The sixth iteration of Micro-Arms founding invention, the MWP-6 is a compact anti-personnel weapon, designed for use in ship and station side environments, where failing to breach the hull is even more important than the destruction of the target.
It is taken for granted that medical technologies will advance apace in the future, permitting rapid healing and perhaps even shaping of the human body. This submission is to provide possible flavors for that medicine to come in.
Silent and invisible, the only herald of the arrival of Kayrun the Disintegrator is the screams of his victims.
Various entities in the Starkin Universe to support the ongoing forum game.
The Eldest of the Oraki, and for long their leader, Lifthrasir-1 has helped his children survive the throes of their birth, and has at last stepped aside, so that his waning years do not bring harm to his people.
Prometheus was a Greek Titan. Possibly one of the most important Titans, as he stole fire from Zeus and gave it to the humans. This system was developed to resist those forces through technological means.
Pelta'na'astal'i'ke'kisher - The Spear that Sundered the Stars
The spear of the Goddess Renga, who gave the gift of the Hunt to the Kel'Regar.
Even as humans can be, the Kel'Regar, too, can be touched by madness, and it can drive them to push to ends incomprehensible by the sane. The work of one such, Kararemi'ar'Salm'Torat, the Menangerie of Mad Creation, is a twisted, living structure, tormented by years of loneliness and incomprehensible need.
A wanderer of sorts, Brelan is one of the few Kel’Regar men who have chosen to mix freely with the greater galactic society, having found his calling at last behing the bar.
A small, hidden sect among the stars, distributed throughout hundreds of cells, The Word of Creation has dedicated itself to cleansing humanity of the taint of synthetic and altered life, and of holding a strong and pure humanity above all the Galaxy, through whatever means necessary.
More subtle than artillery, Mul'Tals, the siege-vine of the Kel'Regar, is more than capable of reducing the strongest of defenses to rubble, growing, twisting, and devouring its way through them.
The Kir’bret’rasach is the Kel’Regar answer to the question of the main battle tank. More than one foe has been caught unaware by its massive strength and tearing claws.
Designed in the early days of mech combat, the SPC-19 Cannon is a cheap, but surprisingly effective counter measure against the agile battle suits.
- "What about that one?"
- "They say he was a chipper back then. Took over his whole family and many more. And now, now he’s a real zombie."
Fingers snapped before his face, he didn’t notice. He just kept shuffling his cards again, that is all he did. A tear ran down his cheek. He missed the Emotion again.
Adapted to the coldest of inhabitable worlds, the stocky Snowborn are the Starkin’s frozen cousins, set to defend them from threats from outside, using their terrible world itself as a weapon.
Located on a world near the heart of Kel’Regar space, Nath’ar’Selass’Resan is a world renowned amongst that kind for it’s beautiful art, high technology, and the absolute lack of things that can kill a woman in dignified fashion.
Admirals, I present to you the future of space warfare! No longer will you need to waste billions of credits on costly space battles, and millions of lives on planetary warfare with hostile cultures. For only a fraction of the cost of a heavy cruiser, I present you with a weapon capable of eliminating an entire solar system. "I present the Star Hammer!"
(A powerful and deviously simple weapon to make space warfare in any sci-fi game forever changed)
The Ark of Eden was created to be humanity’s future, now it is the future of humanity that lies lost in the blackness of space.
It is pretty.
Yes it is. A man could get lost in himself there.
Is that a bad thing?
Depends on the man.
A subtle, and effective improvement to the standard gravitic shielding common throughout the Starkin Federation, this device rapidly degrades and destroys energy weapons brought to bear against it.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...