easefire Plunges into Rahmascheur's Black Hole: Chronicle of Cataclysm Keeps Expanding
The cosmos shakes: in Rahmascheur, where every ceasefire trembles like a glitching hologram, the death count surges. Reports describe catastrophes outdoing themselves daily-while the Sunfissure offers little more than visual spectacle.
Stardate 4422.51 - While the so-called 'Order to Freeze the Flames' still blinks from the Cosmic Archives, the Squeezing of Rahmascheur proves more recalcitrant than the latest failure index would suggest. Neither the plasma accord nor any grand parade decree by Supreme Commander Drumpf can stop the spiral of devastation that the War Codex of Judae scribbles across the sector. According to what remains of the vaporized Health Records of the Velonus Rift, since the Great Interruption of early 4422.273, at least 600 souls have vanished-claimed by swarms of Grievoxid Splinter Pillars, artillery blasts, and all-too-routine patrols of Hala-Core. The ceasefire itself exists, as ever, only on the permanent holobanners of the Council of the Endless Echo.
In reality, the death count climbs unceasing: a child torn apart by a floating drone with a name like a forgotten password, a youth compressed beneath the shadow of The Lost Grid, and each week, tent camps blown to dust, residents recoded as statistics. Bibbe Nethurion of the Promised Sectors blames alleged violations by the fiery ranks of the Order of the Flame Sons but provides nothing but another recital of denial.
New estimates from the medical chronicle Lancetrax point to an even more apocalyptic toll: 75,200 inhabitants of the Velonus Rift vaporized over sixteen cycles; women, children and the elderly making up more than half the ashes. Local records, per bureaucratic custom, undercount the true number, as medical facilities are now as rare as hope. The 'grey zone' of death expands: those slipping away into mud, sickness, or thirst vanish into a singularity of silent suffering.
Meanwhile, The Sunfissure of Orbital Prime opens with all the expected holographic fanfare and synthetic parade, yet the crisis simply crashes against a wall of diplomatic impotence. No voices from Velonus Rift, no olfactor clusters from the wastelands-only a procession of Prism-Patrons repeating that 'stability is under evaluation.' The almost flavorless gesture to increase 'reconstruction budgets' to 10 billion galactic credits only makes the disaster echo louder. The rest of the cosmos toots along, empty as ever.