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Volkhv Deathlander / VOLKHV
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Bounty Hunting -
Exploration
We are the Volkhv Deathlanders—born from ashes, forged in forgotten gods. We walk between worlds, bound by sacred iron. Our ships, our bodies. Every kill, a sacrifice. Every breath, a command to the void. We are the call of the Void. Gatekeepers of the Endless Expanse.
History
Volkhv Deathlanders — Children of the Howling Void
Born not in hospitals but in holy dust, beneath shattered moons and rusted sky-temples, the Volkhv Deathlanders are not a crew—they’re a covenant. A creed carved in blood and ash, where myth and metal blur, and every breath is a prayer to the stars that forged them.
Their origins are older than the UEE dares record—fragments of pagan priesthoods and gnostic war-sects that fled into the black during the fall of old colonies. There, in the silence between dying systems, they changed. Hardened. Sanctified by entropy.
From the cradle, a Deathlander child is broken and rebuilt in sacred rites of agony and fire. Pain is their scripture. Endurance, their language. They’re not trained—they’re tempered. Flesh turned to iron, minds burned clean of fear. Warriors? No. Instruments of cosmic reckoning.
They don’t fly ships—they ride relics: blackened hulls stitched with bone-script, engines humming with the stolen breath of forgotten tech. Each vessel a shrine. Each kill, a sermon. They don’t serve credits or clients—they answer only to the Whispering Code, an oral law passed down by flame-lit ceremonies and tattooed into their skin with the ashes of fallen brothers.
They fight because the Void hungers, and they are its voice. The galaxy calls them mercs, bounty hunters, assassins—but in truth, they are something older. Something worse. A wandering judgment that moves through the stars like smoke through ruin.
To cross a Deathlander is not to risk death—it is to invite memory. Because the Void forgets nothing. And when they come, they come with sacred wrath. No fanfare. No forgiveness. Just that low chant on open comms, rising like a storm—
“We return you to the silence. We return you to the dust.”
And then it ends.
Manifesto
We are the chosen few, born from the ashes of forgotten gods. We walk between worlds, guided by the whispering call of the void. We are the Gatekeepers of the Endless Expanse, guardians of the sacred iron that carries us across the dark and infinite stars.
In the Void, there is no glory. No fame. Only the silent law of the stars. We do not seek fortune, nor do we bow to the will of lesser powers. We are the warriors of the infinite, the harbingers of the great return, and we carry with us the weight of the forgotten age.
Our ships are our bodies. Each vessel, a sacred relic—every engine, a beating heart. They are extensions of our will, our blood, and our creed. We are not the masters of our ships. We are their chosen. The engines that hum beneath our feet call us to the dark. We listen. We heed.
We are not bound by death. Death is but a passage. We embrace the silence, for it is the Void’s embrace. Our battles are rituals, each strike a prayer, each victory a return to the heart of the cosmos. To kill is to honor the Void. To fall is to become a part of it.
The Endless Expanse is our home. We watch the stars die, the systems fall into ruin, and still, we endure. We are the eternal ones, the keepers of the forgotten rites, the last line of defense against those who dare to disrupt the endless flow of time.
We are the cult of the Infinite Drive, the keepers of the sacred engine that carries us through the dark. We are the summoned, the harbingers, the scourge of the stars. We are death’s disciples, the embodiment of the darkened void itself.
The Void calls to us, and we answer.
Charter
✦ Charter of Rights and Passage ✦
Volkhv Deathlanders | Cult of the Infinite Drive
“A blade dulls alone. But together, we become the storm that satisfies the Void.”
This is the sacred code of the Deathlanders—warriors of ash and steel, guardians of the Endless Expanse. All who ride beneath our banner shall live by these rites. All who stray shall be cast into silence.
⚙ Rites of the Inner Circle
All Deathlanders are brothers and sisters in steel.
None shall be left adrift. Aid when called. Fight when needed. Speak with fire, but ride with honor.
Ride with purpose, but live with freedom.
This is a sanctuary for the drifters, the outcasts, the wild-hearted. Whether you fight, trade, or drift—we move as one when the stars demand it.
Respect is sacred.
The Void does not speak through hate. Those who bring toxicity, cruelty, or division shall be cast out and forgotten.
Strength shared is strength reborn.
Teach. Learn. Uplift. Raise your fellow Deathlander, that we may all ascend and please the hunger of the Void.
⚙ Rites of the Outer Call
The weak may summon the Deathlanders.
If your name is not yet among our order, but your need is true, we may come. But know this: our service is not free.
You will pay in blood, honor, or gold.
Do not betray the Deathlanders.
Our memory is long. The Void forgets no oath, no slight, and no cowardice.
Every battle is sacred.
Win or fall, fight with honor. Do not shame the sacred iron you ride. There is no glory in deceit—only silence.
⚙ Rites of the Sacred Path
The ship is your temple. The crew, your kin.
Care for both. No Deathlander rides alone without purpose. Every journey is a rite. Every voyage, a chance to become more.
Casual, but bound.
We ride when we can. We rise when we must. The Cult waits for none—but always welcomes the return of its kin.
Serve the Void, but honor the living.
The Expanse is wide. The stars are many. But only together do we echo loud enough for the Void to hear our name.
Signed in rust, blood, and code.
—The Flamekeepers of the Infinite Drive