The Sanguine Legion

Warriors of the Goddess of Passion

Ah, The painters of the Sanguine Legion, they were something else. A single squad could rival an army. They were beautiful...and disgusting if I'm being honest. They reveled in the blood they spilled even if it was their own. They bathed in it. In fact, to my own horror, the pilgrimage to the wetworks, the maidens domain of blood and extremes, requires you to fill a silver tub with blood, disrobe, and completely submerge your body. It was such a bizarre feeling, I don't recommend it.

You enter a meditative state and submerge. Once submerged, that's when the real fun begins. The first thing you feel is a tug as if being pulled deeper which should be impossible, its a tub right? Now I'll admit it... I panicked. I flailed trying to get out of the tub but found myself swimming deeper like I was swimming downwards. That's when you notice the walls and base of the tub aren't there anymore. Something tugs you again. It flips you around and buoyancy reinstates itself. You scramble in the direction that used to be down but now is up, and then you break the surface.

An ocean of blood and an island with shores of black sand...that's the first thing you see. You look at the center of this island and see a massive citadel of impossible shapes with waves of red hair stretching to the sky that seem to go on forever. Its a long way to her throne. You fight the waves and your first steps on the shore are labored. Your so damn tired from the swim. You trek on though. You're only allowed a weapon to take with you. I was naked, armed with nothing but Mhirriah's spear. Monsters are everywhere, her priestesses assail you, test you in many ways with Riddles and temptations.

You finally make it to her spire and her throne. The red hair cascaded all over is lush and silky like a warm bed. She is unnaturally tall, with glaring green eyes and a curved nose but no mouth...I found that odd. She speaks to you in your thoughts, offers you the greatest of passions. You say yes, of course you do. No one denies a goddess.

I sprang from the tub suddenly and found myself back in reality. The cold chamber was a calming sight but more than it once was. This pilgrimage changes you in so many ways. You will find yourself just staring at mundane things as if they were the most beautiful things you have even seen. My first was the ocean. I found myself, naked, cold, covered in blood, just staring out the window of the chamber at the horizon. I broke away and realized the blood in the tub was gone save for what was on me. I went to clean myself up and it took almost three full tubs of water to do so, not because of the blood mind you, that was gone with second tub, but it took to the third tub to realize i was clean.

I was born with black hair, but no matter what I did, my hair stayed red, stained by the sea of the wetworks. It grows red too, completely natural.

— Mhirrah, Chosen of Mhirriah

The red legion was, for many, the most terrifying, or at least the most intimidating legion. Like many artists, these precious few were full of life and ached to bring forth the writhing images they felt within. They wandered the fields of battle with a vigor unlike any other. A swagger that would make armies flee in terror when they took to the field. The more blood they spilled, the more powerful they became. Using the arcane art taught to them by their patroness. They would summon monstrous creatures from the wetworks, a demiplane where The Red Maiden resides.

This was often unintentional. They could also shroud themselves in blood and appear as monsters themselves. Outside of combat, however, they were often considered elegant and graceful, with ornate armor that blended lightweight leather with heavier steel. Centurions of the Sanguine legion often wore strange helmets that displayed their fiery locks with pride flowing out of the back.

Forever Changed

After their joining, they emerge with red hair, and as it was a symbol of their order, refused to cut even an inch of it off. They wore enchanted white cloaks that absorbed the blood they spilled. This blood was their medium and they used it in many ways. They would heal the fallen, raise the morale of their comrades, and violently dispatch any opposition.

The blood they gathered would stain their cloak and never spoil. A cloak fully soaked would often be a mark of rank. The cloaks were to never be washed as doing so would cause the blood to rot and spill from the cloth. The painters, as the centurions of this legion were called, were rarely used as a single fighting force. Most military forces needed only a squad or two and with there being so few of them, efficiently divided them among their forces. Based on historical texts, the legion never went far above 700 members.

Training and Outfitting

The painters wore heavy armor and an enchanted cloak. They used a gladius in battle and each was well trained in blood magic. They also employed spears and large round shields at the beginning of battle which usually would be abandoned when the passion overtakes them.

The training of a painter is done by the tyrants and once trained the prospect must make a pilgrimage into the demiplane of the maiden herself. The wetworks leave an impression on those who enter and survive. Their hair turns red and their ability to sense and utilize blood for their magic is deeply enhanced.

While their fighting style with a gladius is heavily adapted from the tyrant legion, the use of Arcana Sanguis and feral, passionate motions made it look quite different as their cloaks and the centurions themselves attract the blood spilled in floating drips and mists. A red fog often shrouded them, made of the mists that fuel their power.

The Structure of the Legion

While a unisex legion, its highest ranking member was always a woman referred to as The High Crone. Below her in rank were the priestesses of The Red Maiden, who each shepherded a group of centurions. Among the centurions, those who bore a full red cloak were often treated as higher ranked than those who did not.

The Sanguine Legion was one of the last to form and their arrival causes a huge interest in the red maiden and converts flocked to her temples. The maiden was rarely worshiped beforehand mainly due to many misunderstanding her principles, though many called to her I'm moments of passion, whether it be in late night encounters or in rage on the fields of battle. The legion kept many harems and stables, leading to the red temples of ozlith often doubling as brothels. They were remarkably few compared to the other legions. In many ways this due to the lack of understanding and in other ways it was due to the difficulty of the pilgrimage.

Type

Magic

Overall training Level

Elite

The Cult of Fiery Locks

The Red Maiden's priestesses often traveled with the red legion for several reasons. The rituals of The Maiden are usually administered by a priestess, particularly before battle. The priestess is also responsible for powering and maintaining the blood sigils that enchant the cloaks of the legion. On top of this, the priestesses and fanatic cultists often resorted to bloodletting to fuel the power of their centurions. They would fill small 3 gallon vats that they carried into battle for the legion to make use of.
This blood is different from the blood collected on the fields of battle. The tenants of blood magic state that blood can be taken from yourself or your enemies, but blood freely given is sacrificial and much more potent.

When the gods of Ozlith ventured into the domain of war, The Red Maiden couldn't help but feel out of place. The warriors on that endless battlefield were so cold and calculated. The blood they spilled had little meaning.
She wandered the fields far longer than the other gods searching for anything that may catch her eye.

Eventually, it came to her. Warriors who killed out of passion and lathered the blood they spilled on their hands like a holy sacrament.
It was love at first sight for the young goddess. She was, after all, a goddess of passion...of extremes. She was the goddess of red and commanded power over the red within us all. When she returned, the term maiden was no longer accurate, for she experienced a rapture and felt as if her body had been ravaged by the sight. To the maiden, the joy of fightingher brother, The Tyrant, had come to find was fleeting. The skill that The Matriarch desired was cold and the narrow view of The Deep, she found meaningless.
War is more than the fight, she found, and when she looked to her closest sibling, The Widow, she lamented. The Maiden felt that fighting for the kill ends the passion too quickly.

To the maiden, it was the passion that mattered most. It wasn't just the thrill and love of fighting for her. It was having something to fight for....
She once asked of her siblings
"What drives mortals to violence." She looked at their befuddled faces and she shook her head at each of their answers. She gestured to their people and smiled.
"Passion, the passion for one's country, faith, or creed. Passion is what moves one past the pain. Passion is what drives one to excel in skill. Passion is what leads to an enemies death, and passion is what drives those to seek out the watery depths."

The mad god laughed at the other gods' confusion.
"It seems our sister has grown wiser than us all." Gehova smiled and spoke to his siblings.
"What purpose is passion if it cannot make life better? War can never do that."
"What good is meaning, of purpose, without passion dear sibling?" The mad god chuckled,
"Passion is what drives us all towards purpose." The maiden smiled. She knew that even her maddened brother didn't understand, and that none of them ever will. She had been changed and felt it deeply. She took those who would see her ways, less than a thousand men and women, and ravaged them in kind.

They experienced a passion not meant for mortal minds. She didn't just create warriors, she created artists. The gladius was their brush, the blood was the paint and the field of battle was a canvas.

— From Ozlith: The Birth of an Empire and the Seven Legions