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Something I was working on for a bit to describe my "faction" ideas. Enjoy! 
No home world. No land of the heart. Mysterious. Dark. Logical. The Shattered are unknown in their ways; their one evident goal, it seems, is to strip entire worlds, stone, ore and air rent from entire systems, leaving nothing but the molten core behind. Every ship is ready for war, yet, at the same time, they do not seek it. Populated worlds are isolated from their harvest; thriving space stations unnoticed by their search. However, once attacked, they will come; frigates, capitals, even world ships will come to the distress of an ally. Like a hammer upon an anvil, they strike hard and fast, only stopping to tear away the remains of dead and dying ships; it isn’t just another battle but a chance to harvest. Their only foreseeable solitude is seen from afar, a fleet so massive, so awesome, that it would be foolish to attack. Within this fleet, one would see several world ships, home to the Shattered, surrounded by bordering capitals and frigates, small glimpses of fighters constantly patrolling the perimeter. In the revealing sun, glimpses of their onyx hides shine with a dark light, their dark hulls blending them into the blackness of space. They float throughout the depths of nothing, ever present, a force of nature always on the hunt. The sight of this massive fleet heralds an even grimmer thought; this is merely one of many.
It has been documented that the Shattered are led by a two individuals. The first is the Scribe, a life-long appointed member that handles diplomatic missions and has been the only specimen of the Shattered to ever be seen besides its guards. It is the only member that conducts diplomacy outside of the Shattered since the Shattered rarely do interact with any other life form. Thus, many consider it a rare opportunity to see not only a highly respected member but also a Shattered in general. Although a bearer of peace, the Scribe does have command of a personal fleet, yet this is for protective use only. However, the Scribe’s fleet can be called upon for battle if need be. The second individual is the Arbiter, another life-long member, yet, while the Scribe is chosen from a specified heir or elected member (if the Scribe dies without acknowledging an heir), the Herald is chosen from a selected group of candidates whose military record shows prestige. Although the Shattered are linked under a single mind, with each being an individual and part of the collective, there are those known as Syphon, the oldest of the species, who are chosen to organize and direct the needs of the collective. If resources are in great need, the Syphon will manipulate and allocate forces of the Shattered into stripping planets and asteroids. If physical altercation cultivates, the Syphon will control and command how resource is distributed to different fronts, referring to the Arbiter on multiple occasions over the course of battles. This information, though, was all that was given, the Scribe only informing of such facts to glean suspicion away from diplomacy; knowledge quells fear.
As mentioned before, the individuals of the Shattered do show evidence of psycho-kinetic connections with the rest of the species yet do not act like drones of a hive mind. Each seems to have personalities and traits different from others, even though this is rarely seen. It has been recorded on video and audio a guard of the Scribe looking out of a window while waiting for its charge; as it waited, it was heard speaking in a series of thrums and hisses, most likely in the Shattered’s vocal language, in a sort of rhythm, maybe a poem or a song, at the sight of the neighboring star. It then went back to its post by the door when the partnering guard looked over at it, the two then trading a gaze at one another as the partner then began to hiss. This was most-likely castigation against the vocal guard, speaking an obvious taboo, at least in public. It can be theorized, from the conflict, that speaking is probably a tool of expression, such as visual art. This is quite possible, since the Shattered have never shared, even with the most persuasive diplomats, any evidence of creative expression, their ships devoid of any indication of culture. Even derelict ships are found with memory banks wiped freshly clean, as if, by any cost, the Shattered wish none of their culture to be revealed. Once asked on their secrecy, the Scribe only told, “We do not wish fear. Difference breeds fear. Difference is shown from knowledge. We do not wish you to know that knowledge.”
No home world. No land of the heart. Mysterious. Dark. Logical. The Shattered are unknown in their ways; their one evident goal, it seems, is to strip entire worlds, stone, ore and air rent from entire systems, leaving nothing but the molten core behind. Every ship is ready for war, yet, at the same time, they do not seek it. Populated worlds are isolated from their harvest; thriving space stations unnoticed by their search. However, once attacked, they will come; frigates, capitals, even world ships will come to the distress of an ally. Like a hammer upon an anvil, they strike hard and fast, only stopping to tear away the remains of dead and dying ships; it isn’t just another battle but a chance to harvest. Their only foreseeable solitude is seen from afar, a fleet so massive, so awesome, that it would be foolish to attack. Within this fleet, one would see several world ships, home to the Shattered, surrounded by bordering capitals and frigates, small glimpses of fighters constantly patrolling the perimeter. In the revealing sun, glimpses of their onyx hides shine with a dark light, their dark hulls blending them into the blackness of space. They float throughout the depths of nothing, ever present, a force of nature always on the hunt. The sight of this massive fleet heralds an even grimmer thought; this is merely one of many.
It has been documented that the Shattered are led by a two individuals. The first is the Scribe, a life-long appointed member that handles diplomatic missions and has been the only specimen of the Shattered to ever be seen besides its guards. It is the only member that conducts diplomacy outside of the Shattered since the Shattered rarely do interact with any other life form. Thus, many consider it a rare opportunity to see not only a highly respected member but also a Shattered in general. Although a bearer of peace, the Scribe does have command of a personal fleet, yet this is for protective use only. However, the Scribe’s fleet can be called upon for battle if need be. The second individual is the Arbiter, another life-long member, yet, while the Scribe is chosen from a specified heir or elected member (if the Scribe dies without acknowledging an heir), the Herald is chosen from a selected group of candidates whose military record shows prestige. Although the Shattered are linked under a single mind, with each being an individual and part of the collective, there are those known as Syphon, the oldest of the species, who are chosen to organize and direct the needs of the collective. If resources are in great need, the Syphon will manipulate and allocate forces of the Shattered into stripping planets and asteroids. If physical altercation cultivates, the Syphon will control and command how resource is distributed to different fronts, referring to the Arbiter on multiple occasions over the course of battles. This information, though, was all that was given, the Scribe only informing of such facts to glean suspicion away from diplomacy; knowledge quells fear.
As mentioned before, the individuals of the Shattered do show evidence of psycho-kinetic connections with the rest of the species yet do not act like drones of a hive mind. Each seems to have personalities and traits different from others, even though this is rarely seen. It has been recorded on video and audio a guard of the Scribe looking out of a window while waiting for its charge; as it waited, it was heard speaking in a series of thrums and hisses, most likely in the Shattered’s vocal language, in a sort of rhythm, maybe a poem or a song, at the sight of the neighboring star. It then went back to its post by the door when the partnering guard looked over at it, the two then trading a gaze at one another as the partner then began to hiss. This was most-likely castigation against the vocal guard, speaking an obvious taboo, at least in public. It can be theorized, from the conflict, that speaking is probably a tool of expression, such as visual art. This is quite possible, since the Shattered have never shared, even with the most persuasive diplomats, any evidence of creative expression, their ships devoid of any indication of culture. Even derelict ships are found with memory banks wiped freshly clean, as if, by any cost, the Shattered wish none of their culture to be revealed. Once asked on their secrecy, the Scribe only told, “We do not wish fear. Difference breeds fear. Difference is shown from knowledge. We do not wish you to know that knowledge.”
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