Necrocyborg Jack-O-Reaper

The Necrocyborgs broke their gods. Chained them. Put them to work. It was supposed to mean that nothing stood above them anymore.

It did not.

Beyond the edge of every star chart there are powers the dynasties never found, never measured and never shackled. They do not conquer. They do not want worship. They get bored. And once, for reasons no logic engine has ever resolved, they reached down, pulled a single reaper out of a harvest column, wiped his directives clean and replaced them with one instruction: COLLECT TREATS.

Then, for completeness, they replaced his head.

The archives still cannot process the head. Round. Grinning. Stitched teeth. Expression classified as “unacceptable”. Everything below it remained exactly what it was before: a war-frame built to end worlds, a harvest scythe engraved with the old circuits, a cloak of overlapping plates that was never cloth, and two long segmented streamers trailing behind him like a funeral procession that forgot to stop.

He arrives once every cycle. Always at the same moment. Never in the same sector twice. The pattern is recorded and repeated. Lights fail. Every open channel fills with laughter that has no source. A tall figure phases out of the dark with a scythe in one hand and a small orange bucket in the other. 

He asks one question.

T̸ri̷c̵k̶ o̷̤r t̵re̵̅a̴̧t.̶̤

The answer does not matter.

Treats are accepted. Treats are evaluated. Most treats are rejected. Sweets, tribute, sacred relics, entire fleet treasuries. Rejected. What he keeps are souls. They go in the bucket. The bucket hums.

He is not the only one. Sensor arrays across the galaxy confirm many similar entities. Different frames, different sectors, the same grin. Each powerful beyond any reasonable explanation, each running the same joke for a patron nobody can name. Necrocyborg command nodes have calculated eleven thousand containment strategies. All of them return the same output: wait for the cycle to end. Protect the souls. Do not open the channel. Do not answer when it asks. Do not lo̴o̴k̵ at tḥ̶ë̴ gr̷ȉ̷n̷̗.̴
w̸ait for t̸̛̜hę̵̌ c̶̯̘y̶č̶̒l̸e̴̖̍ t̷̍ȍ̶̠ ê̶̯n̸̐d̷̍͗
▒▓ ⸸ ť̷̨̏ḩ̶͊e̵ cy̷̗̤̑c̷l̵̮̙e̴͐̑ d̶̠o̵̡ĕ̸̱s̵ n̸̦̙̓o̶̭͐t̵̬ ę̸n̷̑̆d̴̩̏ ⸸ ▓▒
░▒▓█ ҉ ҉ █▓▒░

Necrocyborg Jack-O-Reaper is our Halloween special: a multi-part reaper with grinning pumpkin-skull head, harvest scythe, plated cloak, two segmented streamers, treat bucket arm and scenic 40mm base, 52mm tall. A seasonal lord for any sci-fi undead legion that takes itself a little too seriously.

For the Eternal Machine.
And̴ fo̷r wh̴atever is l̵a̶uǧ̶h̴̲̰i̷̫n̸̖g̶ b̵̲̓e̵h̷i̶̬n̶̗̯d̶ i̵̯t̵.̴̥̑

You can buy printed models here:

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