Former Sentinel Marshal Rolan Harn by Matthew Johnson
Over the course of this year, I’m going to be writing about a Dragonmarked House each month. I’ll be posting bonus content on my Patreon, including character options and focus items associated with each house. Currently, I’m working on an article about House Orien. But before diving into the individual houses and Dragonmarks, I want to discuss some basic details about dragonmarks themselves—both in broad concept and specifically in how they function in Fifth Edition in 2025, especially considering the recent Unearthed Arcana.
THE DRAGONMARKED EXPERIENCE
Much has been written about what Dragonmarks DO — about the powers they manifest and the focus items that work with them. But little has been written about how it FEELS to have a Dragonmark. One of the key aspects of a dragonmark is often described as intuition—a natural talent for a particular set of skills or tools.This is a crucial element of how the houses achieved their early dominance in their fields; aside from its spell-like abilities, a Dragonmark makes its bearer better at their speciality. An heir to the Mark of Making has a bonus when using Artisan’s Tools. The Mark of Sentinel enhances Perception and Insight. The Mark of Passage provides a bonus to Athletics and Acrobatics. Set aside the mechanical effect of this for a moment and just think about what it means for the person who bears the mark. When a Cannith heir picks up a tool, they have a sense of what to do with it, even if they’ve never seen it before. The Sentinel heir is always on alert, sensitive to the tics and tells of people around them. The Passage scion yearns to move. When playing an adventurer with a Dragonmark, consider the effect of your mark’s Intuition ability and how your character experiences it. The same holds true for the spell-like abilities of your mark. As an heir to the Mark of Passage, the ability to Misty Step is bound up within you, waiting to be unleashed. With a thought and a word, you can tear through space. What does that feel like?
A second aspect of the Dragonmarked experience is the question of how your lineage affected your childhood. Were you born in a Dragonmarked house and raised in an enclave? If so, you’ve been surrounded by fellow heirs through most of your life, and you had a clear path for your future—an expectation that you would eventually join one of the house guilds or arms. What was that like? How did it affect you? Are you a devoted member of your house, or have you always harbored a rebellious streak and yearned to escape the path laid out for you? Conversely, if you’re a foundling, what were the circumstances of your childhood? What was the event that triggered the appearance of your Dragonmark in lieu of the Test of Siberys? How did you feel when the Dragonmark first appeared—were you excited to join a house, or did the idea repel you? How were you eventually approached by the house, and did you embrace the offer or refuse it? Or have you yet to be noticed by the house that carries your mark?
A final point to consider is how the Last War affected you. The houses are neutral forces, and if you were raised in a house enclave you were encouraged to embrace that — to view the warring nations as clients and nothing more. Most scions who served in the war did so in a purely mercenary capacity. Did you embrace this, and if so, is it a viewpoint you maintain today—seeing the houses as a force that stands apart from and above the concerns of the nations? Or did you develop an attachment to the country in which you lived, or another nation? Did you give up your birthright to fight for one of the nations?
SPELLS OF THE MARK
Magical power has always been a core element of the Dragonmarks. In Fifth Edition, this is represented by Spells of the Mark, a set of spells added to the lists of any Dragonmarked character capable of performing magic. Despite the name, these aren’t supposed to be actual SPELLS; the character is channeling power through their mark in a way that replicates the effects of a spell. When a Cleric with the Mark of Passage uses a spell slot to cast Misty Step, they aren’t doing it in the same way as the prayer to Olladra that produces Cure Wounds. MECHANICALLY it’s just like casting a spell, but it should look and feel different from whatever spellcasting is normally associated with the scion’s class. Consider the following.
A character’s Dragonmark glows and becomes warm to the touch they cast a Spell of the Mark. This isn’t dramatic—it doesn’t serve as a source of illumination—but it is noticeable to people in the area.
Somatic components—gestures—often involve slapping the mark or running a finger along its lines, or if it’s on a hand, presenting it clearly. However, some marked heirs trace the shape of their mark in the heir, or simply make a dramatic gesture; a Denieth heir using the Mark of Sentinel to cast Shield might raise a palm, fingers spread wide. The point is that the character needs a free hand and it’s clear to observers that the action is associated with the magical effect, but it shouldn’t look like Arcanix wizardry or a divine invocation.
Likewise, verbal components require the character to be able to speak and are clearly associated with the magical effect, but they don’t have to be traditional arcane words of power. Often a scion will give a deep grunt or sharp shout; this sound reflects the focusing and release of energy. However, some heirs devise their own unique words of channeling. Phiarlan bards often sing a note when releasing their power.
Material components can feel strange when associated with a dragonmarked “spell.” However, refined Eberron dragonshards can take the place of any material component, and in the case of a Dragonmark ability I’d just make those the default component for the spell; the character needs the surge of energy from the dragonshards to produce the effect.
When playing a dragonmarked character, think about how you manifest your power. Where is your mark located? What sort of sounds and gestures do you use to focus its energy?
LEAST, LESSER, AND GREATER DRAGONMARKS
In the original Eberron Campaign Setting book, Dragonmarks were represented by a chain of feats. Each feat allowed you to cast a particular spell once per day, and each level—Least, Lesser, Greater—gave you access to an additional spell-like ability of higher level (in addition to a bonus to a skill check—Intuition!). The idea is that as you improve your feats, the physical dragonmark on your skin grows in size and complexity, and that this is something recognized within the world. People KNOW that someone with the Greater Mark of Passage can teleport, and within the house a larger mark carries some prestige—though not necessarily rank, and there are many unmarked adinistrators! This idea has evolved in later editions. One of the key concepts is that rather than having feats that concretely give you access to more powerful spells, we’ve said that Dragonmarked characters could and should describe class features and spells as coming from their mark. This is the same concept I discussed earlier with Spells of the Mark—it’s about how you describe the spell. So a Lyrandar Storm Sorcerer could describe their lightning and wind spells as being drawn from their Mark, while describing their fire spells as being more traditional arcane magic, even though all of those spells are coming from their Sorcerer class. But in introducing this idea—beginning in Fourth Edition—we dropped the feat chains and the idea of a clear distinction between Least, Lesser, and Greater Marks.
The latest Unearthed Arcana has a set of Greater Dragonmark feats. However, the EFFECTS of those feats don’t match up to the effects of the Greater Dragonmarks of Third Edition. In the ECS, a Greater Dragonmark allowed you to cast a 5th level spell; the Greater Mark of Passage allowed you to cast teleport. Under the Unearthed Arcana rules, the Greater Dragonmark of Passage lets you take one other person along with you when you cast Misty Step, once per day. It’s a neat trick, but it’s not teleporting your entire party across the world.
I like the concept of the different levels of Dragonmark. I like it having a meaning in the world, and I like players having a sense of what an NPC is capable of based on the size of their Dragonmark. I think the Unearthed Arcana feats are fine, but I’m not going to call them “Greater Dragonmarks” in my campaign; I’ll call them “Passage Expertise” or “Making Expertise.” Instead, I think the simplest way to handle the idea of a dragonmark evolving through the three basic sizes is to base it on the level of the most powerful spell the character can cast because of the Dragonmark. So a 1st level character or a character with no ability to perform cast Spells of the Mark will have a Least Dragonmark. Once they are capable of casting a 3rd level Spell of the Mark—whether by having the Spellcasting feature or using the Potent Dragonmark feat—their mark grows and they have a Lesser Dragonmark. When they have access to 5th level Spells of the Mark, they possess a Greater Dragonmark. Siberys Dragonmarks remain their own separate thing; by the original Third Edition Rules you couldn’t advance a normal mark to become a Siberys Mark. So it would look like this:
Dragonmark
Spells of the Mark
Least
1st or 2nd
Lesser
3rd or 4th
Greater
5th
NPCS AND DRAGONMARKS
By default, Spells of the Mark are only available to characters that have levels in a spellcasting class. However, there are other ways to access this power.
The Potent Dragonmark feat presented in the recent Unearthed Arcana gives a Dragonmarked character a single spell slot that can be used to cast a Spell of the Mark, with a slot level equal to half the character’s level (to a maximum of 5). They regain this slot after completing a short or long rest.
Exploring Eberron includes a number of items that allow an heir to cast the Spells of their Mark. The Dragonmark Channel allows a single use of a 1st level Spell of the Mark, once per long rest; this is a common item, often worn as a symbol of house membership. The Dragonmark Reservoir provides access to a 1st or 2nd level Spell of the Mark; the Channeling Rod provides access to any of the spells of the Mark.
Potent Dragonmark is a feat designed for player characters. It’s flexible—allowing a character to access any spell on the Spells of the Mark list—and recharges after a short rest. But it sets the precedent that there are people in the world who have no spellcasting ability but who can still produce spell-like effects with Dragonmarks. With that in mind, I’d generally give dragonmarked NPCs a form of this, mirroring the original ECS marks. An NPC with a Least Dragonmark would be able to cast a 1st or 2nd level spell from their Dragonmark’s Spell of the Mark list, once per day. An NPC with the Lesser Mark would get a single use of a 3rd or 4th level spell, in addition to the Least Mark. And an NPC with a Greater Dragonmark would gain a single use of a 5th level Spell. Exceptional scions might have a choice of more than one spell at each level, just like a player character with Potent Dragonmark. Dragonmarked NPCs could also carry any of the items presented in Exploring Eberron.
Keep in mind that these once-per-day spell-like abilities have never been a critical part of the power of the houses. Overall, the most important aspect of possessing a Dragonmark is the ability to use Dragonmark Focus Items, from Channeling Rods to Creation Forges. For a Lyrandar heir, being able to cast Feather Fall once per day is a useful safety net—but it’s the ability to pilot an airship or elemental galleon that drives the industry of the house.
UNEARTHED ARCANA: DRAGONMARKS AND SPECIES
Traditionally, Dragonmarks have been associated with specific family lines and species. Only humans can carry the Mark of Making; only Khoravar possess the Mark of Storm. The latest Unearthed Arcana presents a new set of Dragonmark Origin Feats that aren’t limited by species. What does this mean?
First of all, this isn’t new. Fourth Edition did the same thing. The point is that this exists as an option for PLAYER CHARACTERS, who are innately supposed to be remarkable individuals. The lore and history of the Dragonmarked Houses isn’t going to change. Again, look at Fourth Edition, which allowed player characters to have unusual Dragonmarks but kept all the lore of the Houses intact. The fact that your halfling rogue can have the Mark of Storm doesn’t mean that there are hundreds of halflings who have it; it means that you are special. Dragonmarks are themselves manifestations of the Prophecy. Player characters are prime candidates for being focal points for the Prophecy, and having an unusual Dragonmark would just be a clear sign of that. Personally, I’d be inclined to say that it’s happened before throughout history, and that the people who have had unusual marks have often been remarkable people who have done great things… But they didn’t pass their marks onto their offspring and so they were blips in history. The point is that with the Houses, it is the FAMILIES that have a role to play in the Prophecy and as such it’s the FAMILIES that carry the Dragonmarks. If you are an INDIVIDUAL who has a role to play in the Prophecy, you might have a mark as a sign of that… but you won’t pass it on.
Which comes to the question: Will the houses care? Let’s imagine you’re playing a Talenta halfling with the Mark of Storm. Does Lyrandar care? The answer is ultimately up to you and the DM, based on the story you want to experience. But let’s consider the options.
Honestly, it’s reasonable to say that they just don’t care at all. A single halfling with the Mark of Storm poses no threat to Lyrandar’s airship business. Especially if this HAS happened before and the marked individuals didn’t pass on the mark, your character is a curiosity but not a threat that has to be dealt with.
On the other hand, if it’s a story you like, the Houses could be delighted and celebrate your character as a miracle. They could be eager to recruit you, and if you accepted, to make you a poster child and a special envoy for the house, sending you out to promote Lyrandar interests in the Talenta Plains. Consider the story of Ashi in The Legacy of Dhakaan novels. She’s a foundling with a Siberys Mark of Sentinel, not a halfling with the Mark of Storm, but the point is that Deneith takes her in and makes a big deal about her; they could do the same thing with your halfling.
Or, if it’s a story you really want to tell, the houses could see you as an abomination that has to be eradicated and you could have to hide your mark. I find this reaction a little hard to justify; if I was determined to tell this story I’d probably say that it’s a thing that’s happened throughout history and Lyrandar believes that if you have children the Khoravar will lose the Mark and it will be passed on to your offspring. THAT would make it dramatic; you actually do pose an existential threat to their house. But if you’re just one random halfling, I don’t see it as being that big a deal.
So the main point is that yes, this makes it possible for player characters to have any Dragonmark they want. Because player characters are exceptional. But it doesn’t negate or change the existing lore of the Dragonmarked Houses, and it’s something you can ignore if you choose. In this way, it’s exactly like Rising From The Last War providing an option for there to be contact between Eberron and the rest of the Multiverse if that’s the story you want to tell. But that change in Rising still maintained that until this moment, Eberron has been shielded from the Multiverse by the Ring of Siberys. It presented a new option for DMs who wanted it, as something that could be actively evolving in 998 YK; but it didn’t demolish all preexisting lore. Same thing here. You can be that remarkable halfling with the Mark of Storm; but House Lyrandar is still a Khoravar house.
WHAT ABOUT FRONTIERS OF EBERRON?
In Frontiers of Eberron I presented my own ideas for Dragonmark origin feats. I like my design, but the short answer is that the Unearthed Arcana content is the CANON content. Because it provides a unique feat for each Dragonmark, it also has the ability to provide more unique benefits, like the Mark of Passage granting +5 movement speed. Personally, I’d allow players to use either one (though not both at once!) in my campaign; it’s up to you to decide what works best for you.
That’s all for now! House Orien will be coming in the future. Thanks to my Patreonsupporters for making these articles possible. I’m holding two live Q&As this month for Patrons, and will also be posting further polls and previews about the next Eberron book I’m working on. If you’d like to know more, follow the link!
Eston was the site of countless wonders this last weekend, as the city celebrated the opening of the House of Cannith. This pavilion is the work of an alliance of families from across Metrol, all of whom carry the remarkable Dragon Mark of Making. The festival displayed creations of each of these families, but the most remarkable of all was crafted by the greatest artisans of the families working together—the Grand Gorgon, a massive bull formed of steel and bronze that moves as if it were a creature of flesh and blood, belching gouts of green steam. While each family played their part, all agreed that Castal Harn was the innovator whose vision brought the Gorgon to life. Castal was unable to appear at the festival, but his contributions were commemorated with a wondrously detailed statue. It seems these Cannith artisans are as adept at shaping stone as they are at working steel!
From The Korranberg Chronicle article “A Festival of Steel”
The gorgon has been with D&D since the first Monster Manual, one of the examples of a creature that draws on the name of a mythological creature from our world without making much effort to accurately reflect the source material. Rather than being relatives of Medusa, D&D’s gorgons were bulls with steel scales that breathed petrifying fumes. In Eberron, House Cannith used the gorgon as its symbol, because steel bull, but there was never any actual connection between the creature and the house. Enter the 2025 Monster Manual. A number of old monsters received small but significant changes in the new edition, and the gorgon is one of them. It now has the construct creature type; gorgons aren’t found in nature, but are “created by magic-users to serve as guardians.” There’s been a number of changes to creature types that I’m definitely going to ignore in my campaigns, but I love this particular change for Eberron. It’s an opportunity to tie the gorgon closely to House Cannith and the industry of artifice, rather than just being a random monstrosity. So here’smystory for the revised construct gorgon.
The Gorgon of Eston
When dragonmarks first manifested in Khorvaire, each one appeared in a particular region… but they weren’t limited to a single bloodline. The Mark of Making appeared on multiple families in the realm then known as Metrol. The Vowns were based in Eston; the Harns in what is now Making; the Jurans were a nomadic clan. Along with the other Making bloodlines, these families slowly discovered the powers of their mark as the numbers of marked heirs grew. Most of these families were already known for some form of craftwork, and the mark enhanced their gifts with artifice and industry. Over time, the leaders of these families debated whether they should join together. As part of this process, artisans from each house came together to work on a number of projects, seeing what they could accomplish when they combined their skills. The Gorgon of Eston was the a dramatic result of this process: the most sophisticated construct ever constructed by humans of Khorvaire. Previous human artificers had worked with homunculi, but such constructs required an ongoing bond to their creator. The Gorgon is self-sustaining and independent, even capable of making simple decisions in pursuit of the directions given by its creators. To the houses, it was the first child of their union. The Gorgon led the parade in the festivals in Eston, and stood in the square outside Cannith Hall bellowing the hour. The Gorgon was considered a wonder of the age, and the allied families took it as the sigil of their new house; when the Twelve came together, House Sivis suggested that all of the Dragonmarked Houses follow this example. But for Cannith, the gorgon isn’t just a beast; it’s a symbol of their house and its power.
Over the course of centuries, Cannith made many gorgons. As the house spread, most forgeholds had a gorgon standing in their atrium, serving both as a symbol of the house and a guardian of the forge. But while they were once found across Khorvaire, the gorgons were the first constructs made by House Cannith and had many flaws. Those old models slowly leak petrifying gas, which can build up to dangerous concentrations if the construct is kept in an enclosed space. The rudimentary sentience of the gorgon had flaws; random individuals could be identified as threats, and a handful of gorgons went berserk. They were occasionally sold as weapons of war, but while a gorgon is a terrifying spectacle, they aren’t especially practical as war machines. And the process of creating a gorgon was time consuming, expensive, and dangerous. Today, there are still a few gorgons on active duty, but most have been mothballed or set guarding obscure vaults; while the original Grand Gorgon can be seen in the Clockwork Menagerie of Eston, what stands outside the Cannith Enclave today is a SCULPTURE of a gorgon… while the Cannith enclave in Korth has a BRAZEN GORGON, described later in this article.
Why petrification? Why did the creators choose to imbue the gorgon with petrification? Why didn’t they have it breathe fire, or emit busts of force? In my Eberron, the petrifying breath of the gorgon was an unexpected benefit. Gorgons were developed over a thousand years ago, before the rise of House Tharashk and modern techniques for finding and refining dragonshards. The arcane power source of the gorgon slowly produces a substance called stone mist. Normally this is produced in trace quantities that harmlessly disperse in the air—much like the poisonous fumes produced by the combustion engines of automobiles. But like carbon monoxide, in an sealed space stone mist can build up over time—and once it reaches a high level of concentration, it petrifies organic creatures. After an unexpected accident revealed the danger posed by the stone mist, the Jurans came up with a solution. Instead of continuously releasing low levels of gas, the gorgon would build up containment in a chamber within its body—and when the chamber reached capacity, expel it in a direction where no one would be harmed, usually venting it toward the sky. It was later in the process that the Vown magewrights suggested that this venting could be used as an offensive weapon. While they COULD have equipped it with the ability to breathe fire, the Vowns observed that the petrifying breath only affected organic creatures and carried no risk of collateral property damage. On top of that, it was technically nonlethal… although Greater Restoration isn’t a trivial thing in 998 YK and was surely even harder to come by in the days before Galifar. So the Gorgon engineers didn’t originally intend to build a creature with petrifying breath; they meant to build an imposing iron bull, and it was only over the course of development that they discovered its potential for petrification.
Stone Mist? If you embrace this story, it means that House Cannith has had the ability to produce a petrifying mist for centuries. To which I say… why not? Among other things, canonically House Kundarak uses petrification as a form of imprisonment in Dreadhold. The Mror Holds aren’t known for their arcanists (though the present warden of Dreadhold IS a legendary abjurer) so… who petrifies these people? Why, stone mist provided by House Cannith! The thing about stone mist is that it’s not a very practical tool in most cases. The mist produced by the arcane process is thin and diffuse—generally harmless. The engine that allows a gorgon to concentrate the mist into a weapon is a large component within its body; it’s not like a small bottle of mist would accomplish the task. So looking to Dreadhold—and other prisons in Khorvaire that maintain stone wards—petrification is actually accomplished using a Mist Chamber. The victim is placed in a sealed room and held until the mist builds up to a sufficient level to cause petrification. This is a slow process, and typically the victim is rendered unconscious so they don’t have to experience the unbearable tension of waiting for the mist to reach effective concentration, then slowly feeling your flesh transform.
So, Cannith has long had the ability to induce petrification. Aside from serving as a form of imprisonment, it is also something that’s been used throughout the history of the house to preserve individuals. A number of Cannith forgeholds have their own stone wards containing such “sleeper statues.” Some of the people in these wards resorted to petrification in the hopes that the future will have a way to cure an affliction that couldn’t be countered in their own time. Others nearing the end of life hope that the future will have a way to defeat death itself; “Restore me when you can transfer my consciousness into a construct body.” A few remarkable individuals chose to be petrified in the belief that their knowledge or skills could play a critical role in the future. And just in the last century, a number of wealthy individuals chose to “sit out” the Last War, and a few of them are now being restored; consider Today in Eberron’s story of Hale Davon, the Pastry King of Wroat.
Today in Eberron, 12/18/998: Aurum concordian Hale Davon, the “Pastry King of Wroat,” was voluntarily petrified in 900 YK to wait out the Last War. Today Davon was restored, and he’s seeking a group of capable adventurers to find his missing possessions and help reestablish his connections.
Throughout history, Cannith has experimented with other ways of weaponizing stone mist. They’ve experimented with devices that are essentially small bags of holding filled with concentrated mist. In general, these haven’t proven to be effective on a large scale. The gas disperses quickly and as a gas, it can also blow in the wrong direction based on wind. So it hasn’t played a major role in warfare, but there are still a few sites where mist weapons were deployed—battlefields with dozens or even hundreds of soldiers trapped in stone.
The Brazen Gorgon from the 2025 Monster Manual
What about the BRAZEN GORGON?
Throughout much of the Last War, Karrnath was the nation that was least dependent on House Cannith for its weaponry. Karrnath had its own strong tradition of forging weapons of war, and its use of undead soldiers meant it had little need of Cannith warforged. When Zorlan d’Cannith became Lord Seneschal of Cannith operations in Karrnath, he was determined to shift that balance—to show Regent Moranna that cooperation between Karrnath and Cannith could produce deadly wonders. Moranna was receptive to the idea, as she was actively seeking to reduce her army’s dependence on the undead. As his proof of concept, Zorlan presented Moranna with the first brazen gorgon. More durable and deadly than the stone mist gorgon, the brazen gorgon—which soon became known as “The Zorlon”—radiates deadly heat and can overrun squads of infantry with ease. Moranna was impressed, and over the next decade Zorlan led the development of many weapons for Karrnath. The brazen gorgon was never widespread, but a few score were spread out among Karrnathi forces, and Cannith enclaves in Karrnath often have a brazen gorgon as a symbol and guardian. Zorlan himself uses a brazen gorgon as his personal crest—a gorgon’s head wreathed in flames.
The “Zorlon” brazen gorgons have a few features that are worth noting. The Zorlon can activate or deactivate its flame aura as a bonus action; when a Zorlon is stationed in the lobby of a Cannith enclave, they don’t want it incinerating the customers. In addition, the so called “flame aura” of the Zorlan isn’t actually mundane fire. The rules for the Flame Aura say that it damages each CREATURE within 5 feet of the gorgon, but make no mention of igniting flammable objects, as many fire spells do; again, this is important for a construct that may be stationed in a forgehold! The Zorlon radiates a field of energy that causes fire damage to creatures, but doesn’t set buildings on fire. The Zorlon grapples using two prehensile tentacles that it can extend from its lower neck; it can also use the tentacles to manipulate objects. However, brazen gorgons only possess limited sentience, similar to warforged titans; they can follow orders and make simple decisions, but they don’t have the intelligence and personality of a warforged.
What does this mean for you?
Gorgons are typically tied to House Cannith. The base design is somewhat obsolete today; they aren’t as reliable as warforged or warforged titans. But a Cannith enclave may still have a guardian gorgon. In general, however, they are obsolete—but still durable. So gorgons can be found guarding abandoned forgeholds, isolated Cannith vaults, and hidden enclaves long forgotten by the modern Cannith heirs. They can also potentially be found as surplus—a gorgon that was thrown on the scrap heap centuries ago, only to be recovered and reactivated by the villains of your story. In these cases I would be sure to emphasize that the gorgon is OLD and decrepit. This doesn’t have to affect its statistics, but it should feel like something that ought to be in a museum. And speaking of museums, the original Great Gorgon is still there in the Clockwork Menagerie of Eston; there could be some sort of National Treasure story where the original founders of the house hid a vital clue in the heart of the first gorgon!
Aside from gorgons themselves, stone mist provides possibilities for a number of interesting stories. In addition to explaining how Kundarak petrifies the prisoners at Dreadhold, it introduces the potential for Cannith to have vaults of people who chose voluntary petrification—people like Hale Davon. Perhaps a Cannith heir wants to send adventurers into the Mournland to recover statues from a stone ward in the Mournland; could Starrin d’Cannith have petrified himself before the Mourning struck? Beyond this, having adventurers find a statue in a ruin—perhaps with a note promising a reward if they restore the figure to flesh—can have all sorts of outcomes. Is this a good person who will indeed reward them and serve as a valuable patron going forward? Or were they a terrible villain who chose to throw themselves into the future in order to enact a grand scheme? Beyond this, Cannith could still be working at weaponizing the mist to create weapons of mass petrification; the house could send a team into Cazhaak Draal to try to steal secrets of the medusas or an artifact tied to Orlassk!
Meanwhile, brazen gorgons can be found in Karrnath. In addition to be used as weapons of war, many city watches in Karrnathi cities have a brazen gorgon in reserve for deadly crowd control duty. They can be found guarding Cannith enclaves and vaults, and it’s also possible someone could get control of one as a surplus weapon.
But wait, why do gorgons contain actual bull skeletons?
So, the default lore in the new Monster Manual says “The process for creating a gorgon is labor intensive and dangerous, with one method requiring the skeleton of a bull, the blood of a medusa, and the brain of a basilisk fused into a frame of ensorcelled iron.” First of all, the lore in the Monster Manuals is always a foundation that can and should be altered to fit a particular setting or story. But beyond that, even in this default lore, it says that this is ONE POSSIBLE WAY to create a gorgon. In the example I’ve given here, the gorgon is made from inorganic material; the original Cannith founders didn’t use ANY of those components to create it. With that said, I think it could be very interesting if Zorlan d’Cannith trying to build a better version of the original gorgon fueled by medusa blood—and meanwhile, a truly half-steel half-organic gorgon sounds like something you might find in Mordain’s Forest of Flesh!.
That’s all for now. Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible! If you’ve been considering becoming a patron, now is a good time: for the next few days, patrons are helping me finalize the topics of my next Eberron book. Follow the link if you’d like to take part!
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Nowadays, Cyrans don’t do the Tago the old way, not when so much Cyran blood has already been shed. And how could we celebrate so, with our memories of the Day of Mourning and all those we have lost? But do you remember the way the Tago once was danced, wild and fierce?
To perform the Tago in the old style, as they did here at Princess Marhya’s ball, the lead would take off their left glove, and their partner their right. But no Cyran would ever clasp naked hands in public; each ungloved hand held a Taga dagger, a poniard joined to your partner’s by a short chain. As the music played, the dancers would keep the Tagas together as tightly as a kiss, lest you miss a cue from your partner and be cut by a Taga’s edge. And people of the other nations wondered why we danced the Tago so perfectly!
Of course, a daring dancer could drop their guard for a moment and perhaps feel the touch of their partner’s hand against their own, or brush their fingers against their partner’s lips; and occasionally, the dance floor would erupt in laughter and scandal, as two dancer’s hands would meet in passion as their daggers clattered against the floor, abandoned. But even when the dance was performed properly, there are moves where a Taga strokes a neck or slides across an ear, whispering your secret wish to your partner, whether you desire them or only want to see them bleed.
Tago’s reward could be a bloody hand, or worse, for your insolence or recklessness; or your partner’s glove, tucked in your belt, to be exchanged for later in private. And from that custom, the Cyran saying, “bringing a third glove”, for a lover or rake who is well prepared for a secret tryst.
From “The Fall of Cyre” by Dan Garrison
The Day of Mourning occurred on 20 Olarune 994. We’ve always called out that the anniversary of this tragedy is a time when Cyrans seek to celebrate their fallen nation, sharing their stories and traditions with the people around them, keeping Cyre alive in their memories. But what are these customs and stories? Exploring Eberron provides thoughts about Cyran cuisine and fashion. As for stories, if you’re playing a Cyran adventurer take a moment to thing about what that means for your character, and the story they would tell. It could be a favorite story about the nation, perhaps a tale of King Cyre. It might be a memory from childhood, something that made the community they grew up in unique. Or perhaps it was an experience from the war, something tied to the Cyran spirit and the sacrifices made by friends and family.
If you want a more concrete way to remember Cyre, consider dancing the Tago. This is a dance beloved by the people of Cyre, and it can make for a wonderful opening for an evening of romance and intrigue; who will cut and who will touch? The rules that follow were created by my friend Dan Garrison, the co-designer of Phoenix Dawn Command. He developed these for “The Fall of Cyre”, an Eberron campaign I had the good fortune to play in; unfortunately, the scenario itself has never been published. But we hope you enjoy this little taste of Cyran culture, and take a moment to remember the Jewel of Galifar.
Image by Alice Noir via Noun Project
Dancing the Tago
The first step in the Tago is to determine the couple that will be dancing. If there are only two dancers, this problem solves itself. At a larger gathering, have each PC choose a partner for their dance, and have them state whether they sought out their partner, were chosen by their partner, or if the pair was thrown together by chance.
Each PC’s dance has three choruses: for each one, have each character secretly choose Guard or Touch, and then reveal their choice. One way to play this bluffing game is to give each dancer two playing cards, a heart and a spade, and have them show hearts to Touch and spades to Guard. If a PC asks, they can look at their partner’s choice with a Wisdom (Insight) check DC 20, and change their own choice before they are revealed.
If both dancers choose Guard, nothing happens, as the Tago is performed properly.
If one dancer choose Guard and the other Touch, the Touching dancer loses 1 HP. Have the Guarding dancer describe the location and degree of their partner’s cut. If the Guarding dancer wants to severely hurt their partner, have them make an attack roll with advantage, treating the Taga knife as a regular dagger.
If both dancers Touch, than each dancer without Inspiration gains Inspiration. Ask any dancer that receives Inspiration what detail of the dance, or their partner, particularly excites or interests them.
After the three choruses, a dancer may make a Charisma check (Performance) DC 15, to have danced at a level of excellence that attracts the applause of those around them; their partner may impose advantage or disadvantage to this check as they wish.
While the Tago is properly danced with knives, it can be danced using training rods, light wands connected by a chain. The principle is the same, but a guard/touch combination causes no loss of hit points—though it is still a source of embarrassment.
Thanks as always to my Patreonsupporters, who make these articles possible. I’m currently conducting a series of polls on Patreon to finalize the topics for my next Eberron book, and I’m holding a live Q&A for Patrons this Saturday (the 22nd)! If this sounds interesting, follow the link to check it out.
When time permits, I like to pose interesting questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Questions like…
Whats a storybeat you’d like to play with Thrane? You ran your Siberspace campaign based in Aundair, Skeleton Crew was set in Karrnath, Quickstone was Breland. What about Thrane?
This is a reference to the liveplay campaigns I’ve run for my patrons on Patreon. Siberspace was a four-episode Spelljammer campaign that followed the idea of a space race in the Five Nations. Quickstone was a campaign tied to Frontiers of Eberron that had over twenty sessions, while Skeleton Crew was a one shot set in Karrnath. If any of these sound interesting, you can watch or listen to the recorded episodes on Patreon! But, the question remains what’s a story I’d tell in Thrane? Rather than just limit this to what is a story I’d tell as a live play on my website, I’d make this a broader question—what are ideas I’d use if I decided to base a campaign in Thrane? Here’s some ideas.
The Queen’s Musketeers. From the very beginning, I have always felt that if I was going to run a story inspired by The Three Musketeers in Eberron, I would place it in Thrane and have the adventurers play Knights of Thrane. From the original ECS:
The Crown Knights, also known as the Knights of Thrane, pledged to defend crown and country when the order was established during the time of Prince Thrane, son of King Galifar I. Over the centuries, this order of knights has served the regent of Thrane faithfully. When the Church of the Silver Flame refused to acknowledge the authority of the crown and turned the nation into a theocracy, the Knights of Thrane were ready to battle on behalf of the crown. The heir apparent defused the situation by bowing to the Keeper of the Flame, realizing that Thrane would be destroyed if it succumbed to internal strife while the Last War raged on. Today, the Knights of Thrane continue to work for the nation, serving Queen Diani in name but answering to the Council of Cardinals in practice.
Overall, the Knights of Thrane are an elite force used both for special missions in times of war and for troubleshooting in times of peace. They aren’t SPIES, but they are capable individuals who might be involved in missions that require a dash of finesse and intrigue. While they have the title of “knight” they possess a wide range of skills, ensuring that they can deal with diplomatic situations as well as bloodshed. A squad of knights could include fighters, paladins, rangers, clerics, divine soul sorcerers, or even a bard or wizard—in other words, a party of adventurers. Many Knights of Thrane are devout followers of the Flame, allowing for Divine Soul Sorcerers, Silver Pyromancers, or their equivalent in bard or Eldritch Knight; but but you could also have the pure fighter who doesn’t draw on the Flame in any way. The Knights of Thrane are an arm of the government, not the Church—but now the government is the theocracy, that line has blurred. So devotion to the Silver Flame isn’t REQUIRED among the Knights of Thrane, but it’s still the norm in Thrane generally. Keep in mind that there are people devoted to the Flame who feel that the theocracy is a mistake—that involving the Church in secular affairs distracts it from its spiritual mission and invites corruption. I think this is a strong path for a Crown Knight; they may be devoted to the Flame and to the Church, but they question the Theocracy—and as such, have little love for Cardinal Krozen.
In digging deeper into the Knights of Thrane for my campaign, I would say that the order is divided into two battalions, known among the order as the Crown Knights and the Flame Knights. The Crown Knights are charged with the personal defense of Queen Diani, while the Flame Knights are charged with the personal defense of the Council of Cardinals. The Crown Knights are largely devoted to the Queen, while the Flame Knights revere Cardinal Krozen above all others; in addition to serving as bodyguards, they often engage on personal missions or intrigues on behalf of Queen or Cardinal. Again, they are all unified within the order and both devoted to THRANE, and therefore shouldn’t be FIGHTING one another… and yet, the Crown and Flame have different opinions about what’s good for the Church and for Thrane. Duels of honor are a regular thing, and Crown Knights and Flame Knights often find themselves on the opposite sides of intrigue. With that in mind, I would straight up lift ideas from Dumas, as well as Stephen Brust’s Phoenix Guards novels. You’re a squad of Crown Knights, devoted to the Queen, trying to help her navigate her way through a dangerous world and ultimately to do what’s best for Queen and Church, regularly clashing with the Cardinal’s knights along the way. Your knights could uncover Whispering Flame conspiracies, engage in political negotiations on behalf of the Queen, and surely get involved in duels of honor and affairs of the heart—trying to walk the line between devotion to the Flame (for those who are) and devotion to the Queen. You could even be drawn in a popular movement to abolish the rule of the theocracy and return authority to Diani… but is it a popular movement, or is it a scheme of Krozen’s trying to draw Diani into open treason against the state? One for all, and all for Thrane!
The Argentum. The Church of the Silver Flame is dedicated to defending the innocent from supernatural threats. The Argentum began as an arm of the Church dedicated to finding and either destroying or containing cursed objects or exceptionally dangerous magic items. This was always a duty the Argentum carried out in the shadows; even if an item deemed to be a threat was in a dragonmarked enclave or in the possession of a noble, the Argentum would find a way to get their job done. This made the Argentum the most experienced covert operatives of the Church (with the exception of Miron’s Tears, who are SO covert that the Council of Cardinals has no oversight over them). With the shift to theocratic power and the evolution of the Last War, the Argentum was charged with additional tasks—namely, sabotaging powerful magical assets of enemy nations and acquiring arcane tools that could prove valuable to Thrane.
An Argentum campaign is part Leverage, part Warehouse 13. On the one hand, the Argentum continues to serve its original purpose: finding dangerous artifacts, and containing those that can’t be destroying. If the Hand of Vecna (Lhazaar), Wand of Orcus (Katashka) and Book of Vile Darkness are in your Eberron and aren’t currently in the hands of an evil mastermind, there’s a decent chance they’re locked away in the deep vaults of the Argentum. So a basic Argentum story is about finding and containing the effects of a dangerous item, artifact, or Eldritch Machine. This can bring them into conflict with Cults of the Dragon Below, Aurum hoarders, or total innocents who have acquired a dangerous object that has taken control of them or otherwise made them a threat; in such a case, can you neutralize the object without killing the innocent? Alternatively, you can deal with the more covert and political side of the Argentum, and carry out missions to sabotage an Aundairian weapons program, break into a Cannith forgehold, or rob a Kundarak vault — all without causing an international incident! A third option as the campaign goes on is to deal with internal politics, with cardinals seeking to make use of items in the Argentum vault—all in the interests of Thrane, surely, but there are things in those vaults that will never produce a good outcome—or Whispering Flame cultists seeking to infiltrate the Argentum itself. Perhaps you’re on vault duty when a prakhutu of the Lords of Dust stages a raid on the vault; it’s Die Hard in Thrane!
The Templars. The Argentum deals with artifacts and espionage. But the templars work every day to fight supernatural evil, and part of the point of Eberron is that supernatural evil is a part of life. Every day there could be threats from native fiends, spontaneous undead, aberrations from Khyber, dangerous conjunctions or manifest zones, Cults of the Dragon Below—and someone’s got to face them. The point of a Templar campaign would be intense action, not unlike Phoenix Dawn Command. Every adventure you are being dropped into a supernatural hotspot and trying to contain a threat before innocents are harmed. I’ve pointed out that the new rules for lycanthropy can easily trigger a scenario like a zombie apocalypse. Guess what—there’s a werewolf outbreak in a village in Thrane and you’re the only ones who have a chance to contain it before it spreads. Some adventures would be pure, intense action; others would require you to investigate and understand a threat before you have any chance of stopping it. Remember also, MORTAL evil is supposed to be countered with compassion, not steel. After battling aberrations and fiends, your adventurers could be placed in a situation where violence is not the answer—where they must counter the influence of a cult with words instead of swords.
Miron’s Tears. There was a time when the templars of the Silver Flame had the trust and respect of all citizens of Galifar, regardless of home or faith. Today, people outsiders speak more of the corruption in our ranks than the sanctity of our mission. Tira weeps, but our course is clear: we must be the cleansing flame that burns away this infection.
If the Argentum isn’t secret enough for you, you might be interested in Miron’s Tears. Founded by the Avenger Samyr Kes, a companion of Tira Miron, Miron’s Tears is a deeply secret order within the Church that polices the Church itself. As agents of Miron’s Tears you will be hunting both Whispering Flame cultists and hidden fiends, but also dealing with human corruption—people turned from Tira’s path by greed or a thirst for power. Part of the challenge is that not every problem can be solved with violence; the Tears need to consider how to handle a particular point of corruption, considering the impact of removing the corrupt individual and if there is a way to bring them back into the fold. This would be a subtle and philosophical campaign, which would likely involve a lot of how can we be certain Bishop X is a fiend or what to do about Dariznu in Thaliost. A key point is that while most people in Thrane ARE followers of the Silver Flame, it’s not a requirement for Crown Knights. The Argentum and the templars are both arm of the Church itself; it’s possible a character could be someone outside the Church and faith brought in purely because of their exceptional skills, but it would definitely be rare. With Miron’s Tears, faith would be an unnegotiable prerequisite. As one of Miron’s Tears you seek to uphold the pure ideals of Tira Miron, to set the example others should follow. This doesn’t mean you have to wield divine magic; but you would need to have faith in the Flame. It could be interesting to have an agent of the Tears who QUESTIONS their faith over the course of the campaign because of the things they see and do. But you would never be recruited into the Tears unless you had strong faith and Samyr considered you to be incorruptible.
Rellekor. I enjoy running campaigns that are tied to a particular town—where the adventurers are denizens of the town who end up working together for the good of their community. This was the foundation of my Quickstone campaign. You could do this in Thrane with any small village… but I’d be tempted to run it in RELLEKOR. This town is a haven for tieflings, a place where people touched by the malefic influence of the planes can learn to control their powers and work for the greater good. The image at the start of this article is Epitaph, a Dolurrhi tiefling who was raised in Rellekor. Most likely, most of the adventurers would be tieflings, and this would be an opportunity to explore the different sorts of tieflings you can find in Khorvaire. As with Quickstone, I’d play up the idea that most of the player characters don’t start out as professional adventurers. They are inhabitants of Rellekor who happen to have remarkable gifts. Perhaps there’s a Shavaran tiefling who served in the Last War, but who’s retired to farm and hopes never to draw a sword again. Perhaps there is a devout cleric—though maybe they’re struggling with especially strong fiendish influence, relying on the strength of their connection to the Flame to protect them from evil. There could be an entertainer, an arcane researcher, a scholar studying planar influence… but when trouble comes to Rellekor, they’ll have to learn to work together.
These are just the ideas I came up in a few hours thinking about it; it’s only a beginning! Meanwhile, I am starting work on a new Eberron book and am giving my Patreon supporters an opportunity to help me decide what topics it covers. There’s going to be a series of polls over the course of the month. If you’d like to be a part of that conversation, follow the link and check out my Patreon!
People say that Queen Etrigani hears ghosts. That when she’s near you, she hears the echoes of the people you’ve lost, the traces of the dead that cling to you. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not. But I’ll tell you this. If you’re hiding something… she’ll know it. Whether it’s supernatural or not, our queen has a gift. We’re fortunate she seems devoted to our country and our king.
The year was 991 YK, and Karrnath was shaken. Regent Morrana had condemned the Blood of Vol and disbanded the Seeker orders, but the army still relied on the Karrnathi undead. A dramatic offensive into the Mror Holds ended with massive losses and a humiliating retreat. The warlords demanded change, and they received it. The heirs of King Jaron had remained in isolation since his death, supposedly out of fear of Emerald Claw assassins. Now Jaron’s eldest son stepped out of the shadows and claimed the crown, taking the regnal name of Kaius. It wasn’t just his name that recalled the king who’d led Karrnath into the Last War; the new king bore an uncanny resemblance to his ancestor. Kaius III took full advantage of this, urging Karrns to recall their days of glory. He was more than just a familiar face. Kaius III was a brilliant strategist and a surprisingly skilled diplomat, with charisma that seemed almost supernatural. He seized the reins of power as if he’d held them for decades. Within the span of a year he’d united feuding warlords, revitalized Karrnath’s military, and brokered peace with the lords of the Mror Holds. When he took to the field, Kaius proved to be a capable warrior. And while the king preferred to solve his problems through diplomacy, when a warlord proved an implacable thorn in his side, they simply disappeared—and the other warlords nodded, respecting the ruthlessness of their new king. And somehow, in the midst of this diplomatic whirlwind, Kaius even found love. He didn’t strengthen his position by courting a scion of one of Karrnath’s ancient lines, nor did he pursue a diplomatic relationship with a noble of an opposing kingdom. Instead, Kaius pursued a stranger from a distant land—the Lady Etrigani. She was an elf of Aerenal, a noble of the Line of Melideth, an envoy at large observing the warring nations. Etrigani met Kaius at his coronation, and they were married in the same place, two years later to the day.
Etrigani is an outsider in a nation proud of its history, an elf in a kingdom dominated by humans, a wizard in a realm that lives by the sword. Who is she? How did she win not just the heart of Kaius, but the support of his warlords and the common people? And why would an elf of Aerenal—child of a culture that despises Mabaran necromancy—embrace Karrnath and even spend much of her time in the infamous city of Atur?
WHO IS ETRIGANI?
Queen Etrigani is an elf from Aerenal. The skull tattooed across her face marks her as a noble of the Line of Melideth, the Aereni province notable for producing most of its envoys, merchants, and explorers. She is elegant and poised, a model of nobility and elven grace. But she’s neither arrogant nor cold. Etrigani is quick to smile and has a talent for putting others at ease. Even when she’s delivering a threat or an ultimatum—and over the course of a decade of dealing with the warlords of Karrnath, she’s done plenty of both—she speaks gently, showing remarkable empathy for everyone she deals with.
Etrigani was barely a century old when she met Kaius III for the first time—a remarkable age for an elf to be both raised to the nobility and sent out into the world as an observer. Stories say that she’s an necromantic prodigy with an uncanny connection to Dolurrh. Supposedly Etrigani has an innate talent for hearing the traces of emotion and memory that people draw on when casting speak with dead. Where most necromancers can only speak with corpses, Etrigani hears these traces all around her, anywhere someone’s spirit left a mark on the world. If the DM decides these stories are true, this provides her with a few concrete benefits. She can cast speak with dead at will. She has expertise with Insight and advantage on all Insight checks that she makes. Beyond that, this gift manifests as a limited form of legend lore. Etrigani knows things about objects, people, and places she can see. This knowledge isn’t comprehensive; it’s based on the traces people have left on the subject of her observation, moments of high emotion and intensity. So she gets a sense of triumphs and tragedies, moments of loss and joy. Etrigani can’t shut down this ability. She can choose to remain silent about what she knows, but she can’t help but hear the ghosts moaning around you. However, this gift is a form of divination, and nondetection or any other effect that shields someone from divination will silence these ghosts.
Canonically, Etrigani is a skilled Aristocrat and a novice Wizard. In Fifth Edition, I’d blend these two ideas together and cast her as a non-musical bard, in the model of the 2014 College of Spirits. She is still young, and her direct spellcasting abilities are limited, but she is charismatic, persuasive, and empathetic—and she has a gift for practical necromancy, with a particular talent for speaking with the dead; I could also see her using silvery barbs, enhance ability, or borrowed knowledge to reflect her ties to unseen spirits. An important point is that her necromantic gifts are primarily tied to Dolurrh, not to Mabar. She has an affinity for ghosts, but she doesn’t animate the dead.
Etrigani is canonically chaotic in alignment, and I see this as reflecting a refusal to embrace the weighty traditions of Aerenal. This ties to her role in Karrnath and the Blood of Vol. The Undying Court asserts that all Mabaran necromancy is destructive, slowly eating away at the lifeforce of Eberron. I see Etrigani as challenging this fundamental precept and seeking to learn more about the Seekers and their ways—studying how the Seekers use their rituals to contain the deadly energies of Mabar, and interacting with Mabaran undead who haven’t become monsters. I see her as wanting to limit the widespread use of Mabaran necromancy and the role of undead, but still being willing to explore and to learn. This takes the idea that her marriage was her choice and not a mandate from Aerenal. She is a minor noble, whose strange gift and resistance to tradition always made her something of an outsider; the Sibling Kings are watching Etrigani, but she’s not their servant. In this vision of Etrigani, she is with Kaius because she truly loves him, and because she wants to help him stabilize Karrnath and help his people.
All of this is how I see Etrigani. However, just as King Kaius III may not be who he appears to be, this vision of Etrigani could also be a lie. Instead of being a young, rebellious outsider, Etrigani could be an experienced agent of the Deathguard, the Undying Court’s elite undead hunters. In this case, Etrigani is surely far more capable than her canon stats suggest. And if this is the case, her relationship with Kaius is more likely an arrangement of convenience than a love match. Kaius needs help dealing with Lady Illmarrow and the Order of the Emerald Claw; he made a bargain with the Deathguard, and Etrigani is here to do a job. In this vision of Etrigani, any apparent sympathy for the Seekers is feigned as she seeks to ferret out Emerald Claw agents.
I’ve suggested two possibilities for Etrigani. But the path I’d choose would depend on the truth about her husband… King Kaius III.
WHO IS KAIUS?
The Eberron Campaign Setting puts forth a shocking accusation, claiming that King Kaius III is in fact King Kaius I—a vampire who imprisoned his descendant and took his place. According to this tale, when Karrnath faced a crisis, King Kaius I forged an alliance with the Blood of Vol… and made a secret arrangement with the infamous Lady Illmarrow. To seal the deal, Illmarrow forced Kaius to become a vampire. When Kaius later challenged Illmarrow, she used his sire’s power over the king to drive him into a frenzy, during which time he slew his first wife. Refusing to be used as a puppet, Kaius fled into the shadows. He remained in hiding until he found a way to break Illmarrow’s control over him. Perhaps he located and slew his sire; perhaps he found a Qabalrin artifact or some other magic that blocks a vampire’s control over their spawn. Whatever the nature of this protection, once he acquired it, Kaius I returned to Karrnath and worked with Moranna to plot his return. He used cosmetic transmutation on his descendant to create an early resemblance. He allowed his descendant to take his name and claim the crown… and then immediately replaced Kaius III, imprisoning the young king in Dreadhold and taking his place.
The original ECS presented this as canon fact. However, Rising From The Last War chose to step back, taking the approach that it was a possibility… but that it could in fact just be a pernicious rumor. Kaius III might simply have a remarkable resemblance to his ancestor! He could truly be a young idealist who seeks peace and to mend the wounds of his nation.
Personally, I have always preferred an approach that blends both of these stories together—the idea that Kaius III is Kaius III pretending to be Kaius I pretending to be Kaius III. The idea here is that the story of Kaius I played out exactly as described above, and that he went into hiding to avoid becoming a tool of Lady Illmarrow… but he never found a way to break that control. But he saw Kaius III’s potential early on and guided his protege, molding him into an excellent king… and when young Kaius took the throne, his ancestor imprisoned himself in Dreadhold, placing him outside Illmarrow’s reach until a the new king could find a way to break the lich’s hold over him. Kaius III is intentionally playing up the similarities because he wants Illmarrow to think he’s Kaius I. He wants Illmarrow to be mystified by her inability to control him, to confuse her and throw her off her game.
For me, the story of Kaius and Etrigani are entwined, and the truth about Kaius will determine the path I take with Etrigani. So looking at the different ideas…
Kaius III is Kaius I. If this is the case, then then the man who claims to be Kaius III is actually Kaius I — the last of the heirs who set the Last War in motion. This makes him a powerful individual carrying a terrible burden. He’s the man who drove his country into war, and instituted the harsh Code of Kaius. And he’s the man who made a bargain with Lady Illmarrow, and paid a terrible price for it. He slew his beloved wife. If you follow canon, he turned his granddaughter into a vampire, and either killed his great grandson or imprisoned him… all because he believes that he is the only one who can do what has to be done. While he seeks peace, Kaius I is canonically lawful evil; what we’ve always said about this is that it reflects his absolute view that his ends justify his means. Part of the point of Kaius I as Kaius III is that he’s trying to restore the world he helped break—but he’s been a monster for so long that it’s hard to change his ways. We’ve said before that it’s hard to maintain empathy as a vampire; Kaius I is a perfect example of that. On some level, he wants to be a good; but it’s hard for him to remember what that even feels like. Looking to the newspaper clipping, the point is that Kaius I IS a vampire, but there’s lots of ways for him to stage scenes that make this seem impossible.
If Kaius is Kaius I and a vampire, what is the story of Etrigani? Either of the two options I’ve presented can work. In the Deathguard story, Etrigani’s public tale is as much a lie as the king’s; I’d suggest that they met years ago, and that it was Etrigani who found a way to break Illmarrow’s hold over the king. In this case I’d say that Etrigani’s mission isn’t just to destroy Illmarrow; the Undying Court knows that this would just kick the can down the road. She is tasked with destroying the influence of the Order of the Emerald Claw, but also with doing all that she can to find Illmarrow’s phylactery. The hope is that this will be exposed in Illmarrow’s conflict with Kaius. Etrigani and Kaius are partners, not lovers; they are united by their desire to bring down Illmarrow. This Etrigani has no love for Mabaran undead; if she did manage to defeat Illmarrow, she might try to destroy Kaius before returning to Aerenal.
However, it’s still possible to keep the empathetic Etrigani with the Kaius I. This Etrigani can hear the ghosts people carry with them. She met Kaius “III” at his coronation and immediate saw his pain; she could hear the ghost of his wife he carries with him. While her people teach that Mabaran undead are monsters, Etrigani sees the man he was, and is working to help him regain his humanity—to lay his ghosts to rest and find new love.
Kaius III is Kaius III. In this scenario, both Kaius and Etrigani are exactly what they appear to be. Kaius III is a young noble with big dreams for his nation, haunted by the shadow of his long-dead ancestor; if there IS a vampire Kaius I, they don’t know about him. Etrigani is also a young noble who wants to break away from the traditions of her ancestors and who has embraced her new homeland. She wants to learn more about the Seekers and their traditions—how they are using their rituals to contain the threat of Mabar, and the ways in which the use of undead serve the greater good. The point of this story is that these are two young and idealistic people who want challenge the traditions of their people and make the world a better place… but will the world allow it? Kaius truly wants peace, but the warlords of Karrnath are hungry for war. Etrigani sees beauty in Atur, but the Undying Court could be leaning on her and demanding that she serve their ends. Can they find a path to a better world? Or will they be forced into the molds their cultures wish for them?
Kaius III is Kaius III pretending to be Kaius I pretending to be Kaius III. Kaius I is the ruthless vampire who set the war in motion and now seeks redemption, but he can’t fight this battle alone. Kaius III is his chosen tool, trained and prepared to enact his will, saving his great grandfather and his nation. As described in the story, Kaius III is a brilliant leader. But he is fighting his ancestor’s war, and being driven to use his methods. Here again, we get that canonical lawful evil alignment—the idea that he’s been taught to be utterly ruthless in pursuit of his goals. But what does he want? If we take Etrigani as she stands, we have the idea that when she met Kaius at his coronations, she could feel the shadow of Kaius I hanging over him. She loves him, but she’s also trying to be a counter to K1’s darkness. And the point is that both Kaius and Etrigani won’t truly be free to chart their own course until they finish K1’s war—finding a way to free him from Illmarrow’s control and breaking the power of the Order of the Emerald Claw. Essentially, this takes the characters from the K3 is K3 story and commits them to this ruthless secret war. Etrigani wants them to win, but she also wants her husband to retain his humanity. A second question to consider on this path: Even if K3 is K3… is he still a vampire? The most convincing way for this masquerade to work would be if Kaius I turned his great grandson into a vampire. The idea is that Illmarrow’s control doesn’t pass down over generations; she can control Kaius I, but not his spawn. If Kaius III is a vampire of Kaius I’s bloodline, it would be the best way to convince Illmarrow he is Kaius I. But what does this mean for his future with Etrigani?
A fourth option is that Kaius I has taken the place of Kaius III and imprisoned him in Dreadhold, but that Etrigani loves Kaius III. She is working with Kaius I to defeat Illmarrow; once that task has been completed, he has promised to release the true Kaius III and return to the shadows.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR YOU?
If your adventurers are going to clash with the Emerald Claw or Lady Illmarrow, Etrigani and Kaius could be valuable allies. Etrigani has more freedom of movement than the king, but she’d still have a difficult time running around fighting Emerald Claw agents; but she has resources and information, and she could be an excellent patron for a group of adventurers. Etrigani could guide her agents both in dealing with agents of the Emerald Claw and also in seeking to maintain peace in Karrnath—dealing with rivalries and vendettas among the warlords, or even opposing Royal Eyes of Aundair or Dark Lanterns of Breland. On the other hand, if Etrigani is an agent of the Deathguard seeking Illmarrow’s phylactery, she could be a more powerful patron suited to more experienced adventurers, guiding them on ever more dangerous investigations into possible sites for the phylactery.
Regardless of this path, the DM can also explore the idea that Etrigani truly does want to learn more about the Seeker traditions—possibly, that she wants to try to soften the stance of the Deathguard and the Undying Court itself, to prove that when used wisely, Mabaran necromancy isn’t as dangerous as the Aereni believe.
Of course, there’s another option that could throw a twist into any of these stories. Etrigani has an unusual gift that allows her to communicate with the dead in a way most people cannot. She has a rebellious streak and doesn’t hold to the traditions of the Undying Court. What if she has a deeper secret? What if she has deep and distant ties to the Line of Vol, so distant they were ignored by the Undying Court in its purge? What if Etrigani is the first living elf in millenia to develop the Mark of Death? This would certainly explain her enthusiasm for leaving Aerenal far behind. Surely, she wouldn’t possess Erandis’s Apex Dragonmark (among other reasons, because such a mark would be physically difficult to conceal). But a living bearer of the Mark of Death could be the key to Erandis’s quest to somehow unlock the power of her dead dragonmark. Even if you don’t go down this path, Etrigani’s supernatural abilities could be a gift of Dolurrh’s Queen of the Dead… somehow tying into the Queen’s plans for Lady Illmarrow.
WHAT ABOUT REGENT MORANNA?
Moranna continues to serve as regent of Karrnath, a post that has been transformed from a stewardship to an advisory position. She never ventures far from the court or from Kaius’s side, except when he sends her out in his name to handle crises near and far. Moranna, a large, strong woman, has a commanding manner and a no-nonsense approach that leaves most of her underlings shaking in her wake.
That’s what the Eberron Campaign Setting has to say about Regent Moranna, and that remains true no matter which of the above stories you choose. Five Nations adds a little more to this: If the PCs undertake missions for the crown, Regent Moranna eventually becomes their patron and main contact point. Other than Kaius himself, she’s the most feared presence in Korth. Everyone knows she has some necromantic power, and it’s an open secret that she uses magic to give herself a deathlike pallor and some undead qualities.It complicates things a little by making Moranna an Aristocrat/Wizard, while the ECS had her as an Aristocrat/Sorcerer. Following the spirit of the text I’m inclined to agree with making her a necromancer wizard; alternately, Sorcerer levels could be used to reflect innate abilities. Because those same stories that say that Kaius I was a vampire say that he turned his granddaughter Moranna into a vampire as well, using her as his catspaw to manage things until he was finally ready to return.
Moranna’s basic position remains intact regardless of what story you choose. Whether she’s the king’s granddaughter, aunt, or spawn, she’s a trusted advisor and troubleshooter for the king. She is ruthless—lawful evil in alignment—and thus is untroubled by Etrigani’s empathy. I’m offering Etrigani as an alternative patron for adventurers serving the crown, but Moranna remains a possible patron, especially if their missions will take them down dark paths.
But is she a vampire? If Kaius I is a vampire, than Moranna is likely his spawn regardless of whether or not he is posing as Kaius III. As I’ve suggested, the idea is that Illmarrow can’t control Kaius’s spawn. If Kaius I is posing as Kaius III, she is his loyal aide as she always has been. If Kaius III is posing as Kaius I posing as Kaius III, then Moranna is the spawn of his great grandfather; she remains in her role of advisor and seeks to guide him down the path Kaius I would wish for him to follow; in this case, there could be tension between Etrigani and Moranna, given that Moranna is utterly ruthless and Etrigani would encourage the king to cultivate compassion. On the one hand, if Kaius III isn’t a vampire and Moranna is, she could be his bodyguard; on the other, in the same scenario, she could be a frightening watchdog appointed by Kaius I to make sure his descendant doesn’t lose his nerve. If, on the other hand, you decide that the stories of vampires are completely false, than Moranna may be exactly what she appears to be—the king’s aunt, a necromancer with a goth vibe and a cruel temperament. Or, it could be that she is still a vampire—and, perhaps, still the spawn of Kaius I—even if Kaius I has been destroyed and Kaius III is a living man.
Ultimately, the pieces remain the same. Kaius III is a relatively young king seeking peace and willing to be ruthless in his pursuit of it. Etrigani is his queen, a foreigner adapting to this new land and trying to balance her empathy with the harsh ways of Karrnath. And Moranna is the old advisor who is prepared to be the king’s heavy hand when needed. Are any of them vampires? That’s up to the DM to decide.
Kaius and Moranna blame the Blood of Vol for Karrnath’s failures in the Last War. Assuming Etrigani’s sympathies for the Seekers are legitimate, what are her opinions on the matter?
This isn’t a simple question. Because the fact that Kaius has publicly blamed Karrnath’s failings on the Blood of Vol doesn’t me that KAIUS actually believed that. The key example of this comes from the original Eberron Campaign Setting, which calls out that (following the K3 is K1 story) Kaius has a harem of devoted followers of the Blood of Vol who provide him with blood. I’ve always seen Kaius as oppressing the Blood of Vol for two reasons. The first was to eliminate LADY ILLMARROW’S influence in Karrnath — dissolving the Order of the Emerald Claw and targeting Illmarrow’s agents throughout the Seekers. The second is because Kaius needed to do something to change the story and unite the warlords behind him. The Seekers are scapegoats; blaming Karrnath’s failings on the Seekers lets the warlords reclaim their pride, to assert that they COULD have won if they’d just relied on pure Karrnathi steel. But in MY campaign, Kaius himself has never been against the common Seeker — as shown by the loyalty of his “blood bank.” Kaius is RUTHLESS. He is willing to make hard sacrifices to achieve his ends. In my opinion his persecution of the Seekers is exactly that — a sacrifice he made to cripple Illmarrow’s power base and strengthen his own position. Etrigani’s frequent presence in Atur reflects Kaius’s desire to maintain a connection to the true Seekers — even while he continues to persecute the Emerald Claw and Illmarrow’s loyalists.
That’s all for now! This question was posed by my Patreonsupporters, and it’s that support that makes articles like this possible. If you want to see more—or take part in live Q&A sessions—check out my Patreon!
Even an elf who’s pure of heart can become a wolf when Olarune is full… image by Matthew Johnson!
What makes a monster? There’s nothing inherently evil about the ability to assume the shape of a beast. Many Wardens of the Wood have this gift. The shifters speak of champions of Olarune, guardians of the wild that walk as bears or boars. Selkies and other fey shift their forms, but have no innate desire to harm the innocent. It is not the ability to change shape that makes a lycanthrope a monster; it’s the murderous spirit that hides within, regardless of the outer form. Surely you’ve heard the warnings—’Fear the wolves that walk among us,’ or ‘Beware the beast that wears a friendly face.’ It’s said that the first lycanthropes were created by the overlords to spread terror among the Children of Eberron. These creatures aren’t the deadliest monsters spawned by Khyber, but the fear they create can be far more dangerous than any wolf’s bite. How many communities have torn themselves apart trying to find hidden rats? Worse yet, those who fall to the bite of these beasts rise again as monsters themselves. Make no mistake: a werewolf may wear the face of someone you knew, but your friend’s soul is dissipating in Dolurrh. What you face is a murderous tool of the overlords which seeks to torment and kill the people its victim once loved.
—Dorius Alyre Ir’Korran, The Manual Maleficent
The lycanthrope is an iconic creature with a dramatic role in Eberron. In the ninth century the Church of the Silver Flame fought a brutal war against lycanthropes in the Towering Wood, hunting them nearly to extinction. But lycanthropes can still be found across Eberron. From the champions of Olarune to the Great Pack of Droaam and the Bilge Rats of Stormreach, lycanthropes remain. So I want to consider some of the traditional roles lycanthropes can play in a story, and then examine the latest interpretation of lycanthropy in the 2025 Monster Manual and consider what I’ll do with them in my campaign.
But before we go further, I want to shoot the were-elephant in the room. Lycanthrope means wolf man. So, why do we use it to refer to wererats, werebears, and more? Well, this is D&D, where medusas are a species and gorgons are bulls that breathe petrifying gas. It’s NOT an accurate term, but it’s the word the rules use, so I’m going ahead and using it here. Within the world, I would see “lycanthrope” as an esoteric term, if it’s used at all; I’d expect people in everyday life to call them skinchangers, shapeshifters, werecreatures, or to use words that have their roots in the languages spoken in the world.
LYCANTHROPE STORIES
Lycanthropes can appear in any adventure. But here’s a few themes to consider when dealing with lycanthropes.
Champions of Nature? Over time, lycanthropes have often been used in two very different story roles. On the one hand you have the idea of beings whose ability to assume animal form reflects a close bond to the natural world—where this ability is a gift and a blessing. Part of the problem with D&D is that it has always tried to fold these blessed lycanthropes under the same mechanical umbrella as the cursed predators. Typically it’s werebears that are always good—and yet, even in this latest edition, they follow all of the same rules as the predators, including spreading their supposed gift in the same way as those that carry it as a curse. In Eberron we separated species and alignment—saying that alignment was tied by strain, so the blessing made you good and the curse made you evil, and you could have good werewolves and evil werebears. Starting with this article I’m going to take it a step further and establish clear mechanical distinctions between these gifted and cursed lycanthropes. Most of the rest of these points deal with the cursed lycanthropes—as they are the monsters.
Fear of the Wild. When you set aside the blessed lycanthropes and focus on the cursed, the first thing to remember is that there’s nothing natural about them. Real wolves rarely prey upon humans, but cursed werewolves are driven to prey upon humanoids; some editions call out that evil lycanthropes explicitly prey on the people they loved in their former life. Cursed lycanthropes aren’t natural wolves, they’re metaphorical wolves; they’re the Big Bad Wolf from faerie tales. They embody people’s fears of the wild and more directly of the hidden predator. REAL rats don’t actively scheme and intentionally spread disease; but wererats undermine and infest the cities they dwell in. When dealing with the cursed lycanthropes, remember that you’re dealing with the products of demons and daelkyr; they are a mockery of the natural world, not a celebration of it.
A Corrupting Force. In some editions of D&D, people can fight the Curse of Lycanthropy. But in most editions, there is at least a period where a cursed individual loses control of their actions—and in many, a path by which the cursed individual’s morality and personality are eroded until they are fully shaped by the predatory drives of the curse. Because of this, anyone can become a murderous lycanthrope. Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night can become a wolf when the moon is full… Because of this, the Curse is a force that can turn allies, friends, and loved ones into deadly enemies. It is a threat even a player can struggle with. The image of the good person chaining themselves in the basement when the full moon is on the rise is a key aspect of this story: the person who doesn’t WANT to hurt anyone, but who knows that they are going to become a murderous monster. To me, this is a key element of what makes lycanthropes compelling enemies: their ability to corrupt the innocent, and the terror that they could turn YOU into a monster. When dealing with cursed lycanthropes, the DM must decide on the intensity of the curse and what it drives its victims to do. Are they driven to murder innocents and spread terror? Are they drawn to serve the cause of an overlord or daelkyr? Can the curse be resisted or overcome?
A Hidden Threat. Lycanthropes can be a challenging enemy. But what makes them terrifying is their ability to hide among innocent people—made worse by the curse’s power to corrupt those innocents. When you arrive in a small town, anyone could be a murderous werewolf waiting for the moment to strike. If you find one wererat, you can be sure that there’s more scheming in the shadows. While this can be a challenge for adventurers, the fear of other innocents can be an even greater problem; as anyone who’s played any form of Are You A Werewolf knows, innocent people can often be hurt as panicked townsfolk hunt for the wolves in their midst. Imagine a group of adventurers arrive in a small town, with a task that will take them a week to complete. That night someone is murdered by a beast—and someone accuses the adventurers of harboring a werewolf. Can the adventurers prove their innocence? Can they be entirely certain one of them isn’t a werewolf? Can they find the true threat? A twist on this is if it’s not a lone wolf, but rather that there’s a well-established faction of lycanthropes who play important roles in the town; the “murderous wolf” could be a rebel member of the line, or from a rival clan who wants the adventurers to expose the family. But is that actually what’s best for the town? Typically, there’s no way to identify a lycanthrope while it’s in its animal form, and this is one reason lycanthropes fight in beast form instead of just murdering people with weapons. But stories often play with the idea that a severe injury to a lycanthrope in beast form might be retained in their humanoid form—so the butcher suddenly has a limp after the battlemaster tripped up the wolf that eventually got away.
An Unexpected Challenge. One of the things that’s compelling about lycanthropes is the fact that the typical methods and tools adventurers use may not suffice to defeat them. Perhaps the adventurers are dealing with a local crime lord, a crooked sheriff, or a cultist… and it’s all a simple, clear story until the villain laughs at the steel sword plunged through his heart. While there are issues with this, which is why 2025 has removed it, to me the challenge of you need to UNDERSTAND what you’re fighting and to find the tools you’ll need to defeat it is a fun story and makes dealing with lycanthropes a very different experience from fighting random thugs. With that in mind, what I suggest below is changing the vulnerabilities by strain. The point is to add an aspect that goes beyond the pure wargame of combat and that drives the adventurers to investigate, to learn HOW to defeat their foe.
A Feral Apocalypse. Under the 2025 rules, lycanthropy can spread with astonishing speed. What happens when the wolves aren’t hiding, and instead mount an all out assault to spread their curse through a community? Can the adventurers find a way to contain this outbreak before it’s too late? Perhaps the adventurers are in a Vadalis enclave when an artificial strain of lycanthropy is released; can they prevent it from spreading out into the city?
Stat Block from the 2025 Monster Manual
THE 2025 MONSTER MANUAL
The 2025 Monster Manual is out. It includes the five familiar lycanthropes—werewolves, wererats, werebears, weretigers, and wereboars. It gives some loose lore suggestions—werebears are good and work with druids and fey! Werewolves are evil and some change when the moon is full! Weretigers consider their powers to be a family gift and like to protect things! However, the core mechanics are the same for all five types of lycanthrope and there are two major changes to the 2014 version.
Silver Doesn’t Matter. Under the 2025 rules, lycanthropes have no resistance or immunity to normal weapons. They don’t have any sort of regeneration. Silver isn’t mentioned in their stat blocks or lore. Instead, the DMG makes silvered weapons a common form of magic item that adds additional damage if you score a critical hit against any sort of shapeshifted creature. There’s understandable reasons for this. It’s difficult to calculate CR for a creature with a situational immunity, because if the party is properly equipped the immunity has no impact at all, while if they don’t have the weapons they need it can be nearly impossible to defeat an enemy. As mentioned above, I like challenging a group of adventurers to find the tools they need; but for the casual DM or inexperienced players it can be a can of worms. So I understand the decision, but I don’t like it—and as a result, I’m suggesting alternatives later in this article.
The Curse is Instant and Brutal. In most editions of D&D, the curse of lycanthropy is a slow affliction, something that might not even bother you until there’s a full moon. In many editions, player characters could become lycanthropes, using a template or just simple modifications to their character. Neither of these things are true in 2025. All of the five lycanthropes in the Monster Manual have the following effect on their bite attack (replacing ‘werewolf’ with the appropriate lycanthrope): The target is cursed. If the cursed target drops to 0 hit points it instead becomes a Werewolf under the DM’s control and has 10 hit points. The bolded text is part of the description, and indicates that the new creature uses the werewolf stat block. Let’s run down the effects and implications of this.
The change happens instantaneously. The moon has nothing to do with it, and once you are cursed there’s no way to resist changing and turning on your allies when you drop to zero hit points.
When you turn into a lycanthrope, you use the appropriate lycanthrope stat block and fall under the DM’s control. It’s not a template, meaning that the new lycanthrope has none of your skills or abilities. It is effectively a new creature summoned when you fall.
The 2014 Monster Manual included rules for player characters becoming lycanthropes. The 2024 book does not, because again, it’s not a template. You don’t gain new abilities when you are turned into a werewolf; you lose all the skills and abilities you had and become an NPC under the DM’s control.
I read this in the way that Dorius describes it in the Manual Maleficent. For all intents and purposes, you die when you drop to zero hit points while cursed; an entirely new creature steps in and steals your body. What’s left isn’t you any more. This is a very clear and clean effect for a wargame. But in my opinion it loses most of the drama traditionally associated with the werewolf story—the struggle to resist the curse, chaining yourself in the basement when the full moon is rising. Instead, it’s far closer to a traditional zombie apocalypse scenario, where the bite of a zombie can transform a victim within minutes and turns them into a loyal member of the ravening horde. Under this model, a single werewolf could set the destruction of a village in motion within minutes. It serves a purpose, and it works well for the cursed victims of the Wild Heart. But I want more options to exist within my campaign.
Can it be cured? The entry has no direct explanation of how lycanthropy can be cured. The text of the effect is The target is cursed. If the cursed target drops to zero hit points, it instead becomes a werewolf under the DM’s control. There’s no question that if you reach the victim BEFORE they drop to zero hit points, you can negate this with remove curse. But what happens AFTER they are transformed? A gentle interpretation is that the ongoing state of being a werewolf is considered to be a standard “curse” and that as such, it can be removed at any time with a simple remove curse. A harsher interpretation—which I personally subscribe to—is that the effect of the curse is “transform you into a werewolf when you drop to zero hit points,” and that once that occurs, the new werewolf is no longer under the effect of a curse.
The 3.5 rules of D&D had more detailed rules for the curing lycanthropy. Under these rules, a cleric of 12th level or higher could cure it magically if the cure was performed within three days of incurring lycanthropy. After that point, it could only be cured if the victim underwent remove curse or break enchantment during a night of the full moon, and at that point they had to succeed on a DC 20 saving throw (and consider that an unwilling creature can always choose to fail a saving throw!). To me, the ultimate issue is that remove curse isn’t a high level spell. At 3rd level, it’s part of every day life in the world. If that’s all it takes to curse any lycanthrope… it strips a lot of the fear and drama from the story. The idea of the lycanthropic purge is that terrible things were done in the name of rooting out hidden lycanthropes; if all it takes is casting remove curse and oh, job’s done, that’s not much of a story. On the other hand, the 3.5 rules were based on the model that it would TAKE days for someone to succumb to lycanthropy, during which time they could seek a cure. The 2025 rules strip that away; if there’s no way to cure the affliction after that initial transformation, it’s pretty ruthless. Ultimately, the way I see it is that 2025 lycanthropy is a form of death; it’s an alternative condition to dying. Remove curse is a 3rd level spell, on par with revivify. Like revify, it should be a valid option if you use it quickly; but after a little time has passed, you need something more powerful, on the level of raise dead—such as the 5th level greater restoration. Even then, I’d want to add an element of challenge—the equivalent of the 3.5 saving throw requirement—that also prevents you from just being able to strip away, say, Zaeurl’s lycanthropy with a simple spell.
So with that in mind, here’s what I’ll do; you’ll have to decide what makes sense in your campaign!
Lycanthropes who are born with the condition (IE Changing Folk) or who receive it as a gift (Ollarune’s Blessing) or through an item or bargain (Skinweavers) can’t be cured. Likewise, exceptionally powerful lycanthropes—the creatures I call “alphas” in the later sections—can’t be cured.
Remove curse can remove lycanthropy before it is triggered (by the victim dropping to zero hit points), or if it is administered within a day of the initial transformation. Greater restoration can remove the curse of lycanthropy up to a month after the initial transformation. Wish or spells of similar power can always remove lycanthropy.
If someone wishes cast remove curse, greater restoration, or a similar spell on an unwilling victim—such as a hostile lycanthrope—they must make a successful spell attack roll against the target and the victim gets to make a Wisdom saving throw to resist the effect.
There may be another way to curse a specific lycanthrope based on the story behind the strain. Perhaps there’s a celestial relic, a rare herb charged with the energies of Irian, or an experimental treatment House Jorasco and House Vadalis have been working on that can cure a lycanthrope. The point is that this is an interesting story—not just the expenditure of a spell slot.
Ultimately, the 2025 Lycanthrope is a platform to work with. To start with, I’m going to suggest some variant abilities that could be added to existing lycanthropes. Next, I’ll talk about the ways I’d combine those options with lycanthropes we’ve already mentioned in canon and kanon lore, along with some other ideas. Of course, the ideas for lycanthrope strains are still valid even if you don’t use the 2025 rules!
VARIANT TRAITS
These abilities could be added to a current lycanthrope. With that said, there’s no direct way to map them to an increase in CR, because the impact on combat will be entirely dependent on the degree to which your adventurers are prepared for the challenge. As such, it’s up to you as a DM to consider how these changes will affect the encounters you’re setting up—and to reward your players for overcoming greater challenges. A few other things to consider:
Bane materials. In a number of these abilities I refer to bane materials. It’s an interesting challenge to have an enemy who can’t be killed or slain by normal weapons. But now that it’s not part of the stat block, there’s no reason that weakness has to involve silver. It’s an easy choice and thematically appropriate for the children of the Wild Heart, supporting the Silver Flame and the Silver Crusade. But it makes sense to me that lycanthropes created by the daelkyr would be vulnerable to byeshk rather than silver. Meanwhile, champions of Olarune might be resistant to harm from all worked metals, but vulnerable to weapons made solely of wood. If you want to get wild, a fey lycanthrope could have a weakness tied to their own story: perhaps they can only be hurt by a weapon dipped in tears, or they take no damage from anyone who has the frightened condition. The key to introducing a new sort of bane is that there needs to be a straightforward way for the adventurers to uncover it. Consider whether the weakness is simply common knowledge; after the Silver Crusade, it makes sense that MOST people know that silver is a common bane for lycanthropes. If a creature has a different bane, how are the adventurers supposed to find out about it? Is it just a skill check? Is there a sage or a library who knows the answer? You want this to be a challenge for your players, not a source of sheer frustration.
Limited by Form? A second question to keep in mind is whether a trait is restricted to certain forms. The lycanthropes of the 2014 Monster Manual possess their damage immunity in all of their shapes. But if a lycanthrope only possesses invulnerability in its beast or hybrid forms, it gives them a concrete REASON to fight in animal form rather than to use weapons and equipment while still benefiting from invulnerability in humanoid form. It also solves the question of whether you can easily test for werewolves by inflicting minor injuries on them in humanoid form.
WEAPON IMMUNITY. The lycanthrope is immune to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage unless it’s dealt by a weapon made from their bane material. This is the most extreme version of this trait, and can be frustrating for melee-focused characters. Consider what options are available for them. Can they improvise a weapon using the bane material available to them? Can they hit the enemy with a torch? A second question is what this invulnerability LOOKS like. Does a sword bounce off them? Does it injure them, but the wound heals right away? Do they get injured, but don’t react to the damage—continuing to fight even with arrows piercing their body? If this invulnerability manifests in humanoid form, this could be an easy way to reveal a lycanthrope.
WEAPON RESISTANCE. The lycanthrope is resistant to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage unless it’s dealt by a weapon made from their bane material. This means that a melee-focused character CAN choose to ignore the trait and fight using their normal weapons and techniques; it will be harder, but it’s possible.
REGENERATION. The lycanthrope regains 10 hit points at the start of each of its turns. If the lycanthrope takes damage from a weapon made from its bane material, this trait doesn’t function at the start of the lycanthrope’s next turn. The lycanthrope dies only if it starts its turn with 0 hit points and doesn’t regenerate. Drawn from the loup garou from Van Richten’s Guide To Ravenloft, this trait has the advantage that it’s just as relevant to spellcasters as it is to warriors. It’s not simply that swords won’t kill the wolf—it will recover from fire and acid as well, rising again and again until someone finishes it off using its bane. I like the flavor of this more than simple immunity, but even more than immunity, if the adventurers don’t have knowledge of and access to the bane material, you’re placing them in an impossible situation. Beyond the bane material, you could choose to add other damage types that would have the same effect; lycanthropes tied to the overlords might be hurt both by silvered weapons and by radiant damage.
UNNATURAL VITALITY. When the lycanthrope is reduced to zero hit points, it enters a cataleptic state that is indistinguishable from death. It appears to be dead to outward observation and spells used to determine the lycanthrope’s status. While in this state it has the blinded and incapacitated conditions and its speed is zero. It remains in this state until it suffers any damage from a weapon forged from its bane material, at which point it dies; or until the moon rises, at which point the state ends and the lycanthrope gains the benefits of a long rest. This trait has a powerful long-term effect, but doesn’t change the balance of combat. Adventurers can defeat the lycanthrope using all their usual weapons and spells, but unless they know what it is and how to kill it, it will rise again. This is ideal for a slow burn story, where adventurers face a villain and don’t realize they’re a supernatural creature until they’ve killed the villain once only to have them return the next day. A question to consider is whether there are any ways to get around this. If the lycanthrope is dismembered, will that kill it? Will it reconstitute itself at nightfall? Or will it remain ‘dead’ until the pieces are brought back together, at which point it will rise again? This can allow for a cult that steals the preserved head of a long-dead lycanthrope from some vault, because they’ve located the rest of his body…
NO INFECTION. This lycanthrope does not curse its victim with its bite attack. For creatures where the condition of lycanthropy is a blessing rather than a curse, it doesn’t make much sense to spread it like a zombie plague.
ONGOING INFECTION. When a creature is cursed by the lycanthrope’s bite, their hit point maximum is reduced by the damage of the bite attack. This damage cannot be undone until the curse is removed. When the cursed creature attempts to take a long rest, they must make a Wisdom saving throw (DC 12); the DC is increased by 1 for each full moon. If the cursed creature fails the saving throw, they become a lycanthrope under the DM’s control. Once this occurs the curse is lifted and their hit point maximum is restored; at this point they are a lycanthrope, and the condition can only be removed by a wish or similar level of power. At the DM’s discretion, the character could remain in control of their actions while in their humanoid form, but have to make the Wisdom saving throw every time they attempt a long rest, losing control and becoming a lycanthrope whenever they fail. This retains the idea that a victim could carry the curse for a while, struggling against it. It keeps the simplicity of the 2025 approach in that when the victim transforms, they become a lycanthrope of the appropriate type under the DM’s control; it’s not a template, and they don’t retain any of their skills or class features. When using this approach, the DM could make removing the curse more difficult than simply casting a spell; perhaps the victim needs to acquire a certain herb, or be stabbed with a weapon made from the lycanthrope’s bane material to ‘kill the curse.’
SLOW INFECTION. This follows the rules for the Ongoing Infection, but the victim cannot be transformed by dropping to zero hit points; they can ONLY be transformed by failing a saving throw while taking a long rest.
FERAL BOND. The lycanthrope can cast animal friendship, speak with animals and beast sense at will, but only targeting beasts of the same type as the lycanthrope’s beast form. For a guardian of nature, this reflects the lycanthrope’s connection to the natural world. For a cursed lycanthrope, this represents their ability to corrupt nature and twist it to serve their purposes.
RESTRICTED SHAPE-SHIFT. The lycanthrope can only use its Shape-Shift bonus action when certain conditions are met. This could require the lycanthrope to be in possession of a particular object, such as a wolfskin belt or a set of hide armor. It could be limited to a certain time or place—they can only change while illuminated by moonlight. It could require the lycanthrope to spill blood, or even only be possible when the lycanthrope reduces a humanoid creature to zero hit points. The DM must also decide whether this applies in all forms. It could be that a cultist of the Wild Heart can enter wolf form at will, but can only return to humanoid form when they reduce a creature to zero hit points. Once they accept the gift, they HAVE to kill, or else be trapped in animal form.
BESTIAL SHAPE-SHIFT. When this lycanthrope uses the Shape-Shift bonus action, they can only assume an animal form or their true humanoid form; they do not have a hybrid form. This is an option to distinguish a strain and prevents them from relying on weapons when they aren’t in humanoid form.
STRAINS OF LYCANTHROPY
Canon lore provides no absolute origin for lycanthropy. It’s suggested that it could be tied to Eberron, Lamannia, or Olarune; and that this gift could have been corrupted by an overlord or by the daelkyr. Some believe shifters are descended from lycanthropes; some say that the reverse is true, and that the first lycanthropes were blessed shifters. To all of this, I say why not both? I describe six strains of lycanthropy here. Of these, skinchangers are by far the most common. Most people have only heard of the others in stories, if that; it’s up to you to decide if any of these exist in YOUR Eberron.
SKINCHANGERS
Typically Found In: Anywhere in Khorvaire, especially the Towering Wood and Demon Wastes.
Animal Forms: Typically Wolf and Rat, though any predatory creature is possible.
Typical Variant Traits: (Typically) Resistant to physical damage unless caused by silvered weapons; (Alpha skinchangers) Immune to physical damage unless caused by silvered weapons, Feral Bond
When people in Eberron curse the “wolves that walk among us,” they’re talking about skinchangers. This is an ancient affliction first unleashed at the dawn of creation to turn the children of Eberron against one another. Skinchangers are predators whose primary purpose is to sow fear—murdering innocents in the form of beasts, and tearing communities apart from within. Skinchanger is a broad category that has many substrains within it. Each of these strains is tied to a particular overlord and to a particular animal form: so werewolves of the Wild Heart only create other werewolves, while skinchanger serpents of the Cold Sun only create other wereserpents. The skinchangers of the Wild Heart are the most widespread and diverse in their forms, though Wolf and Rat are by far the most common; beyond this, the curse of the Wild Heart is only associated with predatory creatures.
The skinchanger curse is a cousin to fiendish possession; when the curse takes hold, it overrides the morality and memories of the victim, immediately corrupting them and turning them to the purpose of the pack. Victims usually retain some of the memories of their previous life, allowing them to maintain a masquerade, but even the most virtuous person will become a monster under the influence of the curse. So what are they driven to do? That depends on the overlord, but the general directive is to sow fear. Murder is a powerful tool in this direction, but if there’s one werewolf in a village, they won’t just kill everyone else in the village, even if they could; what the overlord wants is people living in fear. They might murder one person every month or even every year, just enough to keep the fear alive; or they might time their killings for when strangers arrive in town, turning the villagers against the newcomers. The werewolf is the favored child of the Wild Heart, but the strongest strains of wererat are associated with Eldrantulku. The Oathbreaker’s rats occasionally spread disease, but what they love most is to spread corruption, infiltrating institutions and spreading graft and schemes. Where the Wild Heart wants people to fear nature, Eldrantulku wants people to fear one another, to believe that everyone is corrupt and that no system can be trusted.
With this said, the influence of the overlords waxes and wanes. During the Silver Crusade, the Wild Heart was close to release and was able to turn all skinchangers to its cause, driving them to cause a feral apocalypse. Currently, the power of the Wild Heart is weak, and the surviving skinchangers of its strains are largely left to their own devices—as seen in the Great Pack of Droaam. Most are still instinctively predatory and cruel, driven to intimidate and to hunt, but their primary loyalty is the alpha of their pack and whatever their goal may be. This can also be seen in the wererats of Stormreach, who are instinctively loyal to their leader. Likewise, keep in mind that most lycanthropes aren’t aware of their connection to an overlord. The wererats of Stormreach are a corrupting force in the city, but they think they work for Cartha; they aren’t chanting the name of Eldrantulku. A pack of lycanthropes can also be a cult of the Dragon Below, but it’s not automatic.
The best known trait of skinchangers is their resistance to physical damage, save the touch of silver. Most skinchangers can be hurt by other attacks, but only silver strikes true. More powerful alpha skinchangers are fully immune to physical damage save for wounds caused by silver. Skinchangers will appear to be hurt by mundane means, but they just don’t feel pain or suffer the full consequences of those injuries. So a simple cut on the palm isn’t enough to tell if a person is a skinchanger. During the lycanthropic purge, countless innocents were slain while undergoing tests to determine if they possessed a skinchanger’s resistance…
The ability of skinchangers to pass on their curse is also something that waxes and wanes. During the Silver Crusade, the curse was instantly infectious and followed the rules as presented in the 2025 Monster Manual. After the Crusade, it became far less potent, following the Slow Infection rules. It’s up to the DM to decide whether a particular strain uses the standard rules or if they only have the Slow Infection. It’s also worth noting that while the Church of the Silver Flame did its best to wipe out skinchangers, it’s impossible to truly exterminate them. It’s certainly rare, but the overlords can always reseed the curse. A leader of a cult of the Dragon Below can become a newborn alpha skinchanger. There are cursed artifacts that will infect those that carry them with the skinchanger curse. And there are truly ancient skinchangers with Unnatural Vitality, who have been buried—in some cases, their bodies cut in pieces and scattered—who wait to be released again.
SKINWEAVERS
Typically Found: Near Thelanian manifest zones
Animal Forms: Any
Typical Variant Traits: No Infection, Restricted Shape-Shift, Bestial Shape-Shift; Weapon Immunity and Unnatural Vitality (usually Silver, Beast Form only)
The classic skinweaver is a cultist of Sul Khatesh or Eldrantulku who receives a skinweaver’s pelt—often a belt or cloak—that allows them to assume the form of a beast. They must pay for this gift with innocent blood; in some cases they can’t transform back to their humanoid form until they murder an innocent. While in beast form, a Skinweaver is protected from harm. Even if they are killed while in beast form, their Unnatural Vitality will protect them unless they are skinned; they remain in beast form while in their cataleptic state.
Skinweavers are usually agents of chaos who revel in their bestial power, or who wish to pursue a feud without fear of retribution. Those tied to fiends are typically vulnerable to silver. However, an archfey or animal lord could also grant a skinweaver’s pelt; in this case, their bane material would be tied to the story of the fey. Such lycanthropes wouldn’t have to be evil; there are tales in our world of benevolent fey who require a magical pelt to change shape, which can be stolen by unscrupulous mortals.
Skinweavers are extremely rare and don’t spawn other lycanthropes. A skinweaver’s pelt has no innate power of its own; the would-be wearer must activate it by making a pact with the entity that created it. A skinweaver’s pelt does have one special property: it transforms along with the victim when they assume their bestial form, reappearing when they return to their humanoid form.
DYRRN’S CORRUPTED
Typically Found: Near entrances to Khyber or in Cults of the Dragon Below
Animal Forms: Any
Typical Variant Traits: Regeneration (Byeshk, hereditary lycanthrope); Ongoing Infection (hereditary lycanthrope) or No Infection (afflicted lycanthrope); Bestial Shape-Shift
The daelkyr Dyrrn created this curse and cast it into the world. It spreads along two vectors. It is hereditary, and Corrupted lycanthropes pass the curse to their offspring. It can also be transmitted using the standard rules, with the Ongoing Infection variation. However, only lycanthropes born with the curse can transmit the curse; those transformed through a bite cannot spread the curse any further.
Each strain of Dyrrn’s Corruption is associated with an alignment (typically neutral or evil), a beast type, and a moon… for example, neutral tigers tied to Rhaan. With that said, the bestial forms of Corrupted lycanthropes are typically unnatural in some way (which is consistent throughout a particular strain). Those neutral tigers might have translucent skin and fur, or barbed tongues instead of teeth, or extra tails that are actually lamprey-like tentacles. This could result in additional abilities in animal form—a climb speed, swim speed, unusual attack, or something similar. In addition, hereditary Corrupted lycanthropes are very difficult to kill; they possess regeneration that can only be countered by byeshk. So a hereditary Corrupted lycanthrope can spread its curse quickly, the lycanthropes it spawns in this way cannot create new spawn of their own and are easier to kill.
When Dyrrn’s Corruption takes hold, it destroys the personality and many of the memories of the victim. While there are neutral strains, they are alien in their outlook, and a player character overtaken by the curse will become an NPC. Each strain of corrupted lycanthropy is driven by its own inscrutable instincts. Some are aggressive or act as Cults of the Dragon Below; others are simply enigmatic, creating strange monuments in the wild or howling in eerie choirs.
OLARUNE’S BLESSED (spirit walkers, the Second Life)
Typically Found In: The Eldeen Reaches, Talenta Plains, Qaltiar drow
Animal Forms:Any, including non-predatory beasts.
Typical Variant Traits: No Infection; Resistance to damage caused by metal weapons (Beast Form Only); Bestial Shape-Shift; Feral Bond
Olarune’s Blessing is no curse. It is a gift that is occasionally granted to champions of the wild, especially shifters, rangers, and barbarians. The Moonspeaker druids of the Towering Woods say that this power flows from the moon Olarune, and this is the source of the name; and certainly, those that carry the give feel the desire to roam in their beast forms when Olarune is full, though they do not lose control. Others say that the power flows from Lamannia or Eberron itself. What is certain is that this gift is usually granted to people who already have some connection to primal magic, and that those who receive Olarune’s Blessing feel a strong drive to protect the natural world and its creatures. Olarune’s Blessing manifests spontaneously and can’t be passed on. Some of those who receive the gift have ecstatic visions of a glowing figure charging them to defend the wild; others discover the blessing with no prior sign or warning. Those who carry the curse often possess resistance to damage inflicted by metal weapons, but this doesn’t shield them from unarmed strikes, falling damage, or attacks made with weapons of wood, stone, or bone.
Humanoids who carry Olarune’s Blessing gain the ability to assume the form of a beast that is respected or revered in the region in which they are blessed, and usually feel compelled to embody the positive traits associated with that animal. The bear is a common shape for the blessed in the Eldeen Reaches. However, any animal is possible, including non-predatory animals.
In the Talenta Plains, this gift is known as theSecond Life; typically, it is found among skilled hunters who have lost their dinosaur companions, and who gain the ability to assume the form of that creature. The gift is also found among the Qaltiar culture of the drow in Xen’drik, where the blessed are known as spirit walkers.
THE CHANGING FOLK
Typically Found: Near Thelanian manifest zones
Animal Forms: Any
Typical Variant Traits: No Infection
There are countless stories of people who are also animals—the Bears that Built a Barn, Brother Fox and his Wily Ways, the Wagons of the Wandering Wolves. Most scholars say these tales are inspired by shifters. But in the Moonlit Vale of Thelanis there are people who embody these tales, peaceful folk who shift freely between humanoid and bestial form. A few families of the Changing Folk have found their way into Eberron. Most seek to keep their distance from the outer world, remaining in isolation in Thelanian manifest zones and dwelling in their stories… but a few yearn for adventure and travel into the world beyond.
Changing Folk aren’t cursed and can’t transform other creatures. Those born in Thelanis are fey, and they wither if they travel too far from Thelanis or manifest zones; those born in Eberron are humanoids. They are exceptionally rare, and most people in the Five Nations have never met one of the Changing Folk.
If a player character wished to be one of the Changing Folk, the simplest way to simulate it would be to play a shifter druid, characterizing the Wild Shape ability as an expansion of their natural abilities.
PUPPETEERS
Typically Found: Anywhere, especially Talenta Plains and Demon Wastes.
Animal Forms: Any predatory creature
Typical Variant Traits: Alpha only – Weapon Immunity (see below) and Unnatural Vitality
Puppeteers are a variation of skinchanger lycanthropes. The skinchanger curse changes a victim’s morality and loyalty, but they still retain some memory of their former life. The puppeteer curse is a malevolent spirit, and it takes full possession of the creatures that succumb to its curse. While puppeteer lycanthropes are living creatures, in many ways they are effectively undead; the mortal soul has left the body, and all that’s left is a shell being manipulated by the spirit. The puppeteers of a particular pack are all controlled by a single mind, and are thus aware of everything experienced by members of their pack. If they choose, they can speak with one voice; however, the puppeteer can also maintain a semblance of autonomy among its pack members, though it can struggle if multiple members of the pack are required to engage in complex tasks or conversations at once.
A puppeteer can only maintain a certain number of pack members; it’s up to the DM to decide what this is. As long as it is below that number, it uses the standard rules for spreading the curse and transforming victims found in the 2025 Monster Manual. Once the maximum pack size has been reached, members of the pack lose the ability to transmit the curse, and any cursed creatures who haven’t been transformed lose the curse. The ability is regained as soon as a member of the pack is slain. A creature under the protection of Protection from Evil and Good or other effects that protect against possession cannot be affected by the puppeteer’s curse.
Each puppeteer pack has an alpha member who possesses Weapon Immunity and Unnatural Vitality. As long as the alpha remains alive, the spirit can always restore its pack. If the alpha is slain—fully slain, accounting for its Unnatural Vitality—all of the other members of the pack fall into a cataleptic state. It’s up to the DM to decide if they can be cured and restored at that point—or if they are truly dead.
There are two distinct forms of puppeteer, and this determines the nature of the puppeteer’s bane material.
Fiendish puppeteers are vulnerable to silver. Their beast forms are hideous and move in unnatural ways. They are typically driven by native fiends associated with Eldrantulku or the Wild Heart, though they don’t necessarily serve the interests of their overlords. While in beast form, a fiendish puppeteer’s creature type changes to fiend.
Undead puppeteers are driven by cursed or restless spirits. They are vulnerable to weapons made from the bones of their original body, weapons they owned in life, or the weapon that originally killed them; they will also permanently die if they are buried in hallowed ground. Undead puppeteers typically have smaller packs than fiends. Their bestial forms appear to be dead, with exposed bone and dried blood. While in beast form, an undead puppeteer’s creature type changes to fiend.
Puppeteers are extremely rare; they’ve been encountered in the Talenta Plains and the Demon Wastes. The Mournland could be another place to find an undead puppeteer!
LYCANTHROPES IN THE WIDER WORLD
Most of the ideas I’ve discussed here refer to lycanthropes in isolation. But how do they interact with other forces, like the Dreaming Dark or the dragonmarked houses? First of all, most strains of lycanthropy are very rare. Skinchangers have always been the most common and widespread, but they were hunted almost to extinction during the Silver Crusade. As I’ve mentioned, it’s impossible to utterly destroyed skinchangers because the overlords can make more—but they are still rare today and still hunted by the templars and other forces when they appear within the Five Nations. There can be a nest of wererats in Fairhaven if you want there to be… but they’d want to be quiet and clever about it. Beyond this, cursed lycanthropes typically have an enforced loyalty to their creators and their pack, which prevents a lot of casual alliances. A PACK may make an alliance—as seen with the Great Pack of Droaam allying with the Daughters of Sora Kell or the wererats of Stormreach allying with the Boromar Clan—but you don’t have a lot of individual cursed lycanthropes breaking away from their creators. Uncursed lycanthropes are another story; there are blessed lycanthropes among the Wardens and Moonspeakers in the Eldeen Reaches, and you could easily have a Skinweaver concordian in the Aurum. In general, however, the broad idea is that lycanthropes are a thing that people know exist and that they are afraid of—but that since the Silver Crusade, few people expect to actually see one.
I hope this has given you some inspiration for your stories. If you want more, check out my Patreonfor bonus material tied to Olarune’s Blessing, including a supernatural gift for adventurers and discussion of lycanthropes tied to other beasts. It’s my patrons who make articles like this possible—if you’re already a patron, thank you for your support!
In the dawn of time, Eberron was the domain of the fiendish overlords… Rak Tulkesh, the Rage of War, commanded armies of vicious fiends, while the Wild Heart raised hordes of ravenous beasts. In the struggles between the two, the Wild Heart bred dire hyenas with the ability to consume the immortal essences of the Zakya warriors of Rak Tulkhesh. But the Wild Heart failed to anticipate how consuming fiends would affect its creations. Twisted from within by the immortal essence of the demons they’d devoured, the hyenas were warped into something entirely new, something that was neither beast nor demon: and so the first gnolls were born. Formed from both War and the Wild, gnolls were recruited and bred by both Rak Tulkhesh and the Wild Heart… Even after the overlords were defeated and bound by the Silver Flame, gnolls continued to be their pawns. The fiendish spark burned within them, and when they weren’t directly serving the Lords of Dust, most engaged in savage acts of brutality. The Rage of War seeks endless battle, and when there is no greater conflict, it delights in setting its minions against one another. For countless generations, gnolls fought troll, ogre, and other gnolls seeking blood for their hungry idols. Then, centuries ago, two gnolls from rival clans faced one another on a battlefield soaked in the blood of their kin—then questioned the path that had led them there. The two urged others to deny the voice that called for endless war, to refuse to chase death in the service of a fiend. Two became four, then eight, until entire clans heeded the call. Clan leaders dragged their idols to the place now known as Znir—a word that simply means “stone”—and there, they shattered the images of the fiends they once served.
As time permits, I like to answer interesting questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Here’s one from this month…
How would you incorporate Gnolls as Fiends? The 2025 Monster Manual and Flee, Mortals! both type Gnolls as full-fledged fiends rather than simply demon-worshipping humanoids.
Eberron was created for third edition. When a new edition changes the default lore, there’s always the question of how to respond to it. Should we change Eberron to adapt to the latest change, or should we maintain the integrity of the setting’s original lore even if it is contradicted by the latest set of rules? There’s one dramatic example of this in the original setting itself. Eberron was designed while the original third edition rules were in effect. Under those rules, afflicted lycanthropes could spread the curse of lycanthropy, which creates the potential for an exponential spread—one lycanthrope can bite five people, who each become lycanthropes that bite five people, who each become lycanthropes and before you know it, the entire population of Aundair is howling at the moons. It was with this in mind that we instituted the idea of the Silver Crusade, a brutal effort to eradicate lycanthropy—because as depicted, lycanthropy was something that could be seen as an existential threat. Except that D&D was evolving as Eberron was developed, and under the 3.5 rules, afflicted lycanthropes couldn’t spread the affliction… making the crusade seem arbitrary and cruel. With this in mind, we added an explanation that bridged the gap between the two editions—saying that at the time of the Silver Crusade, lycanthropy WAS infectious; the actions of the templars and Moonspeakers broke this power, leaving the curse in its weaker 3.5 form.
This is my preferred approach. I don’t want to simply ignore the new rules, but I also don’t want to undermine unique aspects of Eberron. So my question is always if there’s a way to maintain the original concept while also incorporating the current rules.
So first of all, in making gnolls fiends, I would emphasize the horror of that concept. The 2025 Monster Manual calls them Fiends in Feral Flesh, and I’d really double down on that. The point is that these aren’t just humanoids that have decided to be cruel—they are shells housing ravenous immortal spirits of pure evil. I would go straight to The Exorcist and play up the deeply unnatural nature of this. In describing fiendish gnolls, I’d depict the fiend within twisting their bodies—hearing bones snap and reknit as their jaws extend to impossible width, emphasizing their unnatural ability to ignore pain and fight until they’re torn apart, their ability to consume impossible amounts of flesh. Beyond the physical, I’d consider other things that make them feel unnatural. I’ve talked before about gnoll mimicry; with fiendish gnolls, I’d straight up have them speak with the voices of people the adventurers have lost in war (because they’re fiends of Rak Tulkhesh), or have a troop of gnolls all speak with one voice. I’d consider having a gnoll with a distinctive personality who engages with the adventurers, who keeps coming back in the body of different gnolls. Because to me, the point is that the individual GNOLL isn’t a fiend; it’s a mortal creature of flesh and blood. But that mortal creature has no will or identity of its own; it’s just a vessel for an immortal fiend.
So I can work with gnolls as fiends, and I’d place those gnolls as ravenous servants of the Wild Heart in the Eldeen Reaches and as soldiers of Rak Tulkhesh in the Demon Wastes. The catch is that I’dkeep the gnolls of the Znir Pact as humanoids. Considering the story from Exploring Eberron, it’s not simply that those first Znir gnolls had a change of heart, it’s that they expelled the fiends from their bodies. This doubles down on the importance of the Hwyri exorcists in Znir society; the Znir know more about fighting fiends than almost anyone, because they were made to be vessels for fiends and drove them from their blood. The Znir gnolls still have traces of fiendish influence; the fiends still yearn to control them. But they are mortal humanoids, with the same free will and self-determination as any mortal creation, capable of having any alignment. In some ways this is a parallel to the Inspired and their Chosen hosts; the Znir gnoll is the vessel without the fiend, the equivalent of a Chosen who’s found a way to prevent the quori from possessing them. Which would also be an interesting story for a Chosen adventurer, who was saved by a Hwyri mentor who taught them how to keep their quori at bay.
So, I have no issue with the new Monster Manual presenting gnolls as fiends, and I’d be happy to embrace that and go all in on the horrific aspects of it… for the servants of Rak Tulkhesh and the Wild Heart. But the whole point of the Znir gnolls is that they have broken the hold the overlords once had over them, and I would keep them as humanoids in my 2025 campaign.
If you have questions of your own, I’m holding a live Q&A for my Threshold patrons at 6 PM Pacific Time TOMORROW, Wednesday the 22nd. You can get access to this and post questions on Patreon. Thanks for your support!
‘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 Qabalrinvampire—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!
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