Ghostborn

Though he was born the son of Lumaya worshipers, the Elf who would become known as Ghostborn knew at an early age that he was destined for a different, darker path. He grew to adulthood on the frontiers of Aravia, an odd, sickly child among a clan of haughty aristocrats overseeing a community of Human farmers. He lacked the forceful nature of his kin, preferring his own company to that of his peers. He hid himself away, content to spend his days haunting the family library, or else sending away for books from other archives, at no small expense. The subject matter of these volumes was invariably the same; the history of Aravia, its peoples, its wars… and its religions. While his family worshiped Lumaya, Ghostborn had no interest in such an uncommunicative deity. There were other beings who were less remote and, more importantly, willing to talk to their worshipers. He was fascinated by spirits such as the Dreamwalker and the Lord of Fangs. But one in particular drew his interest… the fell entity known as the Heartrender. The Heartrender is one of the more enigmatic spirits in Aravian cosmology; like the Lord of Fangs, it is not a god, but something else… a totemic ancestral spirit, revered only by certain Elven families. In return for their devotion, the Heartrender supposedly supplied them with mystic power and protection. Ghostborn’s research revealed that his family was one of those with a link to the Heartrender, though they had long since forgotten. He became obsessed with making contact with the spirit. But in order to communicate with the Heartrender, Ghostborn needed to be able to perform the correct rites. To that end, as he grew older, he studied the mystic arts. His family, having long despaired of him doing anything useful, were pleased by this sudden change of heart. But his studies soon took a worrying turn as he experimented with ancient blood-rituals long forbidden by Aravian society. It started small; a few drops to increase the potency of a sending. Then, the sacrifice of a small animal in order to commune with an ancient spirit bound to a boundary stone. Finally, Ghostborn took blood from one of his family’s Human servants in an attempt to bind the ghost of an ancestor, so that he could question the dead Elf on certain matters pertaining to worship of the Heartrender. This was the final straw for his family, who had turned a blind eye to his earlier experiments. Necromancy was a step too far. When confronted, Ghostborn swore that these indiscretions were merely harmless inquiries into a long-neglected field of study. He readily acquiesced to the demand that he cease and concentrate on more practical spellcraft. Or so he appeared to do. In reality, Ghostborn continued his experiments, and as his skill at blood magic increased, the former recluse became, to all intents and purposes, a charming, handsome example of Elven nobility. It was at this time that Ghostborn succeeded in making contact with the object of his quest, albeit not in the way he intended. Instead, the Heartrender, or something claiming to be it, appeared to him during his daily meditations. It told him that it needed a far greater sacrifice to fully manifest… one with meaning. Animals would not do, nor would the blood of servants. Instead, he must give it the blood of those closest to him. Ghostborn understood and, upon awakening he immediately set about giving the Heartrender what it wanted… the lives of his family. Ghostborn’s skill at magic far exceeded that of his kin and he soon baptized himself in their blood, as the Heartrender commanded. As it washed over him, the Heartrender whispered to him that this was but the first step. For there were others, like him, and it was his duty to see them all baptized in blood as he had been, and given over into the service of the Heartrender. Ghostborn left Aravia soon after. Acting on his earlier research, he traveled to Durham Forest, where he soon tracked down more descendants of the original Heartrender worshipers and gathered them to him, using promises of power and his own eerie charm. Soon, he’d recreated the ancient cult, with all its attendant blood-sacrifices. But if the Heartrender is pleased with this, Ghostborn can’t say, for the spirit has not spoken to him since he killed his family; a fact he has not revealed to his ardent followers. Yet Ghostborn holds out hope that his master will visit him again, if only he provides the correct sacrifice. As such, Ghostborn and his new followers now stalk the undergrowth-settlements of Durham Forest, spreading their dark gospel to any who will listen… and claiming the blood of those who do not.