The Vexari did not merely travel through the stars — they carved through them.
Every ship in their fleet was more than a vessel; it was a manifestation of their creed—domination, precision, and divine purpose.Their fleets were living hierarchies, each vessel an extension of the caste it served. To see a Vexarian armada move was to witness philosophy made flesh and metal: order, brutality, and beauty in synchronized motion. Every thruster burn was a declaration of conquest.
Threx-Class Transport Vessels
At the foundation of the fleet stood the Threx-class, the silent workhorses of Vexarian logistics.
Their sleek, manta-ray silhouettes glided through the void like shadows given form, their hulls forged from obsidian plating interwoven with stealth mesh that devoured radar and light alike.These ships ferried hunters and prey between the ranches and the hunting grounds, their interiors stripped of comfort and vanity. The corridors were narrow and metallic, the air cold and sterile. Rows of seats lined the walls—functional, never ornamental.Weapon racks hung like ceremonial altars, their designs elegant yet ruthless, prepared for the sacred hunt.
Propelled by pulse thrusters, Threx vessels could dart through planetary orbits or evade enemy fire with surgical precision.They were vessels built for one purpose: utility.
Cold, silent, and efficient—their stillness whispered of impending slaughter.
Korr-Class War Vessels
If the Threx-class was the bloodline, the Korr-class was the muscle.
Jagged and formidable, these warships were the bedrock of planetary assault, their armored hulls bristling with plasma turrets and kinetic disruptors capable of tearing through orbital defenses like paper.
Each ship radiated an aura of predatory grace, moving with stealth despite its massive frame. Advanced cloaking meshes allowed it to drift unseen through enemy detection grids until the perfect moment to strike.
When unleashed, the Korr-class rained destruction with calculated precision — orbital bombardments designed not just to annihilate but to break the will of those below.
The interior was a labyrinth of command corridors, barracks, and ritual chambers illuminated by red emergency lights that pulsed in rhythm with battle alerts.
Every Korr-class vessel was both fortress and altar—where strategy met faith.
High-ranking Vexari, especially High Lords, commanded enhanced versions of these ships—larger, heavier, and armed with advanced targeting arrays. To the enemy, their approach meant death; to the Vexari, it was art.
Zar'kul-Class Stasis Vessels
And then there were the Zar'kul-class—colossal cylindrical titans that did not wage war but preserved it.
Each one glowed faintly with containment rings, spinning around the hull like luminous halos. Within those rings pulsed neural dampening fields, designed to hold runners—human prey—locked in deep stasis for years, even centuries.
Inside, the silence was near holy.
Thousands of stasis pods filled vast circular chambers, each pod a crystal womb holding a single sleeping runner. They floated in an eerie stillness, surrounded by hums of psychic inhibitors that kept their minds subdued and their bodies suspended in time.
To the Vexari, these ships were not prisons. They were vaults of potential—repositories of future hunts, of prey waiting to test their evolution.
When the time came, a stasis vessel would descend into orbit above a chosen world. The pods would open one by one, releasing their captives into drop chambers.
Each runner would be dropped directly into their assigned ranch—a carefully curated arena where they would awaken in confusion, fear, and purpose.
Even time bowed to Vexarian design.
The runners did not age in stasis. Their lives were frozen until the Queens willed the hunt to begin.
Velh'thra's Ark — The Zek'Nar
Above all ships, beyond rank or class, existed one vessel unlike any other:
Velh'thra's Ark — the Zek'Nar.
The Zek'Nar was not a warship. It was an empire—a floating cathedral that pulsed with energy and sang with the resonance of living Zark. It was the throne-world of Queen Velh'thra herself, the sanctum of her spirit and the altar of her reign.
Its exterior shimmered like a black sun, carved with ancient glyphs that burned faintly with soul energy.
Every line, every carving was a record of her conquests, each symbol an echo of worlds claimed and enemies erased.
Within, the ship was a cosmos of reverence and order.
At its heart lay the Throne Chamber, where Queen Velh'thra ruled—her presence a force that could silence the storm. Surrounding it were her egg sanctums, vast pools of liquefied Zark and obsidian where new life was conceived.
Ceremonial corridors lined with guards led to her chamber of communion, a place where her will was performed in ritual, command, and creation.
Every surface glowed with the energy of the Queen's essence, alive and watching.
The Zek'Nar was more than home. It was domain, weapon, and faith combined—a living extension of her divinity.
Only the Grand High Lords and her personal guards were permitted to set foot within its sacred halls. Any who entered unbidden met instant death.
From the smallest Threx-class to the divine Zek'Nar, the Vexarian fleet mirrored the society it served.
It was hierarchy given form, philosophy made steel—a testament to their belief that conquest was not merely action, but existence itself.
To move was to conquer.
To exist was to dominate.