Appearance

Even amongst demonkind, Mara’bagash is a particularly ugly specimen. If a particularly artistically disinclined child were to awkwardly sculpt an armless humanoid figure from clay that had been thoroughly soaked in old blood, they might create something similar to Mara’bagash. What first strikes most of the unfortunate spirits who gaze upon his form is not his size, which is mutable and changes frequently, but his general lack of facial features. No hellish light burns in his eye sockets, nor is his mouth festooned with those sharp, wicked fangs that are so common amongst demonkind. Instead, his mouth, nose, and eyes are merely concave hollow indents in the coagulated crimson vitae that serves as his skin. When he speaks, his voice is muffled and wet, as if someone several rooms over was attempting to shout while underwater. One set of curling ram’s horns upon his head emerge from the encrusted bloody filth layered upon his flesh, the only natural part of his body that is not completely caked in the half-dried blood of a thousand mortals. There are no wings upon his back, and as such one can always tell where Lord of the Crimson Chains has been by the bloody footprints left in his wake.

In an age long past, Mara’bagash foolishly attempted to defy the will of the Hell King, perhaps believing that his encounter with Nilestromus proved that he was not quite the omnipotent titan that Mara’bagash thought him to be. His rebellion was swiftly ended, and the Hell King tore Mara’bagash’s arms from his sockets in the process, which have yet to even have begun to heal. Instead, nearly twenty chains hang loose from the ruinous mess that was once his shoulder sockets, nine on the left, and ten on the right. Forged of hell-wrought iron and dripping with fresh blood, each of these chains is attached to one of many torture devices, each one an unholy fusion of mortal ingenuity and demonic refinement in the arts of pain. At any one time at least half are currently at work administering to one of Mara’bagash’s victims.

The stench of rotten, clotted blood hangs heavy in the air while he is present, and few mortals can stand to be in his presence for long without some sort of protection. Those who have tried often find themselves retching so hard that it begins to tear at their internal organs, and the Prince of Blood remembers a particularly arrogant Wytch that quite literally expelled her own upper intestines through her mouth before fleeing his presence. Only those demons of his court are immune to its effects entirely, but most demons are capable of tolerating its effects to some degree.

Methods and Motivations

Perhaps more than any other Demon Prince, Mara’bagash desires the Hell Crown that he knows is his by right. While his peers play games with mortals and strike against the Gods, he alone retains all of his focus on the task at hand. Everything he does, he does in the ironclad belief that the only thing that truly matters in the Hellstack is the coronation of himself as the new Hell King, and only an awakened Behemoth can deliver that. The fact that thus far he has not met any great measure of success on that front, has inflicted upon him equal measures of great shame and terrible rage. Nevertheless, it remains his driving motivation. He cares nothing for the mortal world beyond the blood that it provides him, nor does he give a single iota of thought about his current political standing amongst the Princes of the Hellstack. Someday they will all bow to him, and that is enough.

When Mara’bagash or his servants wage war with the denizens of the Hellstack or engage in contracts with mortals, their sole goal is the acquisition of blood. In these endeavors they are simple and direct, as they have little time or patience to navigate the games other demons often play. Overwhelming force, brute strength, and strange blood magics are wielded to secure as many captives as possible at the expense of anything else; even themselves. While death is often the end result for these captives, it rarely comes quickly.

While any sort of blood will suffice in the furtherance of Mara’bagash’s goals, not all blood is created equal. The blood of demons is stale, putrid, and often weak, drained of its vital potency by an eternal existence steeped in sin. The blood of mortals however, especially those of innocence, is prized above all. Full of the essence of life and unburdened by dark deeds, one liter of blood from a young, cherubic child is worth hundreds of whatever filth you could drain out of a lesser demon. It is believed by Mara’bagash’s demons that the more pain a mortal suffers as they are bled, the more raw power is infused into their stolen vitae.

Powers and Abilities

The Lord of the Crimson Chains does not practice magic, at least not in the way that most mortals understand it. While some of his servants certainly do employ traditional spellcraft, there are no records of the Prince of Blood casting a single spell of any known Sphere of Magic. That does not mean that he eschews magic entirely. Rather, the Blood Magic he does employ seems to be a unique by-product of his nature instead of the Wytchcraft taught to mortal creatures. Only those who share in his nature are capable of wielding it.

Blood calls to Mara’bagash. He can hear it, feel it, and sense it as it travels throughout physical bodies. He needs only to give it the smallest thought or the slightest gesture, and that blood will obey his every whim. He is particularly fond of causing one’s blood to solidify and leap from one’s veins, only to perforate another foe with hundreds of diamond-hard spheres made of that same fluid.

When Mara’bagash was wounded by the Hell King, he had his finest demonic smiths forge for him an entirely new set of limbs. He did not ask for heavily-muscled limbs that ended in wicked claws, nor he did he ask for graceful appendages that could wield the most delicate of tools with sublime skill. As he was is the Lord of Murder, Torture and Pain, he thus desired new limbs that reflected his purpose and desires. Lacking inspiration on that front, he looked into the Material Plane for the first time in centuries to see what they felt best personified his portfolios. Inspired by the many, many mortal devices solely designed to inflict pain and suffering, Mara’bagash commanded that these servants graft for him copies of these devices, and then secure them to his body with enchanted chains that moved in accordance with his thoughts. While they are certainly capable of inflicting a swift death upon any unfortunate spirit caught within their grasp, Mara’bagash’s victims are so rarely granted that privilege. Instead, most of his victims soon discover that his appendages are designed with but one singular goal: to extract as much blood as possible from them. Each device was designed around a specific form of torture, with each method having its own preferred targets. Those beings with not a lot of blood to give are simply pulped with his iron maiden for whatever dregs it can extract, while those who possess stronger constitutions are given over to the flaying knives that cut away flesh with the same skill they slice open an artery with. Whatever the case may be, his victims are preserved for as long as possible without resorting to healing of any kind.

It is said that when the world was young and the Hell King was crowned, he and the newly created Demon Princes were able to impose certain relatively small, but important changes upon the very underlying laws of creation. Some chose to write backdoors in the newly established system of Contract Magic, while others bled their corruption into the world, so that the mortal races yet to come would fall more easily to sin and depravity. Before making his own choice, Mara’bagash cast his gaze forwards, and saw the ceaseless wars, unrelenting agonies, and pointless suffering the mortals would inflict upon themselves. Seizing upon the opportunity that presented itself, Mara’bagash created the Crimson Tithe. Whenever blood is lost through pain, torture, or violence, a small portion of it does not wet the ground or the weapon that extracted it. Instead, it is drawn into Mara’bagash’s realm, where it is collected and put to use.

With the binding of the Blood Demon Lord of Gore, Baron Abraxyys, the fact the transformed Wolven called Yokai named their grisly lottery the “Blood Tithe” brings Mara’bagash no end of malicious amusement, as such was no mere accident. Somewhere deep in their subconscious, Baron Abraxyys still whispers the ways of his Prince unto the defiant Yokai, and this is but one of the subtle ways it has manifested.

Weaknesses

Mara’bagash has little power over those that do not bleed, those born of the elements and the dead that walk have been persistent thorns in his side throughout the centuries. While he is certainly capable of bringing his fearsome demonic strength to bear upon any of these beings should they make themselves out to be enough of a problem, the absence of that vital fluid within their veins leaves little room for his esoteric Blood Magic to take hold. Furthermore, Mara’bagash has become so dependent upon his extra-sensory awareness of living blood that his other more terrestrial senses have since atrophied to almost nothing. Even when he remembers to make use of his fading sight, what it reveals is a pale shadow of what he usually perceives with his blood-borne senses. The demons who have gone to war with the Prince of Blood are quick to exploit this gap in his defenses, employing controlled Elementals or canny Greater Undead as hidden agents that he is all but blind to.

Mara’bagash is also quite loath to leave his own principality, as he is placing a great deal of time, effort, and faith in the attempted resurrection of the colossal giant that sleeps beneath it. He has seen his fellow Demon Princes wage countless conventional wars, as well as observed them engaging in their obscure machiavellian schemes, and yet not one amongst their ranks has ever come close to claiming the Hell Crown for themselves. Thus, he has come to believe that the only thing that can break their stalemate is a living weapon without equal. A being who asks a violent question that no Demon Prince can answer.

Mara’bagash spends nearly all of his time attending to various matters within the Catafalque personally, and as a result his armies are often ineffectual when sent abroad. Power struggles amongst his generals are so frequent that the orders given to the rank and file often change halfway through their attempts to carry them out, as yet another Demon Lord temporarily assumes command. Furthermore, he is often dismissive of any matters not related to his project, and as such is rather uninformed about affairs that occur beyond his borders.

Finally, while Mara’bagash holds an intrinsic understanding of Blood Magic, the God of Violence and Bloodshed, Baaagh, frequently, and by almost sheer brute force, attempts to shackle the Prince’s demons to his Dark service via its use. Mara’bagash utterly hates Baaagh, and it is only by his constant vigilance over his Blood Demon progeny does he prevent Baaagh’s Angels from stealing them. It is said that for every Blood Demon bound by Baaagh’s crude, but horrifically powerful combination Blood and Dark Magics, Mara’bagash commands his demons to spill hundreds of gallons of blood in rage.

Domain

Principality

Mara’bagash and his sanguinary hordes have made their home upon an ancient corpse known only as the Behemoth, buried under an unimaginable amount of rock and waste they call the Catafalque. It is unknown if this monstrosity was first killed and the land collected around it or if the land was here first and it was buried into it. Some demons claim that it was a God, slain by the Hell King and left to rot under the light of the green sun, while other demons have put forth that it was actually the mortal form of a king amongst the Firstborn. However, despite all the talk and rumors that swirl around this expired colossus, all one really can say for certain is that when it lived, it must have been one of the most awe-inspiring and fearsome beings to have ever drawn breath. The Behemoth is roughly humanoid in shape, but centuries of exposure to the harsh environment of the Hellstack have made picking out any unique characteristics all but impossible. The only identifying feature that yet remains is its sheer daunting size, which seemingly equals all of known creation on the mortal plane. Though most of its skin is unmarred by spell or blade, there is one wound upon it, and most believe that it is the strike that killed it in ages past. A massive, ragged wound lies open across its throat, and to this very day it still oozes a foul-smelling black ichor-like substance. The rate of its flow seems to be constant, and has been taken as proof that a flicker of life still remains within the immense being.

Though it lies half-submerged in the gore-slicked mud of the Hellstack, the Prince of Blood has demanded that his legions completely unearth the titan, and to feed it blood as they do so. Mara’bagash dreams of a day when the giant is finally free of its shallow grave, and when its constant blood-meals call it back from beyond whatever veil it crossed as it died. When it at last stirs to life once again, he will call to and master the blood surging through the chthonic veins of the Behemoth, thereby imposing his will upon the greatest living weapon in all of the Hellstack. With its might at his command, no demonic army could ever hope to be his equal, and all would fall before him as he tore through the Spirit Tempest and seized the Crown that was his by right.

The Prince of Blood and his legions make their homes atop its back, but unlike many of the other Princes, he wastes little time on constructing mighty fortresses or raising grand palaces to glorify himself. Every building that sits upon the Catafalque is extremely utilitarian in nature. Vast pens lined with barbed iron fences ring stockyards where thousands of kidnapped living mortals are kept like livestock. From there, they are herded to massive slaughterhouses built from rusted sheets of iron, where they are bled for weeks by a legion of demonic torturers until they finally expire. The vitae taken from these individuals is then is mystically combined with the trickles of blood gathered via the Crimson Tithe, and piped towards one of several prepared Blood Magic ritual sites. Here, the greatest of Mara’bagash’s bloodworkers combine the blood with the pulped ephemeral remnants of the mortal spirits that were damned to this unholy place, and feed the subsequent mixture straight into the Catafalque. Mara’bagash can often be found at the greatest of these sites unless his attention is needed elsewhere.

Demonic Hosts

There are few demons, even amongst the more cerebral phenotypes, that are not excited by murdering or torturing those weaker than themselves. Thus, demons of nearly every size, shape, and ability can be found amongst the hordes of Mara’bagash. Imps and Dretches of course make up the majority of his hordes, but he does not lack for Balrogs or Fiends. These demons are rarely called to fight wars or to capture territory for their master, and instead find themselves fighting against the all-consuming demands of the Crimson Tithe, which they aim to add to whenever possible.

Mara’bagash demands but one thing from his demonic hordes: Blood.

In accordance with their rank, ability, and station each demon is assigned a quota for an amount of blood they must gather within a given year. This blood must then be tithed up to their superiors, who tithe it to their Lords and so on, before it finally reaches Mara’bagash and his Barons. These quotas are of course highly arbitrary, and set purposely high and above what the demon in question could reasonably be expected to gather. To make matters worse, ascending in rank in Mara’bagash’s realm often requires the ritualistic consumption of the very same blood the demons are supposed to tithe up the chain, thus creating a situation in which those at the top of the hierarchy are often able to siphon from the tithes to empower themselves further, while those at the lowest tiers may stay there for an eternity. Only the Blood Demons themselves are outside their hierarchy, for their existence is meant for greater things. The Blood Demons are a special project of Mara’bagash. For centuries after his creation, the Prince of Blood was wholly unique. With the possible exception of the Hell King himself, there were none amongst any of the demonic races who shared his peculiar nature or abilities. Not only did this inspire unwelcome feelings of loneliness or despair, it also meant that after he discovered the Catafalque, he had no one to aid him in his endeavor to awaken the titanic creature that lay within it. The Blood Magic rituals necessary to intermingle the blood of mortals with the very essence of a spirit required a certain natural talent and an innate familiarity with blood, of which only he could boast. While it is said that an immortal being does not need a word for patience due to their longevity, even Mara’bagash could see the futility of trying to awaken the Behemoth without outside aid. Thus, he resolved to create a new race of demon, and began to sire his own demonic lineage that shared in his powers.

The process of creating a Blood Demon is astonishingly simple. The Prince of Blood simply selects a demonic servant of his that has shown promise with their contributions to the Crimson Tithe and completely exsanguinates them. After doing so, he places a single drop of his own blood upon the demon’s lips. The blood is quickly absorbed by the demon, causing a rapid morphological change to occur almost immediately. Bones crack like thunder, flesh sloughs off in wet clumps, and extraneous features simply fall away, leaving a smaller, less potent copy of Mara’bagash himself. These Blood Demons are entirely loyal to their sire, but given that they still contain a portion of his pride, ambition, and anger, they do not get along well with each other. Still, they retain a small but significant portion of Mara’bagash’s mastery over blood, and that is enough for his purposes. With his sights firmly set on becoming the new King in the Hellstack Plane, the infighting of his Blood Demons is of little aggravation.

Cults

Mortal Cultists

Killing is no strange thing in the lands of Arthos, but most mortals that resort to such an act usually do so with a purpose in mind. Defending one’s home or one’s kin, conquest of foreign lands, or even the simple act of self defense. Killing for pleasure, however, requires one to capture the thrill that only comes when one can personally witness the life slowly fading from their victim’s eyes. It is from these mortals that the Prince of Blood draws his cultists from. They rarely kill with another purpose in mind, and their blades offer neither punishment nor reward. The pain they inflict is not meant to teach or strengthen those that suffer it as would a follower of the Goddess Pandora. Such agony is only meant to excite those that inflict it. That is not to say that when they kill they can also do so for other reasons such as profit or purpose, but ultimately the followers of Mara’bagash kill and inflict pain simply because they enjoy doing so.

Curiously, unlike many other demonic cults, those who serve the Prince of Blood are not subject to constant scrutiny, nor are they regularly given tasks to perform. In return for the gifts that he bestows, all Mara’bagash asks from his followers is a regular tithe of blood. Those who manage to keep up with the ever-increasing amounts of vitae that he demands will see their powers and stature grow, and those that do not are often the body laid upon the sacrificial altars. Either way, the Crimson Tithe is enacted, and more rivers of sanguine energy flow to the Catafalque.

The Lord of the Crimson Chains also attracts a fair amount of forward thinking Wytches. These cultists have observed the machinations and distractions of the other Demon Princes, and have concluded that if there will ever be a winner in this war, Mara’bagash will be the Prince that finally claims dominion over all. While the Behemoth is certainly a long shot, the fervent possibility of his awakening is often enough to sway a significant portion of cultists to his side.

Preferred Sacrifices

Mara’bagash requires only that his followers send him blood. Generally more is better, although certain rare beings do possess blood that has unique properties that increase its value to him. In these cases, the more uncommon the creature, the more favour the cultist can curry by offering it. He cares for nothing else aside from blood, and has been known to inflict extremely cruel punishments upon any ignorant cultists that attempt to waste his time with other sacrifices. While any blood will do, the blood of mortals is far more potent and thus desired much more. If said blood was extracted from an innocent being it becomes even more potent, doubly so if it has been extracted through extreme torture or pain. The exceedingly rare blood of an Angel also garners great pride from the Prince.

Summoning and Rites

These are but two of the more commonly known demonic rites practiced by those that serve the Lord of the Crimson Chains. It is said that only those who have his favour will enjoy the rewards that these rites can bring, while other less-favoured servants oft-find themselves knee deep in innocent blood with little to show for it.

The Rite of Infusion

This rite is perhaps the most important ritual known to Mara’bagash and his followers, and everything within their society is constructed around it. Short-term goals such as empowering one’s self and rising in the ranks depend wholly upon this ensorcelled blood, and without said blood the nightmare of awakening the Behemoth within the Catafalque will remain a dream.

The rite requires at least a liter of fresh blood be present, the performer possessing one of the sacral knives enchanted by Mara’bagash or his Barons, and a captive mortal capable of resurrection. Demons also have the option of harvesting a spirit present within their realm instead of a mortal captive, but such magics remain largely beyond mortal knowledge. The victim must be ultimately slain with the knife in the presence of the blood, while all are within complete and utter darkness. However, the victim must first be tortured to an extent dependent on the sacrifice in question. If anything other than the knife makes the killing blow, a portion of the mortal’s spirit will not be harvested and the magic of the rite will fail. While this rite may appear to be rather simple to perform, there is a great deal of finesse required. Both the amount of pain the victim suffers and how long they manage to endure it will have a significant influence over the rite’s power. The same can be said for the quality of blood used, for the blood of a truly innocent mortal extracted through torture is far valuable than the blood of the average peasant.

When a mortal drinks this empowered blood, they will find that for a short time they are invigorated. They become stronger, faster, smarter, capable of feats both martial and arcane that they never before would have dreamed of being able to perform. The effect is both short-lived, and wildly addictive, as such power cannot be easily forgotten. A similar effect occurs when this blood is consumed by a demon, although with their kind the effect may become permanent with enough doses, thus presenting the slim possibility of rising beyond their station. However, while Mara’bagash is willing to overlook the occasional appropriation of this sacred blood, those that fail to meet their tithes will find themselves punished most harshly, be they mortal or demon.

The Rite of Sanguine Passage

The Blood Demons, fearsome and powerful they might be, have one well-known significant weakness that other demons do not share. The sovereign blood that empowers them also binds them tightly to their creator. As such, they are unable to leave the Hellstack unless they are accompanying Mara’bagash on one of his rare excursions away from the Catafalque. The usual Summoning or Wytchcraft methods employed to summon other demons from the Hellstack will not work on these particular specimens because of that flaw. As such, the Rite of Sanguine Passage was created to circumvent it.

Calling a Blood Demon to the mortal plane is no easy task, and the rite can only be attempted at a site where a great deal of blood has been recently spilled. Battlefields are a common choice, but locations that bore witness to genocides or other mass-killings are equally suitable. A mortal too young to resurrect must be bound to the earth there, and after it has been made helpless a Discord catalyst must be placed in their mouth. The creature must then be slashed with a sacral knife enchanted by Mara’bagash or his Barons, and if Mara’bagash is pleased with this offering, the blood that has soaked into the earth will rise up and combine with the blood spilled from the creature. With the vitae formed by this unholy union, a Blood Demon can pull themselves into the Material Plane physically and maintain a temporary connection to it.

The sacrifice is the Blood Demon’s link to the Material Plane, and so long as it suffers and bleeds the Demon has free reign upon Arthos. Further Wytchcraft Magic may be employed to force it to obey specific commands once it has been summoned, however the very moment that the sacrifice finally dies or ceases to feel pain, the tie is severed and the Blood Demon is instantly banished back to the Hellstack.

History

The Annals of Blood

The Age of Lucidity

Author and date of publication unknown, the following copy was recovered by agents of the Citadel from the archives of the Claret Wytch, Skrae Blackthorn

Existence asks but one question of us all, irrespective of our beliefs, allies, or the circumstances of our birth.“Can I kill you? Can I tear your world apart? For if I do not ask, then someone will ask it of me.”

This is the fate of all things. Two forces meet, they exchange blows, and one earns the right to remain being something, instead of nothing. There is no being that understands this better than our master, the Demon Prince Mara’bagash. He is the Lord of Murder, and embodies the one true law in all of creation. His service to the Hell King was predicated on the fact that the monarch of the Hellstack was a living answer to that question, a force that could not be opposed or stopped. The only way to avoid annihilation was submission. As such, our master served the Hell King for countless centuries as his right hand, enforcing his edicts upon all of demonkind with pain, death, and blood.Perhaps this state of affairs would have lasted for all eternity, were it not for the rise of the upjumped Imp turned Demon Prince, Nilestromus. Seeing the Hell King lying defeated at the feet of a being that was once amongst the very weakest specimens of demonkind, broke something within the Lord of the Crimson Chains. His loyalty to his master was built upon the assumption of his eternal and insurmountable strength, and yet there lied evidence that said power could be overcome. Despite the Kaiser of the Abyss ultimately failing in his task, the damage had been done. As the wounded Hell King banished Nilestromus to the very borders of Hell and the Far Realm before dropping an entire mountain upon him, Mara’bagash struck. He quickly discovered that even though the Hell King was indeed wounded, there was still a massive gap between himself and his former monarch. Already enraged by the actions of his newest son, the Hell King showed no mercy upon Mara’bagash. Beaten to within an inch of his immortal life and with his arms torn from their sockets, the Hell King slammed Mara’bagash through several layers of the Hellstack, his mangled body at last coming to rest in the Catafalque, at the throat of the Plane. Though it took him what were likely decades to recover, eventually he stirred to his feet and began to wander his new realm. In time, he called his demonic children to his side, and with their help built a new realm for himself. Though in time it became mighty, populated with countless damned souls and festooned with all manner of demonic cities, fortresses, and torture centers, it brought no meaning to our master’s life. There was but one thing in all of existence that he still craved; the crown that had been denied to him. Thus, he abdicated his throne to wander, think, and search for a method by which he might finally realize his frustrated ambitions. 

After years of searching, he stumbled upon something truly unique. A massive figure of roughly humanoid shape, half-buried within the hellish mud. We came to call it the Behemoth, for its true name, history, and purpose was unknown to all, even our master. He studied it for what could have been eons, before at last, finally, he felt the faintest whisper of vitality still stirring within its veins. Curious, he called upon his Blood Magic, and our master bid the beast to rise. To our master’s surprise, and later horror, the beast did begin to stir. The blasted ground beneath it began to buckle and break as its massive fingers tore miles-long fissures into the earth.

An apocalyptic shockwave blasted out as its tremendous bulk slammed back down upon the dirt and mud in which it used to rest, and so powerful was the force behind it that nearly every structure or demon that was unable to escape in time was completely annihilated by the sheer force of the blow. Of the once populated demonic civilization that thrived there, nothing remained.  For miles upon miles, all that was left was the twisted earth that once bore witness to the imposing brass citadels and obsidian temples of his principality.Where many of our masters’ rivals would have exploded into a rage or have been lost to despair at the sight of their entire domain being utterly annihilated, Lord Mara’bagash saw only the promise of a future victory. The power of the Behemoth was unlike anything he had ever conceived of, let alone seen in his life. With its strength at his command, there would be nothing that could stand in his way. The Hell King and the Spirit Tempest that followed his exile could not stop this fearsome giant, and it would win him the crown that we all know is his by right.

However, the fact remains that the Behemoth is nearly dead, exsanguinated by some ancient unknown enemy in an age long past. Although our master and his children labour daily to rejuvenate the beast with empowered blood, a great burden falls upon us. Those who serve are called to supply the fluids that fuels his rituals, and this undertaking is truly staggering in its scope. No one knows how much blood it will take to call the Behemoth to life once again, and our master is unwilling to risk losing control of its gigantic body until he is sure it will obey. Only once its veins have been entirely filled will our master bid the Behemoth to rise a second time.

And on that day, he will enter the Spirit Tempest atop its shoulders and tear that swirling vortex of souls apart, before finally claiming the Crown of the Hellstack for himself. As all other demons are forced to bow and acknowledge him as Lord, know that we, his most loyal servants, shall be raised to his right hand. There, we will sup upon the finest of life’s essence, bathe in the excitement of a hundred-thousand deaths, and be attended to by our fearful supplicants until the end of time itself.