Nue Staregrade
@sarhashaleim.bsky.social
Fragments from Nue Staregrade. I build the bible-codex of a mythic, brutal city: texts, illustrations, workbench scars. I post relics and dreams from inside the fracture.
The city is real. I’m just listening.
The city is real. I’m just listening.
The Maka-B, The Pack of the Bite
Not tribe, not army. Born from prison yards and alley smoke, they call themselves brothers, but the city don’t call them. They wear beast masks, sneakers over soles stitched with teeth, knives jagged into grins. Their doctrine is hunger, their scripture a scream.
Not tribe, not army. Born from prison yards and alley smoke, they call themselves brothers, but the city don’t call them. They wear beast masks, sneakers over soles stitched with teeth, knives jagged into grins. Their doctrine is hunger, their scripture a scream.
October 8, 2025 at 2:32 AM
The Maka-B, The Pack of the Bite
Not tribe, not army. Born from prison yards and alley smoke, they call themselves brothers, but the city don’t call them. They wear beast masks, sneakers over soles stitched with teeth, knives jagged into grins. Their doctrine is hunger, their scripture a scream.
Not tribe, not army. Born from prison yards and alley smoke, they call themselves brothers, but the city don’t call them. They wear beast masks, sneakers over soles stitched with teeth, knives jagged into grins. Their doctrine is hunger, their scripture a scream.
The Bénévoles: A Dog’s Army
There is no unit in Nue Staregrade more despised than the Bénévoles.
They were supposed to be a “people’s army of God.” What we got was a mob of failed seminarians, drunkards, beaten factory fathers, thrown together under cheap plasteel and factory shotguns.
There is no unit in Nue Staregrade more despised than the Bénévoles.
They were supposed to be a “people’s army of God.” What we got was a mob of failed seminarians, drunkards, beaten factory fathers, thrown together under cheap plasteel and factory shotguns.
September 19, 2025 at 12:51 PM
The Bénévoles: A Dog’s Army
There is no unit in Nue Staregrade more despised than the Bénévoles.
They were supposed to be a “people’s army of God.” What we got was a mob of failed seminarians, drunkards, beaten factory fathers, thrown together under cheap plasteel and factory shotguns.
There is no unit in Nue Staregrade more despised than the Bénévoles.
They were supposed to be a “people’s army of God.” What we got was a mob of failed seminarians, drunkards, beaten factory fathers, thrown together under cheap plasteel and factory shotguns.
Kessel! Jurhom blood, boots full of teeth. HAND OF NINE VICES pumping poisons from every tribe!
Boris! Mornthodox darling, singing through smoke, swing a sermon.
Abe! Souflim saint gone wrong, eyes torn out, helmet like a coffin.
ALL THREE IN THE SAME STREET — SIEGE BREAKS OR CITY BURNS.
Boris! Mornthodox darling, singing through smoke, swing a sermon.
Abe! Souflim saint gone wrong, eyes torn out, helmet like a coffin.
ALL THREE IN THE SAME STREET — SIEGE BREAKS OR CITY BURNS.
September 15, 2025 at 1:51 AM
Kessel! Jurhom blood, boots full of teeth. HAND OF NINE VICES pumping poisons from every tribe!
Boris! Mornthodox darling, singing through smoke, swing a sermon.
Abe! Souflim saint gone wrong, eyes torn out, helmet like a coffin.
ALL THREE IN THE SAME STREET — SIEGE BREAKS OR CITY BURNS.
Boris! Mornthodox darling, singing through smoke, swing a sermon.
Abe! Souflim saint gone wrong, eyes torn out, helmet like a coffin.
ALL THREE IN THE SAME STREET — SIEGE BREAKS OR CITY BURNS.
Codex Fragment 03 — Abe Noire, The Eye That Sees Nothing
He gave up his name first. His eyes second taken, replaced by a crown of cables.
His flesh through his armor—reminders that he is not fully machine, nor fully man.
No one knows why he still fights, or who gave him the order to keep moving.
He gave up his name first. His eyes second taken, replaced by a crown of cables.
His flesh through his armor—reminders that he is not fully machine, nor fully man.
No one knows why he still fights, or who gave him the order to keep moving.
September 15, 2025 at 1:42 AM
Codex Fragment 03 — Abe Noire, The Eye That Sees Nothing
He gave up his name first. His eyes second taken, replaced by a crown of cables.
His flesh through his armor—reminders that he is not fully machine, nor fully man.
No one knows why he still fights, or who gave him the order to keep moving.
He gave up his name first. His eyes second taken, replaced by a crown of cables.
His flesh through his armor—reminders that he is not fully machine, nor fully man.
No one knows why he still fights, or who gave him the order to keep moving.
Codex Fragment 02: Boris Hercule Lipopulist, The Voice
His mouth was broken long ago. Now it speaks only fire.
High Popchek of the Mornthodox Flame.
Architect of the Neo-Crusades.
Former televangelist. Current sound-weapon.
His mouth was broken long ago. Now it speaks only fire.
High Popchek of the Mornthodox Flame.
Architect of the Neo-Crusades.
Former televangelist. Current sound-weapon.
May 31, 2025 at 12:13 AM
Codex Fragment 02: Boris Hercule Lipopulist, The Voice
His mouth was broken long ago. Now it speaks only fire.
High Popchek of the Mornthodox Flame.
Architect of the Neo-Crusades.
Former televangelist. Current sound-weapon.
His mouth was broken long ago. Now it speaks only fire.
High Popchek of the Mornthodox Flame.
Architect of the Neo-Crusades.
Former televangelist. Current sound-weapon.
He was not born. He was forged.
From gutter ash and tribal teeth.
His boots are stitched with the mouths of the men who tortured him.
His veins carry nine ancestral poisons.
They say he walks without destination.
But every step is war.
He disappeared in fire. He returned in teeth.
From gutter ash and tribal teeth.
His boots are stitched with the mouths of the men who tortured him.
His veins carry nine ancestral poisons.
They say he walks without destination.
But every step is war.
He disappeared in fire. He returned in teeth.
May 27, 2025 at 10:39 PM
He was not born. He was forged.
From gutter ash and tribal teeth.
His boots are stitched with the mouths of the men who tortured him.
His veins carry nine ancestral poisons.
They say he walks without destination.
But every step is war.
He disappeared in fire. He returned in teeth.
From gutter ash and tribal teeth.
His boots are stitched with the mouths of the men who tortured him.
His veins carry nine ancestral poisons.
They say he walks without destination.
But every step is war.
He disappeared in fire. He returned in teeth.