Patron Content: The Mark of Death
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Author Archives: Keith Baker
Unlock with PatreonDragonmark: Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol
‘Here.’ I pointed to the massive rainforest that lies between Blackwood Bay and the Madwood Gulf. ‘There’s no name listed for this jungle; the cartographer must have overlooked it. What’s it called?’ Jaelon said nothing. ‘It doesn’t have a name?’ I said. ‘I told you its name,’ he replied, but when I asked again, he said nothing. I won’t relay the entire ridiculous conversation that followed, but in time, the truth emerged: the name of the jungle is a moment of silence. And that’s just the start of it. Southwest of this Silence, there’s a fertile valley with two rivers flowing into the Blackwood Bay. Do a scry-by and you’ll see farmlands and villages. There’s a huge city on the coast of the river, a place called Shae Deseir. But no one’s lived there for over two thousand years. ‘Why?’ I asked Jaelon. It seems there was a war, a bitter feud that ended with a great house eradicated and their supporters exiled. But we’re talking about a span of time over twice the length of Galifar. Wars happen, and the survivors claim the spoils. Why is this region shunned? ‘No one lives there,’ he told me. ‘But the dead remain.’
The elves that followed Aeren were a rag-tag alliance drawn from a dozen different cultures. They were escaped slaves, survivors of independent city-states that had been crushed by the giants, nomads whose warbands were scattered, primal adepts trapped in the forms of beasts, and more. All were shaken by their devastating losses, both of Aeren and those left behind on Xen’drik. Following Aeren’s death, the refugees coalesced around a handful of charismatic leaders and philosophies. The Tairnadal swore to keep the memory of their champions alive by continuing to fight, laying claim to the northern plains. Tolaen led his people to the edge of a vast rainforest, vowing to preserve the image of the fallen in living wood. The Mendyrian siblings were wizards and mystics, and they believed that they could harness the light of Irian to extend life. Vol chose the lands others shunned—a region peppered with manifest zones tied to Mabar, a place where shadows might suddenly prey upon those who cast them. Mabar was long seen as the antithesis of life. But Vol could speak to the dead, drawing on the traces of her ancestors’ spirits. She’d learned secrets from the long-dead psychopomps of Shae Tirias Tolai and the fallen necromancers of the Qabalrin. And Vol believed that she could harness the power of Mabar and use it to overcome death—to give the next Aeren eternal life, even if it meant feeding on the blood of others. This was her pledge to the elves who laid the foundations of her city: We will not live in fear of death. We will learn its secrets, learn everything there is to know about the nature of life and its loss. We will redefine what it means to live, and in so doing we will never lose those that we love again. And so Shae Deseir rose on the bank of the river of Night.
The Rise of the Undead
Humans often imagine that Aerenal has always been as it is today—that the Undying Court has always guided its people, that the Line of Vol began exactly as it ended. But Shae Deseir began as a village of a few hundred elves with just a handful of necromancers among them. It took over ten thousand years for the Mendyrian and Jhaelian to unlock the secrets of the deathless, and ten thousand more for the Undying Court to attain the power it wields today. The Line of Vol grew over that same span of time, delving ever deeper into the mysteries of Mabar and Dolurrh and unlocking the secrets of necromancy. True to their vow, the Vol didn’t have the same fear of death as the other elves—or even the modern Seekers. Speak with dead was always a core aspect of Vol society. The skulls of the dead were preserved and consulted. The Vol understood that speak with dead only spoke with the traces of memory that remained, but they held to the principle that as long as we are remembered, we remain. So the Vol were comfortable with death. However, they still wished to overcome it—to preserve their greatest people as more than just memories. So while the Mendyrian and Jhaelian experimented with the deathless, the Vol studied the ways in which the power of Mabar could animate the dead.
The first sentient undead created by the Line of Vol was a form of wight; it consumed life force directly by touch. However, the insatiable hunger of Mabar overwhelmed the mortal memories of these undead, and they quickly became ravenous monsters that had to be destroyed. Vampires mitigate this by consuming blood rather than directly absorbing life energy, but the early vampires of Vol were still highly unstable; most devolved into feral creatures like the nosferatu of Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft. Over time the Vol were able to restore and refine what scholars call the Qabalrin vampire—the standard vampire, complete with its limitations on running water and not entering a house unless invited. That last one may seem a little strange; why is it that vampires innately can’t enter a stranger’s home? The answer can be found by looking at the most common form of sentient undead produced by both the Line of Vol and the modern Seekers of the Divinity Within: the oathbound, which the Monster Manual refers to as mummies. The oaths are vows that are mystically imposed upon the spirit, and it is these vows that keep the essence of the mortal from being dragged to Dolurrh and consumed. The more restrictive the oaths, the simpler the ritual and the more stable the personality of the creature. Forbiddance is an oath woven into the Qabalrin strain of vampirism; it is part of what makes the line more stable than the earlier nosferatu strains. So with that in mind, the line of Vol included the following forms of undead.
- Oathbound were widespread throughout the region. They’re very stable; existence as a mummy is less of a strain on the spirit than vampirism or lichdom. The more restrictive the oaths binding the mummy, the easier it is to create and the more stable it will be. The majority of Vol oathbound were bound to specific locations, tied to a family estate or institution. Oathbound served as guardians and guides, often teaching the living. They often lacked the fire and creativity of the young, and so it was always seen as valuable to have the living and the dead work closely together.
- Vampires have far more freedom than oathbound, but the state of vampirism takes a greater toll on the personality of a creature—and, of course, a vampire has to feed to maintain its existence. As a result, vampirism was granted to exceptional individuals who intended to spend their undeath in motion. Vol vampires were often diplomats and envoys, conducting business in the cities of the other lines. Some of the greatest innovators of the line chose vampirism simply to ensure flexibility in whatever the future could hold. But vampirism was a state that had to be earned, and would-be vampires underwent tests and trials to assure the lich-lords they had the strength of will to survive.
- Vampire spawn are the first step to becoming a true vampire, as discussed in this article. So in imagining daily life in Shae Deseir, keep in mind that there were more vampire spawn than there were full vampires.
- Liches were rare. As called out in Chronicles of Eberron, a lich typically has to perform the rites of transition themselves, and it requires both an exceptional understanding of necromancy, an iron will, and an absolute conviction not to die—a conviction that must remain firm throughout the lich’s existence. There were liches among the line of Vol, and they were revered by the living—but it was a state that could only be earned, never granted. The case of Erandis Vol was a remarkable exception, tied both to the incredible skills of Minara Vol and to Erandis’s dragonmark.
Skeletal humanoid labor wasn’t as common among the Vol as it is among the Seekers of the present day, as the Vol preferred to preserve the skulls of the dead in vast bone libraries where they could be consulted, much like the spirit idols of the Undying Court. However, beasts were regularly reanimated for tireless labor. The Vol also had a great affinity for shadows, tied to the Mabaran resonance all around them. Many Vol elves could employ their own shadows as a wizard does a familiar, sending them on tasks, seeing through their senses or speaking through them. Shadow puppetry was a common form of entertainment, and an arcanist could conduct an entire company of shadows through the performance of a play or an artistic display.
Life in the Line of Vol
The Line of Vol shared many basic traditions with the other Aereni lines. There was always tension between Vol, Mendyrian, and Jhaelian; there were feuds and vendettas that stretched out over the centuries. But the Melideth and Tolaen respected the Vol, honoring the shared struggles of their ancestors and engaging in commerce and conversation. Like the other lines, the Vol honored their ancestors and followed in their footsteps. And like most Aereni, elves of Vol would typically focus on a particular craft or field and spend centuries perfecting that skill. Generally speaking, innovation was less important than tradition—mastering the way a thing had been done was more important than finding a better way to do it. Necromancy was the crucial exception to this rule, and the Vol were always exploring new variations of existing rituals and spells.
Given its reliance on necromancy—often seen as a sinister form of magic—and the prevalence of skulls and bones in its art and architecture, scholars of the Five Nations have often assumed that the Vol were a cruel or malefic culture; in this, they are usually compared to the Qabalrin or the people of Ohr Kaluun in Sarlona. But the leaders of the Line of Vol weren’t ruthless or cruel. They had no desire to conquer their neighbors, and the dead used their experience to lift up the living. In studying necromancy, their focus wasn’t developing ways to kill the living but rather on finding ways to prolong existence and to communicate with the dead. The development of deadly spells was a side effect of their research, but war magic was never the purpose of it. Overall, the Line of Vol sought to celebrate life. It’s for this reason that they didn’t flood the province with vampires. The hunger of Mabar is difficult even for a person of strong will and tends to erode empathy; most elves who sought immortality in undeath were content to live a more limited but peaceful existence as one of the oathbound.
Some might wonder how this aligns with the grim culture of the Bloodsail Principalities, which has a direct path back to it. But the circumstances of the Bloodsails are very different from that of the Line of Vol. The Vol thrived for thousands of years in an atmosphere of relative peace and prosperity. By contrast, the Bloodsails began as exiles who had seen that peaceful culture utterly eradicated by its enemies. Farlnen is a harsh land with limited resources; sacrifices have to be made to sustain the living population. And from the beginning, the Lhazaar Sea was far more dangerous than Aerenal was for the Vol. The Bloodsails had to fight to survive—to fight both their barren land and their rivals on the sea. Because of this, the Bloodsails are more aggressive and ruthless. Their ancestors saw the peaceful Line of Vol exterminated by its rivals; they won’t allow that to happen again.
Religion and Divine Magic. The Line of Vol preferred the concrete truths of arcane science to abstract ideas of distant gods. They didn’t believe in any form of the Sovereigns and Six, and they didn’t invoke the power of the Silver Flame. However, they did have two traditions of magic beyond arcane science. Vol worked closely with Mabar, and there were points in their domain where the borders to the Eternal Night were very thin. Over the generations, some Vol engaged in commerce and conversation with the Dark Powers of Mabar—notably, the Bone King and the Empress of Shadows. Most Vol arcanists recognized the malevolence of these beings and didn’t idolize them; but they were willing to work with them in exchange for knowledge and arcane power, and this produced a tradition of warlocks. Over time, the Vol also developed a path through which adepts could channel and mold the power of Mabar through sheer will and mental discipline. Practitioners of this art were known as dusk weavers. Mechanically, exceptional dusk weavers could resemble Shadow Monks, Trickery Clerics or Oathbreaker Paladins. This tradition is still practiced among the Bloodsails. While it provides a form of divine magic, it is fueled by the practitioner’s absolute faith in their own ability to shape the power of Mabar. And while technically I’m suggesting that such characters could have the abilities of clerics or paladins, the magic they can wield should always reflect the power of Mabar; even though mechanically light is a spell on the cleric spell list, it’s not a spell a dusk weaver should possess… unless they manage to flavor it in a way that fits Mabar, such as a creating a ball that draws all shadow to it and leaves light in its absence.
Architecture and Artifice. Animated skeletons are bound together by an invisible, ectoplasmic force. The bone crafters of the Line of Vol discovered ways to adapt this arcane principle, creating structures that appear to be formed from swirling shadow with bones suspended. In Mabaran manifest zones—like Shae Deseir—bone crafters could pull raw bone-stuff from the layer of the Bone King, creating pillars and walls from ivory, though this substance was never part of a living creature. This is incorporated with darkwood and often built into and around living trees in the Silence. Vol communities can feel very gothic and sinister to outsiders, but the Vol don’t see anything malevolent in the use of bone; instead, it reminds them of their ancestors, and to enjoy life while it lasts.
Vol communities often contain the following structures.
- Bone Libraries are ossuaries holding the skulls of deceased elves. People come to the library to consult the skulls using speak with dead, but there are also services that commemorate ancestors either en masse or highlighting the deeds of an individual or group.
- Shadow Sanctums are where dusk weavers learn and practice their arts. They are somber and monastic in tone, typically filled with adepts engaged in meditation and pools of shadow drawn from Mabar. Dusk weavers are also often trained as healers, and the sanctums double as healing houses.
- The Hall of Life is the center of the community, where people gather to support one another and to resolve civic issues; it also serves as a school for the young.
- The Arcanum is the center of necromantic research and development. This is where undead are created, where shadows are bound, other important magical work is done.
Beyond this, a Vol community will have buildings common to any town—taverns and inns, a theatre, artisans, and homes.
General Demeanor. The leaders of the line of Vol had no interest in imposing their will through force. Throughout much of their history, the Vol were a prosperous culture with more space and resources than their relatively small population required. As such, their focus was on enjoying life—the dead teaching the living and helping them find a satisfying road to walk through life. The Vol liches were the most powerful members of the culture, but they didn’t band together as the Undying Court; a Vol lich typically used its power and knowledge to help its local community. Much as the Sibling Kings of Aerenal stand distinct from the Undying Court, the civic leaders of the Line of Vol were living people who worked to make sure every village had what was needed, to resolve disputes, and to engage in diplomacy with the other lines. But largely the role of leadership was to guide and assist, while always pursuing greater knowledge. Of course, it was this pursuit of knowledge that ultimately doomed them, when they sought to unlock the full potential of the Mark of Death.
The Silence. Shae Deseir is located in a verdant valley along the Night River, so named because a curious effect of the Mabaran manifest zone causes the reflection in the water to always show the sky above as if at night. There were a few villages spread out along the banks of the river. But the majority of the Line of Vol dwelt not in the valley—which, among other things, has issues with hostile shadows—but in the vast forest to the east of it. In the past it was known as Antalyn Orioth, the “Jungle of Peace”… though the term has connotations of “final peace” or “peace of the grave.” Since the eradication of the line of Vol, this name has been stricken from all maps and the Aereni do not use it. Instead, they refer to the jungle by casting their eyes down and remaining silent for a long moment.
The Silence contains a number of Mabaran manifest zones of varying size and intensity. Some of these are deadly to mortal life; these produce moss, fungi, and crystals that are useful components for necromantic magic. Others were once home to Vol villages. There are also two wild zones in the Silence. The Gray is tied to Dolurrh, and under the proper circumstances it can serve as a gateway to the Realm of the Dead. The Bones are tied to Mabar, and trees of bone rise from black soil; here the Bone King of Mabar watches the world. Aside from its planar influences, the Silence contains massive groves of darkwood; before they were destroyed, the Vol worked with Tolaen to harvest this resource.
Defenses and Damage. The Line of Vol wasn’t a warlike culture… until the end. Their civilization was wiped out in a brutal, decisive conflict against dragons and the Undying Court. It was a swift conflict fought by beings wielding immense power, and as a result many of the typical tools of war were irrelevant; there was no wall that would protect a village from a flight of dragons. Traveling through the Silence, adventurers can find vast clearings still scorched by dragonfire, with scattered shards of building bone or vague outlines of foundations. While active defenses are rare, undead are common in the region, and this is why the Aereni shun it to this day. Due to the presence of the manifest zones, all of the factors that contribute to haunts and restless dead are intensely magnified. There are a handful of haunts where shades of villagers relive their last hours, often entirely peacefully. But there’s also countless undead spawned by the intense trauma of the final days of Vol. There are angry ghosts and banshees that still retain some semblance of their former lives, but there are also more raw manifestations of pain and of Mabar’s hunger—swarms of shadows, angry specters, and at the extreme, powerful sorrowsworn born of anguish and pain. Within the Bones, a former Mendyrian commander remains as a death knight. Laen Mendyrian is tormented by the massacres he set in motion during the conflict, and now lingers as a vassal of the Bone King; he is accompanied by the Silver Wind, a silver dragon slain by the Emerald Claw who lingers as a ghost dragon.
Shae Deseir
Shae Deseir was the first and greatest city of the Line of Vol. Built from darkwood and shadow, it was a gothic metropolis. This is where the Vol made their last stand, focusing the might of their liches and the Emerald Claw. So great was their power that they were able to shield the city from aerial and arcane assault, which meant that dragons and elves stormed it directly. Because of this, the city has been devastated. There is a massive crater where the First Arcanum once stood, soil seared by a blend of flame, acid, and raw radiant power. The Hall of Life is cut in half, and the bones of defenders remain fused with the stone.
In assaulting Shae Desier, the forces of Argonnessen and Aerenal ensured that all living denizens of the city died, and that the phylacteries of the liches were destroyed. As soon as this mission was complete, they retreated, and the city has been left untouched ever since. Because of this, there are treasures hidden in the wreckage. The Great Bone Library is still intact, with thousands of skulls waiting to speak. But Shae Deseir is intensely haunted. The region was always known for its hostile shadows; rituals performed by the Vol kept the influence of Mabar in check. Now it is a place of bitter sorrow. The spirits that remain in Shae Deseir cannot leave this cursed city, but they will make any living creature that comes to it suffer.
What sort of treasures could you find in Shae Deseir? The First Arcanum was the site of some of the most remarkable necromantic work ever carried out. Any sort of magic item related to death and the dead could be found in the haunted city, along with scrolls of necromantic spells, such as horrid wilting and true resurrection. But the research could be even more valuable. How exactly did Minara Vol turn Erandis into a lich? How did they produce a half-dragon bearing an apex dragonmark, and what was the ultimate goal? These secrets are surely hidden in the ruins. Beyond that, scattered across the city are the remains of the warriors who fought that final bitter battle; there may be legendary arms and armor once wielded by champions of the Undying Court still lying on the battlefield. Another idea to consider: I’ve said before that the Eye and Hand of Vecna could be associated with Lhazaar in Eberron. However, if you wanted to remain closer to the original idea—to keep them as remnants of an ancient archlich—then they could be the Eye and Hand of Vol, the last pieces of the first and greatest lich produced by the line. Perhaps they went toe to toe with the Ascendant Councilors of the Undying Court and were torn apart. Now only a few pieces remain… but they want a vengeance greater and more terrible than anything Lady Illmarrow could devise.
What sort of monsters could you find there? Shadows roam freely in the region around Shae Deseir, and they can be found in many sizes and shapes. There are shadows cast by dragons long ago that are still crawling across the soil, and swarms of shadows that could be drawn by light or warmth. Beyond this, there are pockets of haunting scattered across the city, bitter moments captured in eternity. On the outskirts you might fight sword wraiths facing a banshee, an echo of Cairdal commandos fighting a Vol arcanist. Deeper in you could find dullahans fighting death dragons. Near the heart there are nightwalkers formed from the sheer rage of the fallen elves. And in the Bone Library or the First Arcanum there may well be a lingering demilich, nearly mindless after the loss of its phylactery, but somehow still sustained by its grief.
Why does this matter? Any campaign involving Lady Illmarrow could involve a trip to Shae Deseir. Illmarrow might need resources that can only be found in the Mabaran groves of the Silence. She could need research from the First Arcanum, or an artifact lost on the battlefield. Alternately, adventurers seeking to destroy Illmarrow could seek to find the details of her creation to learn how she can be permanently destroyed. Illmarrow aside, an Aereni adventurer could seek to enter Shae Deseir to recover a sacred artifact lost by an ancestor—or a necromancer of any culture could yearn to claim the secrets of the Vol arcanists.
What About The Mark of Death?
The alliance between the Undying Court and Argonnessen slew every living creature that carried the Mark of Death, and almost every elf tied to the Vol bloodlines. Erandis Vol still carries the mark, but it has been inactive since her death. There has been no confirmed manifestation of the mark since that time. The nature of the Mark of Death—how it could reappear and what powers it might possess—is a mystery we have always chosen to leave unanswered in canon sources. However, the things I write aren’t canon. I’ve created a version of the Mark of Death as bonus content for my Patreon supporters; you can find that here.
That’s all for now. If you’re going to PAX Unplugged, you can find me at the Twogether Studios booth. I hope to see you there!
D&D in a Castle, March 30 – April 3 2025!
Earlier this year I had the opportunity to DM a round at D&D in a Castle. I’m returning to Lumley Castle in 2025 for another round from March 30th to April 3rd, and there’s still a few seats left! You can find out all about the official details by following the link above, but I wanted to share a few things I especially loved about the experience.
This round of D&D in a Castle takes place in Lumley Castle in England, near Newcastle. Players play for three days—typically two sessions of four hours each day, which means there’s time to do other activities at Lumley Castle or to do some sightseeing in the region. But it also means that you’re playing 24 hours of D&D, which makes it an entirely different experience than just playing a four hour one-shot at a convention. Over the course of six sessions, there’s time for the story and the characters to evolve and for the players to get to know one another. The campaign I run will be a unique experience I create for the players, and the exact setting will depend on what they decide. In 2024 I ran a campaign set in Quickstone, tied to my Frontiers of Eberron book, and if people are interested that’s an option for 2025. However, I have a new project I’m going to be working on that players at the Castle could playtest, if that’s something that interests people…
In my sessions I prefer to move around the castle as opposed to settling in one place for the duration of it. In 2024 I ran my first day in the literal dungeon, as you can see above; the second day I was in a more colorful and well lit room, as seen in the image that starts off the image. The atmosphere certainly adds to the experience!
Meanwhile, here’s a glimpse of Lumley from the outside…
And the view of the countryside looking away from the castle. And last but not least, here’s Poppet, the Castle Cat, considering a miniature I was using in my final session.
As I type this, there’s still a few seats left for my session! You can also find more information on the website, and this is an interview I did with one of the organizers of the event. If you have any questions about the experience, feel free to ask them here. I hope I’ll see some of you in 2025!
IFAQ: What Is Elven Trance?
When time permits, I like to answer questions from my Patrons… questions like this:
In Eberron, what do elves experience during their trance?
In my campaign, I like to highlight the fact that elves aren’t just humans with pointed ears. This isn’t about making elves exceptional; it’s about emphasizing that they are an alien species that differ from humanity in deep and fundamental ways. I want to explore what it means to have Fey Ancestry, and how that explains some of their other traits, including their long lifespan. With that in mind, let’s review the mechanical definition of Trance. All elves have the following trait:
Trance. You don’t need to sleep, and magic can’t put you to sleep. You can finish a Long Rest in 4 hours if you spend those hours in a trancelike meditation, during which you retain consciousness.
The Player’s Handbook further notes that elves “don’t sleep but instead enter a trance when they need to rest. In that state, they remain aware of their surroundings while immersing themselves in memories and meditations.”
There’s two things that stand out to me. First of all, an elf remains fully conscious and aware of their surroundings while they trance. They can’t take other activities during their trance, but they are aware of everything going on around them. Second, this provides them with all of the benefits of a long rest… including healing. This brings up something that’s important to me, which is that different species can apply different cosmetic filters to shared mechanics. Warforged heal fully by taking a long rest. But they don’t sleep while resting, and I’ve always described their process of healing as the warforged engaging in minor repairs. A human sleeps and allows their body’s natural healing processes to occur… while a warforged spends that same time hammering out dents in their armor plating and mending severed root tendrils. Both emerge from the long rest fully healed; but the cosmetic details of HOW they healed can be different. Keeping this in mind, I’ve also already said that I’d allow elves to change gender during a long rest.
So consider this. The fey of Thelanis are stories made manifest. Elves are flesh and blood, mortal creatures of Eberron. But they have Fey Ancestry; the essence of Thelanis is within them. In my campaign, what an elf does in trance is to reflect on their own story and how it has changed since yesterday. On a practical level they meditate on their memories and emotions and reflect on the events of the day. On a magical, instinctive level they are comparing their body to their subconscious self-image and changing it to match that image. The article above suggests that this is how an elf changes gender; their physical gender is a manifestation of their current sense of self. This same idea could manifest in other ways. Eye, hair, and skin color could all change based on an elf’s emotional state and a significant change to their story. A particular elf could have golden eyes and silver hair most of the time… but when they are deeply angry their hair could become fiery red; and when they suffer an intense loss and are mourning, their eyes and hair could become colorless. This concept extends to physical healing. An elf gets the full benefits of a long rest through four hours of meditation, because their body resets to its ideal state. With this in mind, I’d suggest that elves only get lasting scars as a reflection of trauma as opposed to physical injury. When an elf heals from a wound, it heals perfectly—unless the injury has deeper meaning in the mind of the elf. So an elf can bounce back from a serious wound in a battle that meant nothing to them with no sign of the injury… but a scratch in a duel with a hated rival could leave a dramatic scar that no magic can remove, at least until the elf gets over the incident.
A side effect of this is that it explains the long lifespan of an elf. As I’ve said before, I see elves maturing physically and mentally at about the same pace as humans. It’s that when an elf reaches what they instinctively consider to be their ideal state, they stop aging—or more accurately, they reset to that ideal age when they trance. This also allows for interesting variety in apparent age regardless of actual age. One elf could be only a century old but have deep lines and gray hair, while another could be six hundred years old but could have an appearance a human would see as that of a teenager; it’s about how the elf views themself. A key point here is that by default this is subconcious and instinctive. This is what differentiates an elf from a changeling. I suggested that a particular elf might have flaming red hair when they are deeply angry. But that change only happens when they trance and won’t change until they trance again… and further, they didn’t consciously choose the color and couldn’t have made it purple instead. Their emotional state has a physical manifestation. Furthermore, the whole point is that this varies from elf to elf—as in the young elf that appears to be old because they feel old versus the old elf who is young at heart and therefore young in form. If an elf has a stable sense of self, they won’t change dramatically from day to day; when they do, it’s likely to be small things like eye color. Tairnadal elves likely develop some physical traits that make them resemble their patron ancestor, but they wouldn’t just become a duplicate of the ancestor, because they are still unique individuals and their appearance reflects that. Likewise, an elf doesn’t consciously choose to heal and they don’t get to DECIDE if a wound leaves a scar; it’s a reflection of their subconscious and emotional state. Having said all of that, an elf adventurer could use class abilities to reflect this innately magical nature. I could see an elf Archfey warlock who presents their patron as their story of themself, a sort of twist on Blood of Vol beliefs; their Mask of Many Faces reflects their absolute control of their sense of self. And to be absolutely clear about this, this isn’t intended to give elf characters any sort of mechanical advantage; it is a purely cosmetic concept. In suggesting that this is how elves heal, it is still limited to the benefits of a long rest. If an elf loses a limb, they don’t get to grow it back by taking a long rest; like it or not, their story has changed. Likewise, they can’t shake off diseases; they simply get the benefits of a long rest in a different way than a human does. The whole idea is to emphasize that they’re not human—that they are creatures of a fundamentally magical world, still tied to fey. If an elf starts to feel old for some reason, they will start to look old. Their appearance is based on their story and how they see themselves.
Which brings us all the way back to the original question… What do elves experience during their trance? Again, an elf remains conscious and aware of their surroundings during their trance. It’s not a dream. In my vision it’s about reflecting and remembering—reflecting on the events of the day, remembering key moments of the past, and comparing the two. An elf fighter remembers both their martial training and their greatest moments in battle and compares them to recent conflicts. An elf wizard remembers learning to cast fireball and reflects on the sensation of channeling evocation magic. Religious elves reflect on lessons, proverbs, and moments that established and defined their faith; Tairnadal reflect on the deeds of their patron ancestors. But trancing elves also remember moments from childhood, conversation with loved ones, their greatest accomplishments and tragedies… they tell their story to themselves.
Again, I’ll emphasize that most healthy adult elves have a pretty strong sense of self and this is reflected by a fairly stable appearance from day to day; shifts in appearance are often reliable, IE “When Raevan is feeling sad, her hair is jet black.” But it could be that elves can suffer from a dramatic form of bed head—that an elf who’s troubled might have difficulty trancing and that this would manifest in a disheveled appearance! But generally speaking, the changes that would occur in this way wouldn’t be so dramatic that a friend of the elf wouldn’t recognize them. The core of an elf’s self-image won’t usually change overnight; it’s little details that will change.
Elves don’t HAVE to sleep and dream… but CAN they?
This is open to interpretation. The 2024 PHB says “they don’t sleep but instead enter a trance when they need to rest”; to me, this implies that it’s not a choice, it’s a biological fact about elves. This is reinforced by the fact that magic cannot put an elf to sleep, which again implies that sleep is just not a concept that applies to them. The counter argument is that the Trance trait states “You don’t NEED to sleep” which could imply “… But you can.” In my campaign, I say that elves can’t sleep, and even when unconscious they don’t dream. This is a plot point in my novel The Gates of Night, in which a drow adventurer can’t go to Dal Quor with her companions because she doesn’t dream. As a DM there’s lots of ways to overcome this for purposes of an adventure—rituals, relics, potions—notably, in that same novel, the warforged uses an artifact to join their companions in the dream. But by default, in my campaign elves cannot dream. In my opinion this further supports the overall stagnation of Aereni society—the fact that the people of the Five Nations have made tremendous advances over the last few centuries while Aerenal hasn’t changed much over the last few thousand years. Trance is a way for elves to reflect, but it’s unlikely to produce entirely unexpected moments of inspiration as dreams can. And also, trancing elves don’t get ideas dropped in their heads by night hags or quori…
How is this different for eladrin, with their connection to the seasons?
Eladrin seasonal transformation is a key part of this idea. What we suggested in Fourth Edition was that the ancestors of the elves were eladrin refugees from the destruction of Shae Tirias Tolai, and that between the forces the giants unleashed in that attack and generations in the mundane world, the descendants of the survivors adapted to the material plane, becoming elves. The eladrin have a seasonal affinity that provides them with a magical gift—and eladrin of different seasons are typically depicted with dramatically different appearances that reflect their season. Eladrin trance instead of sleeping, and can change their season after completing a long rest. So this is the point: the ancestors of the elves could and would undergo dramatic physical transformations while trancing. What I’m suggesting here is that the elves of Eberron still maintain an aspect of this. Unlike the eladrin there’s no mechanical impact, and the physical changes are usually more subtle; but it speaks to idea of fey ancestry, that elves are still fundamentally magical beings shaped by story.
With that in mind, how is the eladrin trance different from the elf trance? The key to me is that the eladrin are more fey, less tied to the material world, and that one aspect of this is, frankly, that their stories are less complex and thus more fluid. The point of Thelanis is that its stories are often iconic… and I’ve also called out that the fey of Thelanis are often largely untouched by the passage of time, being swept away by their stories and their passions. An eladrin shifting from Summer to Winter is experiencing BIG FEELINGS and a dramatic change from wild joy to cold gloom. While trancing, an eladrin thinks less about specific moments and more about grand feelings. Essentially, I’d play eladrin as being far more mercurial and dramatic than most mortals, and that’s reflected in that shifting. By contrast, elves have become more mortal. The story of an individual elf—let’s say a Phiarlan actress who’s moonlighting as a spy for the Serpentine Table, but who’s torn between her love for a Brelish soldier devoted to his nation and her job to unearth Brelish secrets—isn’t as simple as SUMMER and WINTER. And thus the shifts in appearance are themselves far more subtle. The question is both whether it’s possible for an elf to become an eladrin with the proper experiences, or whether conversely an eladrin could become an elf—or whether (as was the case historically) it’s a slow process that requires generations and can’t be easily undone.
Would you say the same can be applied to Drow? Seeing as they are descended from eladrin too, do they trance in the same way like elves do?
So let’s take a moment to consider the drow. By the current rules they are an Elven Lineage option. Aside from the benefits of this Elven Lineage, they are mechanically identical to other elves. So yes, they have Fey Ancestry and they Trance, and I’d say that this trance serves the same general function: reflecting and reinforcing their identity, as well as restoring their health and energy. But what exactly makes a drow different from an elf? I said that hair, skin, and eye color could all change due to trance—could a wood elf become a drow in Trance, or vice versa? In my campaign, they couldn’t—because the difference between drow and elf is more than skin deep. From the beginning we said that the Sulat giants created the drow by “infusing elves with the essence of night.” But what does that actually MEAN? I’ve always seen them as forging a connection to Mabar and using that to change the fundamental fey nature of the drow—essentially, changing their story. But there’s two distinct impacts of this connection to Mabar. The first is obvious: Darkness. Mabar consumes light, and drow have superior darkvision and the ability to summon darkness. But the second aspect is because they wanted the drow to be ruthless assassins. I’ve said before that the hunger of Mabar erodes empathy in the undead. The drow don’t need blood like a vampire does, but they have an innate, subconscious instinct to extinguish light and life. Again, this is SUBCONSCIOUS and it’s absolutely something a drow adventurer can suppress. But it’s a supernaturally imposed instinct that fundamentally differentiates a drow from an Aereni elf. The both have Fey Ancestry, but their stories are inherently different. So in my campaign, drow trance, and in that trance they restore their energy and health, and their appearance can shift to match their self-image, just like other elves. But there is an innate bleakness that pervades the reflections of the drow, regardless of what they may consciously choose to meditate upon. Because of this, some drow struggle with depression; most don’t let it slow them down, but it tends to add a grim edge to the average drow. Although, again: this is something any particular drow can overcome. You can have happy, altruistic, optimistic drow; good diet and a regular exercise routine helps! The Umbragen, on the other hand, take this to the next level. Once an Umbragen forms their connection to the Umbra, it is a powerful force within their subconscious that actively erodes empathy and that whispers to them in trance. For the standard drow it’s a subtle thing; for the Umbragen the experience is more like that of a vampire, a shadow that eats away at the light in their spirit.
And on that happy note, that’s all for now! My next article will be on Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol. I’m also going to be running two sessions of a 4E Eberron adventure for my patrons this weekend, and any Threshold patron can apply to play in a session—if that sounds like fun, check out my Patreon!
IFAQ: Flameskulls, Seeker Rituals, the Queen of the Dead and More!
Every month I answer questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Here’s a few of the interesting questions that have come up this month. In addition, if you’re a Threshold patron you can apply to play in Eberron games I run online. The next game is this Sunday from 10 AM – 2 PM Pacific Time, and I’ll be taking player applications for the next 48 hours. If you’re interested in playing, you can find out more here—but you have to be a Threshold patron to apply. Anyhow, let’s get on with the questions!
The Fort Bones Eye on Eberron article mentions rites that mitigate the power of Mabar in the area, and allow agriculture in the region. The article further notes that when Kaina ir’Duna interfered with the latter rites near the beginning of the Last War, it was disastrous for agriculture and contributed to Karrnath’s famines. I am thinking of setting a campaign at Fort Bones, and my question is what those rites might look like and, loosely speaking, what they might consist of in game terms?
Mabar is the source of negative energy; it consumes life and causes despair. Mabaran manifest zones radiate negative energy, which will cause crops to fail and animals to wither. Seekers contain this energy by using it to perform necromantic magic. Here’s a few rituals that are used for this purpose.
- The first and most frequent is Tolling The Dead. The priest gathers the faithful and together they sing prayers and tell stories of the fallen ancestors of the people in the community and other Seeker heroes. With each individual, they generate a pulse of negative energy that blasts into the sky, accompanied by the sound of a great bell. This is essentially the cantrip Toll The Dead, amplified by the group participation and ritual casting. It’s not designed to serve as a weapon; the pulse blasts directly up. The purpose is simply to catch the negative energy and channel it up and away. While meanwhile, as a religious ceremony, it is about remembering those that have been lost.
- Every other week, there is a communion service that involves a long and extensive performance of Speak With Dead. The dead are often turned into zombies or skeletons, but Seekers respected for their wisdom may be kept aside from this; their skulls are preserved and polished, and brought out for this service. Anyone in the community can request a chance to ask a question of one of these wise skulls. This begins with a Tolling service that celebrates each of the mentors, remembering their deeds in life before giving people the chance to speak with their remains. Keep in mind that Speak With Dead only draws on traces of memory that cling to the remains; the spirits of the Seekers are gone!
- The third option is the creation and maintenance of the undead, typically zombies and skeletons. When a member of the community dies and is chosen for service in undeath, the community will gather and celebrate the victim’s life, after which the priest will animate their remains. Since this only happens when someone dies, it’s not a regular thing. However, there is also a weekly ritual in which the undead servants in a community are brought together. The priest tells the story of each one, reminding people who they were in life and thanking them for their service in death. This ritual channels negative energy to sustain the undead and repair any damage they have suffered.
This isn’t a conclusive list, but it’s a few options to work with!
What’s the role of Flameskulls in Eberron?
In MY campaign, flameskulls are created using a form of the Odakyr rites—the same rituals used to create the Karrnathi undead. This has a few important aspects.
- A flameskull can only be created from the remains of a spellcaster capable of casting the spells on the flameskull’s spell list. You have to lose a capable spellcaster before you can create a flameskull.
- Creating a flameskull requires a very capable necromancer anchoring a ritual performed by multiple adepts. I’d make the eye gems of a flameskull Khyber dragonshards enchanted in a particular way. So Malevanor could make a flameskull, but it’s not something your typical Seeker village priest could do.
- A flameskull is intelligent, but it’s not HUMAN. As called out in canon lore, “A flameskull only dimly recalls its former life.” I’d tie this to what I’ve already said about the Karrnathi undead: that IN THEORY they are guided by the patriotic spirit of Karrnath, but in practice, it’s possible that they are guided by Mabaran fiends, by Lady Illmarrow, or something else. These Odakyr flameskulls were used as mobile artillery by Karrnath during the Last War, but because of the restrictions—you need a dead wizard to make one—they were relatively uncommon.
That’s the STANDARD story for the most widespread form of flameskull. But you could also have unique flameskulls created in other ways — a malevolent flameskull that DOES remember its previous life and which was reanimated by either Sul Khatesh or Katashka the Gatekeeper. An ancient Dhakaani flameskull, all that remains of a great Dirge Singer; instead of FLAME, her spells are based on sound and deal thunder damage instead of fire damage. A flameskull that was once a priest of the Shadow, whose spells deal necrotic damage. (To be clear, my point here is that you don’t have to actually change the flameskull’s spell list, though you could. The point of the shadowskull is that it would be wreathed in dark mist, and it would attack with a shadow ray that deals 3d6 necrotic damage and cast shadow sphere or shadowball — which work exactly like flaming sphere or fireball, but deal necrotic damage.) A fun twist on the shadowskull would be to reverse the Illumination trait; it can either change bright light to dim light within 15 feet, or extend darkness to 15 feet and dim light to 15 feet beyond that.
Some years ago, you offered a take on Erandis Vol and the Raven Queen in Eberron; that Erandis IS the Raven Queen, and that she is trying to/needs to ascend to take her rightful place as Queen of the Dead. Can you expand on that a little? What does the Erandis need for the ritual of ascension? Does current Erandis even *know* that’s what she’s trying to do, or is she simply trying to unlock her dragonmark? How would you handle Illmarrow as a campaign villain with this sort of thing as a finale? Presumably Erandis’ ascension is a good(ish) thing, but the PCs will likely be diametrically opposed to her; stopping her ascension would be a victory for the PCs, but leave Dolurrh without a Queen, which seems like a problem.
This is the article in question. I expanded on this concept in Exploring Eberron in the section on Dolurrh:
The Once and Future Queen of the Dead. The Queen of the Dead is an enigmatic figure who wields great power in Dolurrh. But there’s another being who uses this title: Erandis Vol, the last heir of the Mark of Death. Through her agents in the Order of the Emerald Claw and beyond, Erandis seeks to restore the power of her dragonmark; no one knows what godlike powers she might wield if she unlocks its full potential. Meanwhile, Dolurrh’s Queen of the Dead seems to oppose Erandis, and often sends her agents—both shadar-kai and adventurers she’s restored to life at a price—to interfere with Vol’s schemes. This could be exactly what it appears… But perhaps there’s more to it. Time works in strange ways when dealing with the planes and beings of vast power. Perhaps the Queen of the Dead isn’t trying to stop Erandis, but guiding her down a very specific path. Perhaps Erandis will become the Queen of the Dead, in which case, she’ll have always been her. Or perhaps that’s what’s supposed to happen, but there’s a way in which it could still go wrong… which could destroy the Queen of the Dead and throw Dolurrh itself into chaos.
So first of all, the central idea here is that Erandis doesn’t know what she’s trying to do. She’s not TRYING to become the queen of Dolurrh; she “seeks to restore the power of her dragonmark; no one knows what godlike powers she might wield if she unlocks its full potential.” Erandis wants POWER. She wants to achieve the destiny that was stolen from her. And in the pursuit of that power, she will do terrible things and kill countless innocents. So there’s not supposed to be any question that Erandis’s ascension is a bad bad thing. As I’ve said before, Erandis and the Emerald Claw are intended to be pulp villains; you aren’t supposed to question whether opposing them is the right thing to do. And the Queen of the Dead can serve as a patron, guiding the adventurers—potentially, setting their service in stopping Erandis as the price of resurrection (though I’ve got more thoughts on this below!). Erandis is performing unnatural acts of necromancy and the Queen wants the adventurers to stop it.
But how does this work as a campaign? How can the adventurers go through a series of sessions where they oppose Erandis’s plans? If they succeed and interfere, she won’t ascend, right? And if they fail, assuming they don’t die, won’t it just be frustrating to fail again and again? This is a basic question that can apply to ANY campaign in which the DM has a villain that’s supposed to be building to a big climax — how do the adventurers feel like they are accomplishing something meaningful without derailing the big final act of the story? The answer is that just as you want space in a game for the players to fail forward, you want room for the villains to do so as well. Don’t create stories in which the only options are absolute success or absolute failure; you want to have missions in which the adventurers can accomplish a heroic task while Erandis still gets what she needs to move forward. Consider these examples…
- The Emerald Claw sets up an Emerald Reanimator in the heart of Sharn, triggering a zombie apocalypse. The adventurers, we hope, destroy the reanimator and save the city. But after this victory, the Queen of the Dead whispers to them that this is only one link in a chain. Erandis’s goal was to charge a special Khyber shard with necrotic energy, and the animator was active for long enough to accomplish this task. Her minions have escaped with the charged shard, and she will surely return again.
- The Emerald Claw launches an attack in Arcanix. The adventurers fight their way down through the great library, leading to a final conflict with a bodak who’s—reading a book. When the adventurers break into the vault, the bodak looks up at them and laughs with Erandis’s vault. “You’re too late,” she says. “I needed to read one page within the Qabalrin Codex… and now I have.”
The point of these stories is that the adventurers SAVE SHARN AND ARCANIX. They save countless innocents and are heralded as heroes. But there was never a version of the scenario in which they could get to the bodak before they read the book. And yet, the adventurers didn’t even know the book was her goal until the final scene. It’s a solid victory for them; but Erandis also got what she needed. And all of this builds until the end, where Erandis is about to trigger her ascension. The adventurers ready for the final battle and suddenly time stops and the Queen of the Dead speaks in their minds. Do not interfere. You must allow her to do this. She does not know the path she is stepping on, but it is a path she must take. And for the stability of the world you know, you must allow her to do it. And now we know: The Queen of the Dead wanted the adventurers to save as many innocents as possible, but she didn’t mention the Qabalrin Codex because she needed Erandis to get the book. From the start, she’s told the adventurers enough to help them minimize the damage of Erandis’s actions—but her goal was never to stop her. What will they do?
This is a sort of railroad; you aren’t giving the players the option to stop Erandis in advance. But the point is that every victory along the way had to be earned. If they failed in Sharn the city would become a zombie-filled necropolis. If they failed in Arcanix, the Emerald Claw would have claimed countless war rituals. But Erandis was always going to move forward. It’s NOW, in the final act, that they have to make the true choice. Do they trust the Queen of the Dead and allow Erandis to complete the ritual—at which point she discovers her ascension is not what she thought? Or do they fight it? In this instance, I’d set things entirely in their hands (and the dice). They can defeat Erandis and stop the ritual… and which point the Queen of the Dead will howl and vanish, and suddenly the world will be plagued by countless restless ghosts, the product of chaos in Dolurrh. In which case the final act becomes the adventurers undoing the damage they’ve caused. Can they restore Erandis as the Queen of the Dead? Or do they need to find a NEW ruler of Dolurrh — perhaps, even having one of them somehow take up the mantle themselves?
The most famous artwork which represents elves of the Undying Court has an ape on it. What is the role or symbolism of apes for Aerenal and Court?
It’s not that the Court as a whole has an affinity for apes; it’s that THAT BABOON is an actual member of the Undying Court. That’s Caerzha the Old, one of the Gyrderi Druids trapped in wild shape by the Cul’sir; sustained by primal magic, he lived long enough to be raised to the Court after his passing.
That’s all for now! Thanks again to my patrons for asking interesting questions and making these articles possible.
Monsters of Eberron: Vampires
“The first vampire was an elf named Vol. After living for centuries, Vol saw the end of his life approaching and was determined to escape death. He prayed to the Sovereigns, but they dismissed his prayers. All journeys have an end, Kol Korran told him. Do not fear what lies beyond, Arawai said. Trust in our love. But Vol had no faith in the Sovereigns, and so he turned to the Dark Six in his quest for immortality. They were willing to aid him… but they had demands. The Keeper pledged not to take Vol’s life, but only so long as Vol continued to add to the Keeper’s hoard, sending him a steady stream of innocent souls. The Fury made Vol a natural predator, but charged him to prey upon his own kind. The Mockery made Vol a master deceiver able to move unrecognized among the living, but demanded that he spread terror with his deeds. And the Shadow made Vol the master of the night, able to command its creatures, to dissipate into mist, to enforce his will upon weak minds. They made Vol a champion of the shadows, a corpse imbued with a semblance of life so it could kill and kill again, spreading terror and feeding the Keeper. The Sovereigns could not simply undo what the Six had created, but they laid their own bans upon Vol. Dol Arrah cursed Vol; he might be the king of the night, the light of day would burn him to ash. Boldrei forbade Vol from entering any home, unless he was invited within. And Arawai said that as Vol had broken the cycle of nature, wood and water would be his enemies. Running water reflects the endless motion of nature, and it would tear away the vampire’s false life. And a simple stake of wood, driven through the heart, would lay the vampire to rest.”
This is a story the Vassals tell. The elves of Aerenal don’t believe in the Sovereigns; they say it is Mabar that empowers a vampire to live on after death so long as they feed the Endless Night with a steady stream of blood and souls. Gift of the Shadow or the Endless Night, it makes little difference. The vampire is a corpse animated in violation of nature, which must consume the blood and essence of the living to sustain its undead existence. They hide among the living in order to prey upon them, and have the power to spread their corruption—consuming the souls of those they drain of blood, allowing them to rise as hungry spawn. But they cannot stand Arrah’s light, and they cannot enter a home without an invitation. So cling to the light and take care you know those you welcome into your home—for the vampires are waiting in the shadows, and they are hungry.
—Dorius Alyre ir’Korran, The Manual Maleficent
Vampires are an iconic undead creature. Canonically, vampirism has become a practical tool in Eberron: the Bloodsails, the Seekers of the Divinity Within, and the Line of Vol all make use of vampirism as a way of extending life after death. It’s not surprising to find a vampire leading an Emerald Claw cell. But such a vampire is typically relevant as a threat in combat; the Emerald Claw usually isn’t very subtle. With this article, I want to start by exploring what makes vampires distinct from other common forms of undead and considering how this can apply to stories you might tell… and then to look closer at the role of vampires in everyday life in Khorvaire, and different sorts of vampires one could encounter.
VAMPIRE STORIES
Set aside mechanics for a moment. What is it that makes a vampire spooky? What are hooks you can work into a story? Here’s a few.
- Walking Dead. A vampire is an animated corpse. Aside from the various immunities this grants, it highlights the fact that they are deeply unnatural. They should be dead and yet they aren’t. It’s easy to ignore this—in part because typically, they don’t rot like a zombie—but when you stop and think about it, it’s disturbing. They are DEAD, but some power moves through them and makes their dead flesh move, sustaining them as long as they continue to feed on the living. There’s lots of little ways you can play with this. Cold flesh. They don’t drink… wine. Most notably, in combat I will typically describe a creature’s loss of hit points and nicks and grazes, near misses and deflected blows. In the case of undead creatures like vampires I may choose to highlight that an attack strikes true and just has minimal effect. You drive your dagger into his side, piercing the kidney. It’s a perfect, crippling blow… but he just laughs, and no blood flows as you pull the blade free from his body.
- Predators. Vampires consume the life force of the living, typically through the medium of blood. They are wolves among sheep, and mortals are their prey. Often this is reflected by their appearance; not only can they conceal their undead nature, but they are charming or attractive, able to lure mortals to their doom. Now, specific vampires may resist their predatory urges—but it’s the fact that they are driven by their hunger that makes that a compelling story, as they strive to hold onto their humanity and not to become a ruthless predator.
- Infestation. Specifics vary by tale, but under the mechanics of 5E, if a humanoid creature is slain by the life-draining bite of a vampire and buried in the ground, they will rise as a vampire spawn under the control of their sire. Depending on the needs of the story, a vampire may already have a network of spawn when it is encountered by adventurers—or a tale could involve the slow spread of a vampire’s reach throughout a community. This is especially effective when someone near and dear to the adventurers becomes spawn, or when the spawn is someone who was a hero in life—a friar of the Silver Flame who helped organize the fight against the vampire, or a young poet who wouldn’t hurt a fly. The point is that the vampire doesn’t just kill its victims—it turns them into tools, mocking who they were in life.
- Age and Influence. Vampires don’t have to be old. But part of the story of the vampire is eternal life, and this can be a compelling part of a vampire’s story. Did this vampire fight alongside Tira Miron when she founded the Church of the Silver Flame? Was it there when Halas Tarkanan collapsed the old towers of Sharn? Did the vampire know an adventurer’s parents—has it been watching them, all this time? A secondary aspect of this is the fact that a vampire may have resources that can play a major role in a story. A vampire may have caches of gold and supplies hidden around Khorvaire. It could have a family of loyal servants that have been bound to it for generations. It could have friends in very high places, or very low ones. In Aundair, Lady Talon is an elf noble who advised King Galifar during the war of unification. She just had lunch with Minister Adal. And you want me to believe that she’s some kind of monster? This influence could also be maintained through the use of a faithful (humanoid) familiar with a hat of disguise—King Kaius just gave a speech in the plaza while the sun was at its height. And he regularly speaks out against the Blood of Vol. The idea that he could be a vampire is preposterous. Often, part of what drives a vampire hunting story is the fact that no one else but the adventurers can or will pursue the vampire; either no one believes what the adventurers know, or the vampire’s influence is so strong (reinforced by Charm and by well-placed spawn) that the forces that should help are turned against the party.
- Weakness. A vampire regenerates 20 hit points a turn, and can escape in mist form when it needs to get away. It cannot be killed by brute force… unless its weaknesses are brought into play. If cannot enter a home unless it is invited—giving adventurers ways to find a safe haven even when facing an overpowering foe. The vampire’s efforts to overcome its weaknesses and the adventurers’ attempts to take advantage of them add flavor to a story—especially if those weaknesses aren’t what the adventurers assume them to be.
Keeping all those things in mind, let’s consider some of the ways adventurers might encounter a vampire.
The Random Encounter. The adventurers are racing to reach an artifact in Xen’drik before the Order of the Emerald Claw finds it… and the captain of the Emerald Claw force is a vampire. In such a scenario, the fact that the enemy is a vampire may only become relevant in battle; they’re just a powerful foe to be overcome. Of course, they’ll primarily want to move at night and will have difficulty with water. But the DM might also emphasize their ability to charm people to get the things they want… or play up the infestation aspect as a weapon in their arsenal. Perhaps the artifact is hidden somewhere in a region populated by small villages of tabaxi. The adventurers discover a village that appears to be completely empty; the Emerald Claw has clearly passed through, but there is absolutely no sign of the tabaxi inhabitants. Then as night falls, the former villagers burrow up out of the ground, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight; the vampire killed them all, and left them to return as spawn as a trap for the adventurers. Such a scenario is both an opportunity for a challenging fight and a chance to showcase the utter cruelty and bloodthirst of the vampire, who’s willing to drain an entire village just to mock their rivals.
They Are The Land. The vampire is in a position of unquestioned authority in an isolated place. The Lhazaar Principalities are an easy option for this, allowing a vampire to have entrenched power stretching back for generations. But they could just as easily be the lord of a remote community in the Five Nations… or the captain of a ship, or the foreman of a factory. The point is that they hold power; they have a secure stronghold and considerable resources; and that the local population supports them, whether due to actual devotion or simply because of overwhelming terror. Such a vampire might have supernatural connections that go beyond their typical powers. Perhaps the vampire can see through the eyes of every rat in their domain. Maybe they control the weather. Perhaps they have shadow-minions that can possess the shadows of residents or visitors. The adventurers can’t figure out how the count seems to know their every plan… and then they realize the wizard’s shadow is moving on its own!
The Spreading Cult. You have a quest that’s brought you to this small town, and that’s going to keep you there for a while, a quest that has nothing to do with vampires. But some of the people are acting strangely. When a blood-drained corpse shows up on the edge of town, you suspect there’s a vampire about… and perhaps you even have a clash with a spawn that proves it. But how do you go about discovering the identity of the vampire, and how do you balance it with your primary quest? How do you deal with it if someone vital to your quest becomes a spawn—or if you discover the identity of the vampire, only to realize that you need their help to accomplish your quest? I’ve suggested this as a small town scenario, but in a large town the spread of a vampire’s brood could be lost amid the noise of everyday activity. Perhaps the vampire targets a local gang; they’re already prone to violence, so a few deaths will go unnoticed. Once they’ve secured the gang, they start spreading throughout the entire underworld. Or perhaps they’re pursuing a political agenda… and once again, what do you do if you discover this, but you and the vampire both want the same political outcome? Do you destroy the vampire if it means losing that crucial vote? An interesting secondary question is what you do about the spawn after you defeat the master vampire. Do you hunt them all down, even those that used to be your friends or loved ones? Or do you believe that they can resist the hunger and retain their humanity?
The Ancient Enemy. By the Monster Manual entry, a vampire spellcaster is a CR 15 creature—not something a low level character could face. I’ll talk more about this below, but one option is to say that there’s a vampire that has feuding with your family for countless generations, killing each member of your bloodline as soon as they have a child. The vampire shows up occasionally, to see how you’re doing and to mock you before vanishing in mist. Perhaps you go to sleep in an inn, only to wake up to find the innkeeper turned to spawn. Hopefully its overconfidence will be the end of it! Alternatively, the vampire in this scenario could be an agent of the Emerald Claw in addition to being the scourge of your bloodline; in addition to haunting you, they are also carrying out missions for Lady Illmarrow. If you cross paths, they won’t kill you, because it’s not time yet; but they can still make you suffer!
The Desperate Spawn. A vampire exerts control over the spawn that it creates. But some spawn cling to their humanity and seek to defy their undead master. Your adventurers could receive assistance from just such a spawn. They might be very limited in the help they can provide, or only able to assist in certain places or at certain times. But this can be a compelling way to have a vampire as an ally. Of course, the question is whether the adventurers can trust the spawn… does it truly seek to retain its humanity? Or does it simply want its master slain so it can be independent and pursue its own malevolent path?
The Repentant Monster. Vampires don’t have to do evil or to be evil. The hunger of Mabar—or whatever power animates the vampire—drives them to prey on the living, but they can fight these urges. The vampire mentors of the Blood of Vol are an example of this; they are sustained by blood freely given by the faithful, and (at least in theory) devote their undead existence to guiding and protecting Seekers. While there’s nothing wrong with having a vampire who’s never done anything bad in its entire existence, a repentant monster can be a compelling character. Most vampires begin as spawn under the control of a sire, who might make them do terrible things; consider a certain vampire king in Eberron canon who was forced to murder his beloved spouse. Or consider Angel from the Buffy series; his infamous past highlighted his currently heroism and also served as a lingering threat. This ties to a vampire’s longevity. How will adventurers react when they learn that the vampire NPC who’s serving as a patron or mentor now was an infamous murderer when they served alongside Malleon the Reaver? Do they believe that they are truly repentant?
In considering these stories—I should call out the following concept from Chronicles of Eberron:
Once you have one vampire, it’s easy to make more … so why aren’t vampires more common? The primary reason is that it’s not easy being a vampire. A vampire is bound to Mabar, and Mabar is hungry. This fuels a vampire’s thirst for both the blood and life energy of the living, and over time, it becomes increasingly difficult for a vampire not to see all living creatures as prey. A weak-willed vampire quickly devolves into a feral predator; such creatures use the statistics of vampire spawn, but their Intelligence is more a measure of cunning than of rational thought. It takes strong will to maintain your personality as a vampire, and stronger still to maintain any empathy or compassion for other creatures. This is why vampires are seen as monsters, for many do become ghoulish killers that need to be hunted down by templars of the Silver Flame, the knights of Dol Arrah, or the Aereni Deathguard. This is an additional reason most vampires don’t make legions of spawn; all it takes is one spawn going feral and drawing templars to town to lead to a deep purge. Undead have no rights under the Code of Galifar, and destroying a vampire isn’t considered murder; you’d just better be sure the mayor is a vampire before you kill him.
You don’t have to embrace this idea, and it’s also something that could vary by strain. In the case of a cult, the idea is that the willpower of the sire sustains the spawn, but that if the master is slain the spawn could devolve into monsters. Likewise, in cultures like the Blood of Vol or the Bloodsails where vampirism is an accepted tool, a newborn will be guided through their new existence, so the feral collapse is rare. But it’s a reason people aren’t lining up to become vampires… and a challenge you’ll have to deal with when facing a cult.
VAMPIRIC POWER
The default vampire in the Monster Manual has a Challenge Rating of 13-15… far too powerful for a starting party of adventurers. It also feels pretty dramatically powerful to use in many of the situations that have been described above. Is every vampire Bloodsail CR 13? Are you going to run up against a CR 15 vampire “mentor” if you start a brawl in a Seeker community? The CR 15 vampire spellcaster works great for The Ancient Enemy or They Are The Land… but it can be overpowering when you just want to have a vampire leading a small Emerald Claw cell.
The simplest answer is that most of the vampires in Khorvaire—Seeker guides, Bloodsail pirates, Emerald Claw officers—aren’t vampires; they’re vampire spawn. With both the Bloodsails and the Blood of Vol, there are a few full vampires—Grim Lords of Farlnen, members of the Crimson Covenant—who turn the mortal aspirants who have earned a vampiric existence. In those cultures, the sire typically doesn’t enforce their will over their spawn, though they could. And in time, the spawn might earn the blood of their sire and unlock greater power. Nonetheless, the “typical” vampire you’re likely to encounter as a Seeker guide or an Emerald Claw enforcer would actually be a vampire spawn… which, at CR 5, is a more reasonable challenge for a low level group of adventurers.
While this is a practical solution to the power level of a vampire, the default vampire spawn lacks many of the classic vampire powers and isn’t the most interesting opponent. I’m posting a companion article on my Patreon that provides additional options for vampire spawn to make them more interesting enemies.
STRAINS AND BLOODLINES
There are many different forms of vampire that can be found across Khorvaire. The Qabalrin strain is the most widespread and well known, and it’s what the common person thinks of when they hear the word “vampire”. This section discusses the Qabalrin vampire and a few of the other bloodlines out in the world.
Qabalrin: The Common Vampire
When the typical citizen of the Five Nations, they think of an undead creature with fangs, an affinity for bats and wolves, an aversion to sunlight and an inability to enter homes unless invited. Academics refer to this strain as the Qabalrin Vampire, as it was believed to have been created by the necromancers of the Qabalrin elves in Xen’drik. The Line of Vol revived this strain in Aerenal, and there were a number of such vampires among the elf refugees and exiles who fled following the destruction of the Line of Vol. Some went north and helped found the Bloodsail Principality on the island of Farlnen. Other exiled vampires traveled inland and helped establish the faith now known as the Blood of Vol. But there were a handful of vampires who broke ties with their fellow elves and carved their own paths… and they and their spawn spread out across Khorvaire and into infamous legend. While the oldest Qabalrin vampires are elves, over the course of their migration they have created spawn of many different species. It’s worth noting that “Qabalrin Vampire” is an academic term; even among the Seekers and the Bloodsails, most people simply refer to these creatures as “vampires.”
Qabalrin vampires use the Vampire and Vampire Spawn stat blocks from the Monster Manual, and have the standard weaknesses. Their Charm effect involves manipulation of desire and allure; their victims adore them. The Bloodsails have developed a magic item they call the Torc of Blood and Salt. When attuned, this protects a vampire from being harmed by running water; however, water dramatically bubbles and steams when in contact with the vampire.
Qabalrin Example: The Phantom of the Grand Stage. An adventurer in Sharn is approached by an old friend who works at the Grand Stage in Upper Menthis. This friend has only been working at the Stage a little while, but it’s an excellent job they want to keep. But they’ve noticed something strange. The beloved leading man often seems pale and weak after major performances. There’s a surprising turnover in stagehands. The director absolutely refuses to make changes to a particular script, and the manager refuses to take the actor’s concerns seriously. Can the adventurers get to the bottom of this? One or more members of the stage crew are vampire spawn… and the investigation shows that their sire is a powerful Brelish noble. They finally come face to face with the Phantom, who wears a mask and has no desire to fight them; she appreciates how well they’ve played their roles. She tells them she’ll be leaving town for a decade now… and if the adventurers stop digging into her affairs, she’ll let them live. Perhaps if there’s a bard in the party, she even offers to sponsor their work; she would be an influential patron. At CR 13 the Phantom is too powerful for the adventurers to defeat; if they attack she might toy with them before making her offer again. Do they let her go? Do they fight until one or more of them are dead, at which point she laughs and mists away? Or do they agree to her terms, but then seek out allies—templars, knights of Dol Arrah—who can help them bring down the Phantom?
Barrowbones: Vassals of the Bone King
Do y’know the story of King Odakyr, lad? This was before Karrn the Conqueror, before anyone ever sought the Divinity Within. Odakyr was a warlord and a tyrant, and he drew power from the darkness in the land. It was said the shadows obeyed his beck and call. He was a cruel man, and his own son eventually brought an end to his reign with a sharp length of steel. But just one day after Odakyr was laid beneath the stones, he rose from his barrow and slew the young prince. He ruled on then, holding court only at night, and his council had more shadows than it did ministers. It was Halon Harn who finally did him in, the greatest grandsire of House Deneith, the model for the Sentinel Marshals of today. But some say Odakyr’s shadow slipped away after the battle… and that he still lingers, haunting his long-buried barrow.
The Bone King of Mabar can transform chosen mortals into vampires. Often this starts with a warlock-like pact. As with the story of Odakyr, the mortal might gain powers tied to the shadows of Mabar—abilities in line with those of a Hexblade or Undead warlock. When the individual dies, they rise again, infused with the hunger of the Endless Night. This is the source of the academic name for the line, as old stories speak of tyrants rising in their barrows. This can be a useful option for a recurring villain; the adventurers may bring an enemy down or see them die, only to have them return later in the campaign as a vampire. When a barrowbone vampire is finally destroyed, its spirit is drawn to the domain of the Bone King in Mabar, where it lingers as a wraith.
Barrowbone vampires don’t have dainty fangs. When they reveal their true nature, their jaws distend to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Long bone talons extend from their fingers; barrowbone vampires inflict slashing damage with their unarmed attacks. When a barrowbone is struck with a grievous wound, shadow leaks from them instead of blood. Barrowbone vampires don’t cast shadows—but the Bone King typically grants a vampire an undead shadow that accompanies the vassal, concealing this absence.
A barrowbone vampire may use the vampire or vampire spawn stat block as a foundation, reflecting the power of the vassal. Make the following changes to the base stat block.
- Barrowbone vampires aren’t Harmed By Running Water and don’t have the Forbiddance weakness. However, they are vulnerable to Radiant damage.
- A barrowbone can only use its Shapechange to assume mist form; for the barrowbone, this manifests as transforming into a shadow.
- A barrowbone’s Children of the Night trait summons 1d4 Shadows.
- While the barrowbone’s Charm action causes a creature to become charmed, the experience for the victim is one of abject terror; the victim feels that they must do what the vampire asks of them or they will be destroyed.
- A humanoid drained and slain by a barrowbone’s bite returns after burial with the statistics of a ghoul. These ghoul-spawn retain their appearance and memories from life, though like vampire spawn they are under the control of the vampire that made them. They cannot create other ghouls.
Barrowbone Example: King Odakyr. As described in the legend above, Odakyr ruled as a tyrant long before the Seekers of the Divinity Within settled in the region that still bears his name. Over the centuries he has occasionally returned and sought to dominate the mortals that dwell in his ancestral domain, but Seeker champions have driven him back. Yet no one has ever found his resting place, hidden deep below the Mabaran manifest zone at the heart of the region. Odakyr is now the site of Fort Bones. Adventurers could get drawn into Odakyr’s attempt to return and seize control of Fort Bones; perhaps the Bone King has given him power over the Karrnathi undead! Or perhaps it’s a dungeon crawl, and adventurers need to delve into his deep crypt to recover an artifact the Bone King gave to the fallen tyrant long ago…
Souldrinkers: The Keeper’s Chosen
Legends say Souldrinkers are bound to the Keeper and the Shadow, as described in the myth that starts this article. However, it may well be that they are creations of the dracolich Mazryalyx, the master of the Keeper’s Lair. Either way, the fact is the same. They are undead predators who pay for their eternal life by consuming innocent souls. Because of this, souldrinkers are often solitary wanderers, traveling from place to place, moving on after they have fulfilled their appetites. Souldrinkers often have a particular taste; a souldrinker might only drain poets, or soldiers, or people in the depths of despair.
Souldrinkers don’t have fangs. They have a second tongue with a barbed end that can extend up to a foot from their mouth. In their vampiric form they appear to be ancient, with papery skin stretched over bone and eyes of pure darkness sunk deep in their sockets. They can use either the vampire or vampire spawn stat blocks as a foundation, with the following changes.
- Souldrinkers aren’t harmed by Running Water or by Stakes to the Heart. They are vulnerable to psychic damage, as they feel things very intensely. They can only be truly destroyed by psychic damage, eradicating their will to return.
- A souldrinker can use Shapechange to assume the form of a beast that can be summoned with Find Familiar. Each souldrinker has a specific beast form it can take; once chosen this cannot be changed.
- Souldrinkers retain traces of the memories of the creatures they drain. A Souldrinker can speak with the voices of its victims, using these to taunt adventurers with those they’ve lost. A Souldrinker can cast speak with dead targeting its victims, as if their bodies were present. When the sun sets, a Souldrinker can choose one skill or tool that one of its former victims was proficient in; for the next 24 hours, the Souldrinker has proficiency and expertise with that skill.
- Souldrinkers do not have the Children of the Night trait.
- Souldrinkers don’t create spawn. Someone reduced to zero hit points by a Souldrinker can only be restored to life by a wish spell. The DM must decide if the souls remain within the Souldrinker—in which case, the victims could be restored to life through normal methods if the Souldrinker is destroyed—or if they are channeled to a specific place or power, such as the Lair of the Keeper.
Malefic Vampires: Spawn of the Overlords
Ultimately, vampires are creatures that appear to be humanoids and prey on humanoids in order to prolong their unnatural existence. Many of the overlords can corrupt mortals to create predators. Such malefic vampires may be undead, or they may be fiends; it’s up to the DM to decide if they are a corpse animated by demonic forces, or a mortal husk possessed by fiendish power. There’s a few examples of malefic vampires, but it’s not a conclusive list.
- The Cold Sun. Vampires created by the overlord Masvirik manifest serpentine traits. When they reveal their vampiric nature their jaws distend and reveal long, serpentine fangs; they shed their skin, revealing scales underneath. In addition to the standard effect, someone bitten by a Cold Sun vampire must make a Constitution saving throw (DC 17 for a vampire, DC 14 for spawn) or be paralyzed for one minute; the victim repeats the saving throw at the end of each of their turns, ending the effect on success and gaining immunity to that vampire’s venom for one minute. Poison Dusk vampires aren’t harmed by running water, but they are vulnerable to fire damage. A Poison Dusk vampire can shapechange into mist or into a tiny snake; the Children of the Night action can be used to summon 1d4 swarms of poisonous snakes.
- The Heart of Winter. Vampires created by the overlord Draal Khatuur have veins filled with frozen blood. They don’t actually drink blood, but instead absorb the heat from creatures they embrace. When they reveal their vampire form, their flesh is encased in frost and they radiate an aura of cold, inflicting 5 cold damage on any creature that starts its turn adjacent to the vampire. Iceblood vampires are immune to cold damage and vulnerable to fire damage. In place of Charm, they can use an effect that mimics hold person; the victim is actually frozen for the duration of the spell. Icebloods don’t have the Forbiddance weakness, but they cannot move within 5 feet of a source of fire equal to or larger than a torch. The only form an iceblood vampire can take with shapechanging is a cold mist. Iceblood vampires don’t have the Children of the Night trait, but they can cast Ray of Frost, which manifests as the vampire trying to suck the warmth from the target at a distance.
- The Oathbreaker. Eldrantulku loves to sow strife and intrigue among allies, and oathbreaker vampires use their gifts to set feuds in motion and cause vendettas. Once an oathbreaker vampire has tasted a humanoid’s blood, it gains a number of benefits. It can use its Shapechanger ability to duplicate the appearance of the victim (or to assume a misty form). It can cast dream on the victim once per day. And it can cast detect thoughts on the victim from any distance, provided they are both on the same plane. The victim feels that they are being watched when this occurs, but cannot identify the source of the sensation. If a victim makes a successful saving throw against either dream or detect thoughts, they are immune to the oathbreaker’s manipulations for 24 hours. Oathbreaker vampires don’t have the Children of Night trait.
- The Gatekeeper. Katashka delights in spreading fear of the undead among mortals, and prefers its minions to be ghastly and dramatic. The nosferatu presented in Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft is a good example of a vampiric creature Katashka would create; the Gatekeeper is also known to create Spawn of Kyuss, though in Eberron these are “Spawn of Katashka.”
Abominations: Creations of the Daelkyr
The daelkyr have created their own variations of vampires and vampire spawn. Often, these creatures are alien entities animating corpses, and are aberrations rather than undead. Kyrzin vampires are a form of ooze that replaces the victim’s blood; when they use Misty Escape, they actually abandon their host body in vaporous form and have to animate a new corpse; they summon oozes instead of rats and bats. Valaara’s vampires are insect colonies animating corpses, a more subtle form of the Spawn of Kyuss. Dyrrn creates psychic vampires that consume thoughts instead of blood.
Thelanian Vampires: Storybook Villains
While academics use the term “Thelanian,” most Thelanian vampires are natives of the material plane. Often they are transformed due to a connection to an archfey, similar to the relationship between the Bone King of Mabar and the barrowbone vampires. Lady Talon is an example of a Thelanian vampire; she is tied to the fey of the Riverwood, and has become something more than mortal. Thelanian vampires are considered to be fey as opposed to undead, but the key is that they are still unnaturally extending their life by consuming the blood or energy of others. The cosmetic details of a Thelanian vampire should reflect the Archfey or tale that has spawned them. The Archfey of the Riverwood is tied to owls, and so is Lady Talon; and as a spirit of the Riverwood, she enjoys running water. Typically, every Thelanian vampire will be unique; learning about the fey or the tale they are tied to will be the key to understanding their powers.
ALTERNATE WEAKNESSES
Chronicles of Eberron suggests a number of alternative weaknesses for vampires. Here’s a few ideas that could be used instead of or in addition to the standard options. These ideas aren’t especially restricted to vampires; they could be tied to oathbound, death knights, or any other undead with an appropriate story.
Anchors. The Monster Manual suggests that a vampire must be tied to its coffin and to grave dirt from the site of its original burial. But depending on the strain of the vampire and its personal story, it could be connected to something other than a coffin. This could be similar to a lich’s phylactery, an object that facilitates the vampire’s return if it is destroyed. Perhaps a barrowbone tyrant doesn’t flee in mist form, but they are tied to their spiked adamantine crown. They will only truly be defeated (and condemned to wraithdom) if the crown is destroyed; otherwise, some weak-willed mortal will be compelled to put on the crown, and their body will be reshaped into that of the vampire. Or perhaps specific abilities of the vampire are tied to an object. A handsome vampire keeps a portrait made of them in life in their mansion; if it is burnt, the vampire will be unable to conceal their true nature, becoming hideous and withered. A Thelanian vampire might be tried to a tree. They meld with the tree when they rest or retreat, and the sap of the tree is instead all the blood the vampire has drained from its victims.
Ghostlight. Something familiar to players of Phoenix Dawn Command, this is the idea that certain undead are vulnerable to relics and reminders of their original death. By learning the history of the creature, adventurers can learn how to effectively defeat it. King Odakyr was first killed by his son, a human wielding a dagger. The closer adventurers can get to recreating this original death, the more bonuses they should receive. At the simplest level, a human attacking Odakyr with a dagger could get advantage to attack rolls. If the human is wearing a piece of clothing or jewelry that belonged to Odakyr’s son, the king might be vulnerable to the damage they inflict. If they can find the actual dagger originally used to kill him, they might get all of that and negate his regeneration, or score critical hits on an 18-20. Conversely, you could say that Odakyr cannot be permanently slain any other way, which is why he lingers to this day; the dagger is lost and has never been found. The point of this is to encourage and reward investigation; the only way to defeat the undead creature is to understand it, and to confront it with its own mortality.
The Power of Faith. While many divine spellcasters have ways to harm undead, on its own a holy symbol has no power over a vampire. In my campaign, I like to give such symbols power based on the faith of the vampire. If a vampire (or other sentient undead creature) was an especially devout follower of a particular faith, it must make a Wisdom saving throw (DC 13) when someone uses an action to brandish a holy symbol of that faith and castigate them. If it fails the saving throw, the undead creature is frightened of the symbol until the end of the brandishing character’s next turn. For a more intense situation, a DM could allow a character of strong faith to take a bonus action to engage in an opposed Religion check with the vampire; if the adventurer wins the contest, the vampire has disadvantage on attack rolls against them and they have advantage on saving throws against its attacks until the end of their next turn. In both of these cases, the key is that the vampire has to have once had faith, and the adventurers have to know what it was they believed in. The point is that if a Souldrinker vampire believes its power comes from the Keeper, there is a level at which it believes it is an abomination in Dol Arrah’s eyes—and thus it responds to being cursed in her name. But a Qabalrin vampire that never believed in any power greater than itself won’t be shaken by your invocation of Aureon or the Flame.
WHAT ABOUT DHAMPIRS?
Dhampirs possess vampiric traits but aren’t actually undead. In Chronicles of Eberron I suggested that dhampirs could mortals born in Mabaran manifest zones and touched by its all-consuming hunger, or that they could be shaped by pacts with Katshka or the Keeper. These ideas still work, but another option is that you became a dhampir due to extended contact with a vampire. Perhaps you were kept prisoner by a vampire, drained just to the edge of death time and again; you survived and eventually escaped, but you were forever changed by the experience. Maybe you were actually slain and returned as a vampire spawn… but due to a quirk of your sire’s bloodline, when it was destroyed, all of its spawn were returned to the half-life of the dhampir. Or perhaps you were a familiar who willingly bound yourself to a vampire… and through this bargain, you gained a fraction of your vampire’s power.
That’s all for now, but I’m posting a companion article on my Patreon that delves deeper into vampire spawn, familiars, and dhampir, including optional abilities for vampire spawn and a background for familiars! I’m also going to be hosting a live Q&A on Discord this Sunday for my Threshold patrons, discussing ways to handle spooky stories and horror in D&D!
Flashback: Haunts and Borders—the Ethereal Plane of Eberron
This article was first published in 2022, but with spooky season upon us, it seemed like a good time to revisit the topic!
The cosmology of Eberron is often depicted as a vast orrery. Each of the thirteen planes embodies a particular concept, while the material plane is the nexus where all of their ideas are expressed—the realm of life and death, war and peace, story and stagnation. The Astral Plane is the space between and beyond them, embodying nothing. What, then, is the Ethereal Plane and how does it differ from the Astral?
First of all, forget everything you know from canon sources, Eberron or otherwise. This article is about how I use the Ethereal Plane in my campaign, which combines aspects of the traditional Ethereal Plane, the Plane of Shadow, the Shadowfell, and the Feywild… and builds from there. And the first difference is, don’t call it a plane. If you want to move between planes, or between Eberron and the rest of the Multiverse, you’ll travel through the Astral Plane. The Ethereal has no defining concept, and most importantly, it has no independent existence; it’s a shadow cast by another plane. With this in mind, most scholars in Eberron don’t call it the Ethereal Plane; they call it the Ethereal Veil. Think of it as the backstage of reality, a layer that lets you slip outside reality while still being close enough to observe it.
In this article, I’ll start with a general overview of the Ethereal Veil and then delve into two additional ways you can interact with the Ethereal: Haunts and Borders.
THE ETHEREAL VEIL
The Ethereal Veil is a gray shadow of the world. For the most part, the Veil functions exactly as described in canon.
While on the Ethereal Plane, you can see and hear the plane you originated from, which is cast in shades of gray, and you can’t see anything there more than 60 feet away. You can only affect and be affected by other creatures on the Ethereal Plane. Creatures that aren’t there can’t perceive you or interact with you, unless they have the ability to do so. You ignore all objects and effects that aren’t on the Ethereal Plane, allowing you to move through objects you perceive on the plane you originated from. The Ethereal Plane also disobeys the laws of gravity; a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.
Standing in the Veil, you see a gray shadow of reality. You can see the misty forms of buildings, of trees, of people going about their business… but you cannot be seen or heard, and you cannot affect the adjacent reality. With few exceptions, the Veil is empty. It reflects the adjacent reality, but it holds nothing of its own, and for this reason people rarely stay there for long; there’s no food, no water, and most of the time, no people. As noted earlier, the Veil is an extension of whatever plane you’re currently on. Eberron has an Ethereal Veil, but so does Fernia and so does Syrania; the Veil of Fernia is a gray shadow of Fernia, where the fires are cold and you can pass through the obsidian walls.
Two important facts are that while you can see the images of things in the Material plane—what I’ll call echoes—you can’t affect them and can move through them. This includes the ground beneath your feet. As called out in the description above, “a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.” This looks like walking, and uses the traveler’s standard movement speed; it’s simply that your feet find purchase wherever you want them to. This also means that you could, for example, just start walking straight down toward the core of the planet. However, you’re walking blind. If you hit a Border or a Haunt, the matter you’re dealing with may suddenly become impermeable, or gravity might reassert itself. And if your magic should fail, the standard rules say “You immediately return to the plane you originated from in the spot you currently occupy. If you occupy the same spot as a solid object or creature when this happens, you are immediately shunted to the nearest unoccupied space that you can occupy and take force damage equal to twice the number of feet you are moved.” If you’re deep in solid rock, that could be a very unpleasant return.
Breaching The Veil
The people of Khorvaire know the Ethereal Veil exists, but there’s limited ways to reach it. The two most common tools are blink (which has a maximum duration of one minute) and etherealness (a high level spell that lasts for up to eight hours). When you enter the Veil, the magic that keeps you there also affects the objects you bring with you. If you blink across the Veil and drop a Shard of Rak Tulkhesh it will return to the material plane as soon as the spell ends… so it’s not an easy dumping ground for cursed objects, nor is it an easy matter to build things there (though if you time things right, you might be able to drop a bomb in there just before it explodes… just ask Three Widow Jane in my Threshold campaign!).
Of course, the Veil isn’t much use if there’s no good way for adventurers to get there. Here’s a few options to consider.
- Blink is one of the powers of the Dragonmark of Passage, and House Orien has been exploring the Veil since the mark first manifested. Throughout its history, the house has experimented with ways to increase the duration of Ethereal jaunts and to take advantage of their connection to the Veil. The oldest tool in their arsenal is the passage salve, an uncommon form of oil of etherealness that only takes 1 minute to apply; it can be used by any creature, but only an heir with the Mark of Passage can activate its power. The Veil torc allows the Passage-marked wearer to cast etherealness as if it was a 3rd level spell, though the duration is only one hour. The Twelve have been continuing to work on this and may well come up with prototype focus items or eldritch machines that can allow groups of people to linger in the Veil—and naturally, they’ll need bold adventurers to test these new developments!
- The Guild of Endless Doors has always been interested in the Ethereal Veil, and they have been working on their own counterparts to Orien’s focus items. The Guild lacks the resources of the Twelve and anything they produce will be available on a smaller scale, but on the other hand, you won’t need a dragonmark to make use of it. And the Royal Eyes of Aundair could be pushing the Guild to fast-track Ethereal tools that can be used by Aundairian spies!
- Ancient Secrets. Humanity may not have mastered the Veil… but the elves of Aerenal are more advanced than the people of the Five Nations, and the dragons of Argonnessen are more powerful still. Sul Khatesh may hold secrets of the Veil that she could share with her Court of Shadows… but at what cost? These paths could provide adventurers—or their enemies—with tools or rituals that support Ethereal exploration.
- Breaking Reality. Reality is a toy in the clutches of the daelkyr. A cult of the Dragon Below might tear apart the Veil or even collapse a chunk of reality into it. Consider Stranger Things!
The Dangers of the Veil
Eberron is a world where the supernatural is part of nature. The Ethereal Veil is part of life, just like air and water—and just like fish adapt to water and birds soar through the air, there are creatures in Eberron who naturally interact with the Ethereal Veil. Phase spiders are a perfect example of this—a predator with a natural ability to cross the Veil at will. While blink dogs currently teleport directly from point to point, I like to take their name literally and imagine them darting through the Veil, if only for a moment.
Night Hags are another possible threat. Along with their nightmares, these fiends have always had free access to the Veil. Every night hag has at least one sanctum hidden in the Ethereal Veil, and most have left other markers and monuments scattered around it. An old iron lantern hidden in the veil might monitor dreams, calling to the hag who forged it when there’s something worthy of attention. A monolith might be a cache where a hag stores the (literal) nightmares she collects—or she might have a stable of equine nightmares hidden in the Veil. Given the vast scope of the Ethereal Veil, adventurers are unlikely to stumble upon hag creations by accident, but night hags can definitely be a source of deadly traps or enigmatic elements waiting to be found across the Veil.
Another traditionally Ethereal-dwelling species are the Ethergaunts. Originally they’re presented as an alien species with an advanced civilization in the Ethereal Plane. Canon lore suggested that they were tied to the Daelkyr. Personally, I’d take a different approach. I don’t want a powerful civilization in the Veil, and the Daelkyr have enough going on. But I love the idea of eerie alien scientists who are watching us from beyond the Veil—who could be in the room with you right now. I love the thought of an Ethergaunt triggering a series of bizarre and seemingly impossible events—a man killed, the pieces of his body discovered in different locked vaults—in pursuit of fear, or even of children’s toys appearing from nowhere as a way to trigger joy. With this in mind, I’d tie the Ethergaunts to Mordain the Fleshweaver. Mordain never leaves Blackroot. But I love the idea that he’s created a corps of agents who are active all over the world… but active on the other side of the Veil. I love the idea of a man being questioned about an impossible murder, and when the Medani inquisitve casts see invisibility they are shocked by the hideous creature watching the interrogation from across the Veil. And the point of this approach is that each ethergaunt has its own task. It’s not introducing another organized enemy; it’s an army of invisible terrors, each pursuing a unique and unpredictable goal as they gather data for their creator. The final piece of this puzzle is how Mordain created the ethergaunts. Were they made from raw materials? Or did Mordain kidnap Orien heirs—beneath their armor, do ethergaunts have a bizarrely evolved form of the Mark of Passage?
Beyond this, part of the role of the Veil is to be undiscovered and unknown. It is as vast as the reality itself, and there may be powers within it that humanity has simply never encountered. It’s an alien world waiting to be discover that is all around us, just beyond what our eyes can see.
All this deals with the broad swath of the Veil, the gray shadow of the reality. But there are places where the Ethereal takes a more concrete form; the two most common of these are Haunts and Borders.
ETHEREAL HAUNTS
As described in this article, most ghosts in Eberron are “souls trapped between Eberron and Dolurrh, driven to complete their unfinished business or held fast by emotions or memories they can’t let go. While they have at least some of their memories from life, most ghosts aren’t fully aware of their condition or the passage of time, and they generally can’t retain new information.” Let’s call these restless spirits lingering ghosts.
When a lingering ghost is bound to a location—typically due to traumatic events that occurred there—it resides in the Ethereal Veil. Most such ghosts aren’t aware of the passage of time. They linger in the ether until something pulls them across the Veil, typically something tied to the anchors keeping them from Dolurrh. Most of the time, a lingering ghost simply drifts through the shadows of the Ethereal Veil, endlessly retracing its steps until something triggers a reaction. However, a lingering ghost driven by exceptionally powerful emotions or memories can reshape the Veil, imposing its own memories upon the the shadows of reality. So it may be that the ir’Halan Manor is a crumbling ruin stripped by looters long ago—but if a warlock blinks into the Veil, they find themselves in a vibrant replica of ir’Halan Manor at its height. There’s a fire in the hearth, music in the air, and guests mingling and murmuring. This is a Haunt—a recreation of the night that Lady ir’Halan was betrayed and murdered. It’s here that her ghost dwells, endlessly recreating that final night. Ethereal travelers can interact with objects and effects that are part of the Haunt; someone who blinks into the memory of ir’Halan Manor will find that they can’t walk through the walls and that normal gravity is in effect, and that they can take a drink from the waiter passing by. However, for the most part the elements of a Haunt are only real within the Veil. A traveler can take a drink from a waiter and they can savor the flavor of it… but when they blink back to reality, the glass fades from their hand and the wine itself fades from their system. In many ways it’s like a powerful illusion; a popular arcane theory asserts that many illusion spells function by shaping the Veil and pulling it into reality. But while you’re in the Veil, a haunt seems real.
The classic Haunt is tied to a single ghost; if that ghost is destroyed or laid to rest, the Veil will return to its gray shadow of reality. However, a Haunt can also be shaped by a mass surge of emotions or pain so powerful that they leave psychic scars on reality. The site of a massacre, a prisoner of war camp, an orphanage… all of these can leave Haunts on the other side of the Veil. Where the ghost Haunts often perfectly recreate a moment from the past, traumatic Haunts are often more surreal. If you’re in the ruins of a village destroyed by brutal soldiers during the Last War, the Haunt on the other side of the Veil could be haunted by shadowy creatures that blend the traits of Brelish soldier and beast, using the statistics of worgs; the Veil remembers the terror and brutality, not the precise details. As with ghost Haunts, traumatic haunts feel real to people who enter the Veil; travelers can’t move through objects, people can’t walk through the air, and threats can inflict real damage.
While Haunts are usually tied to locations, a lingering ghost can also be tied to an object… or even to a particular event, such as a song. In such instances the ghost won’t completely transform the Veil, but it will leak elements of its anchoring trauma into the environment.
See invisibility is a 2nd level spell and allows the caster to peer beyond the Veil. As such, it’s an important tool for mediums and exorcists; as it’s a gift of the Mark of Detection, House Medani inquisitives may be called in to investigate suspected Haunts.
Beyond ghosts and trauma, there’s another force that can create Haunts within the Veil: the Overlords of the First Age. An unbound overlord can shape reality; a bound overlord might reshape the Veil in its image. The most logical place for this would be around an Overlord’s prison. If you cross the Veil near the prison of the Wild Heart, you might find that the echoes of the woods are not only solid but writhing and aggressive. The Veil in the vicinity of one of Rak Tulkhesh’s prison shards might be stained with blood and the refuse of recent battle… a foreshadowing of Rak Tulkhesh’s desires. Another possibility is that the devotions of a Cult of the Dragon Below could channel the influence of their overlord to shape the Veil in their place of power. Sul Khatesh’s Court of Shadows imagine a magical kingdom that exists beyond the world; it could be that through their devotion, a powerful chapter of the Court could create this shadow-kingdom on the other side of the Veil. If so, the question is whether Sul Khatesh allows her cultists to cross the Veil, or if they simply have the ability to SEE these umbral spires rising behind reality when others cannot. In a twist—in part because otherwise it would be all too easy for House Medani to monitor cults—in my campaign Overlord Haunt effects can’t be seen by see invisibility, though true seeing will reveal their presence; just as rakshasa resist low level spells, the influence of the overlords isn’t so easily revealed.
Lingering Ghosts and Shades
Lingering ghosts usually don’t know that they’re ghosts. They linger because they’re trapped in a particular moment or by a powerful anchor, and they interpret all events through that emotional lens. Often when dealing with adventurers, a lingering ghost will fixate on one or more adventurers who bear some similarity to characters from their own personal drama—recognizing the bard as the lover who spurned them, or the rogue as the cousin who ruined them—and completely ignore the other adventurers. They generally can’t be reasoned with and simply won’t hear things that don’t fit their narrative. Persuasion and Intimidation often have little impact on them, because they essentially can’t change their minds… unless the speaker is actually invoking part of the ghost’s story, in which case a check might have advantage.
Lingering ghosts can use the standard ghost stat block from the Monster Manual, but they aren’t visible on the material plane while in the Veil; there could be lingering ghosts around you right now, but you’ll never know unless something pulls them across the Veil. Also, because lingering ghosts don’t know they’re ghosts, they don’t always take full tactical advantage of their capabilities in combat. They may use Horrifying Visage instinctively, manifesting their horrifying visage in a moment of anguish or rage. Possession is often used to seize control of an adventurer who has some similarities to the ghost’s living form; the ghost doesn’t recognize that they are possessing someone and believes the body is their own. However, the classic ghost stat block is only a starting point. Depending on the ghost’s scenario and the strength of its anguish, it could be a simple poltergeist or even something as powerful as a dullahan. While the core stat blocks are a good place to start, part of what makes encounters with lingering ghosts interesting is to vary them based on the story and unique nature of the ghost.
- To harm the ghost, you must recreate the circumstances of its original death. The man who died in fire might be immune to all damage types except fire. A ghost who died in a fateful duel could be immune to all physical damage except from rapiers, and vulnerable to damage from the rapier that actually killed them. If a ghost has such extreme resistances, you might reduce the power of its withering touch—adventurers will need time to realize their attacks aren’t working and find an effective solution.
- The ghost can’t attack as an action. Instead, it has three legendary actions it can use to attack an enemy who attacks it. It can taunt and provoke, but if people simply ignore it, it can’t initiate violence.
- Instead of targeting everyone within 60 feet, apply the effects of Horrifying Visage to victims of the ghost’s physical attack. When the ghost touches a target, the victim has a flash of its anchoring trauma; this is what causes the fear. The aging effect could be removed or reduced to 1d4 years per attack, reflecting the sheer shock to the victim’s system.
- The ghost has no physical attack, Horrifying Visage, or Possession. However, it can cast phantasmal killer at will, drawing the victim into the nightmare of the ghost’s own death. It will typically focus on one person at a time, ignoring all others while it psychically crushes its chosen victim.
- Instead of Possession, the ghost has the power to draw a single victim into the Ethereal Veil. The victim’s physical body remains on the material plane, but their consciousness and likeness are pulled into the Veil, where they can interact with it as if they were physically present. So the victim’s companions can see the character struggling with an unknown foe, but they can’t perceive the ghost or interact with it in any way.
- Instead of Possession, the ghost can cast dream, targeting creatures across the Veil. It may target someone it identifies with, forcing them to suffer visions of the ghost’s demise, or it could target someone it blames for its tragedy.
- Rather than inflicting necrotic damage, a ghost’s attack could reflect something about their life. A duelist could inflict slashing damage with a spectral rapier; a pyromancer could inflict fire damage with a burning touch; a spurned lover could inflict psychic damage, literally breaking the heart of their victim.
Taking a scenario like the ir’Halan manor, the house may appear to be full of people, and the people in these crowd scenes aren’t full ghosts. They’re shades, memories plucked from the life of the lingering ghost. Often shades have no real existence. They’re essentially manifestations of the phantasmal force spell. Any direct attack or defense against such a shade should be resolved with a Wisdom saving throw against the spell DC of the lingering ghost; a shade’s attack deals 1d6 psychic damage. More potent shades could use the statistics of a shadow or a poltergeist; alternately, they could use the statistics of other creatures (such as the worg-soldiers in the massacre haunt). Like the lingering ghost, shades are bound to play out their roles and may not use abilities they possess if they don’t fit their role in the story.
A Haunt reflects the anchors that are binding the ghost to the world, which may not be related to the actual moment of their death. The ir’Halan manor scenario may reflect the night Lady ir’Halan was murdered, but the haunted Cannith foundry may reflect the day that Castar d’Cannith murdered his father or ruined his partner; even if Castar died a natural death, it’s his intense guilt over what he did in the foundry that binds him to the world. In dealing with anchors, consider the following questions.
- Was the ghost the victim in the scenario—they were murdered, financially ruined, framed for a crime they didn’t commit? Or are they anchored by guilt for the wrongs they inflicted on others?
- If the ghost was a victim, do they want bloody revenge? If they don’t want blood, do they want the wrongdoer to feel remorse or to publicly acknowledge what was done? Or do they just want the truth to be known by the general public?
- If the ghost was a perpetrator, do they want to make reparations for the crimes that they committed? Do they want the truth to be known? Or do they refuse to acknowledge that they have done something wrong, and they actually want any lingering evidence of their guilt to be wiped out?
- Another option is that the ghost died with a task unfinished. This could be very concrete—a letter that was never delivered, an arcane experiment that was never completed, a buried treasure that was supposed to be found. Or it could be more abstract—they wanted a town to prosper, a child to have a good home.
Loosening an anchor could be a task for an altruistic group of adventurers who want to lay a ghost to rest. However, it can also simply be used to set the tone and parameters of a haunt. A murdered many may not be able to rest until the entire family line of his murderer has been exterminated. The adventurers may consider this extreme and ruthless desire to be vile and cruel; the point is that the ghost’s haunt may reflect their hunger for bloody vengeance, and if one of the player characters is part of the murderer’s bloodline, it could drive the story.
THE BORDER ETHEREAL
The material plane is influenced by all of the other planes. Where this influence is especially strong, you find manifest zones. Traits of the outer plane bleed into the material, and planar energies may produce unusual flora or fauna. However, often manifest zones aren’t obvious to the naked eye. It’s the influence of Syrania that makes it possible for the towers of Sharn to scrape the sky, but if you never try flying, you might never notice its effects.
This changes when you cross the Veil. Where another plane touches the material, you’ll find the Border Ethereal—a dramatic blending of the two realms. The Border Ethereal generally reflects the reality of the material plane in its layout and structure; when you blink into the Veil from a tower in Sharn, you’ll still be in a tower with roughly the same shape. But the cliffs over the Dagger are now formed of thick cloudstuff. The towers themselves are formed of crystal and mist. You can see shadow angels circling in the skies, along with whorls of living cloud-stuff (the minor air elementals mentioned on page 152 of Rising From The Last War).
Likewise, imagine a Fernian manifest zone in the King’s Forest of Breland. In the material plane, this stretch of jungle is unseasonably warm and prone to flash fires. But when you cross the veil, you find that same forest, except that the trees are always on fire and yet never consumed. Mephits leap from tree to tree, delighting in the flames. While the trees are never consumed, their flames will burn any travelers who touch them, and the stifling heat is deadly to mortals.
In short, the Border Ethereal takes on some of the elements of the traditional Feywild (Thelanian Borders) and Shadowfell (Borders with Dolurrh or Mabar), while adding a host of other blended realms. However, the stories of the Border Ethereal are smaller in scope and scale than the stories of the planes; you might make a deal with a terrifying hag in a Thelanian Border, but if you want to deal with an archfey or dance in the Palace of the Moon, you need to go to Thelanis itself.
You can use any of the methods described in Breaching the Veil to reach a Border, but sometimes there are other options unique to the manifest zone. Dance in the ring of mushrooms when Rhaan is full and you might end up on the other side of the Veil. Sacrifice something you love in fire, and your grief might drag you across the Fernian border. These passages shouldn’t be easy—it’s not like the locals should have regular commerce with the Border Ethereal—and most zones don’t have them, but they can provide ways for adventurers to have an adventure across the Veil without having to spend a fortune on oil of etherealness, and a way to have a taste of the planes without entirely leaving home.
Denizens of the Border Ethereal
One of the major things that distinguishes the Border Ethereal from the planes they’re connected to are the inhabitants. The Border Ethereal resembles a blend of the two planes, and people can see shadows of the inhabitants on both sides of the veil. In the example given above, the angels that can be seen in the skies of the Border Ethereal in Sharn aren’t present in the border; they’re shadowy images of the denizens of Syrania, flying through their own skies. The borders of Shavarath appear war-torn and you may see misty images of conscripts and fiends, but the damage you see in the environment around you wasn’t actually caused by recent action. So for the most part, the Border Ethereal is empty and relatively safe for travelers. However, there are exceptions.
- Anchors. Some Ethereal Borders are home to an anchoring entity, who plays the same basic role as a lingering ghost does with a haunt. This is usually a powerful immortal from the associated plane, but it’s rarely one of the most powerful beings in that plane. A Mabaran Border could be held by a Ultroloth servant of the Empress of Shadows, or a powerful banshee sworn to the Queen of All Tears. A forested Thelanian border might be bound to the tragic story of an exceptional dryad who is a daughter of the Forest Queen, but you won’t find the Forest Queen herself on the Border. A Lamannian Border might be anchored by a massive megafauna beast, while a powerful beholder might watch the world from the Border Ethereal. If it’s possible to pass through a border, the Anchor Lord may control the passage. Anchor lords typically can’t leave their borders, but those with an interest in the material might well recruit mortal agents; this could be an interesting, smaller-scale patron for a warlock, if a campaign is based in a particular region.
- Denizens. Sometimes Borders will have a small population of native creatures from the associated plane. Mabaran Borders are often home to shadows, and sometimes when powerful undead are destroyed in Mabaran zones they linger in the Veil instead of going directly to the Endless Night; a slain vampire might continue to haunt their castle as a wraith in the Border Ethereal. Restless souls can linger on the edge of Dolurrh. A Thelanian Border might have a small population of native sprites… and a Xoriat Border may be home to aberrations. Again, Borders generally aren’t crowded, and the natives will be outnumbered by the misty reflections of the people on the material plane… but some are inhabited.
- Shades. As with Haunts, Borders can manifest illusions relating to their story—creatures that seem so real that they can inflict slight damage, but which have no ongoing existence or logical ecology surrounding them.
- Travelers. Especially in a Border with no Anchor, it’s always possible you’ll encounter other travelers. Set aside Night Hags, Chamber observers, Lords of Dust, or Ethergaunts and you could still find Orien heirs or Royal Eyes of Aundair using the latest tools from the Guild of Endless Doors to spy across the Veil. But in general the Ethereal Veil is a place you pass through—not a place where mortals dwell.
Passing Through
The Ethereal Veil extends from the plane its attached to, but no farther. There’s no Deep Ethereal, no curtains to other planes; the Astral Plane is the primary corridor for travel. However, the Borders are where planes come together, and it may be possible to move between material and the connected planes in such places. Anchor Lords often have the power to open passages for travelers. Otherwise, passages are often well hidden and may require particular actions to open. There might be a gate of rusted iron in a Shavarath Border that only opens when blood is spilled in anger, or a clearing in Thelanis that provides passage when adventurers tell the story of their destination.
The Effects of the Planes
Typically the Border Ethereal resembles the overlapping region in the Material Plane—the material foundation—transformed to reflect the influence of the outer plane. The Lamannian Border of a city will be overgrown; the Shavaran Border of a city will be shattered by war. The misty echoes of the creatures of the material plane can be seen moving around, and occasionally echoes of extraplanar beings can be seen as well.
A crucial feature of the Border Ethereal is that its structures are solid. Explorers can’t walk through the burning trees of a forest in a Fernian Border, or the fortified walls of a Shavaran Border. Gravity is also usually in effect in Borders, so people can’t walk through the air. Here’s a few elements you could find in the Border Ethereal; the planar traits referred to are described in Exploring Eberron.
- DAANVI. Angles feel sharper. People naturally move to an underlying rhythm; the Plane of Truth and No Chance properties (ExE) are usually in effect. Structures or plants may be formed from metal, perfect and precise. Anything naturally chaotic—the patterns of ivy, clouds—are structured and reliable. Misty images of marching modrons can occasionally be seen.
- DAL QUOR. The destruction of Crya severed Dal Quor’s direct connections to the material plane, and just as there are no manifest zones, there’s no Border Ethereal between Dal Quor and Eberron.
- DOLURRH. At a glance, the Border of Dolurrh looks just like the rest of the Ethereal Veil—a grey echo of the material plane, perhaps with a little more mist clinging to the edges. Shades often linger in Dolurrhi borders. Some are husks whose memories have been stripped away, vague grey outlines of people. Others are the spirits of people who have recently died in the area—not so restless as to become lingering ghosts, yet still clinging to the world, unwilling to slip away. Like lingering ghosts, such spirits usually can’t comprehend their situation—but they know they have somewhere to be, something to do. The Dolurrh Border is a dangerous place; the Eternal Entrapment and Inevitable Ennui traits are in effect, and anyone who lingers too long can get trapped forever.
- FERNIA. First and foremost, FIRE. Things burn without being consumed. Bodies of water may be replaced by magma or pure fire. Obsidian, brass, and igneous stone are common materials, and the air may be filled with smoke and ash. The Deadly Heat property of Fernia is in effect.
- IRIAN. The Pure Light property of Irian means that there’s no darkness in an Irian Border. Colors are bright and cheerful. Plants and wildlife appear healthy and vibrant, and things seem fresh and new. Most Irian zones also have the Life Triumphant property; it’s a good place to take shelter when you’re pursued by undead.
- KYTHRI. A Kythri border has a general resemblance to its material inspiration, but it’s always slowly changing. As one element drifts further away from the aspect of the material that cast it, another will drift back toward it; so again, overall, it resembles the material plane but is constantly shifting. Building materials are constantly in flux; if there’s a row of houses, one might be made from stone and another made from straw; give it an hour and they could both be made from hard candy. The Kythri border has the Constant Change and The Odds Are Odd properties.
- LAMANNIA. Natural features are exaggerated and weather effects are more dramatic. If the border is in an urbanized area, it will resemble the Titan’s Folly layer of Lamannia: buildings will be overgrown, with roots cracking foundations and nature reclaiming the land. Even if there are no denizens in the Border, shadows of massive beasts can be seen moving through the land. It has the Primordial Matter property of Lamannia.
- MABAR. The Eternal Shadows and Necrotic Power properties of Mabar can be felt in the Border Ethereal, consuming bright light and bolstering undead. The landscape resembles the material foundation, but plants are withered and dying and structures are decrepit and crumbling; it’s a vision of ruin and entropy. Shadows congregate in Mabaran Borders, often following the movements of people in the material world; sometimes their movements can be seen in mortal shadows.
- RISIA. Everything is either formed from ice or encrusted with it. Liquids are frozen. Risian Borders have the Lethal Cold and Stagnation effects. There are rarely any creatures in a Risian Border; it is cold and empty.
- SHAVARATH. Imagine the world at war. The Border resembles its material foundation, but cast through the lens of a bitter, prolonged conflict. Some buildings are ruined, others are fortified. There are craters and smoldering fires. While occasionally there are shades battling or misty visions of fiends and angels, more often than not it feels like an active war zone, as though the enemy could strike at any moment, but no one ever does. This Border has the Bloodletting property of Shavarath.
- SYRANIA. Syranian Borders take different forms, reflecting the aspects of the plane that manifest in the connected zone. In the Border of Sharn, the Unburdened property is in effect and all creatures can fly; as mentioned earlier, structures are formed of crystal and mist and animate clouds drift around. Another Border might be more grounded, but have the Gentle Thoughts and Universal Understanding properties, allowing all spoken languages to be understood.
- THELANIS. Every Thelanian Border has a story, and builds on the material foundation to sell that story. In one forest, the woods may grow darker and deeper, promising that wolves and far deadlier things lurk just off the path; in another forest, the trees may be full of dancing lights, with misty images of satyrs dancing in the groves. A city may become more beautiful and magical, or it could seem cruel and oppressive if the driving story is one of a bitter tyrant. The story of the Border will be well known to anyone who lives in the region. In the case of the bitter tyrant, the actual rulers may take pains not to resemble the cruel leader of the tale… or it may be that the Border seeps into reality and drives the locals to be cruel. Storybook Logic is in effect, and where there are fey, Words Have Power.
- XORIAT. There is no predicting what a Xoriat border will look like, but it’s always strange and usually disturbing. One Xoriat border may perfectly resemble its material foundation until you realize that all the structures are actually made of flesh and blood; the buildings quiver when you approach, and that low moan isn’t the wind. In another, writhing tentacles stretch up from the earth, burrowing through buildings and grasping any travelers who come to close. Mirrors ripple and reveal unpleasant truths. Colors are disturbing and gravity is unreliable; the Strange Reality property of Xoriat is always in effect.
WHAT ABOUT…
- The Plane of Shadow? In my campaign, the Ethereal Veil and the Plane of Shadow are two different words for the same thing. The Feywild is a term that could be used to describe Thelanian Borders, while the Shadowfell could describe Mabaran or Dolurrhi borders.
- Plane Shift? The spell Plane Shift can’t transport you to the Ethereal Veil, as it’s not a plane.
- Secret Chest? The spell Secret Chest is tied to the Astral Plane, not the Ethereal Veil—as previous discussed in the Subspace section of the Astral Plane article. In general, Ethereal travel takes you sideways to your current location. Any magical effect that creates a new extradimensional space or that connects planes together should be tied to the Astral Plane.
- Wild Zones? The Wild Zones of Sarlona are exceptionally powerful manifest zones—often described as planar beachheads. My personal inclination is that Wild Zones don’t have Ethereal Borders—that the reason they are wild is that the Border Ethereal normally acts as a buffer between the planes, but has here collapsed and fused them directly together. This reflects a dramatic breakdown of the cosmic design and I’d also say it’s the source of the Reality Storms—raging surges of planar energy. How could such a thing happen? It’s a mystery, but it could well be tied to the Sarlonan Overlord Ran Iishiv the Unmaker, infamously driven to tear down reality; the Unmaker may have begun this process by tearing away the Ethereal Veil.
- The Radiant Citadel? In my campaign, I’d put the Radiant Citadel in the Astral Plane. Personally, I’d make the civilizations of the Citadel legacies of previous incarnations of the Material Plane, just like Githberron. A key question would be if all or some of the civilizations came from the same world, or if each one comes from a different echo of the current reality. It could well be that the Citadel offered sanctuary to the Githyanki, but they spurned it. If I went with this approach, another important question would be the role of the Concord Jewels. Does each jewel hold a preserved version of the civilization even though its world has been lost? Or do the civilizations now only exist in the Citadel itself, while the Jewels take you to the broken worlds that are lost in the Maze of Realities?
That’s all for now! If you’d like to ask me questions on this or other topics, check out my Patreon! And thanks to my patrons for making these articles possible.
Vampires of Eberron: Lady Talon
With Halloween around the corner, I’m going to cover some spooky topics this month. This article was inspired when one of my Patrons asked about infamous vampires in Eberron. One of the things that struck me is that the standard, baseline vampire—the form of vampirism employed by the Qabalrin, the Blood of Vol, and the Bloodsails—isn’t especially mysterious in Eberron; it’s a practical tool. Among the Seekers, it’s basically a job you can aspire to. But the Qabalrin vampires aren’t the only form of vampire in Eberron, and I want to look at a few different things you could do with the Vampire stat block and the broad concept of the vampire as inspiration. With that in mind… meet Lady Talon.
You’ve noticed the owls, then? Watching from every corner of the Whiteroof Ward? They weren’t there when I was a boy. She brought them with her. Lady Talon, the Countess of Riverwood, driven from her roost by the rebels and their druids. But I see you don’t know the story.
Not many elves with noble titles, surely you know that. People don’t like the thought of one person ruling for centuries. And in her, we see why. Eudokia ir’Talyn was granted her title by Galifar himself. Some say it was a reward for wise counsel; the Countess is a gifted diviner, there’s no doubt about that. Others say that Eudokia bewitched the king, and she is most charming. But there’s a few that say while both those things are true, there’s more to it. There’s a power in the Riverwood, a hungry spirit… and Eudokia, she knows how to keep it quiet and keep both river and wood sage. That’s why Galifar gave her that domain—because she was the only one who could hold it. And that’s why she took the owl as her sigil, because the owl is dear to that power in the woods. These are all stories, of course. But there’s no question that she welcomed owls into her seat at Riverweep. And Keldon’s Crossing, where she kept her library and her arcane school? Why, it only took a century or two for people to start calling it Owl’s Perch. The Countess, she’s not a wizard or a wandslinger, throwing fireballs with a snap of her fingers. But she’s a brilliant ritualist, weaving divinations and illusions like Aundair herself; small wonder, as Eudokia tutored the young princess before the kingdom bore her name. She taught divination at her tower in Owl’s Perch, but only to a few chosen students at a time. It’s said that Lady Talon has dozens of familiars, that every owl in her domain serves as her eyes and ears. Perhaps they’re still doing it today.
So what’s this have to do with the owls in Fairhaven, hmm? Well, Talon was the Countess of the Riverwood, wasn’t she? And the Riverwood was claimed by those Eldeen Druids, along with everything else west of the Wynarn. For a time they let her stay, not as ruler no, but holding to her mansion. It was a Greensinger—Silvertongue himself—who finally drove her from her roost. I don’t know what happened, but the word is that it didn’t happen easy. The Greensingers know the fey better than most. I heard a story that Silvertongue learned a secret about ir’Talyn and the spirit of the Riverwood—something foul that the Countess had long kept hidden. Why, I can’t credit the source, but I heard someone say that the Countess herself was bound to the spirit by a foul pact, and that she would hunt in the form of an owl and feed it the blood of her victims to maintain her long life. For she is older than any elf I’ve ever known, or you have. Still looks like she could be in her first century, though with her skill at glamor that doesn’t mean a thing. Still. You ask in a Whiteroof tavern and they’ll tell you Eudokia just had enough of the druids and their rot, that she came to Fairhaven to be in Aundair proper. But I wouldn’t trust the river elves on this, no. Many of those in Whiteroof were born in Riverweep, and they still love their countess. Sovereigns and Six, Eudokia never took a spouse, but if you listen to some of the tales, it could be that half of those river elves have a touch of her blood in their veins.
Why am I telling you this? It’s the right of an old man to ramble, and that’s the truth. But it’s more than that. The owls aren’t just in Whiteroof Ward any more, no. I’ve seen ‘em watching me. Seen her watching me. Lady Talon, she’s still tied to the spirit of the Riverwood, and it’s still hungry. The Countess is spreading her wings across Fairhaven, and she doesn’t much like those who can see it. If I go missing one of these nights… you go looking for my bones in a Whiteroof Alley.
The Night Hunter
Set aside the stories and look at simple fact. Eudokia ir’Talyn was once the Countess of the Riverwood. Appointed by Galifar himself, she held her position for nearly a thousand years before being driven from the Eldeen Reaches. That makes her old even for an elf. She doesn’t show her age, but there is nothing surprising about that given her talent for illusion. As noted above, Eudokia isn’t a practicing wizard, meaning she doesn’t have spell slots and can’t cast any spell in six seconds. But she is a brilliant ritualist skilled with divination, abjuration and illusion. Given sufficient time and materials, she can scry on her enemies, cast auguries about the possible outcome of her actions, and shield her mansion against the scrying eyes of others; her manor is protected as if by the spell nondetection. She has an affinity for owls, and surely has more than one familiar; the idea that all of the owls in the Whiteroof Ward are her spies could well be exaggerated, but she has brought many with her. Eudokia is a proud Aundairian noble stung by the loss of her domain; she despises the Eldeen druids and is a strong voice urging Aurala to retake the Reaches. And in the meantime, she is surely seething at her humiliation, living in a single manor when she once governed a vast realm. It could be that this is all there is to the story—that Eudokia ir’Talyn is an old elf and a gifted mage, a proud noble driven from her land, but that there is nothing more sinister to her story.
Or perhaps there is more. Perhaps Eudokia’s seeming youth isn’t the result of illusion, but rather another form of magic that sustains her. If you go to Riverweep and ask the Khoravar that still dwell there, you might hear a different tale. They would tell you that the Riverwood was always wild and restless, and that it reached into the Wynarn River and made it dangerous to run. That a young elf made a bargain with the spirit of the wood, promising to keep it fed with blood if it would just leave the river and those who worked it be. That she held this post long before the rise of Galifar. Some that share this story say the Countess was a good woman, that when she served as the hunter of the wood she’d only prey on those who deserved killing. But others will say that she was never meant to hold the post forever… that the Keeper of the Riverwood is a role that should pass with each generation, and that Eudokia should have surrendered it long ago. Fearing age and death, the Countess has clung to her tie to the forest, and in so doing, corrupted both the Riverwood and herself. This has only grown worse since she’s come to Fairhaven. The Greensingers sought to break her connection to the Riverwood, but Eudokia has clung to that power. But every year she is away from the Riverwood her bond is increasingly corrupted and her need for blood grows. And so she is spreading her influence in Fairhaven… and urging those with power to reclaim the Eldeen Reaches for Aundair.
Again, Eudokia COULD just be a well-preserved elf diviner with a grudge against Aundair. But if the stories are true, she is something more. She is a Night Hunter—a form of vampire, but tied to Thelanis rather than Mabar, tied to the story of the Riverwood. She uses the Vampire stat block with the following modifications.
- Lady Talon is Fey, not Undead. Her life is unnaturally sustained, but she is not tied to Mabar or Dolurrh.
- Replace any use of the word “bat” with “owl.” Eudokia can summon swarms of owls and can assume the form of an owl or an owlin. When outside she may summon wolves or giant owls.
- Remove the Harmed By Running Water trait. The Riverwood is tied to the water, and Eudokia regains 10 hit points if she ends her turn in running water.
- Eudokia doesn’t take damage from sunlight, but does have disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls in sunlight; she is a nocturnal hunter. However, she is vulnerable to the light of the moon Olarune. Eudokia has clung to her power longer than she should have, and Olarune looks down in anger. When Olarune is full, and for one day on either side of this, Eudokia suffers 20 radiant damage when starting her turn in moonlight, as well as suffering disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls.
- While she is resistant to sunlight and strengthened by running water, Eudokia is vulnerable to fire damage; she burns as quickly as dry wood.
- There is a chamber in the basement of Eudokia’s manor filled with Riverwood soil and a sapling from the forest. She rests in this soil, and returns here if reduced to zero HP.
- Eudokia’s vampire spawn share her vulnerabilities as described above. Her spawn can also use an action to assume an owlin form, or to return to their natural humanoid form. While in owlin form the spawn has a flying speed equal to its walking speed, provided they aren’t wearing heavy or medium armor.
Beyond this, Eudokia is a skilled ritual spellcaster specializing in illusion, abjuration, and divination. It is up to the DM to decide what she can accomplish with her rituals. Certainly, she has shielded her manor and herself with the effect of nondetection. Within her manor she will have glyphs of warding, arcane locks, and clever illusions concealing things. She can scry on known enemies, given time. Other abilities are at the DM’s discretion.
Eudokia has deep ties to the Riverwood and to the river elves of Aundair. Despite the name, these “river elves” are Khoravar—half-elves who have long worked the rivers of Aundair, some in cooperation with House Lyrandar, others preferring to stay independent. Many of the Khoravar of Riverweep feel a sense of loyalty to the Countess, and the city was always a haven for the Khoravar. However, there are warlocks and elders among the river elves who know the Countess was holding power that should have been passed on—and know that to do so, she was in fact drinking the blood of those who worked the river; the Greensingers also sensed this imbalance. Likewise, Eudokia has a great reputation as a teacher of magic, but it’s hard to find any of her students from the last century — because she fed on them as well. The concept is that she once was a legitimate guardian of the Riverwood, but that her hunger to cling to her power and immortality has been corrupting her, requiring her to drink ever more innocent blood to survive; this is combined with an obsession to reclaim Riverweep from the Eldeen.
So how does this all come together in an adventure? Countess Eudokia ir’Talyn is a well-known figure in Fairhaven. Since she’s arrived, she’s caused a stir among the nobility with her hawkish position on reclaiming the Reaches. She’s charming and admired for her arcane talents, and some are hoping she will agree to tutor their heirs in magic. She has a loyal group of Khoravar retainers—river elves who came with her from Riverweep. Her manor is in Whiteroof Ward, known for its population of Khoravar; most know the Countess by reputation but aren’t devoted to her as her servants are. Owls have become common in Whiteroof and may be her spies. Lady Talon is spreading her influence both through the Khoravar community in Whiteroof and through those who can help her advance her agenda against the Eldeen; she could be building up a movement to rival the Brelish Swords of Liberty, preparing to seize power if Aurala won’t take action against the Reaches willingly. And beyond this, Eudokia’s appetite is increasing—the longer she stays away from the Riverwood, the more blood she needs to consume. It may be that she needs to drink the blood of river elves, or at least that it’s the most nourishing for her — so while the people of Whiteroof celebrate the countess for her past, there are ever more disappearances in the ward. It could be that a Khoravar elder or a Greensinger agent could come to the adventurers and ask them for help investigating the Countess. Alternately, it could be that a player character is a STUDENT of the Countess—or that a Khoravar adventurer has family in Whiteroof that might be drawn into Eudokia’s schemes.
I would have her defeating the druids and staying in power in Riverwood. She is way more interesting in a position of power.
Eudokia in Fairhaven is something of a parallel to dealing with Dracula in London instead of in his home. She’s NOT in charge, and her resources are limited. She’s actively recruiting allies and spawn and seeking to expand her influence—which gives adventurers lots of little opportunities to stumble across her schemes, to clash with a spawn or a cultist, to work with a local constable to investigate the mysterious string of Khoravar disappearances. It’s also a story that draws adventurers into the politics of Fairhaven and Aundair. In Eudokia, you have a noble who maintained order in her domain for centuries, a respected elder who taught some of the greatest wizards in Aundair, who’s been driven from her home. On the surface, that’s an entirely sympathetic story. And part of the point of this is that it could be the entire story. Maybe she’s NOT a night hunter — maybe she’s just an exceptionally long-lived elf. She could even become a patron for a group of adventurers who sympathize with the Aundairian Lost Lords. She might send them to Owl’s Perch to recover relics she was forced to leave behind… and it’s in that adventure that the characters might learn more about WHY she was driven from the Reaches. If the adventurers are entirely sympathetic to the Reaches, then Eudokia becomes a threat not simply through her personal power but because she is a driving force for Aundairian aggression; that gives adventurers a compelling reason to fight her politically as well as with a stake. But I definitely see an endgame of dealing with her being something where she ultimately returns to Riverweep — potentially seizing the city even if she fails to trigger an all out war between Aundair and the Reaches — and the adventurers have to face Eudokia in her lair. And THEN, I’d say that to finally and truly defeat her they will have to actually enter the Riverwood itself, and have a confrontation with the spirit that has empowered her all this time—and that, perhaps, a NEW person must volunteer to take her place as the Keeper of the Riverwood.
That’s all for now. Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible—I’ll have some surprises for Patreon later in the month!
Patron Preview: Vampires of Eberron, Part One
Monsters of Eberron: Quaggoths and the Gaa’aram
Frontiers of Eberron is out on the DM’s Guild, and I’m going to be writing some supplemental articles tied to Quickstone and the Western Frontier over the next few weeks. But I also answer questions for my patrons on Patreon. And every now and then, something that SEEMS like an obscure question takes on a life of its own. Case in point: “What’s the role of quaggoths in Eberron?” And if you don’t care about quaggoths, there’s another way to use these concepts — consider the Gaa’aram!
Now, I’ve never actually SEEN a quaggoth. But I’ll tell you a story. If you know your history, you know that there wasn’t any sort of indigenous culture on Aerenal when the elves landed there. They didn’t arrive as conquerors or colonizers—they were desperate, starving refugees lucky to escape the destruction of Xen’drik. It was a stroke of good fortune that they found such a fertile, uninhabited realm.
That’s what history says, and what the typical elf believes. But it’s not quite true. The valleys and fields of the island were uninhabited, yes. The elves came in peace, and as they laid down their roots and raised their walls, all they had to deal with were their own restless dead. But as time passed they spread farther and dug deeper. The line of Tolaen went the deepest of all. The Tolaen were from the evernight jungles of Xen’drik, and they were well used to working with wood. They made a business of lumber, and it’s a path on which they’ve prospered; to this day, it’s the Tolaen who sell soarwood to the gnomes and bronzewood to the smiths. But every path has a beginning. The Tolaen set their sights on the vast jungle they call Jaelarthal Orioth. In this wood they saw a treasure as rich as any dragon’s hoard. But the Moonsword Jungle is deep and wide, so vast that a people could live there for ten thousand years and never be seen by those beyond its edge. And so it was with the quaggoths. They had lived in the deepest part of the Orioth since before elves were elves, minding their own business and taking no interest in the world beyond the woods. Quaggoths are primal creatures on the line between beast and humanoid, more bear than bugbear. They have a simple language and use basic tools, but they are driven by instinct as much as reason. I can’t tell you how the war between Tolaen elf and quaggoth began. It’s easy to imagine it was the Tolaen that struck the first blow. Of all of the Aereni lines, they’ve always been steeped in war; Tolaen champions are as fierce as any Tairnadal. But it could have been the quaggoths who struck first. They’d never encountered any humanoid species before, and the Tolaen came for lumber; the quaggoths might have seen them as alien and abominable, a foe that had to be destroyed at all costs. Most likely the truth lies somewhere between; the quaggoths saw the elves as defilers, and the Tolaen responded to the attack as they would to an assault by giants or dragons. Whoever struck that first blow, it was no fair fight… and once the Tolaen begin a thing, they see it through. By the time the war was over there were no quaggoths living in the Moonsword Jungle. The Tolaen buried the story along with the bones of the quaggoths, and today there is no Tolaen still living that knows the tale; only the dead and the deathless remember it.
But not all of the quaggoths died in the Jaelarthal Orioth. As their people were falling, a quaggoth clan fled east, making their way to a place where no elf would follow them—the shunned shadows of the Madwood. The roots of that jungle run all the way to Xoriat, and there are cracks and chasms that lead to the heart of Khyber. The soil soaked up the anger and despair of the quaggoths, and it bloomed in the shadows. A pure force of fury flowered in the Madwood, and it flowed into the veins of the quaggoths. Nothing can live in the Madwood for long, and the quaggoths made their way down into the sheltering darkness of Khyber. There they’ve remained for thousands of years. Their pale fur has forgotten the sun, but their hatred still burns bright… and that fury gives them power.
DRIVEN BY RAGE
While quaggoths have a simple language, they have always possessed an intuitive empathy that allows them to understand one another. The quaggoths who fled into the Madwood were driven by fear and anger—and hatred of the alien abominations who defiled their home and slaughtered their kin. Through that empathetic link they carried all the rage of the quaggoths that had fallen with them into the Madwood, and the power within that place crystalized that into a force with a life of its own. The Quaggoth Rage is a psychic power tied to every quaggoth descended from those original survivors, in much the same way that the kalashtar are tied to their quori spirits. It is not a sentient entity that communicates with the quaggoths; but it is a potent force within their subconscious, burning anger waiting to be unleashed. Young quaggoths learn to contain this rage, so as not to lash out at their own kind—but it is always there, and can be seen when an injured quaggoth enters their Wounded Fury. Usually a wounded quaggoth has an enemy they can focus on; but when there are no enemies, it can be a challenge for the injured quaggoth to control their rage and avoid attacking their own allies.
Wounded Fury is a trait all quaggoths share. But some quaggoths have a closer connection to the Rage, and can manifest its power in different ways. Some draw on the Rage to strengthen themselves in battle, but others learn to manipulate the rage in subtle ways. These quaggoths are called thonots. They serve as the spiritual leaders and champions of their people, filling the same role as clerics or paladins. But thonots aren’t drawing on a divine force; they are channeling their own ancestral rage, and their supernatural abilities are psionic in nature. The choices of a powerful thonot can shape the direction of an entire quaggoth community. A Thonot can use their gifts to contain the rage of their people, drawing the anger away from them and helping to maintain a stable, peaceful community. On the other hand, an angry thonot can amplify the Rage, broadcasting it through the empathic connection, driving an entire clan to roam as aggressive nomads seeking endless conflict to satiate their bottomless rage. The Rage is, ultimately, directed at elves—but most subterranean quaggoths have never seen an actual elf. Encountering an elf for the first time can be an intense trigger for even the most peaceful quaggoth; they don’t remember the details of what happened to their ancestors, but they feel an intense desire to spill elf blood.
The Power of Rage
Under the 2014 rules of fifth edition, all quaggoths possess the Wounded Fury trait. In my interpretation, quaggoth champions could draw on the Rage to produce more dramatic effects. Here’s a few abilities a DM could choose to give to an elite quaggoth. I wouldn’t give one quaggoth ALL of these abilities; the point is to have the Rage manifest in different ways and to make quaggoths interesting and unpredictable.
- Reckless Attack. When the quaggoth makes an attack roll using Strength they can choose to gain advantage on the roll; if they do so, all attack rolls made against them have advantage until the start of their next turn.
- Vengeful Strike. When the quaggoth is struck with a melee attack, they can use their reaction to make a melee attack against the attacker.
- Destructive Fury. When the quaggoth makes a successful melee attack, they can enter a state of fury that lasts for one minute or until the quaggoth triggers its Wounded Fury, whichever comes first. While in this state, the quaggoth deals an additional 7 (2d6) damage to any creature it hits with a melee attack, but when it does so it suffers 3 (1d6) damage that cannot be reduced in any way.
- Terrifying Blow. When the quaggoth strikes an enemy with a melee attack, they can channel their Rage to strike with devastating force and terrify their foe. If they choose to do so, both the quaggoth and the target suffer an additional 7 (2d6) damage and the target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw (based on the champion’s Strength or Dexterity, default 13) or be frightened of the quaggoth until the end of its next turn.
- Psychic Howl. When the quaggoth drops to half its total maximum hit points or below, it can immediately use a reaction to emit a psychic howl of pain and rage. All enemies within 30 feet must make a Wisdom saving throw (based on the champion’s Strength or Dexterity, default 13); those who fail are frightened of the quaggoth until the end of its next turn.
Thonots, Revisited
The 2014 rules give quaggoth thonots Innate Spellcasting (Psionics). The thonot can cast a number of spells without need for components, using Wisdom as their spellcasting ability. This concept works, but the spells don’t particularly fit my concept of the thonot manipulating or channeling rage. As such, here’s a few different options you could grant to thonots, reflecting different ways of harnessing the Rage.
- Forceful. The forceful thonot channels the Rage into telekinetic force. They can cast the following spells: Eldritch Blast, Mage Hand; Entangle, Levitate, Shatter, Shield. When cast in this way, Entangle reflects manifestation of telekinetic threads rather than vines.
- Fury. The furious thonot projects the Rage as a telepathic assault, terrifying or paralyzing enemies. They can cast the following spells: True Strike, Vicious Mockery; 1/day Cause Fear, Crown of Madness, Hellish Rebuke, Hold Person. When cast in this way, Hellish Rebuke deals psychic damage.
- Empath. The rarest form of thonot, the empath uses their understanding of rage to absorb fury, soothing friend or foe. They can cast the following spells: Guidance, Message; 1/day Calm Emotions, Detect Thoughts, Enthrall, Sanctuary.
This is a general set of rules for reflecting typical thonots. A more powerful thonot could have an expanded spell selection. Beyond this, powerful thonots could have broader abilities that affect a larger region. A thonot fury might modify the Wounded Fury trait of quaggoth allies to trigger when a quaggoth reaches half its hit points. Less mechanically, it would generally drive the quaggoths around it to aggression; a campaign of quaggoth attacks could be stopped by defeating the thonot enraging the clan. On the other side, a thonot empath might have a permanent sanctuary effect—negated for a round if it takes an aggressive action—and reduce the aggression of quaggoths in its clan.
Scattered Across The Deep
Quaggoths descended into Khyber long ago and were scattered across its passages and demiplanes. As a result, they could be found almost anywhere.
- A quaggoth clan could be found in the Realm Below under one a Mror Holdfast; they could be fighting against aberrations, or they could be enslaved by neogi or illithids and forced to fight the surface dwellers.
- A clan could be allied with Umbragen drow beneath Xen’drik, perhaps joining forces to fight a Sileus Tairn warclan.
- A new village in Aundair or the Eldeen Reaches could be plagued by a series of elf disappearances. The murderer is a quaggoth driven by their ancestral fury, not even truly knowing why they are compelled to kill these pointy-eared softskins; this could be the key that draws the adventurers to uncover the hidden shame of the Line of Tolaen.
- Thonots are sensitive to rage and hatred. A thonot could be drawn to the heated emotions of Thaliost. A thonot fury might unintentionally amplify the rage of the locals and trigger greater outbreaks of violence; a thonot empath could create a pocket of peace by consuming the rage, even if the locals don’t know the source of this.
Part of the idea of the quaggoths is that they initially just appear to be aggressive berserkers, but that if adventurers dig deeper they discover that the quaggoths aren’t driven by simple cruelty or by an overlord, but rather that they are haunted by their own ancestral rage. The quaggoths themselves don’t know their perfect history, but adventurers could find a way to get to the truth and to reveal the ancient crime of the line of Tolaen; there may be Tolaen deathless who took part in the original massacre or even set it in motion. Can the adventurers help settle this ancient injustice?
No Quaggoths? Meet the Gaa’aram.
The world of Eberron can feel kind of crowded when you start squeezing in every monster that’s ever existed. What I like about the quaggoths is the idea of a species scarred by an ancient trauma that has grown in strength and that they carry with them. Quaggoths are aggressive not because they are evil, but because they are literally haunted by the pain inflicted upon their ancestors. However, there’s another way to use these idea—a culture driven by lingering rage, whose champions and shamans channel its power—without adding a new creature to the mix. Meet the Gaa’aram orcs of Droaam—the “Children of Wrath.” Exploring Eberron says…
The Gaa’aram orcs embraced the chaotic, raiding lifestyle of the Barrens. Where the goblins and kobolds were often enslaved by more powerful creatures, the Gaa’aram voluntarily rallied around the most powerful leaders and served as fierce warriors. To an orc of the Gaa’aram, who you fight for is less important than the fact that you fight and fight well. As such, Gaa’aram orcs were often encountered as raiders; they’re the reason for the name of the Orcbone fortress that guards the Gap of Graywall. Gaa’aram orcs can be found in all of the diverse cities, and they’re passionate supporters both of Droaam and their local warlords.
The Gaa’aram could adopt all of the ideas suggested here for the quaggoths. Rather than being driven into the depths by the elves, the Gaa’aram were driven to the edge of the Barrens by the Dhakaani. Rather than the Madwood, it was Dyrrn the Corruptor who crystalized their Rage and bound it to them, making them another point of chaos in the final days of the Dhakaani empire. The idea remains that the Gaa’aram are linked to their ancestral Rage; it’s not just that they LIKE fighting, it’s that they cannot contain their own anger; it’s only by directing it outward at enemies that they keep from tearing themselves apart. If I were to use this Quaagoth story for the Gaa’aram, I’d do the following.
- I’d add the Wounded Fury trait of the quaggoth to Gaa’aram orcs: While it has 10 hit points or fewer, the gaa’aram has advantage on attack rolls. In addition, it deals an extra 7 (2d6) damage to any target it hits with a melee attack.
- I’d add thonots to Gaa’aram culture; they could be Vola’Aram, “Wrath Speakers.” I’d likely drop the idea of Gaa’aram empaths, BUT I could see adding mystics with the abilities of the thonot empaths to the OTHER orc culture of Droaam, the peaceful Gaa’ran. A twist would be that the Gaa’ran ALSO feel the Rage but manage to contain it; that they are pacifists because they refuse to give into that burning fury, and that if they began to fight they might not be able to stop. Their secret, essentially, is that they’re always angry.
As the Gaa’aram are an aggressive part of Droaam and notably make up part of the population of Turakbar’s Fist, this is something you can easily use in a Frontiers of Eberron campaign!
Why Does It Matter?
Many of you, like me, may never have used a quaggoth in your campaign and you may wonder why write about quaggoths? As I mentioned above, I like the idea of taking these monsters long depicted as savage beserkers and cannibals and saying that they are in fact driven by ancient injustice and trauma; that they are in some ways prisoners of the pain inflicted upon their ancestors. Beyond that, I like the idea of this parallel to the Kalashtar—that there is a psychic force bound to a humanoid bloodline that can grant them psychic power. And I like the idea of creatures so tied to rage that they can either be drawn to aggression in places like Thaliost—or that, as with the empath, they are so attuned to fury that they have learned to disperse it. Meanwhile, the Gaa’aram have been a part of Droaam since Exploring Eberron. Here again I like the idea that it’s not just that they are a militant culture, but that they are involuntarily tied to this ancestral rage that drives them onward; that if they don’t find an outlet for it, they will essentially explode.
A Gaa’aram orc is an easy option for a player character, if someone chose to explore it. This could be reflected by an orc barbarian, but it could also be a path for any of the psionic subclasses in the 2024 rules, looking to the Rage as the source of their power. Quaggoths don’t exist as a playable species. Aside from their fury, their dominant traits are immunity to poison, a climbing speed, and claw attacks. One option would be to use tabaxi for a quaggoth character; the tabaxi has claws and a climbing speed. The tabaxi’s Feline Agility could be represented as furious adrenaline, or a DM might be willing to exchange it for resistance to poison damage and advantage on poison saving throws. A player character wouldn’t have the Wounded Fury trait, but this could be reflected by a barbarian’s rage.
So for the thousands of you wondering about the role of quaggoths in Eberron—your long wait is finally over! Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters, who both determine the topics of these articles and make it possible for me to write them—if you want to see more articles like this one, check it out!