Deadheart Realm : Pt 1

Tormalain sculpture now distroyed by Kovosh

(As Recorded by Professor Highbrain)

Archived transmission – Level 7 Clearance.
Note: We have included human-scale clarifications, measurements, and the occasional sarcasm for ease of understanding.

Professor Highbrain currently lectures at the Dark Space Theory University on Gharneth Prime.

Ah, attentive minds. Today, we will discuss the vast, misunderstood enigma that is our Deadheart Realm, an ancient structure of civilisation whose sheer scale, stability, and stubbornness have baffled scholars since the Fifth Curve of Thought.

Allow me to begin with a matter of scope: Realm-wide Spatial Overview

he Deadheart Realm stretches approximately 87 billion regis-lengths from edge to edge.
(Equivalent to 66 billion kilometres)

It is a distance so profoundly impractical to traverse that even Remus, one of our more percussive creations, once commented:

“It’s a very long walk, even if you’re dead keen and packed sandwiches.”

He’s not wrong.
Our spatial dominion is laced with rogue moons, mega-planets, cursed vaults, gravity-stunted satellites, and at least one nebula that has become sentient and refuses to answer messages unless addressed in riddles.

Yet even all of this is only prelude. For at the heart of the Realm lies the world upon which memory itself is built:

The Planetzoid
The Planetzoid is not a planet. It is not an asteroid. It is something else, something constructed, sealed, and stabilised beyond the reach of natural classification. It does not orbit. It does not decay. And it certainly does not explain itself.

It houses the Chroneus Sanctum, and within that: the greatest intellectual creation of our known existence

The Omniknowlex
A structure of collective knowing, etched across time-locked strata and sealed in crystalline mnemonic latticework.

(A knowledge archive so dense it makes the entire writings of Earth look like two short graphic novels and a pocketbook map of Scunthorpe)

The Omniknowlex preserves everything: treaties, tactics, art, war logs, obscure drink recipes, forgotten languages, even contradictory truths. This continuity of recorded memory is what has allowed our Realm to remain stable across millennia.

Where other civilisations forget and fall, we remember and remain.

The Deadheart Family

The Deadhearts maintain this empire. They are its keepers and its curators. While lesser minds may see them as tyrants holding us in stasis, such critics lack the wisdom to comprehend how catastrophically bad things could become without them steering the metaphorical ship.

Their guiding principle is practical, if a little earthy:
“If it’s not broken, don’t break it trying to fix it.”

The Deadheart family are industrialists in the same way Einstein might be described down the pub as “a bit of a clever clogs.” They made their obscene fortune mining a metal known as Karillion, light and strong. So strong, in fact, it became the backbone of nearly every intergalactic craft, from modest pleasure cruisers to the Darfelazica, a war machine so deadly that entire planets have been known to shudder when it flies past.

Karillion is extracted from asteroid fields by vast starships like the legendary Dawnstar
(see The Jaws of Dawnstar for a firsthand account of that beast in action).

Among the few remaining bloodline members, three command specific attention:

Kovosh Deadheart – The reigning patriarch. Cold, deliberate, and brilliant. He neither created the structure nor designed the system, but he ensures its continuity with precision and threat. His control over Karillion mining and knowledge access defines much of our Realm’s rhythm. He is both feared and obeyed, often simultaneously.

Sarivonic Deadheart – His bonded partner. Graceful, incisive, and dangerously affectionate. Her devotion to her child is legend. Some argue it borders on irrational attachment. Others suggest it is the only warmth remaining in the family line. Her influence is silent but vast.

Lady Deadheart – Born Tormalain, and now something else entirely. Following a violent ideological fracture with her father, she underwent Transmutation, the illegal process by which one’s neural essence is transferred into a designed organic–mechanical hybrid form.

(Note: This blends regenerative biomaterial with hardened combat materials. It has been designed in this case in a female form by personal choice, likely to anger her father.)

Transmuters, while not immortal, can live for an unmeasurable amount of time. Sadly, Lady Deadheart currently exists in exile, due to a bounty placed on her head by her father—but more on that another time.

The Tuskars – The Fly in the Deadheart Ointment

For all its scale and splendour, the Deadheart Realm is not without its… wonky bits. And few bits are wonkier than the Tuskars.

The Tuskars are towering, volatile humanoids—thick-bodied brutes with colossal heads
(which resemble what humans once called mammoths—now extinct)
From the neck down: brute force. From the neck up: something between ancient bone magic and bio-anatomical absurdity. Their tusks are monstrous—decorated with rings, glyphs, embedded flags, and, occasionally, trophies.

They are not a subtle species.

Perpetually angry, pathologically unreasonable, and allergic to joy, the Tuskars are a cosmic parody of the schoolyard bully—smashing what others build, looting what others love, and offering a black eye as a thank-you note.

You might ask: why haven’t the Deadhearts eliminated them?

The answer is Kovosh.

Kovosh Deadheart, in all his cold brilliance, sees the Tuskars as… useful. Their chaos keeps the Realm from falling asleep at the wheel. A little fear, a little instability—it’s good for business.

So rather than crush them, Kovosh did something far more elegant:
He persuaded the XTylos to engineer a new species to keep the Tuskars in check. A force bred for war. Built for precision.
The War Pandas.

The Tuskars rage and ruin. The War Pandas control and contain.
It’s a grim balancing act. Like fitting a volcano with a thermostat.

Many across the stars view this destructive cycle—the back-and-forth of Tuskar raids and War Panda retaliation—as a sick game. A cosmic tug-of-war with lives as rope. But in the Deadheart Realm, it’s seen as something else:
Normal.
Like weather.
Terrible, predictable weather… with tusks.

Warfare and Wagers

Wherever violence is structured, profit follows.

A thriving black market economy has emerged around the outcomes of Tuskar vs. War Panda engagements.
Wagers are placed. Odds manipulated. Strategies analysed.

Yes, the Pandas usually win…
However, not always—and it’s definitely not a given.

And when they lose, other metaphoric levers must be pulled to preserve “balance.”

The system absorbs the casualties and moves on.
It always has.
It always will.

End transmission.