Lord of the Feast
|Lord of the Feast
An emaciated but towering warrior bearing a crown of antlers and wielding an ancient blade of tarnished iron, the Feast Lord arrives amid flocks of ravens and crows to indulge an appetite for bloodshed. The greater the carnage, the more fierce and tireless he becomes.
The Lord of the Feast’s only companion is a raven that ranges ahead of its master, leading its lord to fresh victims. Emerging like a shadow of death, the Feast Lord whirls his long blade in a storm of steel, carving into enemy flesh as he relishes his banquet of bloody sacrifice.
In times of the Molgur he was a chieftain famed for his prowess as both a killer and a hunter. He held elaborate feasts in his hall where his warriors gathered. Every man and every beast he killed, he offered to the Wurm. As age began to take its toll, his skills waned and he began to fear death — above all else dying with an empty belly.
He prayed to the Devourer and asked for a boon: he would not die of starvation and death would be unable to claim him so long as he was hungry. The Wurm heard him: the chieftain was given the strength of his youth but became filled with an unending hunger, a void within him equal to his devotion to the Beast of All Shapes.
The Feast Lord is always starving and cannot perish. Whenever his body is cut down, it transforms into a flock of scattering crows, banished but not defeated. At the next site of slaughter he may appear again, indulging his endless appetite.
The Circle Orboros seldom intentionally draws the attention of the Devourer, for they prefer to tap into the mindless power of Orboros that suffuses the world. However, the druids have preserved the forgotten lore once known only to the highest priests of the Molgur tribes to call on the Feast Lord during dark times, such as the Orgoth invasion.