Onyx

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Onyx Lore

As the wasteland covered the old world, everyone held to walls, factions, or delusions of security. But some learned the truth: survival is not for all. It's for the best. The rest are carrion. And that truth birthed Onyx. Onyx does not hire and it does not beg. It takes only those who prove their worth by skill, brawn, and intellect. The undeserving are rejected, left to perish in the wasteland as a warning that weakness is a transgression punishable by death. Mercy is a betrayal to Onyx, and all energy expended in protecting the unfit is energy wasted that might have been given to the strong. Its soldiers believe that strength is forged in hardship, refined in conflict, and proven on the battlefield. They reside where others cannot: radiation-scorched rubble, tunnel systems beneath incinerated rock, long-abandoned bunkers AEGIS deemed too dangerous. To the world at large, these are graves. To Onyx, they are proving grounds. They see AEGIS as weak tyrants, keeping the weak at bay and imprisoning men in fabricated order, to burst apart under the inertia of their own terror. The wastes' inhabitants are nothing, tools, cannon fodder, or corpses. But every now and then, a remarkable gem flashes through them, and that one is taken, tried, and reworked in Onyx's shadow. Out of the strongest of their warriors, Onyx personally selects eight, the Onyx Eight. They are the sharpest blades, the shrewdest minds, and the coldest hearts of the faction. They don't lead through want, but through example. The Onyx Eight conduct the deadliest missions, initiate new recruits, and ensure the creed of Onyx is enforced with no quarter. Onyx is whispered of in the wasteland, half reverence and half fear. They build no cities, they trade no goods, they do not defend. They take. And what they cannot take, they set fire to. Their mantra is brief and certain: Blood will be shed. But not ours.

Onyx Leadership