Kestrel
The Cult of Kestrel
Kestrel is usually depicted as a woman of medium height wrapped in black robes that billow and waft even If wind is absent. Long black curls of hair can be seen beneath the hood framing a pale skinned face. A water skein is slung from a bandolier made from the tresses of Erinyes slain by her father hangs at her side while in her right hand she clutches the curved dagger known as “Mercy”. Her bare feet carry her with the grace of her mother a great lady of the fey as she dances in the wake of destruction left by her father dispatching the wounded and hastening the dying to their judgement. Sometimes a black bird of prey (or vulture) or an image of Mercy are used as symbols to depict her influence or summon her aid.
Kestrel is not one of the more popular children of Danu nor does her portfolio inspire regular worship. She is seen as the goddess of Death (as opposed to her brother deity Annwn who is god of the Dead) and most do not wish to attract her gaze. If a family member is ill some will leave offering to her at a shrine either asking her to avert her gaze or at least spare them suffering. While most warriors would claim Ludd or the Morrigan as their patron most still offer a prayer to Kestrel before battle asking for her favor and failing that then if they must die that may she spare them a long lingering death.
Kestrel does not have a heavy organized church like some of the other Children of Danu. Instead her priesthood is more of a mystery cult. Her servants tend to be almost (but not absolutely) exclusively female and universally seem to have had a close brush with death at some point in their life leading either to a fascination with death and violence or an understanding that fate can be capricious or cruel. They will dream of the Goddess either standing on some misty shore or dancing on a snowy field stained red and that she then turns and beckons to them calling them by name. Hearing that sultry but unearthly voice the dreamer knows they are chosen, soon after one of the black clad wandering priestesses of Kestrel will arrive in their village and they will take up the call and begin learning from them and following until they are ready to begin their own solitary sojourn as a full priestess (or priest) of Kestrel.
That seems to be one of the truths of the chosen servants of Kestrel is that they tend to be solitary loners and do not build temples like the priests of other gods. One might wander into a town during a plague and heal many (and ease the suffering of those they cannot) and ask that the survivors build a small shrine to Kestrel, but they do not stay to maintain it. The true holy place for Kestrel is the battlefield and often on the eve of a battle a number of the dark robed clerics might gather. This has earned them their sobriquet of “Raven” or “Crow” priestesses as they are compared to carrion birds gathering at a slaughter especially since they often refuse to favor one side of the other (at least in conflicts among men).
Unlike the follower of those Gods who gather on the sacred isle at Loc Tara, the high priestess of Kestrel wanders the realm in almost total anonymity appearing only before the greatest of battles. It is said that when she appears on the eve of a battle many of the warriors will be plagued by dreams. Those on the side of right will as they sleep be given scenes of themselves displaying valor and mighty deeds while others will only be granted visions of crows feeding on their corpses or of themselves lying wounded among the screams of the dying. Thus, her mere appearance has led to one side quitting the field.
The highest feast for Kestrel is Luddmhas the anniversary of when her father broke through Asmodeus’ Pit Fiend Guard and captured the great betrayer. It is said that after a year and a day the forces of Light had toiled against the diabolic forces in the shadow of the great Brass gate to his fortress but had not been able to break thru. Finally, Kestrel herself had scaled up the walls and with her knife slit the throats of the devils manning the gatehouse and released the lever raising the portcullis so her father could rush in swinging his great maul. The clerics of Kestrel celebrate both her bravery and her father’s victory for Kestrel is ever a dutiful daughter. In fact, sometimes those who must brave acts of stealth and daring will offer a prayer to Kestrel hoping to be blessed with her bravery and skill.
While Kestrel can be cruel and may seem capricious, she is not evil. As goddess of Death she especially abhors those who escape their mortality through Undeath and as such this positions her clerics as some of the most ardent foes of the Ri’ Uaigh, the Grave King. When his foul servants stalk the land the Raven Priestesses scour looking to root them out. They will often aid or even join bands of aspiring heroes who seek to face this evil. They also share the same hatred that the Priests of Ludd do for all things diabolical for after all Kestrel is Ludd’s daughter.
Sometimes wounded warriors on the battlefield claim to see a black robed figure stalking among the dead and the dying though later no trace of footsteps can be found
The Tale of Eoghan ap Llys
In the time of High King Pwyll Cullen the frost giant Jarl Sheddook led an army of ogres, trolls, and giant kin south into Gwynodd. While not anywhere as numerous as an army of men a single ogre could kill a man with one blow and a giant could slay a dozen with a swing of their club. They first appeared to the east of Teach Reoite (Frost hall) and slew hundreds as they pillaged farm and hamlet. Eoghan son of Llys was but a young man barely sixteen summers had he seen when the horde descended. The local cantrev lord called the muster and grabbing the spear that had languished in his father’s shed the young man like many of his neighbors bravely answered.
Alas stout hearts were not enough to win the day. On some nameless field in the north the local lord and his warband were crushed. Eoghan despite never having wielded the spear acquitted himself well. He was among a party of spear men that drove their shafts deep into a fierce hill giant slaying it. Then when he saw a rock hurled by a frost giant strike into the small mounted band of the lord and his bondsmen and watched them go down horses and all he rushed to them. Seeing the lord dead, he still raised again his banner of a prancing stag and took up his dead lord’s sword to defend it hoping the sight of the banner still waving in the wind would bring heart to his fellows and allow them to rally. For a brief spell they did the survivors forming a ring with him around the banner spear, sword and axe held against the giants. They were but men though and soon fell. For Eoghan himself one last deed of note awaited him as an Ogre barreled through the ranks seeking to take the banner as plunder. Eoghan faced it alone at the last and though he was a farmer’s son not a warrior bred some spark of his heroic forbears was kindled in him and he danced with the ogre, the sword drawing blood. Even though in the end the ogre managed to strike him catching him a great blow that shattered his ribs and threw him across the field he managed to drive his blade into its throat at that moment slaying it.
As Eoghan lay on the gore-soaked ground, every breath he drew setting his body on fire he could hear slaughter around him. The battle was over, and the giants had set free the ogres and trolls to feast on the dead and dying. He could hear the screams as they found wounded men and tore them apart and ate them alive. Tears streamed down his face and he wished he had died outright from the Ogre’s blow. Still he lived so he turned his head to and fro looking for some glimmer of hope to hang on to.
As he saw the foul giant kin pick through his fellows out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of black and then again. It seemed among the wounded moved a slender human sized figure all in black robes. As she passed each dying man his cries would cease and when the ogres came to that body they found it lifeless and devoid of sport. It seemed to him that as the figure moved he would occasionally get a glimpse of long hair peeking out of its hood. He became convinced it was a young maiden. Fearing that she would be seen by the ogres he tried to raise himself. Pain shot through him everywhere and the most he could manage was halfway into a sitting position. He tried to call out to her but all that escaped his lips was gasps, coughs and blood.
Still it seemed the figure noticed, and it glided across the field turned abattoir to him. As it neared Eoghan could see beneath its hood and it was a maiden. The most beautiful maiden he had ever saw. Skin as pure as fresh fallen snow framed by raven locks. Eyes as dark and beautiful as the space between the stars set above wine-red lips gazed at him.
“My lady, you must flee.” Eoghan tried to mutter but he wasn’t sure if anything came out other than garbled moans and wheezes. The eyes looked him over and he saw both a glint of something animalistic but also of compassion.
“Brave young warrior,” answered a voice unlike any Eoghan had ever heard. It fell upon his ears almost like music with a depth to its cadence. “You have fought bravely and feel no shame in your deeds. Here in this place did your courage bring a smile to Ludd’s face and in the halls of the gods they will toast your name.”
Eoghan shook his head. Despite her beauty this maiden seemed daft, not realizing the danger she was in. Despite the pain he forced himself to spit out a gob of blood and bile and drew a deep breath despite the fire in his lungs. “You must flee before they see you.” He struggled and managed to rise to one knee his hand finding the haft of axe in the grass. He clutched it and even with his injuries managed to raise it to his side. He could hear the cries of the enemies and knew it was only sheer chance they had not seen them crouched their yet. “I will buy you what time I can.”
For a moment the maiden looked shocked and then a hint of smile crossed her face “You would protect me?” she asked, and Eoghan thought there was an under current to it…almost as if she found it humorous. A serious look then came across her face. “Rather than spend your last strength trying to crawl to safety or cower and pray for a merciful death-you would raise up a weapon against a sea of foes knowing it would only grant you a certain and undoubtedly cruel death all to buy me a few moments of time with your agony, so I might escape?”.
“Yes” he answered, “but you must go now as my strength is at life’s end.” She fully smiled then and it was as if Eoghan was seeing sunshine for the first time. His heart soared and for a moment he forgot his pain. He felt love for this foolhardy maiden who dared the battle to succor the dying. “Go now and live,” he said, “I will consider my life well spent if purchases your escape. Such beauty kindness, and innocence as yours must live.”
The maiden bit her lip then. “No man has ever called me kind or innocent before.”
“At death’s door I speak true, there are only two reasons I can see for desiring to live beyond this moment. The first is to learn your name and win your love.”
“And the second young warrior who speaks so brashly even at death’s door?”
Eoghan eyes grew hard as he answered, “To wreak a horrible vengeance upon those despoilers before us. To set the fear of my steel so deep that their children’s children would not dare come forth from their foul holes. To make them pay in blood for every foul act they have done tenfold.”
Again, the maiden smiled, but this time it was not beautiful but terrible to behold. “Before you can love me, you must know me young warrior. To know me is to seek me on the battlefield. I can be found only at blades edge when hearts blood runs and the door to Annwn’s realm lies open. In the moments when life and death is decided is where you can find me. Would you live to win my love? Then swear here and now young Eoghan that in my name and for my love you will seek me when life hangs in the balance and swear that in my name you will have your vengeance. Swear that for love of me you will revenge this land upon the giants and in battle seek my favor.” As she spoke everything but her seemed to grow dark in Eoghan’s vision and her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. When she spoke his name Eoghan blanched for he now realized with who he spoke. Even at the edge of death he quavered when he realized the proud words he had traded with the goddess of Death. “Swear Eoghan. Swear in my name.”
“I swear by the Dark Lady Kestrel that if I live beyond this moment that I am hers. I will seek to know her and win her love in the dance of life and death. Battle will be my courtship, corpses the flowers I lay at her feet. In her name and for her honor and for the blood of my people I will bring spear and sword as her vengeance upon the giants and they shall know the wrath of the goddess of death and their lamentations will reach the gods themselves. I swear that every foul deed they have delivered will be returned tenfold and as I face them wagering my life against their strength I will see your face and I will win from it again your smile. I Eoghan swear this to Kestrel, my goddess and my only love.”
The goddess smiled, and the world started to fade back in around her. “By compact I am limited in the mortal world and much is forbidden to me. But if a young man would dare the wrath of a goddess to win her love then the goddess can dare perhaps the wrath of her peers and grant a small favor. She raised a water skin to his lips. “Drink of this Eoghan, it will give you strength to run from this place.”
As he drank the clear water, Eoghan could feel his pain recede and new strength fill his limbs. He rose, and Kestrel smiled at him “Fly from here young Eoghan and seek me again on the battlefield.” At this Eoghan turned and fled, his legs filled with an inhuman strength. Faster than a mortal man they carried him far from that bloody place and it was hours before he tired.
It was a season of blood and savagery as the giants raided deep into Gwynodd. Where ever men stood opposed to them there was Eoghan. Despite his youth he earned a reputation for valor and men found their spirits lifted when he stood by them. Some claimed that after battle he would walk among the wounded and lay hands upon them and they would recover from the edge of death.
Finally, when High King Pwyll arrived with his host from the south Eoghan stood at the forefront of the vanguard. In the final battle that broke Sheddook’s horde and sent him fleeing back to the frozen north he was the first warrior to cross the field in the final charge and several of the foul giant kin fell to his blade alone. This was but the start of his legend. Pwyll’s reign was one of struggle and battle versus the Ri’ Uaigh and Eoghan was always at the forefront. He was named one of the six brave companions at age 20 that were sent North to slay Sheddook in his own hall. When the undead horde called the Slaigh rose up and plagued the land he dared the claws of the ghouls and blades of the Wight lords returning their bodies to the grave and their souls to the nine hells. When the Northmen reavers came under their King Harad Iron Eye it was he who danced across the shore a blade in each hand turning the foam red with their blood and besting the Anointed Champion of Dror whose blows had struck like thunder.
In his search to once again gaze upon the Lady Kestrel he found battle wherever he could. In his journey to know and honor the goddess he loved he even crossed across the Salt bay to Languendon and the even the cities of fallen Abydoss. While he did not find the Goddess he sought her name was heard and her worship rose up in the shadow of his deeds even if these far lands. For years this was his life till his body was criss crossed with scars and his hair shot through with grey. Yet no matter how often and how close he stood on the edge of death, despite the hills of corpses he left in her name he did not gaze upon her. It seemed as if her love eluded him.
Finally Eoghan now known as Eoghan Cathal ,Raith Pogtha, or Eoghan Raven Kissed came to the highlands east of the Innsrich. Here Osric Drummond had in his lust for another’s wife slain the local lord while they guested with him. The lord’s wife in horror to escape his grasp had thrown herself from the walls to her death. In his rage and to cover his crime he ordered his men to slay the retinue that had accompanied them. Osric was a beast of a man and was not to be denied though. The lord and lady had a young daughter who they had left at their hall in the care of a few trusted retainers. Osric raised his warband of nearly three score men and moved quickly to sieze both the Lord’s land and the girl before any could stop him. The retainers who remained numbered less than ten who were fit to fight and it was a lost cause but still they held to their vows.
On the eve of the battle though, unlooked for and unexpected Eoghan arrived and pledged his blade in defense of the young heir and swore to avenge her parents’ death.
The next day he led the retainers in a dawn attack on Osric’s encampment. The battle was fierce and Eoghan strode through Osric’s men like a scythe through wheat. When he reached Osric, a bear of a man who had struck a horse dead with one blow from his fist, he smiled. Even with his great strength and despite the many wounds Eoghan had suffered Osric was no match for him and was left crying like a newborn, disemboweld and dying in his own filth. Egohan gave no quarter and when the battle was over while only two of the retainers remained standing none of Osric’s men lived. Pierced by many wounds Eoghan slumped against a tree and his blades slipped from his grasp.
The retainers ran to him and he smiled sadly at them. “I have danced my last but still I dd not see her.” They beseeched him to hold strong and told him they would go to the manor and seek help. A priestess of Siobhan was there and she could offer healing balm. “Go then.” He replied. “I have lived my life for the last forty years on the field between this realm and Annwn’s. A few hours more will not be a chore.” The retainers headed off. They took one last look back at Eoghan before they crested a hill that would take the battle field out of view. They swore they saw a figure in black robes standing over him at the tree for a moment but no it must have been a trick of the light for when they rubbed their eyes he was alone.
When they returned with the priestess though Eoghan was gone though no tracks led away from the crushed grass beside the tree where he had been seated. No man nor woman ever saw Eoghan again. Thus ends the tale of Eoghan the Raven Kissed, Beloved of Kestrel, First Paladin of the Goddess of Death.
Game Notes:
Holy Symbol: A dagger, a black feather (or carved/forged token of a feather), bracelet woven from hair of one’s enemies, carved or forged token of a star painted black
Spheres: Life, Death
Notes: Clerics of Kestrel will use healing magic including spells such as spare the dying but they will never use true resurrection magic (though if it is reversible they can and will use that)
Paladins (The Raven Kissed): Unlike the followers of Ludd, those who choose to be Paladins are a solitary lot. There is no order or organization, rather some deeply personal event motivates a warrior to appeal to the Death Goddess. They ask for and offer no quarter and are willing to kill non combatants if they fill that serves the greater good. Like her priesthood they are a solitary lot but in a way that is fitting. After all every mortal’s relationship with death is at its heart personal and something they face alone. Her paladins may only take the Oath of Vengeance. Optional when wearing light armor and wielding two weapons they gain an additional +1 AC and +1 to initiative over normal Paladin bonuses but only in light armor.
Role Playing Notes for NPCs: followers of Kestrel tend to be taciturn and quiet. Like the Goddess they can be cruel -but sometimes that cruelty is actually compassion. They tend to wear dark colors and often openly wear a dagger as a sign of their devotion. They may keep pet ravens, crows, hawks, falcons or other birds of prey. They loathe the undead and feel a righteous calling to destroy them.
