1 member
Void Maw / VOIDMAW
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Infiltration -
Freelancing
The Maw opens. Let it devour.
The Void Maw is not a faction. It’s a craving, draped in flesh, wearing helmets to mock the living.
This is what happens when the black gets hungry.
Every attack is carnage. Every kill is a message: the galaxy is not safe. And it never was.
The Maw opens. Let it devour.
History
The Opening
In the dark gulf beyond the fringe of known space, a vessel drifted. The Threnody Black. A deep-space observatory, assigned to monitor gravitational anomalies no one else dared study. It transmitted static for months—nothing new—until one day, the signal changed.
Not a scream.
Not a call.
A command.
“Open the Maw. Let it devour.”
When a retrieval crew arrived, there was no distress beacon. No survivors. Only a ship transformed — a cathedral of rust and flesh. Hull plating peeled back like petals, corridors slick with organic residue. The Threnody Black hadn’t been boarded. It had been repurposed.
They found no log entries. Just etchings, carved by hand and tooth, repeating the same phrase over and over:
“Open the Maw. Let it devour.”
One figure was found still upright in the cockpit, encased in a suit that pulsed faintly with purple light. Its helmet had no visor, only a smooth surface stretched with an unnatural grin. The crew called it a corpse. They were wrong.
It was The Mawcaller — the first to hear the hunger beyond the black. The first to open itself and be filled. It did not speak in sound, only pressure and compulsion. Some say it saw the void. Others say it became its mouth.
The crew who found the ship didn’t report back.
They were seen again years later. Changed.
Ships with jagged markings. Faces hollow. Eyes glowing. Unrelenting.
Thus began the Void Maw — not a faction, but a contagion.
Not an army, but a ritual.
Not a war — but a feeding.
No recruitment. No ranks.
Only one truth:
The Void has opened, and it needs to be fed.
Manifesto
The Void Maw is not an organization. It is an infection.
Born from the silence in the black, it moves without mercy, a hive of killers wrapped in flesh, guided by instinct, violence, and the hunger for obliteration.
We don’t fight for UEC. We don’t care about politics, reputation, or empires.
We exist to hunt, to destroy, and to consume.
Our presence is infection. Our touch is extinction.
When the Maw opens, the black feasts.
What We Do:
• Fearcraft • Terror Raids • Psychological warfare, ambushes, and symbolically brutal tactics • High-Skill PvP • Dogfighting, FPS combat, ship boarding • Black Site OpsCharter
Rules:
• No weakness. Cowards get spaced. • No mercy. We finish what we start.The Maw has no hierarchy, only the level of descent of its devoured.
0 — Seed of Maw
You didn’t join. You were absorbed.
The infection begins. No voice. No vision. A passenger in your own skull. You’re only here because something inside whispered “yes.”
1 — Echo
A mouth repeating words it doesn’t understand.
You hear the Maw. You speak its phrases. You don’t yet know what they mean — but you repeat them anyway. A mimic. A shadow.
2 — Hollowtongue
When the Maw speaks, your throat opens.
You begin to interpret the void. You deliver its doctrine. You’ve carved out your voice so the Maw can echo through it.
3 — Grinbearer
You wear the smile. Not for joy — but as a threat.
Your presence is ritual. Symbol. The mask you wear, the grin you hold, marks you as more than a speaker — you’re a warning. You’ve taken lives with words alone.
4 — The Whisperer
You don’t command. You correct.
You are not a leader — you are the course correction. You move behind decisions. You nudge. Others feel your voice as an itch in their minds. If the Maw had fingers, they’d be yours.
5 — Mawcaller
You don’t give orders. You summon hunger.*
The Maw doesn’t need a leader. But if it had a mouthpiece, it would be you. When you speak, others devour. You are not above them — you are already gone.
