Baphomet is an ancient and immortal entity, a towering horned deity embodying the primal corruption of unchecked fecundity, a ceaseless cycle of chaotic birth, untempered by death. It is the Mother of a Thousand Young, the King Goat, the Master of the Forest, and the Sire of Beasts, its nature shifting and ambiguous, neither bound by gender nor constrained by form.
Revered by hags, witches, and depraved cults across the Empire and the Thule’s Forests, Baphomet is an elder spirit, born long before the rise of human civilization. Those who seek its favor offer blood and devotion, hoping to harness its terrible power for their own wicked ends. Yet, to stand before Baphomet is to invite ruin, for its gifts are curses, and its blessings taint all they touch.
Baphomet exists in a constant state of birthing, spawning grotesque fiends that spread terror wherever they lurk. In the deepest shadows of primeval forests, in the fetid mires of forgotten swamps, and on the outskirts of doomed settlements, its progeny take root. Their forms vary wildly, some emerge as mewling, malformed wretches, cursed to skulk and scavenge, while others are dread demigods, destined to sit alongside Baphomet itself, siring horrors of their own.
Where Baphomet treads, the world withers and warps. Its very presence seeps into the land, twisting the bones of the earth. Rivers grow black and brackish, forests thicken into gnarled labyrinths of grasping roots, and beasts, once mundane, become monstrous reflections of the Great Goat’s will. No settlement near its domain remains untouched. Paranoia festers, reason crumbles, and civilization erodes beneath the weight of madness. What begins as whispered heresies and shadowed gatherings soon becomes open atrocity, entire villages collapsing into dens of blood-soaked revelry, their people enslaved to the Beast’s insatiable hunger.
