The STL Trenches

Long before the Heresiarch’s ascension among the Legions of the Heretics, the Siege Cabal already existed, and was ancient.

No one truly knows how these two powers came together, nor the exact terms of the pact sealed between them. But two things are certain: the Witches of the Siege Cabal march alongside the Heresiarch’s Legions, raining fire and iron upon their enemies; and in return, every time the Heresiarch takes prisoners, one sixth of the captured women are delivered to the Cabal for their rituals. Always one exact sixth.

The numbers are never rounded. If that fraction amounts to “a dozen and a half” or “two fifths of a person,” the Taxing Matrons and the Heresiarch’s Veiled Priests take their measures, weigh, and make the necessary cut. After all, as one might expect, precision in calculation is vital within a sisterhood devoted to the arts of ballistics, goetic geometry, and the dark sciences of siegecraft and bombardment.

Everyone knows that the prisoners are tortured, twisted, and remade. Their minds are erased, and many claim their very souls are torn from their bodies. The witches thus created no longer speak; they need no eyes to see, nor mouths to communicate. When they fight, they do so with the cold precision of automatons, bodies of flesh and steel wrapped in clothes and armor, like perverse and lethal dolls. The rest of the time, they simply stand motionless, waiting until the Cabal, or the priests who command them, assign their next mission.

The only question that remains is what truly dwells within their bodies, and under whose power they move and respond.
Some believe the True Cabal are ancient beings, dwelling in secret temples, cursed by God never to walk the earth or see the sun—fighting their wars and exacting vengeance through these puppet vessels.
Others, more pessimistic still, claim that the witches are nothing but hollow shells of a soulless intelligence—born from impossible equations, intangible code woven from infernal spells and corrupted algorithms. As if the insidious demons that rule the forges of Hell had simply experimented to create something that replicates, destroys, and endures at all costs—existing only to offend the Creator, endlessly, without purpose or end

The Heresiarch’s Realm is far from egalitarian. Even among his own Acolytes, not all ranks are equal. One level below the Heresiarch sit his Twelve Black Apostles, and beneath them the College of the Thirty-Three Veiled, who manage civil governance and determine the doctrines that the Acolytes must enforce upon the populace. The Synod of Ash controls the conduct of war, defining the strategies that Legions and Clerics are to follow.

Yet woven through all these formal structures is a hidden, cross-cutting lodge: the Heresy of Greed. . Officially, it does not exist, but everyone knows it is there, and everyone knows that it is the true power controlling finances, tributes and the networks of influence. Naturally, all of this occurs with the Heresiarch’s permission, who likely finds the whole arrangement amusing. They serve the interests of the infernal lords who govern the Sin of Greed, so it is unsurprising that they are entrenched in every sphere of power. It is also widely known that the Heresiarch himself learned countless secrets from these dark masters, who are always eager to offer advantageous pacts.

On the battlefield, Heresy of Greed warbands display their colors and preferences without concealment. They secure the best supplies, the most skilled mercenaries, and the most coveted objectives. Regular troops watch with envy as these privileged few pass by, striving to follow in their wake. This is their primary form of proselytism, though the lodge is highly elitist and admits only a few. Its Acolytes are prone to excess, often combining greed with other sins such as gluttony, for gluttony is the sibling of avarice. If you see an obese priest on the front lines, it is almost certain that his masters are the Lords of Greed. How they achieve such physical form is a matter of debate among the troops; many believe these Acolytes engage in ritual cannibalism, devouring both friends and foes, and even harvesting souls to feed the treasures of their infernal patrons.

Cold-headed leaders are rare among the Heresiarch’s troops. Any fool can lead a charge and a slaughter, but skilled marksmen and tacticians are far more valuable assets. The Heresiarch takes special care of those Clerics who stand out, for they are the ones who plan campaigns and execute them on the front lines with an iron fist and a calculating mind.

Rifles, grenade launchers, machine guns, shields… the Riflemen Clerics have access to the full arsenal of the Heresiarch to carry out their patient, methodical plans. They demand strict discipline from their soldiers—every movement must be executed as if they were pieces on a board.

Much depends on them, for the Heresiarch’s war can never cease. It is what sustains the cult, what keeps the machinery of its society running, and the ultimate goal it pursues. At the highest levels of command, expectations are absolute, and there is no forgiveness for a commander who falters.

The Frontline Clerics are high-ranking servants. While any Veiled Acolyte can command a warband, their zeal often outweighs their military knowledge. For this reason, the Heresiarch elevates and values those priests who devote themselves to the arts of battle, tactics and violence. It is the Clerics who lead offensives on the front line, and as such they are equipped with the finest armor. From their backs hang unholy relics: severed heads of angels and demons, sigils of power, and even infernal attendants in the form of blasphemous homunculi.

Swords, axes, shields, shotguns… Frontline Clerics are aggressive commanders, often seen armed for direct assault. Soldiers follow them as much out of fear as out of the fervor they inspire.

The Heresiarch’s Veiled Acolytes are fundamental and ever-present within both the Cult and its Legions. Their roles are many: they manage trench logistics, oversee the slaves, and account for the wealth taken through plunder. They also enforce the orthodoxy of the Faith, as the Heresiarch’s cult does not tolerate dissent. Soldiers and civilians alike must be punished if they fail to uphold its doctrines, and the Veiled Acolyte watches over them as father, confessor, and commissar.

Naturally, the Acolytes are also responsible for leading assaults and warbands. Shielded by their faith and the dark powers granted to them by Hell, clad in armor and heavily armed with iron and fire, these fanatical leaders drive their troops forward in relentless attacks against the followers of the false god and their minions.

It is said that in the beginning, the Heresiarch climbed the Lost Mountain to escape his pursuers and seek the supreme enlightenment that would allow him to open a Rift into Hell, where his masters dwelled. The tale claims he lived alone at the mountain’s summit, within the ruins of a tumulus-tower of black stone slabs, attended only by spirits from another realm. There, he learned secrets beyond the reach of any mortal, and one day he descended from the mountain at the head of an army to scourge the nations of the world.

Legend holds that this first army was made up of wolves, bears and beasts. But… where did these animals come from? Everyone knows that in the inhospitable heights of the Lost Mountain, life does not thrive—game is scarce, and even predators cannot survive. The answer is simple: the Heresiarch created them, though not from nothing. Many witch hunters and inquisitors pursued him into those cursed heights, each hoping to bring him down. Every single one of them became prey to the still-young Heresiarch.

Within the depths of his, where the boundaries of the world blurred with those of Hell, he experimented on them while they still lived. He perverted them, twisted them, reshaped their bodies and shattered their minds. Thus were born the first No Man’s Land Siege Beasts, the first wolves of the Heresiarch.

In those early days, they were still primitive creatures. Now, with the advances of science and technology, the Heresiarch’s factories churn out new Beasts—flesh bound in riveted iron, strengthened with tubes of unholy fluids, and armed with claws and fangs of infernal steel. Fully adapted and engineered for war and slaughter in the trenches.

Even the vilest heretics of the legions can keep pets—though these beasts are hardened and savage, scarred by barbed wire and branded with infernal glyphs. When they are not advancing alongside their masters, these packs of war mastiffs and dogos swirl through the mud of no man’s land, tearing at the heels of fleeing captives and stalking the shattered ruins of trenchworks. Their glowing, soulless eyes scan the darkness for any sign of life; their blood-curdling howls echo across the battlefield, breaking the resolve of even the steeliest warriors. Fully trained in obedience to blasphemous rites, they are unleashed at dusk to hunt down deserters, guard the heretic shrines, or simply spread terror among the faithful.

The Heresiarch wants to thank his followers for their support with a unholy gift. A puppy. Human heretics like puppies, right?

The Slaves of the Heresiarch are the lowest rung of heretic warfare, not for valor, nor for skill, but because they are expendable, useful only for their brutality and their ability to endure pain.

Once prisoners, failed heretics, or incomplete converts, they have been reshaped both physically and mentally. They wear permanent iron masks fused to their skulls, wrapped in barbed wire, and many bear flayed torsos, pierced by ritual chains, their flesh marked with the poorly healed scarification symbols of their dark masters. They are used as living shields, war-beasts of burden, walking altars, or mobile detonators. They barely understand the weapons they drag behind them, nor the commands they hear; they respond to pain, to the lash, and to the distorted voices of the priests who drive them forward.

They are sent to the front with neither fear nor strategy. They advance through the mud, swinging improvised weapons and ritual tools, without hesitation, for any fate is better than continued servitude. They are given no cover. No one expects them to survive.

But they can break through the lines, and for the Heresiarch, that is enough.

Great 32mm scale model for WWI dark fantasy skirmish games or grimdark fantasy in general.

Pack content:

4 Bodies
4 Heads
19 Left Hands Weapons (Mirrorable)
19 Right Hands Weapons (Mirrorable)
5 Two Handed Weapons