Charnel Lord
Sobriquets
the Lord of the Crows, the Battlefed, Moundshroud, The King Beneath the Hill, Branocbound, Irontooth, the Boyar of the Broken Barrow, the Raven.
Dominion
The Charnel Lord rests within the Broken Barrow in the northern hills of Karsk. By his own accounts an aged and terrible creature that predates the earliest settlers in the area. He has had a number of names, but Zoria knew him as the Charnel Lord and that is the name that has stuck most strongly. The Wise paragon is said to have travelled to the Broken Barrow three times in her life to speak with the sovereign, and each time it sought to trap or trick her with bonds of hospitality and promises, but each time she outwitted him.
The Broken Barrow beneath which he sleeps is an earthen mound that is arguably the best known abode of a sovereign in Varushka. Stone structures surmount the mound, including a great stone slab that lies in two pieces at the centre of a haphazard and lopsided circle of standing stones. While the barrow beneath the mound is empty, the hill it rests on is apparently riddled with unlit passages and galleries lined with bones. It is somewhere within that maze that the Charnel Lord sleeps.
He is said to take the form of a pale humanoid with marks of draughir ancestry, wearing a hooded robe and wrapped in an aura of dread. He is not alive in any conventional sense; some cabalists theorise he is a ghost haunting his own dead flesh. While he is sometimes called a king or a lord, he wears no crown or any obvious adornment. Some stories depict him fighting with a two-handed axe or spear, while others say he can extrude savage talons and ripping fangs that will make short work of an opponent.
While he claims to be older than the first settlers, it is much more likely he may have once been an Ushkan chieftain who became something else following a dark bargain or unforgivable trespass. There are very old stories that say a "blood-drinking horror" once stalked the hills of Branoc with packs of wolves and flocks of murder-crows and fought the Vard. In time the ancestors of the modern Varsuhkans "tamed" him and he retreated to his barrow. When Vard and Ushka joined and became Varushka, it seemed to make little difference to him. He did not oppose Alderei the Fair, or the Varsuhkan decision to join the Empire, but rather offered aid to both sides at various points in the Empire's campaign against the tyrant-boyar.
The Charnel Lord claims dominion over the woods and hills of northern Karsk, especially the vales of Branoc that surround his barrow. He also has a measure of influence over battlefields, especially in Karsk, but the limits of his reach are uncertain. When blood is spilled in battle and lives are ended, he sends his charnel servants to feast on the dead. Apparently, he gains strength from every soldier who dies on a battlefield in Karsk - certainly he seems to sleep most deeply when there is peace in Varushka, and awaken eagerly once armies begin to march.
Stories
The people of the northern vales often look to the Charnel Lord as a protector, but that protection comes at a price. He thinks nothing of sacrificing mortal lives in pursuit of his goals, and the protection he offers is a two-bladed sword that comes with many odd obligations. Citizens of the Branoc hills in particular often have a network of scars on their arms and the backs of their hands, signs that they have made blood-gifts to the Charnel Lord or his servants. Those who seek his favour travel to the Broken Barrow, inflict a deep cut on themselves, and allow the blood to be absorbed by one of the odd stones atop the earthen mound. Traditionally, every inhabitant of the Branoc vales, and many from Nitrost and Krevsaty, make such a sacrifice when they come of age. At other times, bowls of fresh blood, sometimes mixed with porridge or animal-flesh, are left as gifts for the Charnel Lords scavenger-spies. In return, the sovereign keeps the worst of the wolves from their doors (as long as they are sensible).
Not all of the Charnel Lord's "people" are human. There is a small settlement of independent orcs here that apparently enjoys the protection of the Battlefed. While they have never been formally recognised by the Imperial Senate, they trade quietly with their neighbours and keep themselves to themselves. Some stories claim they are the descendants of Thule raiders, or of the orcs who once lived in the hills and forests here before the coming of humans. Regardless, they have little love for the orcs of Otkodov and show little interest in the wider politics of the Empire.
The little beasts of the Maze of Zoria have whispered that the sovereign has potent magical powers, and is prepared to share some of them with the cabailists who bind themselves to his purpose. It's believed that in the recent past he has made a gift of one or more ritual texts to Varsuhkan magicians. The unique enchantment employed by the Navarr in Kahraman to slaughter the Jotun is believed to have originated with him (although its power cannot be duplicated any more). Most of the magic he has been known to share has been from the realms of Night and Winter.
During the Thule invasion, the Charnel Lord allied first with one side and then the other, finally throwing his support behind the Empire. His envoy claimed that he was motivated by care for the safety of "his" people, was also oddly keen to encourage strategies that would lead to numbers of orcs and humans dying. According to recent tales, after peace was agreed with the Thule, the Charnel extracted a promise from the wise ones of Varushka to look after his people, and then slipped back into a deep slumber somewhere beneath the hill.
Servants
The Charnel Lord has power over over battlefield scavengers; crows, ravens, rats, in particular. This power extends to more unnatural creatures; most of the corpse-feasters that haunt battlefields and old war-graves owe allegiance to him, wherever they might be in Varushka or beyond. These ghoulish creatures are generally cowardly preferring to eat the dead or the dying rather than hunt the living. Faced with an armed opponent, they would rather flee unless they greatly outnumber their prey. There are old stories that say the Charnel Lord can call the corpse-feasters together to serve him, bringing ruin to a vale whose protections falter. These corpse-feasters are different to the husks created by magic such as Quickening Cold Meat - dead bodies filled with a terrible hunger by Winter spirits - that usually attack heedlessly until they are cut down. Old stories suggest the first corpse-feasters were people who developed a taste for human meat, murdering their neighbours to sate their unnatural hungers, and becoming cursed thereby.
He is also said to be able to influence bats and wolves - the actual animals - although it has apparently been generations since he has brought them together in large numbers. It's possible that the Charnel Lord can influence any natural animal found in Varushka. According to some of the cabalists that have studied him, he learnt the names of the beasts from Zoria in return for some potent boon she sought from him.
Given the vales that honour him, it should be unsurprising that many of the Charnel Lord's servants appear to be mortals - the Branoc born. He has a favoured emissary - an envoy who wears a cloak of black feathers - who always lives in one of the vales of Branoc. There are families across Karsk and beyond that owe some debt or favour to the Charnel Lord, who have made a blood offering in return for his aid and negotiated some task they will perform on his behalf. Sometimes, these obligation extend through the generations until the sovereign finally calls them due. Something of this nature is believed to have been responsible for the Miners of Moresvah's enthusiastic support for the refounding of the Iron Helms, for example.
Other Tales
Black Feathers
The Charnel Lord has one recognisable envoy, who wears a cloak of black feathers and lives somewhere in Branoc. During the Thule invasion of Karsk, this emissary was named Vaclav and negotiated on behalf of his master with the leaders of Varushka. The current envoy is apparently Vaclav's daughter, Tasya. Apparently the one who wears the cloak of black feathers can travel anywhere in Karsk without concern, and none of the wolves of Varushka will challenge them. According to stories, anyone who harms the envoy while they wear their cloak and travel on behalf of the Charnel Lord will find a terrible curse falls on them that causes them to crave rotting meat and eventually sees them driven mad or transformed into a corpse-feaster.
The Iron Helms
The sovereign seems to have an odd affection for the Iron Helms. the core of that army is made up of soldiers from the vales of Branoc, and from the miners of Moresvah who have long been suspected to have some tie to the sovereign. The flocks of carrion birds that accompany the Helms, are said to contain crows that serve the Charnel Lord. The cabalists of Branoc can apparently speak with such birds, using them as spies, and feeding them on the eyes of their foes. Likewise, some of the hound-masters that fight alongside the army credit the remarkably close bonds they have with their dogs to traditional rites handed down to them from the Charnel Lord. Given the Iron Helms have travelled all the way to Spiral without the birds deserting them, some volhov fear just how far the Charnel Lord's hand might be able to reach.
Foreign Feet
The Charnel Lord has in the past evidenced some odd prejudices. He seems to dislike dealing with representatives of people who were not in some way contemporaries of the Ushka and the Vard. In the past, this has meant he prefers to deal with Navarr, Wintermark, and Urizen and encouraged anyone who wants his aid to eschew the support of "newcomers" - citizens of the League, Dawn, The Marches, Highguard, and the Brass Coast. His attitude to orcs is more ambivalent - he clearly dislikes the Thule but is prepared to work with them when it suits his purpose, and as mentioned there is a small sept of orcs that lives peacefully in the Branoc hills under his protection. His attitude to the Imperial Orcs in particular seems ambiguous. Understanding the root and the extent of these odd attitudes might potentially help in dealing with the sovereign.
Charnel Lord in play
The only people who have met the Charnel Lord personally are those characters who have actually met him in play. If you're roleplaying someone who has fought with the Iron Helms, or is a resident of Branoc, you might view the Charnel Lord as a wise protector or a horrible monster. If you're playing someone who has made the blood-gift - especially if you're an inhabitant of northern Karsk - you may want to create a few phys-repped scars on your arms or hand, and perhaps create a story about what you asked the Charnel Lord for aid with.
Further reading
- Daylight fading - 385YE Spring Wind of Fortune detailing renewed activity from the Charnel Lord
- Crow on the Cradle - 379YE Autumn wind of fortune regarding the Charnel Lord's role in the refounding of the Iron Helms
A Story of the Charnel Lord
A long time ago, long before there was a Varushka, the people who lived in the valley were lead by a wise and respected boyar. In his youth, he had been a slayer of orcs and wolves, with a coat of leather plates and a sharp bronze spear, and he lead with courage and guile. When the old boyar died, his cleverness saw him named to follow her. With snow dusting his temples, he made sacrifice and donned the cloak of feathers, and took up the painted staff that marked him as a master of bonds. He lead the people wisely, protecting them from the jealous foes that would have overrun the valley and taken their prosperity if they could. For twenty years or more, the people of the valley knew peace. Yet peace never lasts. A great horde of warriors came at last, killing and looting.
The boyar took counsel with the wise ones, and with their blessing climbed the hill above his hall to where a black stone stood, and made a gift of his blood to the spirit that dwelt there.
“Enemies have come to the valley,” said the boyar. “How can my people survive?”
“Your people cannot weather this storm without aid,” said the spirit.
“And what will that cost us?” asked the boyar, for he knew that there was always a price for such aid. "How can I save my people?"
“Sacrifice,” said the spirit.
“And what must we sacrifice?” asked the boyar, full of trepidation.
“Only the boyar need make sacrifice,” the spirit replied. “But you must lay before the black stone that which you love most in all the worlds.”
The boyar turned away without speaking because he knew that he could not sacrifice that which he loved most in all the worlds. When he returned to his hall, the wise asked him what boon the spirit in the stone had given him, but he turned his face from them and said only “The price is too high.” He went out to speak to the warriors; and most especially to his son who would lead them into battle, but his words fell hollow in the fear of his people.
Next day, the warriors fought bravely, they could not turn back the tide of the enemy. That night the boyar again took counsel with the wise ones, and they advised him to climb the hill and pay the price the spirit demanded, lest the valley be lost. This time they went with him and watched as he made his blood gift. Again, he asked the spirit how his people might survive. Again the spirit gave the same answer, and again, the boyar turned away because he knew he could not sacrifice that which he loved most in all the worlds. The wise demanded that he explain himself but he would only say, again, “the price is too high.”
The wise argued that there was no price too high to save the people, but the boyars son stepped forward and quietened the angry hubbub.
"If my father says the price is too high," he said, "then the price is too high. Not everything has a price that can be paid, nor is every bargain worth the cost.”
The next day, the enemy came again, and more of the warriors died, and while the valley was not lost, neither was it saved. The boyar took the counsel of the wise, but they had nothing to tell him that he did not already know, and they ordered him to climb the hill and pay the price. One last time he went up to the place of the black stone, but this time he was accompanied not only by the wise ones, and the strongest of the remaining warriors, but by his beloved son as well, and all watched as he gave the blood gift to summon the spirit, and they spoke the same words as they had on the two previous nights for nothing had changed. The boyar wept, for he knew he could not sacrifice the thing he loved most in all the worlds, and he knew that his people must now pass from the earth and be forgotten.
As he turned to leave, however, he found his son was standing in the shadow of the black stone. As his father wept, he caught him in a rough one-handed embrace, and the old boyar rested his head on his shoulder. Then, with great sorrow, the son drove his dagger up past his father’s ribs and into his heart.
For the wise had shared with the son a truth he already knew; the thing the boyar loved most in all the worlds was his people, and he could not lay the very thing he thought to save on the black stone.
But what the son loved most in all the worlds was his father, and with unshed tears glistening in his eyes, he placed his bloody palm upon the black stone and spoke to the spirit, and made the sacrifice, and demanded the aid that would be needed to save the people of the valley. The stone cracked in twain, and a cold wind extinguished all the torches, and darkness reigned, unbroken save for the glowing eyes of the new boyar.
“Rise,” he said, and the word echoed across the hills, and was heard by all the warriors of the clan, both the living and the dead. And hearing, they answered, all those who had given their lives to protect their people. They rose, and fell upon the enemy, implacable and irresistible.
With trembling hands, the wise approached him and lay across his shoulders the cloak of black feather, still warm with his fathers blood. Ignoring them, the new boyar spoke again.
“Rise,” he said for a second time. From the hills came the terrible howling of the wolves, and the birds of the forest rose in a great cloud of feathers and talons, and across the plains came A chittering and squealing horde of rats, as the beasts of the valley joined the warriors, harrying the enemy without mercy.
Finally, the new boyar turned to face the wise ones and the warriors clustered at the bounds of the place of the black stone, and spoke for a final time.
“Rise” he said, and as he strode down the hill away from the stone, the mark of Winter settled like a cloak over the shoulders of the people of the valley, bleaching their skin, and sharpening their teeth, and filling their eyes with embers of fire, and setting within them an unending hunger for victory and revenge. As one, they fell in behind their boyar, and marched down to join the dead, and the swarms of vermin, and bring terror to the invaders.
When the sun rose, those enemy warriors who had not fled lay broken on the cold earth and the rats and the ravens quarrelled over their eyes.
Then the new boyar had the black stone fashioned into a bier for his father, who he entombed in a barrow beneath the hill upon which it had once stood. And in time he followed his father beneath the earth, but there were no more boyars to follow him. Who could follow one who had caused the dead to rise, and called the beasts to feast upon his foes, and who spoke with the voice of command that even the spirits must obey? The cloak of feathers passed from hand to hand down through the years, but none of the people of the valley doubted that the one who wore it spoke with the voice of the king beneath the hill. To this day, he slumbers still, rousing himself whenever his people are threatened. And all this he does, not because he loves the people of the valley, but because he loved his father more than anything in all the worlds.