Carrion Wastes
The first thing that one notices upon entering the Carrion Wastes is the smell of rotting flesh which pervades the entire place. The Wastes are nothing less than a vast battlefield, the mountains and plains littered with the bodies of the dead, the rivers and oceans red with the blood of the slain. Combat rages across the land; armies clash in the open ground and churn it to mud beneath their tread, whilst in the forests, more sparsely populated, small bands or individuals stalk each other in the gloom.
From elves and dwarves to ogres and centaurs - representatives of every people that have ever taken up arms, whether for conquest or defence, can be found here. If there ever were sides in this ghastly eternal war, they have long since been forgotten. Short-lived alliances rise and fall, but in the end, everyone fights for themself alone.
Choosing not to fight is not an option - not only will most of the shades that dwell in the Carrion Wastes cut down those who will not defend themselves without a second thought, the realm will send its own spirits after those who refuse to partake in the slaughter. Taking the form of horrible winged creatures that resemble perytons, these spirits circle above the battlefields, diving down to maim and maul those who are seen as hesitant, or lacking in bloodlust.
And when, of all the countless millions who fought, only one remains alive, the horns sound, those who have fallen are restored to life, and the cycle begins anew.
Few are the shades who willingly seek out to reach the Carrion Wastes, though doing so is simple enough - the psychopomp known as the Herald of Conquest is said to escort anyone who wishes to reach the Wastes if they swear thrice upon their name that this is truly what they desire. Those who do so in the hope of an eternity of glorious endeavours are alas sorely mistaken about the nature of the realm. There is no glory to be won here, no honour and no triumph - just an eternity of meaningless violence for its own sake. And yet - some esoteric sects speak of there being some deeper meaning to the horror of the Carrion Wastes, hidden behind the horrors of war for those who would seek them.
There are said to be two ways, and two ways alone, of escaping the Carrion Wastes once one's shade has arrived there: to survive to the bitter end, victorious over the millions who fell; or else to slay enough foes to slake the realm's bloodlust. One Balthan folk tale suggests that for every foe a warrior has slain in life, the Carrion Wastes demands they slay a dozen; it is somewhat unclear whether there is a particular law that governs the number considered sufficient, or if this is entirely arbitrary, and the realm's spirits are silent on this matter.
Curiously, Kenku have something of a propensity to be drawn to the Carrion Wastes in death, and have the tendency to attract the animosity of the realm’s monstrous inhabitants more than any others; it is also frequently claimed that Kenku who arrive in the Carrion Wastes cannot escape this fate through reincarnation. The Mysteries of Raven are said to know a number of rites which are designed to prevent the shade of a Kenku from being called to the Carrion Wastes, with the general understanding that almost anywhere else would be preferable.
The Carrion Wastes are often associated with various deities of war, especially the bloodthirsty Madduri god known as the Black Lion, who is sometimes said to rule this place.
Type
Dimensional plane
Owner/Ruler
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