The Tragedy of the Sons of Queen Ravenovia

Every villain needs an origin story. In my Curse of Strahd campaign, the vampire is Karrn the Conqueror of ancient Eberron - the human that first dreamed of a united kingdom on the continent of Khorvaire in Eberron. Robbed of the opportunity to fulfill that dream in life, he hungers to return and claim the crown over the five nations.

I wrote this fable to set the tone for my players and to bind their characters together in shared knowledge. I also intended it to humanize the big bad evil guy, and in humanizing him to make his evil even more terrifying. 

L

ong, long ago, on a faraway island in the Eastern Seas, a young king assumed the throne by pronouncing the solemn the oath of his ancestors: “By blood and the soil, I am the land.”

Soon, he soon took for his bride a young lady of unsurpassed beauty and grace. Though their bond was true, after long years, she had not yet born him a royal heir. As time wore on, her shame grew.

One autumn day, she ran out into the twilight and lifted up a prayer, but the stars only sparkled in stony silence. However, another, older power was listening, heard her, and breathed her name from the dark hollow of a twisted old Hawthorn tree.

“Three sons for thee,” whispered the darkness.

“But, what of their fates,” she asked.

Chill and faint as the mists, it replied, “Spill three beads of blood… Speak three words of fate… Three sons for thee.”

“At what price,” she asked, now wary but hopeful.

“Bought by blood, paid by blood,” slithered the voice.

Dubious but at her wits’ end, she thought to herself: “I can best a silly old tree stump – not that it could keep any such bargain anyway.”

And, so, she picked a Holly leaf and pricked the tip of her ring finger. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arm into the pitch-black heart of the tree. The grey mists clung to her as she pressed out the drops of noble blood…

“Ambition.” Drip.

“Purity.” Drip.

“Luck.” Drip.

B efore long, the queen’s belly grew full and round with child. Come spring, she bore her king the first of three handsome sons.

The first son led a campaign to unite the nations of men. The second, beneficent and true, took priestly vows. And, the third knew nothing but good fortune.

Thus, with the kingdom’s fate assured, the queen grew happy, forgot her shame, and, in time, even forgot her bargain in the misty night.

M eanwhile, the first brother conquered a prosperous valley, and raised thereupon a magnificent castle befitting his father’s throne. The pious second brother, anxious to spread his faith’s teachings, hastened there, whilst the third brother fell unusually ill, and remained behind.

Soon, thereafter, the king and queen set sail for their new land. But a terrible storm set upon them, and a great wave heaved the mighty ship to and fro, bringing its mighty oak boom down and smashing into the king. As the queen watched helplessly, his battered body slipped into the sea.

Safely ashore, she bestowed her lost husband’s crown upon her first-born son in deepest sorrow: “By blood and the soil, now, you are the king.”

So it was that blood was first paid unto the dark.

I n time, a village maid of unsurpassed kindness and generosity stirred the heart of the second brother. Despite his vows, he fell in love with her and determined to marry her. Afraid that breaking priestly vows would surely bring divine wrath upon his kingdom, the first brother forbade the union.

But when the first brother met this maiden, she became the first to conquer his heart - utterly and irrevocably. As the wedding approached, the first brother grew desperate with longing. And, so he rode out in the autumn twilight and uttered heartfelt prayers to the stars. But they again remained stone silent and serene.

Now, his mother might have warned him about the older, colder power that did hear his plea, and that whispered a dark bargain to him in the mist. She might have told her first-born that its price would be paid in blood. But, she was not there, and her son was ambitious and aflame in first love’s ardor.

U pon sealing this dread bargain, and as lightning shattered the dark night and thunderheads trampled the stars, the first brother raged back to his castle with terrible resolve. Wordlessly, he tracked down his brother and plunged a dagger into his chest. Observing the ritual that the voice had commanded, he cut out the heart and drank the warm blood that still pulsed from inside.

Their mother, awakened by darkest dreams, happened upon her sons then, glistening crimson with the mark of murder. It is said that her laments echoed across the entire kingdom even to the shores of the Eastern Sea. Unable to look away, eyes staring wide and her heart broken, death took her.

And, so it was that blood was paid unto the dark.

At that moment, the young maiden, startled from her chamber by the tumult, came upon the first brother feeding on the corpse of her betrothed. In agony and tears, she fled, followed close behind by him, protesting his love with blood-stained lips.

She ran to the castle’s highest tower, tore herself from his arms and thereupon fell into the yawning chasm below. As she plummeted to her death and her body shattered upon the rocks, an impenetrable mist descended around the valley, sealing it off from the world. And, no one ever heard nor saw the cursed realm again.

And, so it was that blood was paid unto the dark.

E ven as the valley vanished, the third brother recovered from his long and puzzling illness. A humble man, he assumed the crown with a heavy brow: “By justice and compassion, I am the king.”

And, now, the third brother neither left his kingdom’s fate to the gods, nor distracted his people with senseless wars. Rather, he ruled his ancestral lands long and well, passing away in peace at the end of his natural days.

~ The End ~ Link to PDF.