I am Charnel, God of Strife, Lord of Slaughter, Master of Death.  Where there is pain, I am there.  Where there is suffering, I flourish.  Where there is joy...  yes, well, one could hardly have joy without another's suffering, no?

I am called a villain, but mine is a doctrine reflected in the unspoken truths behind all other philosophies.  Recognize that truth, my child: Strife is the single element most essential to meaning and existence.  Without conflict, without struggle, all of creation might as well be so many unmoving, unfeeling stones.  Without me to hate, who would have cause to call themselves holy or just?  Oh, only a fool would seek contentment in peace and tranquility.

Come see, come see.  I hold dominion over the lands of Stygia, which coil with serpentine grace, engulfing the holdings of my foes.  Vile and putrid ground, formed of the flesh of the dead, running with rivers of blood, plagued by swarming vermin--ah, it gives me the chills whenever I think of it.  Here you will find obsidian gateways to demonic realms, an especial treatment for unwitting guests.  Witness also the cruel poisons wherein are tortured those rare souls among my enemies who are worthy of such attention, and perhaps a random assortment of others to keep the cells occupied.  Oh, but do not overlook the mockeries called villages, populated by mindless zombies--you really must appreciate their simplicity-- whose greatest ambition is to toil and die in my service.  Well now, those of low ambition deserve what they get, no?

But I believe you know this, and that is what has brought you to me.  If you possess both the hunger and the courage to embrace it, you may yet prove worthy of greatness.  And if not, to strive and to fail... to be cast down into an eternal torment worthy of your failure.  Ah.  I almost envy your mortality.

Envision success.  Envision only success.  A morose attitude is most unbecoming in a servant of death.  Now then, allow me to share with you something of the powers which will be yours to command, assuming you earn a place in my heirarchy, and assuming Acheron or one of my other servants does not strike you down out of jealousy... or cruelty.