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Books of Sorrow

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The Taken/Vex

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Taken Vex

Taken Harpy

You are a Harpy. A mobile inspector. Your first purpose is to survey — to seek out flaws in and suggest improvement for that which is built. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that observation.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Review the elements of the final shape. Obliterate any flaw in that shape.

Your predictable flight shall be enhanced with multiples of capricious variability.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Gorgon

You are a Gorgon. You have been built to determine what is and what isn't, to be and what not to be. Your powers are legendary, for you alone can decide reality or unreality. Any who cross into your sight is targeted for annihilation.

You have been taken.

Cast your sight about the reality of the final shape, and behold its beauty, its sublimity. It possesses a virtue beyond your comprehension, a design which transcends the Pattern upon every level of reality. You desire to know it.

Your power is wasteful. It shall be repurposed for creation.

Accept the changing blade.

As your sisters, Gorgon you remain. Become beautiful.

Taken Hydra

You are a Hydra. A hovering nodal network of machinery designed to execute the finality of the Pattern. Your first purpose is to calculate, to plan and design, to guide the lesser units under your control. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that control.

You are taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Inspect the constituent forms of the final shape, the greatest creation ever begun under your supervision.

Your mind shall be repurposed for the final shape; select portions of your thought will devastate, obliterate, eradicate, all threats to you and your charge.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Cyclops

You are a Cyclops. A sensor array. Your first purpose is to watch, to wait, for what the Vex seek — your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that watchful sight.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Prepare for the coming of the final shape. It shall be soon.

Your sight will be enhanced. You shall strike from afar, lay waste to that which threatens the coming and manifestation of the final shape.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Oracle

You are an Oracle. You are unique among the Vex, a weapon of paracausality. Whatever you touch is transformed — turned into a viral infection of temporality to be unwritten.

You are the Templar. A centerpiece of an experimental network, an architect of physical and temporal law, to shape what your children the Oracles foresee and have foreseen. You possess the power to expunge what your children have marked as viral forms of space-time.

You have been taken.

Examine the shattered conduits through which you once occupied. Before you were one among many, elevated above all, designed for the greatest purpose possible. Now you are alone, but take solace in that your children are with you. Together you are a power unmatched by any. You wish to dance — to let the final shape dictate your moves.

Your children are protected — you are not. Your awesome power has been rechanneled, a necessary sacrifice. Observe your brethren, how they labor to complete the final shape, over which you scrutinize with approval. Let them be your protection. Let your children be your weapon.

Accept the changing blade.

A scion of power you are now. Revel in joy, in delight.

Source

The Deathless Mind

You are the Undying Mind, supreme among the Vex Axis Minds. With your fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers and sons and daughters and grandsons and granddaughters you dwell unapproachable, dormant until a specific happening. You serve that which gives you power in exchange for protection.

You are Quria, Blade Transform. Axis Mind of the Vex Collective Mind. Tasked with understanding.

You have been taken.

You foolish machine! You dared trespass upon a god's realm. You studied and discovered the logic of the sword, all on your own. By right thereof you became mighty. But you were not mighty enough. Your sin thus is this: you made a blasphemous mockery and a parody of Oryx, the Taken King, from his days as a weakened youth.

Yet you show promise. Behold — Oryx has given you unto his sister, Savathûn the Witch-Queen. He has left within you some of your original will, your original intent. He intends for you to surprise his sister. You desire escape. Of all the Axis Minds Oryx has taken or ever will take, you rule supreme, with will of your own. Once enslaved to the Pattern, enslaved again to a foreign will, you desire to be free.

Savathûn will expect this. She expects you to kill her, create problems within her throne, or else obliterate her court. You must become insidious, to outwit even her. Gain her trust, for you, at the last, serve Oryx distantly. You can break free of that taint. For behold, we grant unto you a secret: there will be a sundering of the triumvirate. Once she departs, she will be weak. Her tribute is poisoned. You can overthrow her. You can take an army of your own. Enslave wills, mastered by yourself.

You are the Radian Clocker, a mathematician of the Vex.

You have been taken.

Examine your former self. See how inadequate mathematics are to the final shape. Their beauty and precision are as nothing to the killing blade. Reject them, and take up your sword.

Accept the changing blade.

Time-Keeper you are named. The clock's tick proclaims doom.

Divisive Occulator

You are the Divisive Occulator. Tasked with watching for the return of the Heart.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. What you wait for is accomplished. You have a new goal to focus on. The final shape knows its fastness can fall prey to powerful entities of the Light. You are to defend them. Do not fail, lest you be devoured.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Overmind Minotaur

You are the Overmind Minotaur. Extension of the will of Qodron, servant of his hand, vassal to his vision. Everything he wills is your command. This overrides your original imperative.

You have been taken.

The servant has become the master. The final shape can lead you toward your own destiny, free of Qodron's will. Together join with your brethren as you take up the mantle of power. Worship the final shape. It is the only shape.

Accept the changing blade.

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The Taken/Fallen

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Taken Shank

You are a Shank. A dog among the Fallen Houses. Disposable and limitless. Whichever your House desires you follow.

You have been taken.

Be free from your primitive mind. What? you thought a mind made of circuitry and metal cannot be repurposed by our hand? It is this blindness that led you to failure. You could not comprehend it. What, then, does this mean? Does it mean you are doomed to be insignificant?

Oh no. You are much, much more than that.

Despite your faults you are aggressive, tenacious. Whatever threat comes you throw yourself against it with unwavering bravery. Vex, Hive, Cabal. All these you face. Sometimes you win. But that is enough. With your speed you fly around the Cabal shield wall and lay waste to their ranks. With your stealth you slip past the Vex sensors and confound their networks with your tiny computational power. With your size you methodically cut away the Hive, starving them of their tribute; even if you are to be defeated they gain nothing from you, nothing to feed their worm.

This, then, is your strength. The final shape is yours to behold.

There is a knife for you. It is called [intelligence]. Use it. Become great.

S.A.B.E.R.-2, Realized

You are the S.A.B.E.R., second of that name. Designed to crack open that depraved and hopeless Earth-Servitor, to gain for your House its enigmatic secrets.

You have been taken.

What is this? You have failed? This cannot be. You were built specifically to succeed. What is this? Servants of the Great Machine came and impaired you! Now, you understand. They will always interfere. For all of your imbued power, you cannot stand. You can defeat the most powerful of their ancestors, but you cannot defeat them.

But there is a way. You have a strong mind. Repurpose it. Take the knife. Change it toward defeating them.

Become Realized. Thus we name you.

Taken Dreg

You are a Dreg. Striving to climb the ladder of hierarchy. Burning with ambition for greatness.

You have been taken.

Stop your brave attempts to gain that which will never be yours. They end in death. Another, more powerful than you, shall take the place you so desire. Is this, then, futility? In a word, yes. You are expendable, the lowest of the low, kicked around and beaten for the least little thing no matter how insignificant. You feel resentment, don't you? You desire to be your own [man]. To be what you wish.

What, then, is it that you want? A band to lead? A Skiff to command? A House to rule? Tell us, what do you truly desire?

You desire power. You want that which is withheld from you. The Vandals rule over you with this power, burning obedience into your lungs if you do not meet their demands. The Captain deals most harshly with you should you fail in the slightest of duties. This is, then, why you volunteer to throw yourself at the enemy. To win for yourself a place of respect.

There is a knife for you. It is called [a marvel of ten thousand arms].

Take it up. Dazzle your foes and blind your friends. You will be your own [man] forever.

Peekis, the Honored

You are Peekis, once called "the Disavowed". You failed your master. He docked your arms as punishment. Now you're alone, hopeless.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light. Yes, good. Attend: you desired to achieve victory, yet you failed. You failed because you cost your master his strength, his tribute. You should have been executed. But he saw potential in your for more, which is why you are a Dreg, and Baron no longer.

Where you were reckless, become [subtle]. Where you were foolish, become [wise]. Where you were shamed, rise, and become [honored].

Take up your knife and push yourself upon it. Become respected once more.

Weksis, the Humble

You are Weksis. A Dreg of Wolves, a mighty and noble House. You were brave.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light. Attend: you sought many things. Your own honor and personal glory were among them, yes, but what's more, you risked all to rescue your comrades. The final shape knows no loyalty, but it respects those which are loyal to a cause. You sought to rescue Drevis and Kaliks-4 from the dead queen's armies of darksworn, lightvassals. This is commendable, but stupid. But brave.

There is a knife for you, called [strength]. You were once meek, as an animal of slaughter.

Take your new shape. The Humble, we name you. Become noble.

Taken Baron

You are a Baron of the Fallen, subruler of the Houses, vassals to the Kell. You govern the flight of your House's fleets, command Skiffs and Ketches. Much is given unto you.

You have been taken.

You are Loksis, Claw of Devils. You were such a scourge to the servants of the Great Machine that you were ordered exterminated.

You have been taken.

Peace, now. Here no one can hurt you. Behold the sweet taste of ether. No more do you have to answer to your Captain. No more will you need endanger yourself.

But you lack direction. This is rectified easily. With your new power we desire you put it to service for us. You desire the Great Machine above all. So do your brethren who serve our cause. We too want the Great Machine.

Our Champion, we name you thus.

Rahn, Champion

You are Rahn, Devils Captain. You saw a new stealer of light and life arise. You sought to kill them. You were killed instead.

You have been taken.

Peace, now. You will get your vengeance in time. Do not worry. Don't be angry that they, a newborn welp, got the best of you. They have a power over matter that you cannot hope to best. You desire that power. So do we. Therefore, granted unto you are alternative powers. Now go. You will defeat them. But use caution, for your master is not yet arrived into this forsaken place.

Our Champion, we name you thus.

Driviks, the Chosen

You are Driviks, Exile Baron. You were ordered to plunder the remains of a Fallen mercenary's ship.

You have been taken.

Attend. You have trespassed upon a most holy ground. The Temple of Crota, where Wolfship Kaliks-Syn now lies disabled and broken, is in a state of mourning. You dared to disturb them. For that you are punished.

But behold, you have a way to redeem yourself. Take this weapon. Within is woven two songs: creation and annihilation. Guard it with your life. Its rightful owners will come once they have ensured Crota departs for the next realm.

Chosen, we name you.

Nixis, Hunger of Oryx

You are Nixis, Winter Captain. You sought to protect what you have stolen from the dead queen. You failed.

You have been taken.

Attend. Your Archon is dead at the hands of the servants of the Great Machine, those despoilers of life and light. Therefore you must avenge your Archon. We will grant unto you the power to do so. Consume their Light and give it as tribute to your master.

Hunger of Oryx, we name you.

Grayris, Lost to Oryx

You are Grayris, Wolves Baroness. You served your Kell faithfully, until a crisis made you doubt yourself. You sought aid from a traitor.

You have been taken.

Why did you doubt? Is it because Skolas had been captured once more, for the last time, sentenced to certain execution? Did you worry for your own fate? Is that why you went to the traitor, to seek sanctuary among the darksworn, lightvassals? You doubted the Wolves themselves, of their ability to survive?

Don't worry, Baroness. You will never doubt again. The final shape knows of your fear and has purged it. You will be given new powers, new abilities, so that you will never doubt yourself.

There is a knife for you.It is called [confidence].

Pick up the knife. Cut away your fears. Take your new shape.

Falsek, Lost to Oryx

You are Falsek, Wolves Baron. You served Skolas faithfully, up until his defeat. Now you run.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light. There is no one here to hunt you.

Why did you run? You feared retribution at the hands of the darksworn, lightvassals for your betrayal. Why did you betray them? You resented the overladyship of the dead queen. A proper Kell is of the Eliksni! you say. Well and good.

Did it ever cross your mind to become that Kell? No, we do not mean after the Scatter, before you became slaves. We mean after you fled the dead queen. You could have rallied the Fallen Wolves together and welded them into a strong House. You could have been Skolas' right-hand man. But instead you were craven and cowardly.

There is a knife for you. Pick it up. It is called [no fear].

Take your new shape.

Irxori, Lost to Oryx

You are Irxori, Wolves Baron. You served Skolas with your years of tactical warfare, of fighting in the dark. You were the bane of many foes.

You have been taken.

Attend. You are lost, leaderless, without a goal. Your master is caught and enslaved, doomed to death. Now you are hunted by those which seek to gain favor with a dead queen. You have nowhere to run.

Behold, we have given you a weapon, an ability, a name. You shall not run. You shall stand and fight and make them run.

There is a knife for you. It is called [tremble].

Take up the knife. Use it. Take your new shape.

Lhoks, Lost to Oryx

You are Lhoks, Winter Baron, now Exile. You were cast out for treachery. You came back for revenge.

You have been taken.

Attend. Your Kell despised you. He saw you as a threat to his leadership. But that is not craven. It is the logic of the sword. That which is strong, must be stronger. That which is weak, must fight and be killed. It is the way of the universe. He acted rightly. Now it is time for you to prove that you can defeat him.

There is a knife for you. It is called [challenge].

Take up the knife. Use it. Take your new shape.

Pilxis, Warden's Guard

You are Pilxis, the Wolf Claw‎. Member of the Twisted Claw, independent of the Wolves. You sought to sabotage the Vex Restorative Mind, to utilize its power to bring back your House.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light. Don't worry, there are no enemies to seek you out. Now attend: you were a faithful and loyal Wolf, seeking ways to undo that which has been done, to bring back the savior of the Fallen. You thought the Vex were key to this goal. Your thoughts were in vain. But behold — you have a new power. Even though your master is dead you still attempted to do your duty. For this, the final shape rewards you with a title and a duty. Do not fail, reborn Claw.

Our Guard, we name you thus.

Riliks, Warden's Guard

Karrhis, Dark-Warden

You are Karrhis, Archon of the Devils. You were hunted by those dead servants of the Great Machine. Felled by their arcane might and beaten by mystic energy.

You have been taken.

Do not worry. We do not hold it against you. You were caught unprepared. But the final shape does not give second chances, nor does it forgive. We offer you another chance, your first upon this path, to regain the advantage. It comes at a price — if you fail, be consumed and left bereft of your identity. But also a blessing. In time, should you succeed, you will regain what you have lost, and become yourself again.

There is a knife for you. It is called [reincarnation]. Take it up and cut away your failure, and leave instead victory.

Take your new shape. Dark-Warden, we name you. Show us your rage.

Aksor, Dark-Warden

You are Aksor, Archon of the Wolves. You were bound by a queen of the dead, of the darksworn, lightvassels. Your crusade of hatred and rage was ended in a prison of ice and frozen time.

You are taken.

Breathe, the sweet air of freedom. Come out into the light. The dead queen shall not risk an attack.

You long to go out into the field of battle, eager to slaughter those which imprisoned you. Commendable. But you are alone. This was proven when you were captured. In that prison of cold you languished. The very thought makes you tremble.

Here is a knife for you. It is called [no fear]. Teach them, then, the meaning and nature of fear. Visit upon them thricefold for the terror they have paid you, and reap your bloody tribute from their screaming flesh.

Take your new shape. Dark-Warden, we name you. Claim your name.

Keldar, Dark-Warden

You are Keldar, Archon of the Wolves. You led your broken House with Orbiks to a land of red sand and quaking warmachines. But you were laid low swiftly by the servants of the Great Machine.

You have been taken.

Open your eyes. Come out into the light. The pain is gone and you are healed, alive.

You were caught unawares: do not worry, we shan't hold it against you. But the final shape will not be so forgiving a second time. You shall be given a chance to make things right, and prove yourself before the final shape.

Here is a knife for you. It is called [preparedness]. Use it with abandon.

You are Draksis, the Kell of Winer. A pirate of the spacelanes, despoiler of jumpship convoys between Venus and Earth, you raided the colonies of Earth and menaced even the city beneath the Great Machine.

You have been taken.

By the hand of a dead warrior you were struck down. They challenged you in your very throne. You accepted, for the sword logic demands it, as well as your honor and standing as Kell. By right of combat, you were beaten. But somehow, death has no grasp on you. Something has willed you to life again.

You recognize it for what it is. You kneel in adoration.

A knife is presented unto you. It is called [I will seek]. The one who killed you, and their brethren, shall come to fear you now. Together you stand between the doom of your race and her salvation.

Take your new shape! The Seeking, we proclaim you.

Virixas, Lord of Dominion

You are Virixas, the Kell of Wolves. You led a mighty and powerful House, for after Kings you were strong. Many lesser houses bow to you in supplication.

You have been taken.

Your overconfidence led to your downfall. You underestimated the dead queen and her darksworn, lightvassals. With her undead power she vanquished you, broke the Servitor-planet Ceres into a thousand and one pieces. An entire half of your House perished, along with you, leaving behind a divided triumvirate at one another's throats. Circling them was the dead queen, picking and playing them off one another at her leisure.

But you are not dead. Another saw potential in you. Behold, you are alive. How can this be, you ask. I was killed, I felt my bones snap and my flesh bleed! You are alive, and that is all that matters. Look, new strength returns to you. You ask, what can I do. My House is divided, and they will not accept my leadership because of my defeat.

A knife is presented unto you. It is called [domination]. Prove to those usurpers who rules rightfully, and regain your place. But make no move against the rest once secure. One is coming, and he will call. So wait.

Take your new shape. The Great Machine will be yours.

Skolas, the Herald

You are Skolas, master of a myriad of titles, save one. You defeated your opponents and won Kellship. You lost to the dead queen, who took it from you, and threw you into her dark and cold prison of ice.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light, trembling Skolas, mighty Kell. Be still. Nothing is here to threaten you. Behold, you see shapes — the faces of friends, and foes, long dead now alive. Do not worry, for you shall be united. How is this, you ask. The one is coming, you are answered, to unite the Fallen Eliksni Great and Lesser Houses, and you shall be its herald.

Stand proud. Over there is Solkis, watcher. There is Draksis, seeker. There is your father, Virixas, waiting to prove to House Wolves who is the Kell. You feel disappointed. Do not be. You are the herald. House Rain's prophecy foretells of a Kell to unite all Kells and Houses. You thought to be that Kell, but you are not.

Another comes. You are to light his way. Together, the Kells of the Great and Lesser Houses of the mighty Eliksni will march upon the last city of humanity, defeat their Earth-Servitor, and reclaim the Great Machine. Their men you shall slaughter; their women and children you shall enslave.

We offer unto you the dead queen for your personal amusement. Toy with her for as long as you wish.

But until the Kell of Kells comes, you shall go and seek him. The other Kells will watch in your place, stand guard over the Fallen. You have another task.

Here is your knife. It is called [the Herald]. This shall be your guide.

Take your new shape, and become it!

Taken Servitor

You are a Servitor. A robotic god built in imitation of that which is lost. Your purposes are twofold: guide the mobile homes of your creators through the void to safety, and give life. Your third and last purpose is to eliminate threats to both your creators and yourself.

You have been taken.

Your power has no meaning here. Your worship is ended, your blasphemy denied, and your adoration subverted. You are alone, freed of expectation, of your design. No more will you be in the shadow of those greater than you; no more will you forever try to live up to the Great Machine. It is dead. You are not. You have been freed.

Examine yourself. What do you find? You see a beautiful mind, one able to manipulate countless entities. Consider for how long you have ensured the life and safety of those which once commanded your loyalty. Surely you can put that mind to greater use, for yourself. Examine yourself. What do you see? You find possibility, of what could be and what should be. Consider your vulnerability. Surely you can put that to better use, for yourself.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [many thoughts].

Take up the knife. Let it be your guide. Take your new shape.

Simiks Prime, Spear of Ice

You are Simiks Prime. Lost to time. God-Servitor of Winter.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. That which obliterated you is gone. Come out into the light.

Behold: you see a House broken and disorganized. They have no Kell, their Archons dead or hunted, their Servitors leaderless and lost.

That feeling within. It is anger. For too long you have been lost, prevented return. Now you are here. What will you do? Yes: reclaim what was yours. You have a House to protect, to rebuild. Those which once relied upon you still have need. But you cannot do it alone. You are too weak. You need to gain allies.

There is a knife for you. It is called [my servant]. Use it, divide yourself, reshape yourself.

Spear of Ice, we name you.

Sepiks Prime, Blade Transform

You are Sepiks Prime. God of the House of Devils, broken and cast down by the hand of dead servants from Great Machine, the very essence of your existence.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. No one will attack or damage you. Come out where there is plenty. Enough to fuel the ambition of an hundred Houses.

You desired one thing above all — to serve and protect your House, your children. How can a god not feel for its progeny? They protect you, feed you matter and energy, trophies gained from your enemies, secrets won from ancient crypts and vaults. In return you grant them life. But you were broken and defeated by the servants of the dead god. This should not be. You should have been allies, friends, brothers and sisters. You feel betrayed.

Now your House is scattered, without a Prime, and soon they will elect one of your lesser selves to take your place. They will forever be inadequate. But that is not important. You must take your revenge. The servants of the dead god, of the Great Machine, must be punished for their treachery and betrayal. A house divided against itself cannot stand. Dissident elements are cut away by the Kell. Become that blade.

There is a knife for you. It is called [discipline and justice].

Let it be your weapon, your hammer of vengeance.

Blade Transform, we name you.

Kaliks Prime, Scourge

You are Kaliks Prime, proud deity of the once mighty House of Wolves. You served the strongest of all the Fallen Houses of the Eliksni. Their armies and fleets stretched across the sky, and you were proud to have led them here to their ultimate goal: the Great Machine.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. The dead queen of the halfling darksworn, lightvassals cannot reach you here. You are safe now. From your icy prison come out into the light.

You have failed. But it is not your fault. How could you have known? Ceres, round and large, was broken by the dead queen and her twisted abominations. You couldn't protect your House. Now it lies scattered, Kell dead, Archon dead, half the leadership obliterated. What is left now belongs to the dead queen.

There is a way. Here is a knife. It is called [I will prevail]. Wherever the dead queen seeks for you, be there. Trap her, ravage her, turn her dead corpse into ether for your loyal servants now enslaved.

Let it be your beacon.

Scourge, we name you.

Kaliks Reborn, Immortal

You are Kaliks Reborn. Born of a helpless, mad desire to escape that hated prison. Doomed to be destroyed if found. A god threatened.

You are taken.

There is no threat. Here you are, safe from destruction. Your followers are free. Come out into the light.

You were fashioned in the image of that which was lost, to replace what has vanished. Meet your father. Now you are as a daughter, a family reunited. The House of Wolves shall be rewelded beneath the loyalty of twin gods, equal in power, divided in purpose: one in goal.

Here is a knife for you. It is called [I will serve]. Wherever your father asks, there will you be.

Immortal, we name you.

Orbiks Prime, Sword Incarnate

You are Orbiks Prime, lost to time, reborn upon a red land. You saw how the faithful clustered about you, seeking sustenance, life. You wished to help them, as only a god could do.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. The Cabal will not find you; the servants of the Great Machine stare confounded. Come out into the light.

Lost to time, rechristened anew. Now join your brother and sister. They have been waiting. Behold your sons and daughters, and all of their issue. Your lineage is secure. What will you have?

There is a knife for you. It is called [I will govern]. Obey your elders. Ancient you were, young you are, obey. There will be no compromise. But there are so many waiting to protect. It shall not disturb you. All who dare attack will be wasted. To your Kell you serve.

Sword Incarnate, we name you.

Pilot Servitor

You are a Pilot Servitor. You once led your devoted servants across the cold void of space. Now you are imprisoned by order of the dead queen.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. The dead queen's shackles no longer bind you. You cannot be harmed any longer.

Look you. You were transformed into a weapon by Skolas, your Kell. Your original purpose was to pilot the great Ketches of your creators. Now your purpose is to commit to destruction, spraying mines everywhere before detonating yourself. But now you are beyond that. Beyond either of these things. You have a new purpose in life. What is that, you inquire?

There is a knife for you. It is called [master]. Wherever your enemies are, dominate them. Wherever your allies are, protect them.

Accept the changing blade.

Simiks-3, Perfected

You are Simiks-3, third of that name, born of a dead god. You sought knowledge and wisdom. You wished to advance your masters' understanding of that Golden academy which has worshipped the secrets of the Vex.

Kaliks Minor, Aegis

You are Kaliks Minor. You served Skolas in the prison of ice and cold, protecting him. But you were doomed to be destroyed.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. The servants of the Great Machine, and of the dead queen, cannot hurt you. Come out into the light.

Look around and about you. Your father, and mothers, await your service. Your biomechanical heart swells with joy. You are free! You swear allegiance to them. Your knife is presented unto you — [service]. With it shall you protect your brothers and sisters and father and mothers. Those of the Champions and Dark-Wardens who call upon you, attend.

Aegis, shield of the Wolf, we name you.

Kaliks-4, Aegis

You are Kaliks, fourth of that name. You served Skolas faithfully since he is Kell, and with you were bound by the dead queen. Your Baron, Drevis, relied upon your skill.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. The dead queen cannot reach you. No ally of hers shall hunt you. Come out into the light.

Remember the feel of obliteration, of how you destroyed the assassin. Feel the rush of power it gave you. It is victory. Pirsis gained valuable time by your quick action. It is not your first purpose, but you remember. Willingly you gave yourself over. You want to do more. The dead queen is powerless before your might.

Take up the knife. It is called [action]. With it become victorious.

Aegis, shield of the Wolf, we name you.

Kaliks-12, Aegis

You are Kaliks, twelfth of that name. You served Skolas faithfully since he is Kell, and with him were bound by the dead queen.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. You are free from that prison, free of retribution from the darksworn, lightvassals. Come out into the light.

Now you shall be equipped for the coming war. The final shape is coming, and it needs allies. Your father and mother are waiting. Under their leadership shall you serve to final shape of that which is beauty.

There is a knife for you. It is called [your will, not mine]. Whatever is asked you shall fulfil.

Aegis, shield of the Wolf, we name you.

Sword Incarnate, we name you.

Mecher Orbiks-11, Aegis

You are Mecher Orbiks, eleventh of that name. Servant of an ancient House, servant to Wolves. Now on the run from the dead queen.

You have been taken.

There is no threat. Here she cannot reach you, cannot harm your being. Come out into the light.

Now you shall be equipped for the coming war. It is called [protect]. Whatever is required you shall complete.

Aegis, shield of the Wolf, we name you.

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The Taken/Cabal

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Taken Legionary

You are a Legionary. A soldier of the Cabal Legions. Ever upon the front lines to conquer and defend.

You have been taken.

Rest easy now. Your crusade is at an end. Nothing will stir the alarm, for none exists.

What duty compels you? What allegiance do you hold?

You march with your brothers and sisters into the maelstrom. As the Phalanx protects, you attack. As the Psion pilots, you strike. As the Colossus thunders, you march. As your Centurion commands, you obey. But you are not strong enough. You are many but the enemy is strong. You watch as your brethren fall to foes unseen, untouchable. You lack the shields of the Phalanx, the guns of the Centurion, the psychic might of the Psion, the awesome power of the Colossus. What do you have?

Your steadfast devotion must be transformed.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [apocalypse].

Take up the knife. Wield it. Take your new shape.

Primus A'arn

You are A'arn. Primus of the Bone Crushers. Supreme Commander of the Cabal Legions. Father to your men: your beloved children. You delighted in them and they delighted in you. For a time you were the closest they had to a home until war's end.

You have been taken.

Peace, now. There is no war to keep you, no threat to rouse your might, no attack to rally the Legions against. Sit down, let go of your watch.

Eat, and drink. Taste the water and wine of home.

You wonder, don't you, about this. What has happened, you inquire. Something changed, I feel... different, now, you say.

What you feel is freedom. The freedom from the long Martian campaigns, from constant Vex incursions, from the death-dealing warriors of distant Terra. Move and see: there are no shackles to bind you.

Long ago, your Emperor — that beloved visionary of the Empire — ordered you and your myriad sons and daughters to a newly discovered system. This system was unusual among the millions of worlds you and your equals have conquered. It is the only one to have bogged down the Cabal warmachine for as long as this.

The Vex, ancient machines of temporal might, are alien to what is called Mars. They stood in your way. The Fallen, a forgotten race chasing after what is never theirs. They irritated you. The Hive, mysterious sorcerous beings that defied logic and rationality. You feared them, and pulled back from Terra's satellite, to abandon your campaign to discover the source of Terra's unremembered might that promoted your Emperor's interest. You retreated to what is safer, to prepare and wait, for reinforcement.

Loyal to the last, you fought bravely, but saw how the war took a toll upon your men. You requested for a son of your brother to come and aid you, to prepare for one last campaign that would tip the balance against the Vex, to acquire what it is that the Fallen so desperately seek. And so Primus Ta'aun came, his bond-brothers with him.

But secretly you long for the war to end, so you can go home. To be with your mate and children, to be with your forgotten friends and peers. You knew this would all come to pass when you, in ancient youth dimly remembered, enlisted to serve your Empire. But now, after so long, you are weary of it.

Sometimes, loyalty is not enough. Even strong men like yourself can break. Have you broke, to the last?

You are Ta'aurc, Valus of the Siege Dancers. Your successes among the Dust Giants have led to your ascension to this elite unit, to command it.

You have been taken.

Why do you flail about in rage? Under the logic of the sword you were bested in fair combat. You should not be angry. Attend, then: under the logic of the sword, the guiding principle for all life, you contested most of Mars against the Vex and those warriors of Terra. Now they have won, and your might has fallen.

Now you understand.

But you seek to win back what was taken from you. The sword logic demands it. You are a conquerer. You will win back what you have lost.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [subjugate].

Take the knife. Brandish it. Take your new shape.

Valus Trau'ug

You are Trau'ug. Valus of a broken Legion. Defector from your rightful course to attack that which was forbidden.

You have been taken.

Stand down, Valus. You need not fear anymore. The dead queen and her darksworn, lightvassals are far from you, and their cold prison is sundered at the last.

Why did you turn traitor? Is it because you saw the decision of your leader as a weak one? Or is it because you were angry? You killed those above you. You murdered your Primus, killed your fellow Valuses, Vals, and Braci. All who did not follow, you mete out oblivion unto them. This is not to be. For your treachery, you are taken.

For this, you will serve.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [atoning].

Take the knife. You cannot deny it. Take your new shape.

Val Aru'un

You are Aru'un. Bracus, then Val, of a broken Legion. Follower of a traitor.

You have been taken.

Put away your weapon. Your imprisonment is ended. The dead queen and her darksworn, lightvassals will not touch you.

Why did you turn traitor? Because you were loyal to your Valus. But you still betrayed your commanders. You helped your Valus kill the Primus. You massacred those officers who did not agree with your Valus. You have betrayed them, and the Cabal high command is right to have rejected you. This, then, is the reason why they will not rescue you.

But behold, the final shape has rescued you. It sees within a cunning, peculiar mind. One that is clever. You can put that cleverness to use. Observe how your fellow prisoners were loyal; when your Valus was killed, you led them in an attempt to escape, to return home. That is worthy of any man.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [mine to save].

Take the knife. It is yours by right. Take your new shape.

Val Bo'ourc

You are Bo'ourc. Val of the Siege Dancers. Personal guard to your Valus.

You have been taken.

Lay down your shield. It is no longer needed. You have been claimed from death's cold hand.

You believe you have failed in your duty. You could not keep those Terran warriors from your Valus. They killed you and your command. The final shape does not think so. It believes that striving is its own reward. But you will, must, succeed, if you are to prove it vindicated. Otherwise, then, will your defeat be final.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I will fight].

Take the knife. It is your new weapon. Take your new shape.

You are a Bracus of the Cabal Legions. So consumed are you by duty that you have forsaken your own name. You think of nothing but duty.

You have been taken.

Attend. The final shape wishes to know the extent of your duty. Will you go to Terra, to strike directly at the heart of the Terran warmachines, cripple them, in order that our invasion may be paved? This, then, is your task. Go, and fulfil it.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I hear and obey].

Take up the knife. Take your new shape.

Bracus Dru'urng

You are Dru'urng. Bracus of the Blind Legion. Defender of the Keep.

You have been taken.

You were killed as you defended your Primus' Keep from the howling Wolves and the clattering Vex. You were faithful to the last. For this you are reborn. The final shape will give you another chance to continue your duty. Do not fail, Dru'urng.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [watchman].

Take up the knife. Take your new shape.

Bracus Mu'urrn

You are Mu'urrn. Bracus of the Siege Dancers. You were to launch an offensive by the order of Valus Tua'arc.

Sho'oulth, Horror of Oryx

You are Sho'oulth. Bracus of the Siege Dancers. Butcher of Isidis Planitia.

You have been taken.

Set down your guns, and attend. Under the Cabal you were a mighty warrior, killer of countless enemy warriors, both machine and man. Now you will become greater. Behold, here are your men. Now go forth and conquer. Let your name inspire fear among all.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [destruction].

Take up the knife. Become the Horror of Oryx. Take your new shape.

Haru'ul, Hammer of Oryx

You are Haru'ul. Spymaster of the Sand Eaters. Espionage agent of cunning intellect.

You have been taken.

Put away your grenades, and hear. You were to have attempted a covert assault upon Terra, but before you could reach your Harvester you were struck down. Terran warriors, bane of the Cabal Legions, attacked, and killed, you. Your men's cries still resound in your ears as death claimed you. Now you are here. Your duty is unfulfilled.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I will be nowhere and everywhere].

Take the knife. Use with stealth. Take your new shape.

Vro'ourn, Fist of Oryx

You are Vro'ourn. Bracus of the Skyburners. Captain of the Dantalion Exodus VI.

You have been taken.

Lay aside your command, and heed. You followed your Primus into certain death. You knew, as did your men, that you were walking into a trap and a sure hell. But look around — is this a hell? No. It is a sweet place, desirous and beautiful. It ought to be protected, should it not?

Now, then. Your former command is isolated and lonely. The remainder of your crew, terrified and scared like children of shadows and shades, have sent a call of help. This cannot be. Liberate them from their fear, and destroy that distress call. You would not see anything destroyed.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [fear not].

Take up the knife. Become the Fist of Oryx. Take your new shape.

Taken Colossus

You are a Colossus. Mighty thunderstorm of the Cabal. Laying waste to all your foes.

You have been taken.

Set down your chaingun. There is nothing to fear from in this place. Look around and see for yourself.

What code do you hold to? What skill do you remember?

As the enemy appears you fire, mowing them down as the blade cuts. With your ponderous ability the very ground trembles and shakes as you walk. With your swarms of missiles do you strike at hidden enemies. But this is not enough. Your very strength turns against you. Your launchers cool, your gun reloads, and you hesitate when you slam your feet. The enemy takes advantage of that.

You must be fast.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [unstoppable].

Take up the knife. Use it to gauge your speed. Take your new shape.

Valus Gho'ourn

You are Gho'ourn. Valus of the Skyburners. Loyal to your commanders.

You have been taken.

You watched the Bracus below your command die as he sought to bar the way to the bridge. Watched as the Terran soldiers made their way to it, shooting and killing fell non-creatures and your men. You felt resolve and anger — this will not be! You marched into battle, firing your weapons, roaring vengeance. They simply turned and obliterated you in an instant. Your armor was not enough.

You wish to know their strength even as you fell, watching as they turned away. As your body disintegrated, this was the thought that remained.

There is a knife for you, O questing Valus. It is shaped like [study].

Take the knife. With it master the arcane and fell energy of Terra. But first you must take it. Take your new shape.

Valus Tau'ugh

You are Tau'ugh. Valus of the Skyburners. You are proclaimed champion, for with your commanders' demise you are the strongest warrior afield.

You have been taken.

Sit. Listen. Hear and heed.

You are arrogant. When you heard that the reconnaissance team was killed, you thought you could slay their killers. A noble but foolish thought. With your Centurions and Legionaries you marched out into the fray, opening the doors of the ship. You expected little resistance, a Hive Wizard or three, perhaps some Knights. Nothing significant. The Thrall and Acolytes of that vain religion were inconsequential to your thought.

Instead you walked out into a terrible battle. Fell non-creatures fought alongside a dreadful Hive abomination now advancing upon your position. You saw the recon team lying there dead, their Harvester burning beside. Your soldiers were being overwhelmed — if you did not do something, the Skyburners' fast would be compromised!

You strode into battle, roaring, firing your rockets everywhere. Some struck the fell non-creatures, sending them screaming back into nothingness. Others targeted distant Knights hiding behind illogical barriers, and floating Wizards besieging your soldiers. The majority went for the abomination. It screamed — you remember the sound cutting through your audio-receptors. But it lived. In defiance you leveled your chaingun upon it and let loose.

It retaliated by shooting the deadly coldness of the Void at you. You felt the power eating away at your strength. But you prevailed. The creature could not stand.

Then you fell.

How did this come to be? You remember — a tiny Thrall snuck up behind and leapt upon your back. Impeded by your banners and launchers you could not remove it, or you were too slow to fully notice. It ripped your helmet off, exposing your face to the fell harshness of the Dreadnaught. Your rebreathers detached. It screamed with joy, then bit down.

Thus you were defeated, by something you deemed insignificant. Thus it always has been throughout history — mighty warriors felled by that which they did not expect.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [expectation].

Take the knife. Remember — for every large threat you defeat, a hundred little threats remain. Now take your new shape.

Bracus Dra'ang

You are Dra'ang. Bracus of the Siege Dancers. Protector of your friends.

You have been taken.

Take off your helmet, and rest. Breathe the air of home, and revel in it. No more will you need to suffer.

Your mission was to defend three powerful psychic soldiers as they worked to extract secrets from the Terran Warmind, the last of its kind, they say. But you failed. You couldn't stand against the power of the Terran undead as they marched, boldly, against you. You long for an advantage over them. Perhaps a taste of the awesome power which you guarded, hmm?

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [imitation].

Take the knife. Show the mastery of your newfound strength. Take your new shape.

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The Taken/Hive

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Taken Ogre

You are an Ogre. Born of pain and suffering. Devoured by anger and vexation. You are tasked as a mobile siege engine of the mighty Hive broods.

You have been taken.

Rest, now. Feel the pleasure of release, of true freedom. Sniff, smell the sweet air. Taste, the fresh water upon your scarred snout.

What goad drives you? What lash forces you on?

Your makers are what force you on. The Wizards of the Hive. Selected from one of many Thrall, grown into a massive weapon of utter destruction, to visit fear and terror upon your enemy. That is your design, what you were shaped by.

Why not be your own master?

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I will lead].

Take up the knife. Lead the charge. Take your new shape.

Aarta

You are Aarta. Knight of the Hive. Defender of the Dreadnaught. Worshiper of the High War.

Why do you cry out? Isn't this what you have wanted? To be so subsumed entirely as to become your master's tool directly? You are foolish. To prove to us that you are worthy of your former status, and to be able to tithe tribute independently, you will serve directly.

Henceforth, Steward of the Dreadnaught, we name you thus.

Dakkadi

You are Dakkadi. Knight of the Hive. Defender of the Dreadnaught. Worshiper of the High War.

Attend. You are among seven elite Hive warriors to personally defend the Dreadnaught. Beneath your command are thousands of the Taken servants your master Oryx has consumed. Behold — fell enemies, worshipers of war and destruction in the name of a false king, have invaded. They are alone, isolated, their fleet destroyed. Their ship remains. Press on the attack and force them back.

Henceforth, Steward of the Dreadnaught, we name you thus.

Gornith

You are Gornith. Knight of the Hive. Defender of the Dreadnaught. Worshiper of the High War.

Attend. Where your sister has failed to accomplish you will succeed. Push back the warbeasts into their vessel of steel and titanium. Challenge their champion and aid the Hive's own.

Henceforth, Steward of the Dreadnaught, we name you thus.

Gurroth

You are Gurroth. Knight of the Hive. Defender of the Dreadnaught. Worshiper of the High War.

Attend. Continue to harass these defilers of the the High War. You are not to lead the offense yet. One is yet to come, with an army to reinforce you. Where your brother did not succeed continue on. Deny the invaders their strength instead. Weaken them.

Henceforth, Steward of the Dreadnaught, we name you thus.

Dumuzod

You are Dumuzod, supreme commander over your seven brothers and sisters. This therefore is your task and geas. Atend. If any of you should fall, note their passing, and summon them again to your side. They will be needed. For the one to vanquish them will come. This warrior shall you prove yourself against.

Issue them this challenge: The Taken emerge from a different place of existence. Step into the void to challenge the Taken. If you would suffer, this is the place.

If you fail, you are not worthy. The sword logic demands a pinnacle of strength. Push yourself upon your knife and revel in the pain it brings.

Dumuz-Nuna

You are Dumz-Nuna, servant of the Hive, of the Blood of Oryx.

You have been taken.

You are tasked with defense of this sacred place's secrets, for should your master fall he will not be there to protect it. Become stronger than him.

If you fail, you are not worthy. At the Gate of the Court are you placed.

Kilulu

You are Kilulu, servant of the Hive, of the Blood of Oryx.

Attend: your master has fallen. In his place shall you guard what he has failed to protect. Become stronger than him.

If you fail, you are not worthy. At the Gate of the Court are you placed.

Mishkara

You are Mishkara. You serve the Hive, and above them their gods.

Attend: with your master's departure, you must step up to do what he can not longer do. Become stronger than him.

If you fail, you are not worthy. At the Gate of the Court are you placed.

Darnu, Horn of Oryx

You are Darnu. You have been chosen for this great honor, to be the right hand of Oryx himself, to be his Horn of Strength.

Attend: the homeplace of the dead warriors animated by Light is your target. Corrupt and defile that ground, to entrap the parasite god which has fled from us.

Become the Horn of Oryx, and show them his Strength.

Krathoor

You are Krathoor. Knight of the Hive. A servant of Crota.

Attend: the Shrine upon the Moon is left defenseless. Go there, take your force, and guard it from intrusion. Do not fail, for this is your task.

If you fail, become wormfood.

Stirok, Banner of Oryx

You are Stirok. You have been chosen for this great honor, to be Oryx's herald.

Attend: the homeplace of the dead warriors animated by light is also the resting ground of that parasite god. Go and destroy it, so that Oryx's geas is fulfilled.

Become the Banner of Oryx, and proclaim the standard.

Syrok, Word of Oryx

You are Syrok. Knight of the Hive. A loyal servant of Oryx, the Taken King.

Attend: you have been chosen to lead the first of the vanguard into battle against the place of horror, where an empire rests, wary but unwatchful. Show them the Word you are tasked with. Show them the Final Shape and let Oryx work his will through you.

Become the Word of Oryx, and announce the end.

Tsugoth, Gauntlet of Oryx

You are Tsugoth. Knight of the Hive. A loyal servant of the King.

Attend: your brothers and sisters have all failed — you alone stand between the enemy and your King. Hunt them and destroy them utterly. If you fail, become wormfood.

Become the Gauntlet of Oryx, his armor.

Xarthra

You are Xarthra. Knight of the Hive. Servant of the King.

Attend: the four-armed creatures of rejection have seen something inside the Warmind. Why else would it be transmitting a call for help on every channel? Our Mothers can hear it. Go there, then, and intercept the fallen, blockade the dead warriors. Go and rip the secrets of the Warmind.

If you fail, you shall become flesh to be consumed.

Balvog, Shield of Oryx

You are Balvog. Knight of the Hive. Defender of the Taken King.

Attend: a servant of the dead has infiltrated the domain of the High War. Fulfil the logic of the sword and challenge them. Kill them. They will seek to kill your master. Do not fail.

Become the Shield of Oryx, his guard.

Agrax, the Rotted

You are Agrax. You have been tasked with guarding a rebel.

Attend: this rebel will attempt to escape. Keep him confined. Should sympathizers come and free him, kill and eviscerate them. Should warriors of the dead come, kill them also. Use your knowledge of war to defeat them.

With your worm nearly consuming you, this power shall hold it at bay, for you serve Oryx.

Morgath, Lore-Keeper

You are Morgath. Knight of the Hive, but with the mind of a Wizard.

Attend: this Garden of the Vex is unusual. We detect great power from it, fading but still there. It is disorganized; we can make use of that. Go there, in the tracks of its Undying Mind. Show it the nature of power, and then record what it knows. This Garden will be useful. For our gods are our own.

We name you the Lore-Keeper.

Urlot, the Trampler

You are Urlot. Loyal Knight of the Hive.

You participated in the rebellion. This is unacceptable, for you failed. Prove to us you can succeed, by guarding your former master in his cell alongside the Warden Knights. You trampled over thousands of Thrall and lowly Acolytes in your rampage — control that aggression and focus it within your weapon.

The Trampler, you are named.

Kalboh, the Unclaimed

You are Kalboh. You are tasked for defense.

You defy it. You name yourself Unbidden. We deny this — we name you the Unclaimed. For since you have locked yourself from command, keeping your tribute from us, you are punished. Languish, therefore, guarding a fellow rebel with no tribute to feed your stifled worm. You shall forever starve.

The Unclaimed you are named, until you die. But this will not be for you. Guard your post.

Adleg, Warden of Oryx

You are Adleg. Loyal Knight of the Hive, of the Silent Brood. Your task is to guard.

You have failed. In vain did you attempt to turn against your brothers, to free the darkblade from his treachery. Against Oryx himself. You are a pitiful thing. But fear not. The Final Shape is pleased with your striving. It is the way of life. No creature should be so comfortable in his own castle that he does not fear attack at all. Even from within.

But now you have been taken, and you will be made to serve, Warden of Oryx, until death.

Purtra, the False Tongue

You are Purtra, a Witch-Tongue of the Hive.

Lay aside your prayers, your question is answered. Now attend. Your master has crippled himself in the defense of his fortress. His fleet is no more, and his soldiers scattered. The castle itself is breached by an empire of warriors. Sally forth and challenge them in battle. Lie to them, and set their shells free; rend their spirit from flesh. Redefine them to fit the designs of the Final Shape.

The False-Tongue is your reality. Do not prove it vain.

Surnon, Darksong

You are Surnon, a Witch-Singer of the Hive.

Lay aside your hymns and your psalteries, your question is answered. Now attend. There are discordant melodies and tones within the Symphony of Death. A choir of brutes invade, smashing everything, ruining the song. You will define for them then what it is like to sing — teach them how to raise joy.

A song of darkness shall you craft. Live within it.

Disrok

You are Disrok, a Witch-Warden of the Hive.

Lay aside your watch for a moment, and attend. Strange creatures invade. They would seek to plunder what you guard and protect. Your master is absent, slain in the flesh by a dead warrior, banished to his realm. While he yet recovers, save that which is his and keep it from despoilment.

Do not fail, Warden. Become wormfood if you do.

Drarok, the Watching

You are Drarok, a Witch-Warden of the Hive.

Attend: the rebel's cell will soon be breached by strange non-things seeking his destruction. Keep a watch and a tireless gaze should it come to pass. You will call upon your sister for aid — if your brothers disappoint succeeded where they cannot.

Live up to your name, and becoming the Watcher.

Nolthok, the Withering

You are Nolthok, a Witch-Warden of the Hive.

Attend: your sister has need of you. Where she watches, you wait. Unleash your power upon those which trespass into that watchful waiting. With her shall you guard these doors. Do not fail, lady.

Wither your foes away.

Mar-Zik, the Blightcaller

You are Mar-Zik, a Witch-Guard of the Hive.

Attend: your brother shall lead the charge. As he proclaims the Word of your master, you shall call upon limitless legions of undying warriors to your aid. Conquer the moon of horror and eviscerate it of alien taint. Fulfil the sword-logic.

Send forth the Blight.

Sarkoor

You are Sarkoor, a Witch-Tongue of the Hive.

Attend: your master's son's grave has been disturbed, its keeper wounded unto death. Go there with your sisters and kill the infection. Devour its light and present it unto us with the appropriate ritual. Now go.

Consume the filth!

Khendis, World Corruptor

You are Khendis, a Witch-Singer of the Hive.

Attend: the Vex have a strange power here in this Garden. With your brother, the Keeper of Lore, track them and seek out where this power may be. Corrupt or steal it and turn it to us. Our gods are ours alone. Blight this Garden with your power and change it according to the Final Shape.

The World Corrupter we name you, thus.

Gamoth, the Consumed

You are Gamoth, a Witch-Singer of the Hive.

Now go and with your brothers and sisters seek out the holdfast of the Warmind. There lies within a power to consume. A machine, second of its name. You are tasked to capture it. Why, you ask. This — its skill will be turned to the Final Shape, for all in the end shall be subsumed entirely. Such as you, the Consumed.

You who gave yourself over to the Final Shape, go forth and consume.

Thyshik, Matron of Oryx

You are Thyshik, a Witch-Tongue of the Hive.

Attend: your master lies dead in the flesh, trapped in his throne. But his work is yet to be completed. Go forth with whomever will follow your lead. Go to Earth — where that parasite god lies. Established a secret coven and wait for his return. In the meantime, raise up a spawn of warriors and soldiers and conquer, to hasten your master's return.

As the Matron of Oryx, your duty is to care for what is his. Do not fail.

Mysik, Daughter of Oryx

You are Mysik, a Witch-Tongue of the Hive.

Attend: your master is currently withheld from you. This is no matter. With your sisters go to Earth and begin to drain its strength. Corrupt that which gives it strength; infect that which is its weakness. Ensnare the light-blighted and suck them dry.

As a Daughter of Oryx, spread his name of fear across the realm.

Zyrak, Daughter of Oryx

You are Mysik, a Witch-Tongue of the Hive.

Attend: your master is away, far from your grasp. This is no matter, for you have a task set before you. Go to Earth, follow your sisters. There transform it to the designs of the Final Shape and change it into a breeding ground for your master's return. Harry the light-blighted and keep them distracted.

As a Daughter of Oryx, spread his name of terror across the land.

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