lore

To the Beast Herds there is a strength to each herd, which is focused upon their totem. The belief of each member of the herd gives the totem a significance which a Soothsayer can tap into and bond to a group. But whether Beast magic comes from totems or the Soothsayer’s own skill, there is always a focus on gaining advantage in the hunt – moving swiftly, ambushing and seizing their prey by the throat.

Oft depicted as mere lackeys of Chaos, the Beasts have occasionally found themselves used as pawns of the Dark Gods, but their main similarity is the dread they inspire among civilised peoples. Theirs is a distinct history, and perhaps a tragic tale. Though choosing blade over bow, they are the equals of the Sylvan folk with whom they contest for the woodland realms. All the enmity and revulsion of the Elves at the perceived violation of nature has not brought an end to these beasts – on the contrary they thrive and often turn the hunter into the hunted. Shamanic rituals lie at the heart of their culture; their soothsayers are venerated above all others, gnarled and bent, but tough as an old oak. Among the warriors, strength is prized as one would expect, yet their leaders also need cunning to survive. Coordinating packs of ambushers through tangled thickets appears to be an important skill, and a tactic used to great effect against adversaries who think of the beasts as their quarry.

The Sun Maiden came, in our time of greatest need. Let her mighty deeds be written here, that she might not pass out of memory, but be remembered evermore.
— The Book of the Askar, Chapter One, taken from the Sunna Cycle

It was in the cold years, when the sun was pale and the summers were short, that the goddess came to us. In that time of darkness, the beasts of the wood, barbarians of the wastes and brutes of the mountains descended upon us, and we were swept before them as reeds before the flood. First to rise from the mass of foes was Bragh, the Black Bull, slayer of a hundred chieftains, shattering armour and bodies with his great mace.

The people of the Askar lay in the path of his westward rampage. Their King, Warin, saw all hope was lost. Still he marshalled ninety brave warriors to hold a ford over the river Gewache, and buy his people time to escape the approaching doom. The eve of the battle found him in a riverside shrine, deep in prayer. To Ullor, Father of Winter, he prayed for blizzards. To Volund, the Smith, he prayed for strength of arm and steel of spine. Finally, to Sunna, he prayed that his people would see another dawn. The alarm was raised as he finished railing at the silence of the gods; the beasts came as the daylight failed.

Each defender gave their life dearly. No man fell with his blade unblooded; a score of foes fell beneath their feet. Yet it was not enough, for Bragh then took the field. The Askar died to his mace, until only King Warin stood between the Black Bull and the western shore. Great horns gored valiant Warin’s horse, and a single blow shattered the King’s shield and arm both. The Bull stood ready to deliver the deathstroke, when a lone soldier leapt forward.

Helm dislodged, golden hair flowed to the warrior’s waist, Warin was stunned to see a woman plant her boots in the bloody water between King and Beast. Dwarfed by the Bull, even a brave Askar maiden could not hope to hold back that enemy. But at this moment, the dawn broke, with a fire not seen in a decade. A blinding blaze of light from the eastern horizon ignited her polished breastplate and sword. The brilliance staggered Bragh as the woman struck. The first blow cut through Bragh’s heel, bringing him crashing to one knee. The second sunk deep into his chest, drawing a roar of pain that shook the earth. The third and final blow drove straight between the monster’s open jaws, and into his skull.

As the Black Bull fell, the beasts fled. Though only one in nine survived, the King’s men rushed to Warin’s side, pulling him from the river to face his rescuer. All clamoured to know the name of their saviour, yet the King stilled them by falling to one knee. He knew that face, lit by the dawn’s glory, and knew his prayers had been answered. He offered her his sword, even as he spoke: "It is Sunna. She has come."

Beat us, burn us, brand us: you only make the Herd stronger.

An Age of Ruin, an Age of Iron
As split was world so too were we
Our only hope a foreign truce
With Avras proud we did ally
To war ‘gainst fate we did return

From elves disloyal no aid was found
‘Cross endless sea retreat and flee
Unfit they are of dwarven aid
Not worth the fire of dwarven rage
The path they tread is ruin bound

Of orcs of men of beasts no end
Now war and siege and misery
As one we kill so sprout two more
And flight nor fight avail a dwarf
Our dominance so too now rent

Endless foes did split us sunder
The orc and beast our gates did press
The hold’s rings split like maille from axe
No valour won could mend the loss
As foreign blades took our plunder

Our kith and kin no longer free
Our axe and shields unequal were
Our vengeance sworn forever be

The Age of Death, the loss of gold
A time when earth would swallow whole
Nor fae nor men nor orc nor we
All lost and toss’d and bent and broke
A time of pain to each ring Hold

The beasts did rise and burn and loot
No wall of shield or hold could stand
And fickle elves did leave and run
And men so quick to alter word
Do promise cut and render mute

The dead did rise on southern shore
An empire dead its heart torn out
No aid to come from human hands
The hour grew dark, and foes in count
So press’d were we, like ne’er before

We call on elves to help us hold
‘Gainst all that stood to break us then
And end the light of dwarven works
They turn’d their backs on us those days
Betraying us, with scandal bold

Now allies old do stand as foes
As mountains fall so too we break
And thus bring close this Age of Woes
(from The 9th Age Fantasy Battles Rulebook 1.3.5.)

The Age of War, of Ruin the Fourth
The time our foes do fight betwixt
We sharpen axe we ready blade
In dungeons deep we plan and wait
For chance to move our armies forth

Each Thane each King each soldier in
Our people sworn to hold the line
To march together step in step
To turn each foeman’s sword aside
With faith in kin alone we win

And yet with all in steel and arms
Our fight was not without its trials
The orcs had numbers beyond count
And war thus raged across the age
With no-one spared its many harms

For all this though we did win out
No hope had orcs enclosed by all
To beasts they fell and feast be made
No hope had beast whose end was next
As Vermin Swarm did make them rout

Yet far kin sorely sought respite
Did plot to win with daemon fire
And risk all life in burning blight

The origins of the Beast Herds are lost deep in the Ages of Ruin, and none can say be sure from whence they came. “But I can say with some certainty that they are no daemon-spawn - whatever the Church of Sunna may claim.” The sage believes they are a people shaped by their own will and magic, as much as by their environment and origins.

Q: How intelligent are the Beast Herds? Are they purely driven by primal instincts or is there a grander plan for their herds? Are minotaurs just big wildhorns, or do they have their own tribes and agendas?

A: In the current day, the herds are found on every continent, and contest those lands with their other inhabitants. The herds are diverse in culture and appearance across the world. Of the two general types of herds, the warherds are led by bestial chieftains. They are autocratic but prone to leadership challenges - sometimes resulting in the death of chief or challenger. Leaders gain favour if they demonstrate martial prowess and accumulate great stories told about them.

While minotaurs sometimes have their own tribes, most times they are found living in and with the other beasts of the herds. Like all tribal peoples, individual tribes have their own goals, agendas, and concerns. The question of the intelligence of beast-men is a harder one to address, for while the beasts all have similar intellect to humans, their behaviours are governed by their nature differently than that of human people. Beast-men are quicker to violence than humans, and less likely to use missiles because of reasons of biology more than any condition of intellect. That said, it would be a mistake to disregard them as mere creatures of instinct, the beasts and their leaders are very cunning and discerning.

It is said that wherever a human explorer goes in this world, a beast has been already. Even in this great ninth age of humanity, the herds can be found around the world in all their dizzying diversity and savagery. Even in Vetia, they have not been entirely stamped out, with small bands still encountered in the wild parts of the great nations. Because they are cheap and deniable, many are still employed by statesmen as mercenaries - despite the risk to reputation, and knowing full well that the horned ones’ untamed nature makes them a double edged sword once unleashed. Tales of much larger forces gathering in the eastern bogs are known to all. Claims of titanic herds of untold numbers roaming the uncharted regions of Taphria or Silexia are less easily verified.