Publisher: Original Frontiers

The void shifts, folds, and opens its hand, and within that hand lies promise—raw, unspoken, and violently undecided. Long-range auguries fracture into competing interpretations. Ancient Diaru scry-engines hum with remembered hunger. Trinity Pact observatories flare with synchronized alarms, their analysts whispering the same forbidden word they swear does not exist. Opportunity. Not conquest. Not salvation. Opportunity is far more dangerous. The Diaru remember when the stars were theirs to name. Their chronicles stretch back beyond accepted history, etched in blood-metal and song-code, recounting an age when their banners eclipsed suns and lesser species learned obedience through awe and terror alike. Though their empire has withered, memory has not. Memory sharpens. Memory demands restoration. When the signal is confirmed, Diaru fleets move without debate—sleek, predatory silhouettes slipping into transit like drawn blades returning to familiar hands. The Trinity Pact moves differently. Bureaucracy fractures into urgency. Expansionist factions see vindication written in stellar radiation; reformists see catastrophe barely restrained. Charters are rewritten mid-transit. Command authority is granted, rescinded, then granted again under sealed emergency doctrine. The Pact does not believe in destiny—but it believes in precedence, and whoever arrives first will define the future by law, by weapon, or by silence. Neither side arrives clean. Diaru strike-cults sabotage rival houses even as their fleets accelerate, ancient grudges reignited by the scent of dominion. Pact vanguards carry conflicting orders—secure, observe, negotiate, suppress—each clause weighted with political poison. No one trusts the data fully. No one trusts each other at all. And beneath it all, something waits. The void around the destination hums with unfamiliar resonance. Signals echo where no echo should exist. Automated probes fail in ways that defy mechanical logic. The stars nearby feel… attentive. As if arrival itself is an intrusion. This is not a war yet. This is not diplomacy. This is the moment before history calcifies—when a single decision will decide who has the right to name what comes next, and who will be erased from the record for daring to arrive too late. You are here as the rush begins. Before borders. Before treaties. Before graves have names. Before the First Claim.

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In this Solo Adventure you assume the role of an adventurer in the shadow-stained expanse of the Known Galaxy. You will require the Haven Fallen Core Rulebook (CRB) and any associated Expansions you wish to use. The world responds to you—your interpretations, your fears, your ambitions—and you will act as both Character and Storyteller. The Actions you take should depend on who and what you meet, what horrors cross your path, and how you choose to engage with them.  Record the outcomes. Evolve the world. Allow rumours, consequences, and scars to reappear later. As you progress, you will become your own Storyteller, shaping a living cosmos that remembers what you do. The outcome of Actions in Haven Fallen is determined by: