Invaders Host

The Invaders Host is the Hedonite way of war in its rawest form: a tide of warbands bound to no single master, sworn to nothing but their own glory and the delight of taking what others have built. No overlord commands it. In its place squabbles a constellation of champions, each a preening despot in miniature, each racing to eclipse the others in the scale and artistry of the ruin they leave behind.

Such a host falls upon a land like a festival that devours cities. The Invaders do not merely conquer; they perform, staging each sacking as a spectacle for the only audience that matters — their rivals. A tower toppled without flourish is a wasted opportunity; a massacre without style, an embarrassment to be lived down. This ceaseless one-upmanship might be expected to fracture the host, and often nearly does, yet more often it makes the Invaders deadlier, for every champion strains to outdo the last atrocity and the whole tide escalates with them. To be invaded by them is to be caught up in someone else's grand entertainment: there is no negotiating, for no one is in charge to negotiate with, and no cause to appeal to beyond the pleasure of excess. They come to indulge, to outshine one another, and to feast on the fall of things.