The center of the Empire of Hips and Thighs represents the unification of all the Thighological denominations, and every Legate, Thigh Bishop, and the Empress of Meat have agreed that the capital of the True Faith must be guarded by a shared devotion. Each Leggio sends their finest representatives to congregate the Praethighrian Guard – the champions of the Mother-Church of all Thighs, the Gardeners of the Grand Cathedral and its holy relics. Their panoply is polished pitch black bark, and their buttocks are oiled to a near-mirror shine. These are Cataphractuhrs who failed the trial of earning Her Deathly Visage, but through this failure they demonstrated that their faith in the Bottom is stronger, and they would rather remain devoted than be awarded. They obey only to the Praethighrian Constitution and the Matriarch; not even the Thigh Bishops can order them or escape their judgment inside the sacred silent halls of the Grand Cathedral that have been entrusted to them. And silence will certainly reign in these halls. Upon entering the Great Cathedral, you may not speak, whisper, or even breathe loudly. Your feet will be bare, treading on the thickest, softest carpets. The only sound permitted is the slapping of your thighs against each other as you walk. Here, you may only contemplate, communicating with other through spiritual understanding. Break the silence and you will be punished: you will be bent into a pose before you know it, and your Bottom will be spanked for every disturbance of the hush. The Praethighrians slap so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week (believe me, I know this firsthand), but they hit so quietly as if their hands are feathers in the wind, because even their palms are not worthy of making a sound in these corridors. If you scream – they will continue. They will keep spanking you until you learn to keep silence, or until you pass out from the pain in your butt (believe me, I know this firsthand).

However, there is one place that the Praethighrian Guard watches especially closely – the Forbidden Catacombs.

When the first Angel of Love arrived at the ruins of the Golden City, a group of the faithful pilgrims followed her from afar, captivated by the sway of her rear. She walked through the charred streets, ignoring the followers, as she had for months, but when she reached the lavish staircase leading to the opulent basement, her whispering voice echoed through the ruins, forever deafening anyone who stood too close.

Having awakened from the paralyzing shock, the pilgrims remained at the entrance to the dark basement where the Angel had gone, awaiting hers return. They waited for a year, but when news of the birth of the Second Angel of Love reached them, the hearts of the oldest stopped beating, horrified by the realization that the First Angel had never returned. They wanted to know what had happened, but no pilgrim could follow her, not even the newly arrived. Instincts dictated them not to. Whatever was transpiring within the basement, their own bodies forbade them from descending.

After the young Empire of Hips and Thighs began restoring the Golden City, people discovered the history of this district: it was the estate of one of the Hegemony's largest slave trader, and beneath it she kept and sold her goods. She required so much space that the simple basement grew into deep catacombs, the walls of which were lined with the bones of the suffered.

To create a clear separation between the two worlds, a new entrance was built around the staircase: a single crypt in an empty field in the center of the metropolis. The oldest Praethighrians stand guard at the gate into the Forsaken Catacombs, ever ready to stop the horrors lurking beyond, but unable to bring themselves to enter. And yet, sometimes, they open those gates, because, from time to time, pilgrims come to descend the stairs.

Saints?

Sometimes it is a fellow Cataphractuhr, sometimes a shepherd from the other end of the Empire, sometimes an Ardem, who isn't lustful, but berserk. They come and demand to be let inside. And they are never stopped. You can't stop them, and the power of the commandment of the first Angel of Love does not forbid their bodies from doing so. Most never return; the few who do bring only repugnant news of the Cult of the Worm and the “Tortured”, sealed within the Domain created by the first Angel of Love; but once in a while, on saintly days, these pilgrims bring white splinters, of sacred bones, still radiating the holiness of the Aspect.

The Leggio of the Golden City. Fierce in battle, verve in prayer, and insatiable in bed. The Leggio that begot the Gardeners of Death, they remain to this day exemplars of what people call zeal. And to this day, no other Legion can match the 3rd’s passion for the Thighs. After all, they are citizens of the Golden City, raised there hearing the whispers of the Second Angel of Love almost daily. The thirst for the Bottom, its perfection, and carnal sensations is carved on their souls.

But many members of the 3rd have a notorious reputation: they are so ecstatic by the fact their Holy Labor keeps the sacred Thighs of Meora in pristine purity that they become addicted to the danger and thrill of battle. They can’t get erogenously invigorated anymore without Adrenalin rushing through their veins and a massive heavy blade swinging very close to their necks. They need external fire to kindle the internal one.

The problems might have ended there, but these ladies see many of their fellow believers as weak in their flawed devotion. Even a rookie of this Leggio can look you in the eyes and detect a spark of interest in something other than Hips and Thighs that you don't even know about. And when she finds it, she must eradicate it. They don’t ask permission; they consider it their responsibility – someone has to, and they will do it, using their own methods (although it's difficult to say whether they do it out of pleasure or necessity). Seeing others encounter mortal danger for the first time is as exciting to them as being in danger themselves: “she who loves the Bottom, is not afraid to play with flames”, they say. Even the Parish Watch of the Golden City are scared of them. Although, those who experienced a night with one of the 3rd, cant deny that... something stirs up within them at the thought of being pursued by a “crazy wide-eyed bitch” again… but this something is still mixed with fear (does that mean their methods work?). A word originated on the Tail Continent describes this type of relationship well enough – Yandere. A guilty pleasure, so to speak.

It is not rare for conflicts to arise between the 3rd and other Leggios when its members suddenly arrive for examination on behalf of the Church itself. But no one can argue with those who have proven the righteousness of their actions through spiritual strength and superiority. For some reason, the Church considers their methods exceptional for testing the fidelity of Imperial military personnel. After all, many of them are Ardem, so passionately in love with the Bottom and the Aspect of Love that even a regular female Leggionehr of the 3rd can examine a cohort of six hundred futales with her own Bottom and still not be satisfied with the... “experienced results”, while her... “judgment” remains narrow and tight. Meanwhile, a Cataphractuhr can take on entire regiments of thousands.

The armors of the 3rd are decorated with one of the primary symbols of the Thighology – the Peaches of the Hallow Tree on the Golden Isle. But since this Hallow Tree was begotten, let alone bore its first fruit, only two centuries after the Leggio’s founding, some believe this symbol actually represents moth wings, in memory of the Sparada va Caues, the Sanguine Moth, who slew the last Empress of the Hegemony, thus starting the great rebellion that led to the creation of the Empire of Hips and Thighs, restoring freedom to the True Faith.

At first, the Lappian Foxes was a congregation of Jagers from the southern Thighlands who, hearing the word of Thighology and awakening their inner love for the Bottom, decided that had come the time to serve the Empire and its people, rather than their own glory. They swore to serve the young city on the western edge of the southern Great Thigh Plateau, protecting its province from the rare Envasions that reach southern cliffs of the Thigh Region across the Lap Seas, and later became an elite regiment of the 6th Leggio.

Over the next nine decades, twenty new Leggios were trained and benefited from the knowledge and experience accumulated by these Jagers. Since then, they didn’t stop contributing to the Imperial military prowess: many regular tactics incorporated into the training of other Leggios were first practiced on a smaller scale by the 6th and then refined for Leggio-wide warfare by the others.

Today, however, The 6th is known as the greatest sniper in the entire Meority. Their eyes are all-seeing, and their bullets never miss. There is no terrain they cannot traverse to find their targets. Two-thirds of all sniper records belong to this Leggio, half of which were set by a single Leggionehr, Lappa Sleppa, who held every model of every long-range weapon in her hands and retains the achievement for the longest lethal headshot: six kilometers with a Gauss Rifle.

This is a relatively young Leggio from the province of Garasmor, just five centuries old. For the first couple of centuries, it was an ordinary sedulous Leggio like any other, gallantly defending Her Thighs as it should, but in the Electrification Era it quickly rose to prominence. Garasmor is, after all, the birthplace of the electrical renaissance. When its engineers and scientist uncovered methods for harnessing and storing this energy for quotidian application, some of them begun to wonder if it could also be used in Holy Labor.

From the moment the first Coil Gun successfully exterminated a Jealous Beastiary, the 69th has been arming all of its Leggionehrs with the newest and bestest arsenals the Imperial mind can devise. Almost all of the Leggio’s firearms are the Circuit Weaponry, their stealth suit have been replaced by Volthighic Armor, their marching music is Techno, and their Cataphractuhrs formulated and compiled the Galvanic Doctrine, becoming its masters.

They are the fury of the Empire, incinerating enemies and turning sand into glass. But this doesn’t mean they have abandoned the cunning tactics of the Imperial Leggios. The enemies of Her Light will not even have time to be surprised by the static energies unexpectedly surging around them, after which billions of volts will strike from all directions at once like a mighty storm, reducing the battlefield to piles of ash.

Beetroot Leggio. Literally the First Leggio of the Empire of Hips and Thighs, formed by the first First Empress of Meat, Bootillia Slapis as an elite Imperial army to combat the last remaining forces of the Hegemony. Centuries later, it still serves the province of Azzyeder. And while its influence diminished over the years, the First Leggio still retains its reputation as one of the greatest Leggios even today.

Operating primarily in neighboring provinces and the territories of the allied states of the Tail Continent, it deploys the largest Dino Cavalry force. These flat beetroot-covered plains and neon grasslands are vast, providing Leggio’s mounts with an endless feed and unconfined maneuverability during combat.

The first Leggio’s tactics are remarkably simple. Though technology has evolved, their methods of warfare have not: regiments of skilled mounted archers circling the prey and raining down a hail of arrows has been replaced by regiments of skilled mounted gunners and snipers. Those Leggionehrs or Cataphractuhrs, who lure the Jealous Beastiary, do so without fear of being struck by a stray bullet, because they are confident in the skill of their battle sistren.

Highly prestigious is the First Marksman Regiment. While Cataphractuhrs, of course, need to earn Her Deathly Visage to join, a Leggionehr candidate must pass a test: hitting ninety-nine targets in a row, while standing on her mount, galloping over uneven terrain. Needless to say, even with the complexity of such a test, its is not rare for the Leggio to limit the number of members in the First Marksman Regiment.

Also known as the Carrot Leggio of Okorokiya province.

Located in the densest reaches of the northern carrot jungles, Okorokiya was a small isolated empire that brought misfortune to any invaders who stepped on its territories. This is their jungles, and their carrots, and their gold. Many of the native villages remained untouched by the Pestilential Cellulite, the hordes of which were too impatient to look around. Then came the Hegemony, whose troops were lost in the depths of these coral-tinted jungles or died from carrot diseases and dangerous beasts. Only the Feetic Vagyaru barbarians could match the Okorokiyans in their expertise to survive in such a place... but not in their talent to fight.

This small civilization remained in seclusion for centuries, and only the religion, the True Faith in the Bottom, opened it up to the rest of the world. From birth, the natives know how to live here unconcerned of dangers, as if carrot juice and meat enlighten them with the wisdom of life. But when the Light of the Thighology was brought to Okorokiya, its people understood why they had always felt so spiritually close to these jungles – because these are Her Thighs, Her Holy Bottom. Their ardor was strengthened when they heard the sacred thoughts and words of the True Faith, and now they share with others the duty to protect Her Gorgeousness.

Though slightly barbaric and far behind the times, Okorokiyan fidelity and military experience are in no way inferior. Their people, who accept from the outside world only sanctified books containing Thighological prayers and images of saints’ rears, see the technology as a privilege granted only to the most devoted and skilled hunters: weapons that summon thunder and armor that blends you with the carrots.

Today, the 7th is the only Leggio of the Carrot Jungles and one of the greatest ambushers in the Empire. Although its Cataphractuhrs are very few, its Leggionehrs know every branch and every tree: nothing enters nor leaves the province without their knowledge.

And when its members return from their Holy Labor, they bring with them the stench of rotten carrots that have eaten into their armor after many days or weeks in the field. But this malodor is always welcomed, because the locals know it as the fragrance of victory.

Even today, the 13th is a Leggio that refuses to call any province its home. They gather skilled like-minded individuals from towns stricken by the same scourge to join their forces and pursue a millennia-old mission.

The [REDACTED] may have been cruel and wicked, but they were also clever and intelligent, crafting technology that was incomparable to that time. The Clockwork Legion was their final creation, their last “present” to us. A mechanical army made of copper and glass, fighting for them in the hot plains of the Great Thigh Plateau. An army that can indefinitely construct new soldiers from the toxic sand of the pink deserts. When the Hegemony fell, the Clockwork Legion was issued their final order: “KILL_ALL”. Since then, they have roamed the Thighlands, raiding towns and retreating underground without a trace. But after two millennia they have degenerated, and today they resemble mere a parody of the mighty copper adversary depicted in ancient books – not imposing and gigantic as before, but a chaotic amalgamation of twisted armor fragments and mechanical limbs.

Saraseks was a large metropolis, and a prosperous one at that. Until it was raided by not one, but twenty nine Walking Factories. When the remaining forces of the 13th Leggio arrived home after their Holy Labor, only ruins and corpses remained. The assault was so fierce and one-sided that not a single defeated metal body was found. The remaining Leggionehrs, having lost their provincial capital, with the support of the Empire, set themselves the goal of exterminating the Clockwork Legion. They do this not out of anger or a desire for revenge, but out of love for their neighbors, wanting to make sure that no other sistren suffers like they did.

For a single Leggio, this was an impossible task, but the members of the 13th became the best at tracking the Walking Factories and predicting their attacks, saving many lives from the impending threat, though seldom succeeding in destroying the sources of that threat. Pursuing the machines had always been difficult: the Plateau where they lurk is vast and arid, impossible for ordinary Leggionehrs to survive for long, and even the Cataphracturhs could not always find traces of the Walking Factories when they burrow underground. Nevertheless, with the aid of the Tumish Sky Fleets, and the continued progress achieved during the Electrification Era, it is finally becoming possible to relief the Thigh Region of this ancient menace. In the last century alone, over two dozen Walking Factories have been intercepted and destroyed, which is twice as many as in all previous years since the fall of the Hegemony. This act led to a significant decline in the Clockwork Legion’s raids, and it is likely that in the near future, the [REDACTED] last toy will finally become a piece of history that should never have existed. And when that happens, the 13th will finally find their peace and rejoin the New Saraseks.

Although the actions on the Western Healing Front are not as intense as on the Eastern side, the danger here is far from subtle. Much of the western plaguelands are the formerly safe and verdant meadows that were blighted during the Pestilential Cellulite but left uncleansed after the Hegemony reclaimed the Thigh Region, allowing the Leviathan and its Brood to spread their corruption long enough for the poisoning of Her skin to become profound. Today, the forces of the Western Healing Front still consecrate the land damaged by [REDACTED] indolence, and are no closer to begin healing the real Infernal Malady that lingers deeper within the Crus.

Like the other front, this territory, by international treaty, is a training ground for the Engifted dedicated to the Remedy Forces. The combined military might of the Imperial Leggios and Koleus Armies have exterminated much of the dangerous tarfested fauna within many acres of the border, making training much safer and providing Remedy Engifted with a multitude of locations and mutated plant species to hone their abilities.

The 35th of Margonia are rg champions of the Western Healing Front and the largest Leggio in the Empire, having advanced deeper than any other force operating on this side of the Crus. Their tactics are unconventional: they don't set up silent ambushes, they enter the enemy territory with uproar. The Thighological symphonies and Holy Techno music blast in every direction. These sanctified soundwaves purify the air with melodic vibrations, calling every dark beast and malevolent creature to come and do battle with the noble daughters of Meora, where the Cataphractuhr will turn them into bloody mists with the Tome of Sonic. Neon lights follow them at night, visible from every hill and mountain. The parade stops only to fight, sleep, or pray.

Every time they embark on a new Holy Labor here, the members of the 35th perform a ritual of preservation: every Leggionehr and Cataphractuhr kneels in prayer, thinking of soft and warm Thighs, while a chalice of liquid pink gold is poured onto their helmets. The noble gold, having hardened, will be impregnated with holy thoughts and words, and will protect the Souls of the daughters of Meora from decay should they fall and their bodies are not retrieved. This gold is never cleaned off, and everyone can recognize a veterans by the layers covering their armored heads and shoulders.

Showing off the most powerful weapon in her arsenal.

***

Unlike many other nations, the Imperial Knights of Creation do not have the freedom to choose their Doctrines. They are all part of a machine that must run flawlessly, and deviations are unacceptable. Instead, every Cataphractuhr is assigned an Onora – a specific role within the Leggio during the Holy Labor. Each is crucial to the mutual success of a precalculated victory. These roles require the study and perfection of specific Doctrines, and wasting time learning others is inappropriate when you could instead be refining your skills in what is expected of you.

Equites form the core of the Cataphractuhr forces, and every newly honored Gardener of Death will be assigned to this Onora. Here, they will get familiar with the Leggio’s tactics and practice their skills. Equites fight as squadrons, launching surprise attacks and flanking assaults on enemy groups, moving without stopping until the music of battle dies down. Since this activity does not require absolute immaculacy, their performance is monitored to determine their strengths and weaknesses. Once an Equite’s stamina adapts to the rhythms of Holy Labor and she gains sufficient experience, she might be given a new Onora, or become a Decurion, leading her own Turma of Battle-Sisters.

Exploratores are scouts elevated from the ranks of the Equites. Tasked with patrolling their Leggio’s provinces, Exploratores are chosen from the swiftest, most sharp-sighted, and most cunning sistren. They are highly esteemed and conscientious, for the planning of every attack and Holy Labor undertaken by the Leggio depends on their reports. Unlike other Cataphractuhrs, whose regular Engifted activities can interfere with electronics, Exploratores are supplied with the same advanced surveillance equipment as their Leggionehr counterparts. This equipment memorizes every branch and stone of every lea and forest they pass through, noticing unusual changes that might betray the presence of an enemy, or even detect them at a distance that even the keenest eyes cannot. But unlike their Leggionehr counterparts, the Exploratores embody the ionization of the air in the premise of lightning: they will stand right behind the Heretic, leave knowing all about her, and the traitor will never know until the entire Leggio arrives to burn the place to the ground. Enemies of Her Light will be revealed, counted down to the last vermin, and exterminated without a trace.

Assassines. These are veteran Exploratores and the most vehement Cataphractuhrs in the Leggio. Besides patrol duties, they have full authority to decide to execute Tyirans if any are discovered in the field, thereby weakening the Envasion and making the coming Holy Labor easier for their sisteren. Regardless, it is the Assassines who will be the ones to slay swarm leaders or Colossal-sized creatures during battle. Most of these Cataphractuhrs wear minimal armor, if any, because Assassines channel all their strength into a single pinpoint leap that pierces the battlefield like a needle. It is a strike so fast and powerful that anything they hit will disintegrate and anything they are wearing might splinter upon impact. Although the Knights of Creation can survive a great deal when they concentrate, this technique, even when executed perfectly, may easily exhaust the Assassines’ muscles, for when they land, they must disperse kinetic energies and touch the ground like a feather. Thus some of them only have a single chance to strike and retreat.

While Equites trample lesser creature and Assassines fell giants, Octates are master duelist, assaulting enemies of in-between sizes. They focus on a single vermin, cut it down, and move on to the next, effortlessly exterminating anything that gets in their path.

Vigilanes patrol around the battlefield, exterminating enemies attempting to escape justice. Of course, it would be far preferable if nothing even had a chance to retreat, but in such a perfect world, it would be preferable if the Alleater did not exist either.

Phalanxes. Like in ancient time, one such Engifted accomplishes what an entire formation of the same name could not. They are menacing ball lightnings, sowing chaos among the enemy – chaos which their allies can then manipulate to create new order. Phalanxes slowly move across the battlefield, blinded by their own light and power, radiating deathly voltaic energies around them, incinerating any creatures foolishly brave to come too close, and instilling terror in those intelligent enough to stay away.

Synthines, formerly known as Cornicines, are the Imperial War Musician who coordinate the entire Leggio’s actions on the battlefield and suppress the senses of Jealous Beastiary. It is a highly honorable Onora, entrusted to veteran Decurions who understand that the execution of a meticulously crafted plan and the following victory depends on them. The battle begins with the first note and ends with the last. Be it is Dark Techno or Industrial Bass, the melody must be perfect, down to the beat and volume, for every swing of a weapon, kill, and reload follows the music.

Optiones. Every plan has an order: one leads to two, and two to three, and nothing should disrupt the count. Optiones, as seconds-in-command, remember every battle plan down to the smallest detail and act as its invisible sentinels – miscalculation-correcting agents, darting across the battlefield, manipulating it to fulfill the pre-written victory. Optiones are skilled master-baiters: they guarding the positions of hidden infantry who have not yet engaged, forcing enemies to skirt what they should not find; they protect Leggionehrs’ lines, ensuring nothing reaches them and that their rifles continue to fire; they taunt and lure creatures into plots prepared for their death. These Cataphractuhrs are chosen not only for skills, but also for looks: the Hellish Spawn hates beauty, it enrages them, and they will hunt the hottest and thickest of the Imperial Knights of Creation, even if it means death.

When the battle ends, the aftermath of the holy slaughter must be cleansed, for it is Her body and Her Thighs that are defiled by the carcasses Umbral Horrors. Consacratrines are the Chaplains of the Leggio, who teach its members how to properly worship the Thighs and how to effectively use their Bottoms; but during the Holy Labor, they preside over cleansing and purification rituals. They remain out of the fight for most of the battle, chanting prayers and conserving their vigor, but planning the actions of each Remedy Engifted under their command. For every second lost on performing holy rituals is an unforgivable second that the Allmother’s Gorgeousness is defiled. But the servants of the Consacratrines work with skillful speed and meticulousness, knowing that their scared work will be rewarded not only with the gratitude of Meora, but also with the Leggio’s finest and most addictive asses – the Consacratrines’. It is why the Imperial forces attack swiftly and vanish just as quickly, leaving no trace.