Heretic Legion

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.

Cinderthralls: The poor wretches that make up the Cinderthralls are mostly promising captives taken alive to serve the Ironbound. When a Forgefire Belcher is slain, whomever made the killing blow is marked by soulcinder, these skilled mortals are kept alive, if possible in the heat of battle. This is no mercy, for the Ironbound take these skilled fighters prisoner and weld rudimentary armaments to their flesh and send them into the front ranks of the most grievous battles. Those who survive their first battle as a Cinderthrall are elevated to the ranks of the Aspirants, not many do.  Worse than even the wretches forced into service are those witless mortals who seek out the Ironbound, these mortals are tested in combat as a Cinderthrall, given the same opportunity, survive and be elevated or die and become fuel.

Ironbound Revenants: Aspirant Ironbound who achieve veterancy of three battles are candidates to become Revenants. The final step before ascension, Revenants are honored and feared by the aspirants. Augmented beyond mortal capability, the Revenants are infused with the eternal flame. They are not dead, are mortal only just; sustained by techno-sorcery and flame, they linger at the threshold of death. Revenants are utilized as elite troops for the most arduous missions; their success marks them for transfiguration.  Failure does not consign them to scrap, they are too useful to be discarded outright, yet the winnowing is harsh, and those Revenants who fail their testing are ascended to the ranks of the Forgefire Knights and Belchers, or into Forged constructs. A Revenant is guaranteed ascension, but only the most deserving may become true Transfigured. It is a closely guarded secret among the ranks of the Revenants and the Forgefire; the fear and shame of failure, to have come so far but fail at the final step. Yet every creation has its place, and Fer’agosh does not waste wantonly; Forgefire battalions are fearsome indeed, and there is always the hope of future transfiguration. In battle, the Revenants are vicious killers, each burning with ardor to distinguish themselves for transfiguration. The do-or-die mentality drives the Revenants to the extreme limit of mortality, yet therein lies Fer’agosh’s design; by combining physical liminal existence with the emotional, Revenant souls burn bright with potential, and therefore are the most useful.

Aspirant Ironbound: Mortals mad enough to join the Ironbound willingly and promising captives alike form the ranks of the Aspirant Ironbound. These poor wretches fight to earn the gift of transfiguration, or the release of death. Their bodies are enhanced with ironbound augments, swifter and tireless legs, arms that can carry heavier loads and land stronger blows, implanted mechanical eyes, or even their entire face carved off and replaced with an iron mask to interface with the forge’s combat overlay. Aspirants have developed a cutthroat warrior culture; the gift of ascension to the ranks of true iron is tantalizingly within their reach, so they seek great glory and deeds on the battlefield. Whilst not in combat, the Aspirants live and train in barracks quarters within the Forge-Ziggurats. There they tinker upon themselves under the tutelage of the Cindersmiths. Every Aspirant is considered a resource, failed aspirants are recycled into components, soul energy, or remade into Iron Scavengers; but the investment into the Aspirants is genuine; Transfigured Ironborn tutor Aspirants in their ways, teaching them engineering, architecture, the catechisms of the Eternal Flame, strategy, the scientific method, and the natural sciences, for each Aspirant may one day become a Transfigured themself and, despite mortal reckoning, a sense of academic camaraderie exists within the upper echelons of the Ironbound. The brilliance of Fer’agosh is infectious, promoting the Transfigured to compete in contests of invention; aspirants are an essential resource for the propagation of the Ironbound dominion.