The story the Doomguard tell is that they were created by their gods as holy warriors: loyal, strong, obedient, and driven to conquer. This, at least, bears out the evidence: outside of their beloved armour Doomguard are misshapen, ogrish figures. While they are mostly humanoid, many are hunched or warped; many have additional limbs; all of them are physically strong and resilient.

They claim to have travelled through countless gates, laying waste to whatever world they found.
What none of them agree on is why they stopped. Some claim their gods abandoned them; others that their final act of conquest was to conquer and usurp them; others still have even less likely theories.

Whatever the case, the Doomguard taught themselves civilisation the hard way. They kept the imposing, spiked armour that they rivet to their bodies when they come of age. And they never shook the drive to conquer: they just learned that civilisation offers so many more avenues for it. To rule someone conversationally, economically, or emotionally is a fine and elegant banquet compared to the bread and water of merely smashing their head into the ground until they plead with you to stop.

Not all of the Doomguard adapted so well, of course. Many who can’t hack city life stay in the wilds and regress until they are little more than feral monsters. Many find themselves falling between the cracks, where they are a target for oppression, not an agent of it.

Nontheless, Doomguard traditions still place enormous respect and even romanticise raw physical strength and fighting prowess. In the same way as a rich and powerful politician might dream of retiring to a simple farm, many Doomguard dream of the day they can leave their life in the city behind to live as a simple bloodstained mercenary and slaughter their way across a continent.

Doomguard love hierachy. They feel comfort in being part of an organisation bigger than themselves, but especially in knowing that their superiors are better than them and that their subordinates less so. Doomguard rapidly become dissatisfied and rebellious under the command of somebody who they feel isn’t qualified to lead them, and paranoid and defensive when in charge of people who aren’t fulfilling their potential. This extends far beyond employment or loyalty: a Doomguard will frame any relationship in terms of superiority or inferiority. This does not mean that Doomguard are antisocial or unfriendly: they are capable of genuine loyalty and cameraderie, but it’s always contingent on everybody present understanding the pecking order.

The obsession with establishing an appropriate hierachy leads the Doomguard to be suspicious of deception or tricks. They have an especial disdain for ‘balloons’: people who to puff themselves up, making themselves appear bigger or more important than they really are in order to inspire loyalty, and will respond by quietly hissing, mimicing the sound of escaping air.

Many Doomguard have found fulfilling careers in Tarsium’s militia or watch, where their love of structure and hierachy serves them well. The gladiatorial life also suits Doomguard, although there is an increasing rift building in Doomguard society after Gravok the Unstoppable, a famous Doomguard gladiator, was met with a chorus of hissing on entering the arena.


Bloodmoney flannelcat JWyatt