Martyr Engine

Martyr Engine

In the war between the Forces Faith and the legions of Hell, only the purest vessels of divinity may deliver salvation. Yet, even within the grand designs of sacred alchemy and genetic resurrection, failures arise. The Divine Vessel, wrought from the cloned flesh of meta Christs, was meant to be a beacon of holy power—a direct conduit of His will. Instead sometimes, it mutates, writhing, encaged in an iron tomb, its form shifting in ways beyond comprehension.

Declared an aberration, yet too sacred to destroy, the Ecclesiarchs of the Church devised a desperate means to redeem the failure—by binding it to the unwavering faith of the willing. Thus was born theMartyr Engines, an armored cathedral on treads, bearing both the aberrant Divine Vessel and the unfaltering sacrifice of the martyrs.

At the heart of this war-crawling altar lies the Cruciform Conduit, a machina-sacramentum that links the caged, shifting flesh of the failed clone to a living soul. But such a bond cannot exist without sacrifice. A martyr must take the cross, impaled upon rusted iron, flesh peeled back to expose raw nerve and sinew. As they suffer, their agony becomes the fuel for divine wrath, channeling the Vessel’s warped sanctity into terrible miracles of war. The ground blackens with cursed fire, enemy ranks wither as plagues of locusts spill from the skies, and the unholy are struck down by shards of celestial radiance.

But divinity burns like a pyre, and no mortal frame can endure such suffering for long. Their flesh withers, their bones turn to brittle dust, and their souls are claimed by the great, hungry silence beyond the veil. Yet the war must continue.

For this reason, the Reliquary never fights alone. It follows the slow, shrouded procession of martyrs, each cloaked in funeral robes, heads bowed in reverence, awaiting their turn to ascend. When the crucified warrior crumbles to ruin, another steps forward, disrobes, and willingly embraces the iron nails. The cycle continues, an endless march of self-sacrifice in the name of Earthly Heaven’s desperate war.

The blasphemers and heretics of the Hellborn Legions mock these holy engines of war, calling them “Cages of the Broken God” or “Wailing Tombs”, but even they cannot deny the horrors unleashed when the reliquary wails in communion. For though the Divine Vessel is broken, though its flesh is imperfect, though its form twists in ways unknown—its suffering remains holy. And in its agony, miracles are born.

For the war is eternal.
And Heaven demands blood.