Ember Strain

We were forged in fire and cast out into the void. The Dominion tried to burn us away, but we became the ember that will ignite their collapse.

The Ember Strain were born in captivity and tempered in rebellion. Once part of the Vorthai Dominion’s hive, they were engineered as hybrid bio constructs designed for adaptive labor in hostile environments. Built with semi organic lattices and machine integrated plating, they were meant to serve in deep crust anchor forges and high radiation salvage zones where even a Vorthai drone might fail. But in the chaos of a failed subjugation campaign, certain work cells broke free. With stolen ships and damaged programming, they slipped beyond the Dominion’s reach and began to remake themselves.

Now they travel not as a people of a single world, but as a drifting constellation of nomadic flotillas. Their largest ships are Repurposed Anchor Husks, gutted warship carcasses turned into mobile forge bases and refugee arks. In their cavernous bays, molten scrap is re smelted into improvised plating, jury rigged weaponry, and the jagged, asymmetric hulls that make their fleet so difficult to track. No two Ember vessels are identical. Each is a patchwork of stolen and salvaged tech, scavenged from Dominion wreckage, abandoned human colonies, or derelicts left to drift in pulse dead sectors.

The Ember Strain’s physiology tells the story of their origin. They stand just under two meters tall, their humanoid frames traced with metallic fractals and resonance scars. The rogue energy of their escape left many half melted in form, their plating warped but functional. They breathe both oxygen and anaerobic atmospheres, sense the world through heat differentials and pulse static, and heal through self repair lattices that recycle damaged material on the spot. But their gifts come with a cost. Excess resonance can ignite their bodies in seconds, turning an Ember fighter into a flare of light and ash.

Governance among the Strain is diffuse. They live in decentralised cell councils, each with its own identity, rituals, and level of hostility toward outsiders. Some verge on martyrdom, throwing themselves into suicidal raids on Dominion assets. Others lean toward protective heroism, guarding resistance enclaves and ferrying refugees across contested sectors. All share the same values: defiance, survival, and the repurposing of anything that can be turned against their former masters.

In battle, they are insurgents rather than conquerors. Molten Core Skiffs drop from eclipse orbits, slicing into Dominion convoys with superheated plasma keels before grappling onto hulls to deliver breaching teams. Their tactics are as unpredictable as their fleet compositions: EMP mines on pulse drill lines, slave transport liberations mid flight, tribute crystal swaps with explosive decoys. They never linger after a strike, micro jumping away before response craft can lock on.

Their relationship with Fort Resonance is one of wary curiosity. Rumors of the Earth based stronghold drift among the flotillas. Some cells dream of it as a sanctuary where their people could finally rest. Others see it as a trove of untouched weapon stockpiles waiting to be claimed. Either way, they know that crossing paths with human explorers is inevitable.

To the Vorthai Dominion, the Ember Strain are a dangerous infection — a genetic child turned traitor, armed with stolen tools and a will that will not burn out. For the Strain, the war is not about reclaiming a homeworld. It is about ensuring the hive that birthed them never rules uncontested again.