Full disclosure, I already posted this elsewhere, but then I thought of all the fine gamers here and decided to double dip. I will commence with the double dipping.... now!
So in the course of developing some material for a game, I found that historical myths and legends about Czernobog, The Black God of the Slavs, are actually almost nonexistent. This won't do, so I decided to just write my own. I combed through what few historical sources I could lay my hands on easily, grabbed some nuggets, and then portmanteaued that shizz into the following story. I would very much appreciate suggestions about style and content, and also any ideas people might have about additional sources. I was going for something kind of fairytale sounding. Anyway...
In the old days, there was a dark heart at the center of the great wood. At the center of this darkness was a clearing, and in that clearing was a great barrow, constructed of cyclopean slabs of black basalt, carved on all sides with sinuous runes and scenes of depravity. This was the home of Czernobog. From the top of the barrow grew a gnarled Black Oak, dripping poison and hung with a thousand skulls. Under the black leaves of this fell tree was the Altar of Czernobog, a great slab of black stone, stained with a thousand years of blood and offal.
Czernobog stands at this altar, stirring his great iron cauldron with the long haft of his mighty hammer. The black blood and bile he stirs are the still, dark, waters of the world through which he whispers promises of power and glory to anyone foolish enough to listen. At his feet crawl a thousand insects, borne of the cemetery, and so through sullied earth he whispers as well. Around his shoulders a black cloak of ravens, borne of shadow, and so through dark corners he whispers as well. His whispers promise greatness but bring only madness and despair.
On the longest night of the year, a thousand sacrifices line the Path of Sorrows that lead to Czernobog’s barrow. Each soul promised to his black hunger by their own mouths, betrayed by hunger and avarice. Each sacrifice walks screaming to his altar where he crushes their heads with a swift stroke of his hammer, their blood, brains, and bone scraped from the alter top into the waiting cauldron. So is Czernobog’s power renewed each year.
From here I'm going to move into the fall of Czernobog so that a half-mad German monk can encounter him in a forest in the middle ages and end up writing a Grimoire, which I am tentatively titling Kotel na Ludostta (The Cauldron of Madness). I wanted to muck about with dark magics that aren't specifically satanic (not that I have a problem with Satanic Grimoires, but they're so last year).
So in the course of developing some material for a game, I found that historical myths and legends about Czernobog, The Black God of the Slavs, are actually almost nonexistent. This won't do, so I decided to just write my own. I combed through what few historical sources I could lay my hands on easily, grabbed some nuggets, and then portmanteaued that shizz into the following story. I would very much appreciate suggestions about style and content, and also any ideas people might have about additional sources. I was going for something kind of fairytale sounding. Anyway...
In the old days, there was a dark heart at the center of the great wood. At the center of this darkness was a clearing, and in that clearing was a great barrow, constructed of cyclopean slabs of black basalt, carved on all sides with sinuous runes and scenes of depravity. This was the home of Czernobog. From the top of the barrow grew a gnarled Black Oak, dripping poison and hung with a thousand skulls. Under the black leaves of this fell tree was the Altar of Czernobog, a great slab of black stone, stained with a thousand years of blood and offal.
Czernobog stands at this altar, stirring his great iron cauldron with the long haft of his mighty hammer. The black blood and bile he stirs are the still, dark, waters of the world through which he whispers promises of power and glory to anyone foolish enough to listen. At his feet crawl a thousand insects, borne of the cemetery, and so through sullied earth he whispers as well. Around his shoulders a black cloak of ravens, borne of shadow, and so through dark corners he whispers as well. His whispers promise greatness but bring only madness and despair.
On the longest night of the year, a thousand sacrifices line the Path of Sorrows that lead to Czernobog’s barrow. Each soul promised to his black hunger by their own mouths, betrayed by hunger and avarice. Each sacrifice walks screaming to his altar where he crushes their heads with a swift stroke of his hammer, their blood, brains, and bone scraped from the alter top into the waiting cauldron. So is Czernobog’s power renewed each year.
From here I'm going to move into the fall of Czernobog so that a half-mad German monk can encounter him in a forest in the middle ages and end up writing a Grimoire, which I am tentatively titling Kotel na Ludostta (The Cauldron of Madness). I wanted to muck about with dark magics that aren't specifically satanic (not that I have a problem with Satanic Grimoires, but they're so last year).
Last edited:
