Karvach, the Blooded Stag
(a.k.a. Lord of the Hunt, The Horned King, He Who Hunts the Hunters, The Stag Prince, The Beast Lord)
Karvach is not worshipped. He is survived.
He is the old hunger of the forest, the howling in the pines that turns men's marrow cold. Where Veles guides the dead and the forgotten, Karvach reigns over the living wild, the red-fanged reality of predator and prey. He is the lord of blood on snow, of shattered antler and broken fang. To walk the deep forest is to risk crossing his path—and few return with their names.
Karvach is said to appear in many forms, each more terrifying than the last: a great stag, its antlers tangled with entrails and moss; a man clad in hides, antler-crowned and bearing a blade made from a wolf’s jawbone; or a shadow with too many eyes, leaping from treetop to treetop like a beast unmade by sense.
Those who hold worship of Karvach above others, believe that only through the predator’s path can one truly hear the forest’s truth.
Blood-painted masks, carved from bark and bone, left at sacred groves where the underbrush grows in unnatural patterns.
Claws and antlers taken from beasts defeated in single combat, buried beneath a hunter’s cairn.
No words are spoken when offerings are given. Karvach does not heed prayer. He only watches. And when he moves, you run.
Villagers speak of the Horned Ones, wild men and women who have given themselves fully to the Hunt, wearing hides stitched into their own flesh, eyes yellow as a stag’s. They do not speak. They only track. And when they find you, they offer you to Karvach.
They wear cloaks of stitched hides, often from their first kill, and antlered helms made from bone or root. During sacred rites, they coat themselves in red ochre or blood, and carry knives made from horn or flint—never steel.
To become a priest of Karvach is to reject walls, eschew comfort, and know the difference between taking a life to eat and killing for dominance. Those who fail this distinction are either cast out… or hunted.
He is the old hunger of the forest, the howling in the pines that turns men's marrow cold. Where Veles guides the dead and the forgotten, Karvach reigns over the living wild, the red-fanged reality of predator and prey. He is the lord of blood on snow, of shattered antler and broken fang. To walk the deep forest is to risk crossing his path—and few return with their names.
Karvach is said to appear in many forms, each more terrifying than the last: a great stag, its antlers tangled with entrails and moss; a man clad in hides, antler-crowned and bearing a blade made from a wolf’s jawbone; or a shadow with too many eyes, leaping from treetop to treetop like a beast unmade by sense.
Symbols and Representations:
Karvach is always shown in motion—a god of pursuit, breath, and blood. His shrines are visceral and primal, his symbols crafted by the hands of those who’ve survived a hunt… or caused one. A pair of broken antlers crossed over a stone, bound in sinew—symbolizing both strength and sacrifice. A red handprint pressed upon bark, using blood or ochre—a mark of pact or promise, often done before a hunt. A hoofprint filled with ash, left untouched in sacred places—to step in it is to invite his gaze.The Hunt That Never Ends
Karvach is the god of the eternal pursuit. To him, there are no innocents—only quarry and killer. Those who invoke his name seek not peace, but power: the strength to stalk, to endure, to kill and not be killed. He is beloved by outcasts, blood cultists, skinwalkers, and cursed warriors who have tasted too much of the forest's law.Those who hold worship of Karvach above others, believe that only through the predator’s path can one truly hear the forest’s truth.
Rituals
The Bloodfall Rite:
On the first hunt of winter, chosen devotees smear themselves with the blood of the last animal they killed that year. They then run naked and masked through the forest until one is taken—by beast or spirit. Their death is considered a blessing, a mark that Karvach has fed.The Howlfast:
Practitioners starve for seven days, sleep on pine needles, and wear only the skin of what they have killed. Visions come in dreams—or not at all. Those who hear Karvach’s breath in their sleep often wake with bloodied teeth and no memory of the night.The Rite of Antler and Earth
A Rite carried out on the first day after the Spring Equinox celebrating the harvest to come with a fertility rite. This rite honours both followers Karvach and Mokosh, honouring their courtship symbolically in the hope of gaining a good harvest.Offerings
Still-warm hearts of prey, hung from trees at crossroads in the wood.Blood-painted masks, carved from bark and bone, left at sacred groves where the underbrush grows in unnatural patterns.
Claws and antlers taken from beasts defeated in single combat, buried beneath a hunter’s cairn.
No words are spoken when offerings are given. Karvach does not heed prayer. He only watches. And when he moves, you run.
The Mark of Karvach
It is said he leaves his mark upon chosen hunters—a third shadow cast even in full moonlight, or a whisper of hooves in one’s heartbeat. Those marked by Karvach grow cunning, swift, tireless—but often become estranged from the warmth of hearth and kin.Villagers speak of the Horned Ones, wild men and women who have given themselves fully to the Hunt, wearing hides stitched into their own flesh, eyes yellow as a stag’s. They do not speak. They only track. And when they find you, they offer you to Karvach.
Priests of Karvach, the Blooded Stag
The Hornbound, Flesh-Vowed, Lords of the Wild Pulse The priests of Karvach are known as Hornbound, chosen in the deep wild after blood sacrifice and the successful hunt of a predator. They are not civil men and women. They speak little, and when they do, it is in the tone of the hunt: direct, instinctual, and edged.They wear cloaks of stitched hides, often from their first kill, and antlered helms made from bone or root. During sacred rites, they coat themselves in red ochre or blood, and carry knives made from horn or flint—never steel.
To become a priest of Karvach is to reject walls, eschew comfort, and know the difference between taking a life to eat and killing for dominance. Those who fail this distinction are either cast out… or hunted.
