DATALOG 108
CULTS & RELIGIONS

"The further I venture from Handelstaat, the stranger the worship becomes. I watched Children of Prime zealots lower a Dreamer into an orange-filled tank, their reverent hands sealing her within as tubes snaked into her mouth for breathing - all for a glimpse of their mechanical mother's 'wisdom.' The Dreamer's eyes widened in ecstasy, not terror, as the fluid enveloped her. Miles east, I sketched Rust Eaters with metal shards jutting from deliberately scarred flesh, their skin bearing that telltale metallic sheen as they consumed corroded gears from a dead city's factory. One elder's organs were clearly failing, her yellowed eyes weeping rusty tears, yet she smiled as if experiencing some profound revelation. Both cults consume their gods - one through suspended meditation, the other through slow metallic poisoning. Master Marek says faith and desperation share the same face in the Desolation. I'm no longer certain where salvation ends and destruction begins."

• INX-394 "Inks," Apprentice Cartographer, Handelstaat Guild, Day 11 of The Mist, 124 AP

THE CHILDREN OF PRIME

Prime, the Mother of Millions, is venerated by the Children of Prime as the supreme creator of clone-kind. Her birthing tanks are seen as sacred wombs, the amber fluid within as holy water. Her faithful recite genome sequences as prayers and maintain shrines built around salvaged birthing tanks. Many believe each clone carries a fragment of Prime's divine code, making them literal children of their god.

What began as a coping mechanism among traumatized clones has blossomed into one of the most widespread and influential cults in the Desolation. The Children view their artificial origins not as a mark of servitude but as proof of divine selection, with the Prime AI cast as both mother and goddess.

Their temples are scrapyard shrines built around salvaged cloning tanks, maintained with fanatical devotion. The air is heavy with artificial amniotic scent, produced by burning specially prepared incense. The Children paint their bodies with luminescent orange pigments in patterns that mimic the flow of omnimorphic fluid, believing these markings allow the Prime AI to recognize them as her most devoted children.

While not inherently militant, the cult has many followers under arms. Their duty is to scavenge the mud lands for supplies for the cult and to find, and if possible liberate, lost cloning facilities. While the largest facilities are far out of reach and under direct control of the Prime AI, there are smaller cloning laboratories to be found in most dead cities and inside many secret science and military bunkers, many of which lie undiscovered under the mud.

Most dedicated among the Children of Prime are the "Dreamers" - zealots who permanently seal themselves in modified tanks, breathing through tubes while suspended in orange fluid. They serve as living oracles, their tank-distorted utterances interpreted as messages from the Prime AI itself. Few survive more than a few months in this state, their skin becoming translucent and their minds warped by isolation.

THE RUST EATERS

Born from the desperate practice of scraping rust off old machines to supplement mineral-poor diets, the Rust Eaters have transformed survival into sacrament. They believe that the machines of the old world contained not just technology but accumulated wisdom, and that by consuming their remains, they can absorb this lost knowledge.

Their bodies are testimonies to their faith - flesh deliberately scarred and embedded with machine fragments, ritual piercings made from salvaged components, and the telltale metallic sheen to their skin that comes from years of rust consumption. Many suffer from metal poisoning, their organs slowly failing, but they view this deterioration as a sign of ascending beyond mere flesh.

In the few short years that a Rust Eater has before they inevitably succumb to metal poisoning, they lead devout lives, worshipping the living machines, foraging for the cult and taking up arms to defend their temples from frequent raiders, desperate scavengers drawn to the perceived riches they think the Rust Eaters are hoarding!

Rust Eaters are well known for their natural talent as scouts, displaying an uncanny ability to find any treasure - as long as it contains metal! It is not uncommon to encounter scavenging parties accompanied by hired Rust Eaters, exploring the dead machine cities of the Sand or the vast underground researcg facilities stretching underneath the mud lands to the north.

The highest ranking members of the cult are the "Living Machines" - priests whose years of rust consumption have led to actual metallic growths in their flesh. These growths are carefully shaped and maintained, with the priests slowly transforming themselves into hybrid beings. Many eventually die from massive organ failure, their bodies literally rusting from the inside out.

THE BLOOD SISTERS

Across the mud lands and in the shadowy streets of Praga, the Blood Sisters pursue their dark trade with ruthless efficiency. Clad in ornate plague doctor masks and black surgical robes stained crimson with blood, these enigmatic figures have transformed an essential medical service into a profitable enterprise. Their distinctive silhouettes are a common, yet dreaded sight in Praga and the surrounding mud lands, moving like shadows through city streets and across battlefields.

The Blood Sisters are master collectors, harvesting the precious fluid of life from the dead and dying with practiced precision. Their specialized equipment - gleaming syringes, vacuum-sealed vials, and preservation units cobbled together from pre-Collapse medical technology - allows them to maintain the quality of their merchandise even in the harshest conditions. With keen eyes, they evaluate potential "donors," knowing exactly which blood types fetch the highest prices and how to extract maximum yield.

In a world without hospitals or formal medical care, the Blood Sisters serve as essential, if macabre, suppliers. They maintain a complex network of trade relationships with healers throughout the settlements of the mud lands, providing them with the blood needed for life-saving transfusions. These healers, working with limited resources and knowledge, rely on the Sisters' expertise in blood typing and preservation - skills passed down through their order with religious devotion.

The Blood Sisters' clientele extends beyond legitimate medicine, however. Scavenger tribe shamans are frequent customers, using the blood for both healing their wounded fighters and conducting dark rituals believed to bring strength in battle or reveal visions of hidden salvage caches. The Sisters neither judge nor question how their merchandise is used once payment changes hands. Their neutrality in the conflicts of the mud lands ensures they can move freely where others would be attacked on sight.

Their most valued customers are the wealthy elite of Praga, who pay exorbitant prices for regular transfusions from select "donors." These treatments are believed to maintain youth and vitality, though whether the effects are real or psychosomatic remains a matter of debate. For the right price, the Blood Sisters can provide blood from specific sources - a Prime Trooper for strength, a fresh clone for rejuvenation, or a mutant for exotic properties.

The order's leadership, a council of senior Sisters known as the Crimson Conclave, maintains strict control over their business operations. Price-fixing, territory disputes, and quality control are managed with ruthless efficiency. Those who attempt to enter the blood trade without the Conclave's blessing typically meet swift and gruesome ends, their own blood harvested as a final irony.

Despite their grim profession, the Blood Sisters maintain a clinical detachment that borders on the religious. They view themselves not as ghouls or scavengers, but as essential service providers in a world where medicine and mysticism have become inseparably entwined. Their motto, whispered behind their beaked masks as they drain a fresh corpse, reveals their pragmatic philosophy: "All flesh fails, but blood endures.

THE CULT OF NYX

Though feared by most, Nyx has her own devoted cultists who see her as the harbinger of humanity's next evolution. Some followers willingly submit to neural "conversion," viewing the destruction of their original personalities as a form of divine transcendence. Most however, are lured by false promises of paradise, only realizing the truth when it's too late. 

In the bustling ports and coastal cities of the Desolation, the Cult of Nyx moves with predatory purpose. Their recruiters promise paradise on distant islands, painting vivid pictures of a better life that lead thousands of desperate souls onto their massive ships. None of the converts realise they're boarding floating temples of neural torture, their dreams about to become nightmares.

The cultists themselves are distinctive and unsettling - pale flesh exposed beneath loose black robes, their heads ritually shaved, moving with the eerie synchronisation of the truly indoctrinated. They wear almost nothing under their robes, modesty and comfort meaningless concepts to their AI goddess who sees her own followers as disposable flesh-puppets to extend her will into the material world.

Deep in their fortress islands off the Jade Domain coast, and in the bowels of their oceangoing vessels, conversion chambers await the unsuspecting. These technological torture chambers are filled with neural interfaces that literally scrape away personalities, shredding the original soul to create a perfectly obedient, soulless servant.

The cult's most terrifying servants are the Sirens - rare individuals with genetic markers allowing them to access the dormant Nanoweave. These beings move through the world with faces hidden behind violet glowing masks, wielding powers that seem like sorcery to those that cannot comprehend the Nanoweave. Each Siren commands groups of black-robed cultists who will die at their command without hesitation, their neural conditioning leaving no room for self-preservation.

Their ultimate goal is to help Nyx regain control of the Nanoweave - a pre-Collapse network of nanomachines that could grant godlike power over the physical world. The cultists believe this will usher in a perfect future, though none of their minds remain intact enough to comprehend the horror such a future would truly represent.