There was two different groups. One that believe the sword logic failed them and the other that believes in it. They believes it will allow them the bring back crota and eris is the key to bringing back oryx. [quote]"The bloodline is severed. "The remaining heirs would argue otherwise. "Their blood ties and bone-bond to the Last King of the Osmium Court mark them as candidates for Ascension, but such is not granted freely. All evolution is forced, and the sword logic will not rest idle as spoiled children claw for purchase at the vacant thrones of vanquished Kings and Princes. "I see them as they are. [b]"Liars. "Pretenders. "As their King. "As his Prince.[/b] "The whole of the Court's lineage is unworthy. History would say otherwise. But history is not truth. "That I alone see the flaw in our future is a crime for which all others shall be punished."[/quote] This is the first faction of the hive. They dont believe in the sword logic and see the king aka oryx as a lair. [quote]"There are none. "Their strength is a shade of that required by the sword logic's demand for blood and pain. "They, as all, must be made to suffer for their worth to be evident, but they fear such ends. "I am no Inquisitor, by right or title. "Yet, I see clearly, through the sullied haze of their ambitions. [b]"They speak of honor and nobility. "They have none. "They crave power. Not truth. "They seek evolution but cannot comprehend its price, or meaning. "They want, only because they want—these heathen 'saviors' forewarned in prophecy. "Come from the depths to feast upon those weakened by our loss and our struggle against enemies more brutal than time. "I fear the path you court, sister, is a rebuke of more than tradition. "You challenge Understandings mapped upon flesh, bone, and the very essence of centuries beyond knowing. "You seek to unmake the logic, for selfish gain. "Such is a treasonous affront. "Others have tried. "Others have been held to account for such callous sin. "Yet, I look upon the lustful offspring of our once-King, and I see cowards. "I see our end—written in greed. "The aftermath of a feeble reign. "Such is not how I would see us fall. "Ridden to oblivion by spoiled heirs and would-be heroes born of the desperate throngs who only now, after the battles have been fought and our war lost, find their courage… here in the wake of our undoing."[/b][/quote] They want to unmake the sword logic that oryx has made and grow a new empire. The three characters are AKRAZUL, MALKANTH and AZAVATH [quote]"Ignorant of the logic's base demand. "But I say now, with an unfettered mind… "The sword logic is not all. "And the logic can be subverted—must be subverted. "I have studied paths both honored and depraved—the might of Oryx, the strength and cunning of his sisters, the folly of Crota's pride, and the necromantic sin of the unfavored. "I have long since stolen knowledge from the World's Grave—known texts and secret learnings.[/quote] [quote]"Let us be the liars and conspirators whose self-made truth topples stagnant, uninspired belief and births a new dynasty. "Dearest Akrazul. "Dearest Azavath. "Brother. "Sister. "Let us reap the just affliction of our suffering's reward. "We shall claim the burden of dominion and endure the pains of such tremendous weight. "Just as all others will endure, as final, unwelcome recompense, the harsh realities of their end."[/quote] Heres some on the daughters of crota. [quote]Would-be puppet masters watch with keen eyes from the crimson towers that hang from the jagged walls of the Necropolis's hallowed and hollowed ground. They of cunning thought and grand design who lack the brute strength to take the sword logic's gift by force. They who consider themselves the shadowed architects of empires. They who build their legacy upon the trade of secrets, the gossip of ages, and the sowing of lies—words their weapons; cutting as any blade. Among the murmuring lords of wicked tongues, tainted royalty glides to the fore. Sisters of the anti-mercy. Sisters of doom. The Daughters of Crota—Daughters of the Worldbreaker. The offspring of destruction, direct heirs to the abandoned throne, yet removed from the Pit's calling. The same privileged manipulators whose existence Malkanth and her siblings wish to challenge—wish to destroy. The Daughters have come to judge those who dare fight for claim. They seek a warrior fit to raze the celestial heavens that mar the ebon expanse. Surely one must walk amongst the countless descendants of their father's father. Besurith whispers her doubts. Seconded by Voshyr. Kinox remains silent, contemplating their station and the depths from which they must ascend if the Swarm is ever to reclaim its own destiny. Hashladûn, the eldest, the Inundated, narrows her glare. Her sisters fall silent. The slaughter is set to begin. [/quote] Ever since oryxs fall the hive have been fighting for the right to rule. [quote]Since the Great Osmium King's end, countless champions have been scattered to the winds in search of the sword logic's promised rewards. Immeasurable pain. Immeasurable suffering. Such that, this deep—far below the broken lunar surface where no Light has ever blasphemed—the rugged cavern walls are said to host the afterbirth of ceaseless torment. Here, spectral shadows haunt the passageways through the dark, each skittering shape the mindless, ethereal prison of a greater being cast low. Or so prophecy dictates… "Those marked as unworthy shall ever be lost in the depths of their own ambition—trapped between, in such form as ambition first took hold." —11th Truth, Book of Damnation Still, at the risk of final death or hateful damnation, the hordes gather, intent on the destruction of all who stand in defiance of their individual ambitions. Among them, proud Zulmak flexes dried sinew beneath the heavy calcified growth of his outer shell—armor earned in battle, through pain. Zulmak has now stood twice, after all others have fallen. He has gained allies and enemies from his victories—both in the circle and beyond. After his second triumph, other battles followed beyond the view of the rabid throng. First, an Acolyte took aim from the shadows—a coward sent by unnamed admirers to end Zulmak's march toward godhood. The weak thing's spine shattered beneath Zulmak's heel. Then, later… the Thrall—a wave of mindless nothings with chittering jaw and razored talon. Another gift from secret conspirators. Their dust now hangs in pouches at Zulmak's waist—a delicacy to be enjoyed in the quiet, once the echoes of his victims in the Pit have faded and the roars of celebration have hushed. Zulmak casts his gaze across the horde lined at the circle's edge. Hundreds deep. All keen to shatter their brothers and sisters. All keen to stand triumphant, as Zulmak has. He feels their eyes set upon him. He is a target now—a known champion. Many will come for him. They will swarm. And they will meet their end at Zulmak's hand. The ire rises. The energy of the Pit is thick, warm… angry. There is no ceremony to mark the opening of the slaughter. Those who dare join the fray simply gather until the tension reaches its breaking point. Then the first sword will rise and fall, and the ground will begin to cake with a thickening mix of dust and blood. AS ABOVE… On high, Hashladûn watches as the first sword falls and the severing begins. [/quote].