HEX
~final witching hour~
Paris, 2163. The year of the first Splinter.
Humanity had been alone before they arrive, so warped by their solitude that, when that first contact was made, they could not recognise the beings from the Splinter as beings at all. A natural disaster, they called it. Then, a novel weapon. A terrorist attack. International war. An explosion, a pulse, a chemical contaminant. Perhaps, if it lasted any longer than it had, they would eventually have called it an act of god.
It was chaos, darkness, fear made manifest- a mass of corrupting unknown, spreading formless through the streets, consuming all it touched. People caught in its grasp were driven sick with madness, their last living moments spent in unfathomable terror as their bodies and minds became unrecognisable, before being killed and dragged into the Splinter. Barriers were placed, but they were swallowed by the chaos. Weapons were fired, but they couldn't make a dent. People were evacuated, but it continued to spread- and, with no way to stop it, perhaps it would spread forever.
But, as it took its twenty-thousandth life, it stopped.
Then, it spoke.
In its terrible stillness, a call went out. Garbled, strange, and alien, but recognisable to all who heard it as a familiar request: a conversation. A talk. Quickly, a small group was gathered to grant its request. Linguists and diplomats, politicians and scientists, they arrived by remote, facing the Splinter as faces on screens so as to avoid its corrupting wrath- though whether this would make much of a difference was unclear. It was never made public, what happened during that discussion.
All we know is that it ended in a declaration of war.
A declaration that almost ended the Earth.
St Albans, 2165. The arrival of the Choir. They appeared, at first, to a single woman: a scientist, and the sole survivor of the group of first contact. It was barely two years since the first Splinter, and the fate of humanity looked hopeless. It had been assumed that the war had driven her mad, she used the night sky as escapism, crying out to the heavens for help that would never arrive- until it did.
Shape-shifting aliens, appearing as bipedal sheep, with eyes of gold and wings of silver. Their voices were low and melodious- more singing than speaking, hence their name. They named themselves Angels, and they were here to help.
She brought them to her government, to her leaders, whereupon they told everything. The force from the Splinter, they were aliens as well; a vile, all-consuming hivemind, hell-bent on galactic domination. Though their true name was incomprehensible, the Choir had managed to translate it: in the Angels' own language, the force was known as the Nightmare. They knew what was attacking the Earth. They had fought the Nightmare before- countless times, each war more deadly than the last. If it had its sights set on Earth, then both were in serious danger.
So, the Choir made an offer. To fight this war, they bestowed upon humanity the technology to utilise the most powerful asset they had within them: the limitless potential of the human mind. They knew a way to distill each infinite consciousness, converting it into an energy they called Anima- the essence of the soul. This energy could be used to power weapons, vehicles, anything they could build- and it was the only thing that could damage the Nightmare.
It was with this power that humanity created Witches.
HEX: the forces of humanity united, an organisation dedicated to fighting the Nightmare using the gift bestowed upon them by the Choir. Though conventional weaponry was tried and tested, within the year they had settled on what would become their primary weapon: vast, humanoid mechs known as Witches. Owing to humanity's penchant for storytelling, and the limitless potential therein, each Witch was styled after powerful women of lore- sorceress, monster, and goddess alike. The Anima to power them was drawn from their pilots--or Familiars--who were expertly trained to wield these massive weapons in fleets known as Covens. For the first time since the war began, they were no longer losing ground.
The Stargazer, determined to use what she had been a conduit for, was chosen to pilot the First Witch: Morgana. Her Coven was built around her- six elite Familiars from around the world, working in unison to defeat the Nightmare. The first victory brought them well-deserved glory. Over time, the Witches became icons- heroes, admired by the world they were saving.
Over time, HEX expanded, creating more Witches and training more Familiars to pilot them. More Covens were formed, to fight the Nightmare on different fronts, and more progress was being made- but it was not without its problems. Ten years into her career, the First Witch was felled and the Stargazer was slain- betrayed by her own Coven-mate, Lilith. It is unknown what happened to Lilith or its Familiar after the betrayal. Some say she killed herself, others say she was taken by the Nightmare, and many more say it barely matters- all that did was that she was never seen again.
In her memory, the central AI that assisted the witches was built in her image, and similarly named MORGANA.
Despite this loss, things continued to progress. Now, almost sixty years on from the creation of the First Witch, HEX's fleet has expanded to protect the entire globe, recruiting new Familiars and building new Witches as the forces of the Nightmare grow ever more deadly. The gift granted by the Choir has served humanity well, but with their first conduit gone, the question remains unanswered- is this all they asked for in return?
The Nightmare- a dark force beyond human comprehension, aiming to lay waste to the Earth as we know it. It travels through the universe through rifts known as Splinters- glass-like cracks in reality, from which its darkness spills like a terrible flood. In this natural state, the Nightmare is largely formless. It is a shadow that spreads throughout an area, corrupting all it touches, warping its surroundings into unrecognisable evil. All who touch it are consumed, and all who are consumed shall never return.
In order to cleanse an area from the Nightmare, it must first be isolated in a Circle- fields of saturated Anima, the energy of the soul. When caught in a Circle, the Nightmare within will coalesce, manifesting a shape that is comprehensible to the human eye. These manifestations take forms similar to beasts of legend. They are vast, and they are terrifying, but they are mortal. Once the beast is slain, the Splinter will close, and the Nightmare will recede from that area- but the task can only be handled by one thing.
Witches, mechs of the soul, weapons styled after women of myth, legend, and fairytale. Powered by Anima derived from the souls of their Familiars, they are the only thing able to effectively fight against the Nightmare, using a variety of built-in weapons and functions centred around the lore of their namesake. Standing at around twenty metres tall, their size alone makes them expensive and resource-intensive to produce, so only the finest can be trusted to pilot them.
A Witch is like a mascot- a character, with little public regard to the Familiar inside. The most popular Witches become celebrities in their own right, famed across human civilisation, and idolised as heroes. They can be inherited between Familiars, and it is rare for the Witch itself to be retired. Some Familiars, therefore, view themselves as disposable, but HEX assures them this is not the case- as the Anima required to power a Witch can only come from a human source. First-time integration is a difficult process, but once it is complete, a Familiar can control a Witch as if it is her own body whenever she is wired in.
But there are rumours about the Witches, whispers spread within the ranks of Familiars that all is not as perfect as it seems. The longer a Familiar spends within a Witch, the more she begins to inhabit it- her mind slowly warping to better fit the weapon. Most Familiars are retired before this gets too severe. Integration Psychosis is the unofficial name for this phenomenon, but it is nothing to worry about. Slight changes in personality, the occasional hallucination, a few delusional beliefs- it's life-altering, but it's usually not dangerous.
However, sometimes, a Familiar will just disappear at the end of her run. No defeat, no retirement- she'll just vanish, never to be heard from again.
But that's nothing to worry about either.
HEX Base "ATLANTIC", 2221. It sounded like a routine mission. A Splinter appeared in Winnipeg, and a Coven was sent to destroy it. Intel on the area was hard to glean, but nothing appeared particularly out of the ordinary. From all the Coven could tell, this would be simple- go in, manifest the Nightmare, and get it slain.
The only problem is, none of them have been heard from since.
Humanity had been alone before they arrive, so warped by their solitude that, when that first contact was made, they could not recognise the beings from the Splinter as beings at all. A natural disaster, they called it. Then, a novel weapon. A terrorist attack. International war. An explosion, a pulse, a chemical contaminant. Perhaps, if it lasted any longer than it had, they would eventually have called it an act of god.
It was chaos, darkness, fear made manifest- a mass of corrupting unknown, spreading formless through the streets, consuming all it touched. People caught in its grasp were driven sick with madness, their last living moments spent in unfathomable terror as their bodies and minds became unrecognisable, before being killed and dragged into the Splinter. Barriers were placed, but they were swallowed by the chaos. Weapons were fired, but they couldn't make a dent. People were evacuated, but it continued to spread- and, with no way to stop it, perhaps it would spread forever.
But, as it took its twenty-thousandth life, it stopped.
Then, it spoke.
In its terrible stillness, a call went out. Garbled, strange, and alien, but recognisable to all who heard it as a familiar request: a conversation. A talk. Quickly, a small group was gathered to grant its request. Linguists and diplomats, politicians and scientists, they arrived by remote, facing the Splinter as faces on screens so as to avoid its corrupting wrath- though whether this would make much of a difference was unclear. It was never made public, what happened during that discussion.
All we know is that it ended in a declaration of war.
A declaration that almost ended the Earth.
St Albans, 2165. The arrival of the Choir. They appeared, at first, to a single woman: a scientist, and the sole survivor of the group of first contact. It was barely two years since the first Splinter, and the fate of humanity looked hopeless. It had been assumed that the war had driven her mad, she used the night sky as escapism, crying out to the heavens for help that would never arrive- until it did.
Shape-shifting aliens, appearing as bipedal sheep, with eyes of gold and wings of silver. Their voices were low and melodious- more singing than speaking, hence their name. They named themselves Angels, and they were here to help.
She brought them to her government, to her leaders, whereupon they told everything. The force from the Splinter, they were aliens as well; a vile, all-consuming hivemind, hell-bent on galactic domination. Though their true name was incomprehensible, the Choir had managed to translate it: in the Angels' own language, the force was known as the Nightmare. They knew what was attacking the Earth. They had fought the Nightmare before- countless times, each war more deadly than the last. If it had its sights set on Earth, then both were in serious danger.
So, the Choir made an offer. To fight this war, they bestowed upon humanity the technology to utilise the most powerful asset they had within them: the limitless potential of the human mind. They knew a way to distill each infinite consciousness, converting it into an energy they called Anima- the essence of the soul. This energy could be used to power weapons, vehicles, anything they could build- and it was the only thing that could damage the Nightmare.
It was with this power that humanity created Witches.
HEX: the forces of humanity united, an organisation dedicated to fighting the Nightmare using the gift bestowed upon them by the Choir. Though conventional weaponry was tried and tested, within the year they had settled on what would become their primary weapon: vast, humanoid mechs known as Witches. Owing to humanity's penchant for storytelling, and the limitless potential therein, each Witch was styled after powerful women of lore- sorceress, monster, and goddess alike. The Anima to power them was drawn from their pilots--or Familiars--who were expertly trained to wield these massive weapons in fleets known as Covens. For the first time since the war began, they were no longer losing ground.
The Stargazer, determined to use what she had been a conduit for, was chosen to pilot the First Witch: Morgana. Her Coven was built around her- six elite Familiars from around the world, working in unison to defeat the Nightmare. The first victory brought them well-deserved glory. Over time, the Witches became icons- heroes, admired by the world they were saving.
Over time, HEX expanded, creating more Witches and training more Familiars to pilot them. More Covens were formed, to fight the Nightmare on different fronts, and more progress was being made- but it was not without its problems. Ten years into her career, the First Witch was felled and the Stargazer was slain- betrayed by her own Coven-mate, Lilith. It is unknown what happened to Lilith or its Familiar after the betrayal. Some say she killed herself, others say she was taken by the Nightmare, and many more say it barely matters- all that did was that she was never seen again.
In her memory, the central AI that assisted the witches was built in her image, and similarly named MORGANA.
Despite this loss, things continued to progress. Now, almost sixty years on from the creation of the First Witch, HEX's fleet has expanded to protect the entire globe, recruiting new Familiars and building new Witches as the forces of the Nightmare grow ever more deadly. The gift granted by the Choir has served humanity well, but with their first conduit gone, the question remains unanswered- is this all they asked for in return?
The Nightmare- a dark force beyond human comprehension, aiming to lay waste to the Earth as we know it. It travels through the universe through rifts known as Splinters- glass-like cracks in reality, from which its darkness spills like a terrible flood. In this natural state, the Nightmare is largely formless. It is a shadow that spreads throughout an area, corrupting all it touches, warping its surroundings into unrecognisable evil. All who touch it are consumed, and all who are consumed shall never return.
In order to cleanse an area from the Nightmare, it must first be isolated in a Circle- fields of saturated Anima, the energy of the soul. When caught in a Circle, the Nightmare within will coalesce, manifesting a shape that is comprehensible to the human eye. These manifestations take forms similar to beasts of legend. They are vast, and they are terrifying, but they are mortal. Once the beast is slain, the Splinter will close, and the Nightmare will recede from that area- but the task can only be handled by one thing.
Witches, mechs of the soul, weapons styled after women of myth, legend, and fairytale. Powered by Anima derived from the souls of their Familiars, they are the only thing able to effectively fight against the Nightmare, using a variety of built-in weapons and functions centred around the lore of their namesake. Standing at around twenty metres tall, their size alone makes them expensive and resource-intensive to produce, so only the finest can be trusted to pilot them.
A Witch is like a mascot- a character, with little public regard to the Familiar inside. The most popular Witches become celebrities in their own right, famed across human civilisation, and idolised as heroes. They can be inherited between Familiars, and it is rare for the Witch itself to be retired. Some Familiars, therefore, view themselves as disposable, but HEX assures them this is not the case- as the Anima required to power a Witch can only come from a human source. First-time integration is a difficult process, but once it is complete, a Familiar can control a Witch as if it is her own body whenever she is wired in.
But there are rumours about the Witches, whispers spread within the ranks of Familiars that all is not as perfect as it seems. The longer a Familiar spends within a Witch, the more she begins to inhabit it- her mind slowly warping to better fit the weapon. Most Familiars are retired before this gets too severe. Integration Psychosis is the unofficial name for this phenomenon, but it is nothing to worry about. Slight changes in personality, the occasional hallucination, a few delusional beliefs- it's life-altering, but it's usually not dangerous.
However, sometimes, a Familiar will just disappear at the end of her run. No defeat, no retirement- she'll just vanish, never to be heard from again.
But that's nothing to worry about either.
HEX Base "ATLANTIC", 2221. It sounded like a routine mission. A Splinter appeared in Winnipeg, and a Coven was sent to destroy it. Intel on the area was hard to glean, but nothing appeared particularly out of the ordinary. From all the Coven could tell, this would be simple- go in, manifest the Nightmare, and get it slain.
The only problem is, none of them have been heard from since.
