The Antediluvians prepare. The end of the world is coming; we need to be ready. We gather, steal, and hoard mystical resources to make sure the Contagion doesn’t wreck us when it washes fully over the world. Taking these things away from someone else also pushes those losers into harm’s way; to ensure we survive, the Army makes sure others don’t. We understand strength in numbers, and we know we’ll never make it alone, but we see no reason to share the spoils with outsiders. Saturnalians don’t go in for studying or understanding the Contagion — what’s to understand? It's doom incarnate! — but if we run across cracks in Infrastructure or other beings’ defenses by which we can encourage the Contagion’s spread and other dire fates, we cheerfully open those cracks wider and help destiny along.
Hedonism and greed run rampant in Naglfar’s Army. We share with each other but no one else, and we indulge our every fantasy and desire, because who knows what the world will look like after the apocalypse? We may never taste human blood, fear, tears, or anything else again after this.
Best to get it all in now while we still can. And on the off chance we don’t make it to the other side, we eat, drink, fuck, and make merry, in case tomorrow we all die. The Sworn and other False wouldn’t mind much, except that we throw caution completely to the wind. Forget the Masquerade and the Veil, forget being careful not to expose horrors to the masses, forget the good of the many. The end is nigh, who gives a shit whether we crack reality a little or drive whole cities crazy? Let it all burn, we don’t care. We take whatever we want, and we do whatever we want to anyone who tries to stop us.
The Army collects small, captive groups of valuable humans and other beings we want to preserve for after the storm. Some of our members do this for personal, sentimental reasons; others because it amuses us to be so generous; others to keep stashes of living resources in case their curses aren’t as lifted as we expect after the end; and still others for more inscrutable purposes.
Most Saturnalians believe wholeheartedly in the party line, but some are just along for the ride, soaking up the perks and paying lip service to the big picture. The ones who are along for the ride usually do this because the Contagion has already taken something — or everything — they care about, and they’ve lost hope of ever getting it back. Naglfar’s Army is the landing zone for those who’ve seen the Contagion’s horror and tragedy firsthand, and let it break them. It’s also where many False end up who are too far gone or too inhuman to have much of an agenda. How we organize: Formally, we mostly don’t. When we do, it’s in social clubs or cults. We throw elite parties and wild orgies or hold ecstatic group rituals and sacrifice the infected on doom’s altar to ensure our place in the new world to come. Some instead act like refugees and outcasts, gathering in shelters and carefully stockpiling everything we can. The Army keeps stashes of various kinds: some finagle our way into vaults or warehouses and amass mystical resources there, while others acquire mansions and then decorate every room with our spoils.
Despite our members’ devil-may-care attitudes, we understand the need for a way to tell outsiders from fellows. Upon joining, each member permanently adorns his, her, or their flesh with the Army’s sigil, whether through tattooing, scarification, branding, or some magical means. This makes turning Sworn later harder, but most of us couldn’t care less.
Against the Sworn: The simplest way for the Antediluvians to score big is to murder their way through local Sworn headquarters and take over their facilities. We exploit and exacerbate whatever vulnerabilities we find, and pit the Sworn against one another — and the other False — however we can. It’s a practical strategy, but it’s also good for a laugh.
We don’t go out of our way to recruit, but sometimes individuals sense when one of the Sworn is losing faith in her cause, whether out of loss, despair, or a failure of con- science when things get rough. Some of our brethren enjoy living as dangerous agents provocateurs, tempting those on the cusp of giving up to go all the way and join the ship of fools. You know what they say about those fate protects, right?