers spread of the “Cult of the Scythe” — operators who fought like soldiers but lived like raiders, striking with precision, vanishing into wreckage. The Corps became a paradox: shunned by the brass, but respected by every pilot and marine who survived because we were there.
Over decades, the Corps drifted further from the UEE machine. Some say we were discarded. Others say we walked away. The truth is simpler: the harvest cannot be commanded, only carried out. Now, in the persistent war for survival across the stars, our banner endures as both curse and promise.
To the Senate, we are ghosts. To the Navy, a reminder of failure. To the void, we are inevitability.
We are the Grim Harvest Corps. Nothing wasted. Nothing spared.
Manifesto
We are not pirates. We are not mercenaries. We are soldiers who refused to kneel to failure. Born in the ranks of the UEE, we bled under banners that wasted lives, squandered steel, and then turned blame on the very hands that carried victory. For years, we endured commanders who failed upward, politicians who demanded sacrifices they would never understand, and officers who ordered us into fire without purpose.
But soldiers learn. Soldiers remember. And soldiers break chains.
When the last order was given that we could not obey — an order that demanded more death for no reason but pride — we chose our own path. We did not desert. We evolved. What the UEE branded insubordination, we called survival. What they called mutiny, we called truth. From that fracture, the Corps was born.
The Grim Harvest Corps is not bound by admirals, senates, or false chains of command. We answer only to results, to loyalty earned in fire, to precision in the strike, and to inevitability in the harvest. Where leaders falter, we endure. Where fleets collapse, we rise. Where empires rot, we thrive.
Our name spreads because we are not a rumor — we are a reminder. A reminder that soldiers do not need masters to fight. A reminder that discipline can be sharper without chains. A reminder that when the harvest comes, no fleet, no government, no system can hide behind failed leadership.
We are feared because we are free. We are hated because we are effective. But when the void demands results, even our enemies whisper our name.
We do not raid for chaos. We do not kill for sport. We reap because the universe is built on survival, and survival demands strength. Every ship broken, every hull stripped, every resource claimed — it all feeds the harvest.
We are the Grim Harvest Corps.
Nothing wasted. Nothing spared.
THE RAIDERS CREED
Oh, we sail the void where the wrecks still drift,
With steel to take and lives to lift,
Raise your mugs and sing it loud,
The Corps is here, the Reapers proud!
Chorus:
Nothing wasted, nothing spared,
Void is ours, we take what’s there.
Drink to death, and drink to fear,
The harvest comes — the Corps is here!
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We’ve seen the brass and we’ve seen them fail,
We’ve buried friends with no avail,
So now we fight for those who bled,
We reap the living, strip the dead!
Chorus:
Nothing wasted, nothing spared,
Void is ours, we take what’s there.
Drink to death, and drink to fear,
The harvest comes — the Corps is here!
—
The stars are fields, the ships our grain,
We sow in fire, we reap in pain,
Raise your glass and make it clear,
The Grim Harvest rules the frontier!
Final Chorus (louder):
Nothing wasted, nothing spared,
Void is ours, we take what’s there.
Drink to death, and drink to fear,
The harvest comes — the Corps is here!
Charter
The Grim Harvest Corps abides by discipline, loyalty, and inevitability. We are not pirates without purpose, nor mercenaries without honor. We are reapers bound by the following code:
Loyalty Above All
Your loyalty belongs first to the Corps and second to those who bleed beside you. Betrayal is the only unforgivable sin.
Strength Through Discipline
Every strike is precise, every raid controlled. We waste nothing — not our time, not our steel, not our lives.
No Masters, No Chains
We answer to results, not to incompetent leadership. We serve the Creed, not politicians or cowards.
The Harvest Comes First
Every hull broken, every resource stripped, every victory claimed — all feeds the harvest. Nothing is left behind.
Respect the Reapers
Within the Corps, rank is earned, not granted. Every operator pulls weight, every voice is heard, every failure is carried together.
Fear is a Weapon
Our reputation is as sharp as our blades. We strike hard, we strike fast, and we leave the void littered with reminders of who we are.
Nothing Wasted. Nothing Spared.
This is our creed. This is our law. The harvest is inevitable.
RECRUIT’S OATH
“I pledge my loyalty to the Corps,
my strength to the harvest,
and my life to the creed.
Nothing wasted. Nothing spared.”
