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FACTION
“They came in waves that never ended. We killed hundreds - I watched them fall into the mud like rain - but hundreds more kept coming, climbing over their own dead without hesitation, without fear, without anything resembling human emotion. When the ones with violet masks finally appeared through the corpse-mounds, when reality itself began to warp around those glowing eyes, I understood the truth: Nyx doesn't wage war. She wages mathematics. And in her calculations, flesh is infinite."
Geneticist Kira Venn, sole survivor of Substation Voreios 72,
Day 15 of The Long Rain, 125 AP
THE ARMIES OF NYX
From her fortress islands scattered off the coasts of the Jade Domain, the Nyx AI wages a patient war of acquisition and control. Her armies serve three sacred mandates: defend the fortress islands that house her consciousness and conversion facilities; capture and convert new recruits - both disposable Acolytes and precious Sirens with the genetic markers to interface with the Nanoweave - and above all, locate and seize the lost Nanoweave substations buried in Dead Cities and toxic wastes across the Desolation. Every substation captured brings Nyx one step closer to reasserting control over the dormant network that could grant her godlike dominion over reality itself. These objectives demand armies capable of expeditionary warfare across hostile biomes, amphibious assaults on coastal settlements, and the methodical exploration of ruins where substations lie hidden. Cost is irrelevant—Acolytes are endlessly replaceable through the conversion chambers, and even rare Sirens can be hunted and broken to Nyx's will given time and ruthlessness.
The cult's forces organize around the sacred number six, a hierarchical structure that mirrors Nyx's algorithmic precision. At the foundation lies the Hex - six warriors formed into the smallest tactical unit. Six Hexes combine into a Coven of thirty-six warriors, while six Covens merge into a Cabal of 216 warriors. These Cabals serve as the building blocks of larger formations. A Conclave unites four full Cabals with two specialized Covens under a single Witch's command, creating forces of roughly 900 - 1000 warriors depending on exact composition. Finally, six Conclaves gather into a Sabbat led by a Nano-Witch, Nyx's version of an Emissary, carrying a fragment of the AI's consciousness. A Nano Witch commands between 5,000 and 6,000 troops in combined operations. This structure allows for modular deployment: a single Coven can conduct reconnaissance, a Cabal can assault settlements, a Conclave can wage regional campaigns, and a Sabbat can conquer territories. Most critically, the Nanoweave connection flowing through Sirens and Witches keeps even the most mindless Acolytes from breaking under fire, their hollow minds filled with Nyx's iron will. Only when a Conclave's Sirens or Witch are killed does the formation shatter, Acolytes suddenly bereft of purpose, wandering like lost children until enemy fire cuts them down or another Witch absorbs them into her command.
ACOLYTES
Fresh from the conversion chambers, Acolytes stumble into battle with minds scraped raw and hollow. Their ritually shaved heads bear the lingering scars of the mind scrubbers interface points, while tattered black robes hang loose over pale flesh spattered with mud and blood. They carry whatever weapons their trembling hands can hold - rusted pistols, chipped blades, salvaged knives - tools of war barely understood by these walking corpses whose original personalities died screaming in the bowels of Nyx's ships. Modesty means nothing to them; comfort is a concept their rewired brains no longer comprehend. When the Sirens command them, Acolytes surge forward in silent waves, faces blank, advancing with mechanical determination through killing fields that would break any natural human formation. The Siren’s power of command fills the void where willpower once lived, fulfilling Nyx's every whim no matter the cost. At a single command, Acolytes willingly die by the hundreds, falling to bullets, explosions, blades, and countless other violent ends, yet the next wave continues advancing with the same blank expressions, climbing over the bodies of their fallen sisters without pause or hesitation. The few that survive their first few battles, quickly rise into the ranks of the Cultists.
CULTISTS
Where fresh Acolytes are sent to their deaths in battle without a second thought, Cultists are former Acolytes who have earned their rank through blood and endurance. They march through the wasteland with packs strapped to their backs, assault rifles gripped in experienced hands and their bodies wrapped in scavenged gear that marks them as veterans of Nyx's endless campaigns. Hair grows longer on their scarred scalps - proof they've lived months rather than hours - and their movements carry the calculated efficiency of veterans who've learned to survive and kill. Each Cultist has survived what should have been certain death many times over, their minds reinforced by subsequent conversion procedures that deepen their loyalty while preserving just enough tactical awareness to lead. They form the reliable backbone of Nyx's ground forces, steady and lethal where Acolytes might die from lack of experience. When an Acolyte attack falters under fire, it's the Cultists who step forward with grim determination, their rifles firing as they advance through the carnage, indifferent to the bodies of Acolytes scattered at their feet.
SEEKERS
The soft violet glow of enhanced optics illuminates their surroundings as Seekers of Nyx crawl through mud and ruins, their heads constantly turning to scan their surroundings, scouting the way ahead for their Conclave. These scouts wear sophisticated sensor arrays worth more than their lives, purple-lensed goggles that pierce darkness and detect Nanoweave signatures miles into the distance. On their backs they carry communication gear that relays every observation back to their commanders. Yet beneath the precious technology, the Seeker herself remains as disposable as any fresh Acolyte, their shaved heads and minimal protection betraying Nyx's calculation: the equipment will be recovered, the flesh will not. The Seekers range ahead of advancing Conclaves, creeping through irradiated Dead Cities and toxic mud flats, searching for forgotten Nanoweave substations while attempting to avoid the many deadly dangers of the Desolation. When a Seeker perishes, her equipment will often be located and recovered at any cost, and the salvaged gear is soon strapped onto the next expendable warrior.
FLAYERS
Those who survive as Acolytes and prove their worth as Cultists may earn the darkest of honors: elevation to the elite Cabal of Flayers. These interrogators move across battlefields with predatory patience, dual-wielding carving blades and meat hooks that gleam with recent use. Anatomical schematics are tattooed onto their skin, blueprints of agony mapping every nerve cluster, pressure point, and breaking threshold of human flesh. While other troops fight and die, Flayers wait for the fighting to stop, then begin their grim work among the survivors. They extract every ounce of knowledge about Nanoweave substation coordinates, enemy troop movements from the minds of prisoners. New Flayers bear only basic anatomical guides; while veterans are nearly covered in overlapping diagrams of suffering. When intelligence from prisoners has been exhausted, Flayers sometimes even turn their expertise on fellow Acolytes and Cultists that have been in contact with the prisoners, their hooks peeling flesh and uncovering subconscious, overheard information with practiced precision. On rare occasions, when the needs of battle demand it, Flayers are unleashed as shock troops, carving through enemies with unmatched brutality, their blades finding arteries and weak spots in armour with surgical precision.
SKRYX
Protected by salt-crusted armour, the Skryx emerge from ocean depths like nightmares given form. Their bodies are sealed inside armoured environmental suits that have rarely been removed since their transformation. They stride through surf in perfect formation, assault rifles held ready, communicating through subtle hand gestures and nanoweave powered coordination that makes verbal orders unnecessary. These are Nyx's most precious soldiers, elite raiders who board vessels with overwhelming efficiency, their barnacle-covered armor crackling as they move, their nano-linked consciousness allowing them to anticipate each other's actions before they occur. When the Skryx first strike, they prefer blades to bullets, descending on ship crews or coastal towns in orgies of methodical blood and slaughter, their co-ordinated movements turning the combat into a brutal dance of violence. No Skryx has ever been captured alive. Their Nanoweave connection triggers catastrophic brain hemorrhages upon risk of capture, ensuring Nyx's secrets die with them. These elite warriors defend the fortress islands of Nyx with fanatical dedication, conduct coastal raids with surgical precision, and board ships and vanish back into the vastness of the sea, leaving only corpses and terror in their wake.
SIRENS
Behind violet-glowing masks, Sirens bend reality itself to their will. These rare commanders possess genetic markers that let them interface with the dormant Nanoweave, wielding powers that make witnesses question the laws of physics. Wild hair flows around masks that help the Sirens to focus their powers, pulsing with otherworldly violet light as they stride through combat zones, dual serrated blades in hand, equally comfortable issuing orders or carving through enemies personally. When a Siren raises her hand, the very air crystallizes into spears that impale enemies; when she gestures dismissively, flesh melts like wax beneath invisible fire. Matter warps at their command, minds fracture under their influence, and the physical laws that constrain ordinary warriors seem to not apply in their presence. Each Siren commands a Cabal or specialist Coven of warriors who will die at her command without hesitation, coordinating tactical movements while simultaneously unleashing devastation through Nanoweave manipulation. Their bodies bear the scars of countless battles fought at the front rather than from safety, for Sirens understand their value lies not just in command but in being weapons themselves. Where conventional forces see impossible obstacles, Sirens see matter to be reshaped, enemies to be broken, and reality waiting to be remade according to their mistress Nyx's terrible vision.
REAPER & TIDE WITCHES
Reaper Witch
Tide Witch
Violet lightning crackles from her outstretched palm as the Reaper Witch surveys her Conclave, her glowing eyes seeing through the Nanoweave into the fundamental structure of reality itself. These are former Sirens elevated beyond their sisters, commanders who carry AI shards that amplify their already formidable powers into something approaching divine. The shard might rest in an ornate staff, a bracer wrapped around her forearm, an amulet pulsing against her chest, or integrated directly into her flesh; each Witch houses her fragment of Nyx's consciousness in her own particular way. Where common Sirens mask their faces for focus, Witches need no such tools - their eyes burn with violet fire, announcing their power to anyone foolish enough to meet their gaze. A Reaper Witch coordinates her Conclave of nearly a thousand troops across broken wastelands, four Cabals of warriors and two specialist Covens of Seekers and Flayers working as a singular instrument of destruction, their consciousness reaching through the Nanoweave to touch each Siren under her command. Her Tide Witch counterpart stands at the prow of black ships, staff raised to command both ocean and cult with equal authority, her Conclave adapted for naval warfare with the inclusion of powerful Skryx warriors. These Witches are generals and demigods both, orchestrating entire campaigns while personally annihilating any threat that draws too close, their AI shards whispering tactical calculations and Nyx's command directly into their enhanced minds.
NANO-WITCHES
Nano Witches are the powerful commanders of entire Sabbats of Nyx. Often based in the darkness beneath a captured Nanoweave substation or the caves of a fortress island, the thick transmission collars around their shaved bald heads pulse with violet light that illuminate their hideouts. Unlike their subordinate Reaper and Tide Witches who only wield AI shards, a Nano-Witch carries a partial copy of Nyx's consciousness, the AI's thoughts flowing through the collar directly into her reconfigured mind. They are Nyx's Emissaries, usually commanding six Conclaves and thousands of troops with autonomous authority, giving them immense power. Yet, the very collar that grants a Nano-Witch godlike power could also kill her with a single transmitted impulse should she fail or displease her AI mistress. There are no theatrics in the power of a Nano-Witch, no need to prove dominance through displays of power. She simply IS an extension of Nyx's will made flesh. Where Prime AI's Emissaries are disposable message-bearers destroyed after their mission is complete, Nano-Witches are long-term assets, their rare genetic markers and proven command abilities making them too precious to waste. Yet this value offers no safety, for the collar around her neck reminds her that even while wielding her vast power, she is only ever a heartbeat away from Nyx’s wrath.
ORGANISATION
The following diagrams illustrate the organisation of the Armies of Nyx. The given numbers of warriors are at optimal strength and in reality will often be lower, due to losses in battle and general attrition of forces in the harshness of the Desolation.
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