Shax
Some demon princes concoct intricate philosophies to trick mortals into following them to eternal damnation. Shax, a ruthless Abyssal sovereign, makes no such claims of altruism. His liturgy holds that the body of a sentient creature is a microcosm, a living symbol of the greater universe. The secrets of the world are hidden in veins and subcutaneous tissue, and he who releases those secrets by opening the flesh exerts ultimate power upon that microcosm, in a sense attaining a sliver of the divine with the slash of a scalpel. Devotees refer to cutting up their victims as “achieving the demiurge,” deifying the moment at which they transcend mortality with their hands buried wrist-deep in cooling organs. The philosophy’s utter lunacy appeals to the criminally insane, who are thankfully rare, but a more significant threat has developed within the last decade.
After wallowing in obscurity for centuries among the wailing, mad souls consigned to his Abyssal home, Shax decided to raise his profile. His demonic servants ensured that his philosophy made its way to disaffected young human nobles in various cities throughout Eldarr. These men and women have brought Shaxan doctrine to their decadent friends and slake their overwhelming boredom by embracing the teachings of the demon prince. The nobles are lurid sensualists who fancy themselves as having discovered a great new philosophical frontier in the mutilation of flesh. They murder vagrants in the night, undermine local institutions of order, and get away with it in style. As their infamy spreads, so too does their influence. Shax, it would seem, has finally come into his own.
Description
Shax appears as a powerful humanoid with stork-like legs and the head of a dove. He seldom wears a shirt, and prefers to be covered from head to toe in blood. He wields a number of prods, saws, and blades in combat, often favoring whatever will inflict the most gruesome wounds upon his enemies. When conversing, Shax speaks with a hoarse voice that makes a painful experience of listening to his depraved ravings. His completely black, avian eyes reflect an insane vacancy—it’s impossible to read Shax’s emotions by looking into those stolid pools of darkness. Known as the Great Crippling Gaze for the unsettling nature of his eyes, the demon prince prefers screams over parley, the dead over the living.Realm
Rusted, filth-soaked gurneys trundle along the cramped hallways of the Charnelhome, Shax’s Abyssal domain. Pushed along by vacuous dretches, the gurneys hold the whimpering bodies of tortured souls who lie quivering in thin puddles of blood, bile, and festering guts. Floating balls of continual flame shed harsh illumination upon tile walls marred with the sticky leavings of life. There are no exits or windows in the Charnelhome, no evidence that the layer exists beyond its grim interior. Hideously eviscerated and lobotomized souls aimlessly wander the endless hallways, absently looking for some sort of half-remembered life beyond the hellish sanitarium. Those souls who honored the Great Crippling Gaze in life serve the prince not as victims but as surgeon-philosophers who carve into their “patients” with academic zeal. Shax houses himself at the center of the structure, reading the reports of his inferiors and chuckling with raspy glee.Worshipers
Upper-class followers of Shax will do anything to anyone, simply to get off on something they’ve never seen before. They often gather in intimate social clubs to carefully plan their attacks, then retreat to sympathetic cafés where, bloodied, they lock themselves in private rooms, regaling each other with tales of their own horridness while inhaling narcotic smoke from imported hookahs. Ruthless and sociopathic in the extreme, this new breed of Shaxans use political and familial connections to add an element of intrigue to their dark dealings. The old school carries on, regardless of the new attention from the gentry. With Shax’s wicked approval, these babbling, incoherent lunatics struggle to fight back arousal while gutting unfortunates with broken bottles and cast-off bits of sharp metal, confident in the efficacy of their old fashioned philosophies.Obedience
To regain his daily allotment of spells, a thaumaturge in service to Shax must perform an autopsy upon a creature killed within the past 24 hours (usually one the thaumaturge has killed himself, but this is not a strict requirement). Shaxan thaumaturges prefer to muck around inside the corpse with their bare hands, believing that the sensation of physical contact improves the divine connection and bringing a bizarre sensuality to the affair. After the hour-long autopsy, the thaumaturge regains spells as normal.
Divine Classification
Demon
Alignment
Chaotic evil
Current Location
Species
Realm
Children
Aligned Organization
Ruled Locations
Comments