Patron Content: The Mark of Death

Posted on December 3, 2024 by Keith Baker

Dragonmark: Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol

Posted on December 3, 2024 by Keith Baker

‘Here.’ I pointed to the massive rainforest that lies between Blackwood Bay and the Madwood Gulf. ‘There’s no name listed for this jungle; the cartographer must have overlooked it. What’s it called?’ Jaelon said nothing. ‘It doesn’t have a name?’ I said. ‘I told you its name,’ he replied, but when I asked again, he said nothing. I won’t relay the entire ridiculous conversation that followed, but in time, the truth emerged: the name of the jungle is a moment of silence. And that’s just the start of it. Southwest of this Silence, there’s a fertile valley with two rivers flowing into the Blackwood Bay. Do a scry-by and you’ll see farmlands and villages. There’s a huge city on the coast of the river, a place called Shae Deseir. But no one’s lived there for over two thousand years. ‘Why?’ I asked Jaelon. It seems there was a war, a bitter feud that ended with a great house eradicated and their supporters exiled. But we’re talking about a span of time over twice the length of Galifar. Wars happen, and the survivors claim the spoils. Why is this region shunned? ‘No one lives there,’ he told me. ‘But the dead remain.’

The elves that followed Aeren were a rag-tag alliance drawn from a dozen different cultures. They were escaped slaves, survivors of independent city-states that had been crushed by the giants, nomads whose warbands were scattered, primal adepts trapped in the forms of beasts, and more. All were shaken by their devastating losses, both of Aeren and those left behind on Xen’drik. Following Aeren’s death, the refugees coalesced around a handful of charismatic leaders and philosophies. The Tairnadal swore to keep the memory of their champions alive by continuing to fight, laying claim to the northern plains. Tolaen led his people to the edge of a vast rainforest, vowing to preserve the image of the fallen in living wood. The Mendyrian siblings were wizards and mystics, and they believed that they could harness the light of Irian to extend life. Vol chose the lands others shunned—a region peppered with manifest zones tied to Mabar, a place where shadows might suddenly prey upon those who cast them. Mabar was long seen as the antithesis of life. But Vol could speak to the dead, drawing on the traces of her ancestors’ spirits. She’d learned secrets from the long-dead psychopomps of Shae Tirias Tolai and the fallen necromancers of the Qabalrin. And Vol believed that she could harness the power of Mabar and use it to overcome death—to give the next Aeren eternal life, even if it meant feeding on the blood of others. This was her pledge to the elves who laid the foundations of her city: We will not live in fear of death. We will learn its secrets, learn everything there is to know about the nature of life and its loss. We will redefine what it means to live, and in so doing we will never lose those that we love again. And so Shae Deseir rose on the bank of the river of Night.

The Rise of the Undead

Humans often imagine that Aerenal has always been as it is today—that the Undying Court has always guided its people, that the Line of Vol began exactly as it ended. But Shae Deseir began as a village of a few hundred elves with just a handful of necromancers among them. It took over ten thousand years for the Mendyrian and Jhaelian to unlock the secrets of the deathless, and ten thousand more for the Undying Court to attain the power it wields today. The Line of Vol grew over that same span of time, delving ever deeper into the mysteries of Mabar and Dolurrh and unlocking the secrets of necromancy. True to their vow, the Vol didn’t have the same fear of death as the other elves—or even the modern Seekers. Speak with dead was always a core aspect of Vol society. The skulls of the dead were preserved and consulted. The Vol understood that speak with dead only spoke with the traces of memory that remained, but they held to the principle that as long as we are remembered, we remain. So the Vol were comfortable with death. However, they still wished to overcome it—to preserve their greatest people as more than just memories. So while the Mendyrian and Jhaelian experimented with the deathless, the Vol studied the ways in which the power of Mabar could animate the dead.

The first sentient undead created by the Line of Vol was a form of wight; it consumed life force directly by touch. However, the insatiable hunger of Mabar overwhelmed the mortal memories of these undead, and they quickly became ravenous monsters that had to be destroyed. Vampires mitigate this by consuming blood rather than directly absorbing life energy, but the early vampires of Vol were still highly unstable; most devolved into feral creatures like the nosferatu of Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft. Over time the Vol were able to restore and refine what scholars call the Qabalrin vampire—the standard vampire, complete with its limitations on running water and not entering a house unless invited. That last one may seem a little strange; why is it that vampires innately can’t enter a stranger’s home? The answer can be found by looking at the most common form of sentient undead produced by both the Line of Vol and the modern Seekers of the Divinity Within: the oathbound, which the Monster Manual refers to as mummies. The oaths are vows that are mystically imposed upon the spirit, and it is these vows that keep the essence of the mortal from being dragged to Dolurrh and consumed. The more restrictive the oaths, the simpler the ritual and the more stable the personality of the creature. Forbiddance is an oath woven into the Qabalrin strain of vampirism; it is part of what makes the line more stable than the earlier nosferatu strains. So with that in mind, the line of Vol included the following forms of undead.

Oathbound were widespread throughout the region. They’re very stable; existence as a mummy is less of a strain on the spirit than vampirism or lichdom. The more restrictive the oaths binding the mummy, the easier it is to create and the more stable it will be. The majority of Vol oathbound were bound to specific locations, tied to a family estate or institution. Oathbound served as guardians and guides, often teaching the living. They often lacked the fire and creativity of the young, and so it was always seen as valuable to have the living and the dead work closely together.
Vampires have far more freedom than oathbound, but the state of vampirism takes a greater toll on the personality of a creature—and, of course, a vampire has to feed to maintain its existence. As a result, vampirism was granted to exceptional individuals who intended to spend their undeath in motion. Vol vampires were often diplomats and envoys, conducting business in the cities of the other lines. Some of the greatest innovators of the line chose vampirism simply to ensure flexibility in whatever the future could hold. But vampirism was a state that had to be earned, and would-be vampires underwent tests and trials to assure the lich-lords they had the strength of will to survive.
Vampire spawn are the first step to becoming a true vampire, as discussed in this article. So in imagining daily life in Shae Deseir, keep in mind that there were more vampire spawn than there were full vampires.
Liches were rare. As called out in Chronicles of Eberron, a lich typically has to perform the rites of transition themselves, and it requires both an exceptional understanding of necromancy, an iron will, and an absolute conviction not to die—a conviction that must remain firm throughout the lich’s existence. There were liches among the line of Vol, and they were revered by the living—but it was a state that could only be earned, never granted. The case of Erandis Vol was a remarkable exception, tied both to the incredible skills of Minara Vol and to Erandis’s dragonmark.

Skeletal humanoid labor wasn’t as common among the Vol as it is among the Seekers of the present day, as the Vol preferred to preserve the skulls of the dead in vast bone libraries where they could be consulted, much like the spirit idols of the Undying Court. However, beasts were regularly reanimated for tireless labor. The Vol also had a great affinity for shadows, tied to the Mabaran resonance all around them. Many Vol elves could employ their own shadows as a wizard does a familiar, sending them on tasks, seeing through their senses or speaking through them. Shadow puppetry was a common form of entertainment, and an arcanist could conduct an entire company of shadows through the performance of a play or an artistic display.

Life in the Line of Vol

The Line of Vol shared many basic traditions with the other Aereni lines. There was always tension between Vol, Mendyrian, and Jhaelian; there were feuds and vendettas that stretched out over the centuries. But the Melideth and Tolaen respected the Vol, honoring the shared struggles of their ancestors and engaging in commerce and conversation. Like the other lines, the Vol honored their ancestors and followed in their footsteps. And like most Aereni, elves of Vol would typically focus on a particular craft or field and spend centuries perfecting that skill. Generally speaking, innovation was less important than tradition—mastering the way a thing had been done was more important than finding a better way to do it. Necromancy was the crucial exception to this rule, and the Vol were always exploring new variations of existing rituals and spells.

Given its reliance on necromancy—often seen as a sinister form of magic—and the prevalence of skulls and bones in its art and architecture, scholars of the Five Nations have often assumed that the Vol were a cruel or malefic culture; in this, they are usually compared to the Qabalrin or the people of Ohr Kaluun in Sarlona. But the leaders of the Line of Vol weren’t ruthless or cruel. They had no desire to conquer their neighbors, and the dead used their experience to lift up the living. In studying necromancy, their focus wasn’t developing ways to kill the living but rather on finding ways to prolong existence and to communicate with the dead. The development of deadly spells was a side effect of their research, but war magic was never the purpose of it. Overall, the Line of Vol sought to celebrate life. It’s for this reason that they didn’t flood the province with vampires. The hunger of Mabar is difficult even for a person of strong will and tends to erode empathy; most elves who sought immortality in undeath were content to live a more limited but peaceful existence as one of the oathbound.

Some might wonder how this aligns with the grim culture of the Bloodsail Principalities, which has a direct path back to it. But the circumstances of the Bloodsails are very different from that of the Line of Vol. The Vol thrived for thousands of years in an atmosphere of relative peace and prosperity. By contrast, the Bloodsails began as exiles who had seen that peaceful culture utterly eradicated by its enemies. Farlnen is a harsh land with limited resources; sacrifices have to be made to sustain the living population. And from the beginning, the Lhazaar Sea was far more dangerous than Aerenal was for the Vol. The Bloodsails had to fight to survive—to fight both their barren land and their rivals on the sea. Because of this, the Bloodsails are more aggressive and ruthless. Their ancestors saw the peaceful Line of Vol exterminated by its rivals; they won’t allow that to happen again.

Religion and Divine Magic. The Line of Vol preferred the concrete truths of arcane science to abstract ideas of distant gods. They didn’t believe in any form of the Sovereigns and Six, and they didn’t invoke the power of the Silver Flame. However, they did have two traditions of magic beyond arcane science. Vol worked closely with Mabar, and there were points in their domain where the borders to the Eternal Night were very thin. Over the generations, some Vol engaged in commerce and conversation with the Dark Powers of Mabar—notably, the Bone King and the Empress of Shadows. Most Vol arcanists recognized the malevolence of these beings and didn’t idolize them; but they were willing to work with them in exchange for knowledge and arcane power, and this produced a tradition of warlocks. Over time, the Vol also developed a path through which adepts could channel and mold the power of Mabar through sheer will and mental discipline. Practitioners of this art were known as dusk weavers. Mechanically, exceptional dusk weavers could resemble Shadow Monks, Trickery Clerics or Oathbreaker Paladins. This tradition is still practiced among the Bloodsails. While it provides a form of divine magic, it is fueled by the practitioner’s absolute faith in their own ability to shape the power of Mabar. And while technically I’m suggesting that such characters could have the abilities of clerics or paladins, the magic they can wield should always reflect the power of Mabar; even though mechanically light is a spell on the cleric spell list, it’s not a spell a dusk weaver should possess… unless they manage to flavor it in a way that fits Mabar, such as a creating a ball that draws all shadow to it and leaves light in its absence.

Architecture and Artifice. Animated skeletons are bound together by an invisible, ectoplasmic force. The bone crafters of the Line of Vol discovered ways to adapt this arcane principle, creating structures that appear to be formed from swirling shadow with bones suspended. In Mabaran manifest zones—like Shae Deseir—bone crafters could pull raw bone-stuff from the layer of the Bone King, creating pillars and walls from ivory, though this substance was never part of a living creature. This is incorporated with darkwood and often built into and around living trees in the Silence. Vol communities can feel very gothic and sinister to outsiders, but the Vol don’t see anything malevolent in the use of bone; instead, it reminds them of their ancestors, and to enjoy life while it lasts.

Vol communities often contain the following structures.

Bone Libraries are ossuaries holding the skulls of deceased elves. People come to the library to consult the skulls using speak with dead, but there are also services that commemorate ancestors either en masse or highlighting the deeds of an individual or group.
Shadow Sanctums are where dusk weavers learn and practice their arts. They are somber and monastic in tone, typically filled with adepts engaged in meditation and pools of shadow drawn from Mabar. Dusk weavers are also often trained as healers, and the sanctums double as healing houses.
The Hall of Life is the center of the community, where people gather to support one another and to resolve civic issues; it also serves as a school for the young.
The Arcanum is the center of necromantic research and development. This is where undead are created, where shadows are bound, other important magical work is done.

Beyond this, a Vol community will have buildings common to any town—taverns and inns, a theatre, artisans, and homes.

General Demeanor. The leaders of the line of Vol had no interest in imposing their will through force. Throughout much of their history, the Vol were a prosperous culture with more space and resources than their relatively small population required. As such, their focus was on enjoying life—the dead teaching the living and helping them find a satisfying road to walk through life. The Vol liches were the most powerful members of the culture, but they didn’t band together as the Undying Court; a Vol lich typically used its power and knowledge to help its local community. Much as the Sibling Kings of Aerenal stand distinct from the Undying Court, the civic leaders of the Line of Vol were living people who worked to make sure every village had what was needed, to resolve disputes, and to engage in diplomacy with the other lines. But largely the role of leadership was to guide and assist, while always pursuing greater knowledge. Of course, it was this pursuit of knowledge that ultimately doomed them, when they sought to unlock the full potential of the Mark of Death.

The Silence. Shae Deseir is located in a verdant valley along the Night River, so named because a curious effect of the Mabaran manifest zone causes the reflection in the water to always show the sky above as if at night. There were a few villages spread out along the banks of the river. But the majority of the Line of Vol dwelt not in the valley—which, among other things, has issues with hostile shadows—but in the vast forest to the east of it. In the past it was known as Antalyn Orioth, the “Jungle of Peace”… though the term has connotations of “final peace” or “peace of the grave.” Since the eradication of the line of Vol, this name has been stricken from all maps and the Aereni do not use it. Instead, they refer to the jungle by casting their eyes down and remaining silent for a long moment.

The Silence contains a number of Mabaran manifest zones of varying size and intensity. Some of these are deadly to mortal life; these produce moss, fungi, and crystals that are useful components for necromantic magic. Others were once home to Vol villages. There are also two wild zones in the Silence. The Gray is tied to Dolurrh, and under the proper circumstances it can serve as a gateway to the Realm of the Dead. The Bones are tied to Mabar, and trees of bone rise from black soil; here the Bone King of Mabar watches the world. Aside from its planar influences, the Silence contains massive groves of darkwood; before they were destroyed, the Vol worked with Tolaen to harvest this resource.

Defenses and Damage. The Line of Vol wasn’t a warlike culture… until the end. Their civilization was wiped out in a brutal, decisive conflict against dragons and the Undying Court. It was a swift conflict fought by beings wielding immense power, and as a result many of the typical tools of war were irrelevant; there was no wall that would protect a village from a flight of dragons. Traveling through the Silence, adventurers can find vast clearings still scorched by dragonfire, with scattered shards of building bone or vague outlines of foundations. While active defenses are rare, undead are common in the region, and this is why the Aereni shun it to this day. Due to the presence of the manifest zones, all of the factors that contribute to haunts and restless dead are intensely magnified. There are a handful of haunts where shades of villagers relive their last hours, often entirely peacefully. But there’s also countless undead spawned by the intense trauma of the final days of Vol. There are angry ghosts and banshees that still retain some semblance of their former lives, but there are also more raw manifestations of pain and of Mabar’s hunger—swarms of shadows, angry specters, and at the extreme, powerful sorrowsworn born of anguish and pain. Within the Bones, a former Mendyrian commander remains as a death knight. Laen Mendyrian is tormented by the massacres he set in motion during the conflict, and now lingers as a vassal of the Bone King; he is accompanied by the Silver Wind, a silver dragon slain by the Emerald Claw who lingers as a ghost dragon.

Shae Deseir

Shae Deseir was the first and greatest city of the Line of Vol. Built from darkwood and shadow, it was a gothic metropolis. This is where the Vol made their last stand, focusing the might of their liches and the Emerald Claw. So great was their power that they were able to shield the city from aerial and arcane assault, which meant that dragons and elves stormed it directly. Because of this, the city has been devastated. There is a massive crater where the First Arcanum once stood, soil seared by a blend of flame, acid, and raw radiant power. The Hall of Life is cut in half, and the bones of defenders remain fused with the stone.

In assaulting Shae Desier, the forces of Argonnessen and Aerenal ensured that all living denizens of the city died, and that the phylacteries of the liches were destroyed. As soon as this mission was complete, they retreated, and the city has been left untouched ever since. Because of this, there are treasures hidden in the wreckage. The Great Bone Library is still intact, with thousands of skulls waiting to speak. But Shae Deseir is intensely haunted. The region was always known for its hostile shadows; rituals performed by the Vol kept the influence of Mabar in check. Now it is a place of bitter sorrow. The spirits that remain in Shae Deseir cannot leave this cursed city, but they will make any living creature that comes to it suffer.

What sort of treasures could you find in Shae Deseir? The First Arcanum was the site of some of the most remarkable necromantic work ever carried out. Any sort of magic item related to death and the dead could be found in the haunted city, along with scrolls of necromantic spells, such as horrid wilting and true resurrection. But the research could be even more valuable. How exactly did Minara Vol turn Erandis into a lich? How did they produce a half-dragon bearing an apex dragonmark, and what was the ultimate goal? These secrets are surely hidden in the ruins. Beyond that, scattered across the city are the remains of the warriors who fought that final bitter battle; there may be legendary arms and armor once wielded by champions of the Undying Court still lying on the battlefield. Another idea to consider: I’ve said before that the Eye and Hand of Vecna could be associated with Lhazaar in Eberron. However, if you wanted to remain closer to the original idea—to keep them as remnants of an ancient archlich—then they could be the Eye and Hand of Vol, the last pieces of the first and greatest lich produced by the line. Perhaps they went toe to toe with the Ascendant Councilors of the Undying Court and were torn apart. Now only a few pieces remain… but they want a vengeance greater and more terrible than anything Lady Illmarrow could devise.

What sort of monsters could you find there? Shadows roam freely in the region around Shae Deseir, and they can be found in many sizes and shapes. There are shadows cast by dragons long ago that are still crawling across the soil, and swarms of shadows that could be drawn by light or warmth. Beyond this, there are pockets of haunting scattered across the city, bitter moments captured in eternity. On the outskirts you might fight sword wraiths facing a banshee, an echo of Cairdal commandos fighting a Vol arcanist. Deeper in you could find dullahans fighting death dragons. Near the heart there are nightwalkers formed from the sheer rage of the fallen elves. And in the Bone Library or the First Arcanum there may well be a lingering demilich, nearly mindless after the loss of its phylactery, but somehow still sustained by its grief.

Why does this matter? Any campaign involving Lady Illmarrow could involve a trip to Shae Deseir. Illmarrow might need resources that can only be found in the Mabaran groves of the Silence. She could need research from the First Arcanum, or an artifact lost on the battlefield. Alternately, adventurers seeking to destroy Illmarrow could seek to find the details of her creation to learn how she can be permanently destroyed. Illmarrow aside, an Aereni adventurer could seek to enter Shae Deseir to recover a sacred artifact lost by an ancestor—or a necromancer of any culture could yearn to claim the secrets of the Vol arcanists.

What About The Mark of Death?

The alliance between the Undying Court and Argonnessen slew every living creature that carried the Mark of Death, and almost every elf tied to the Vol bloodlines. Erandis Vol still carries the mark, but it has been inactive since her death. There has been no confirmed manifestation of the mark since that time. The nature of the Mark of Death—how it could reappear and what powers it might possess—is a mystery we have always chosen to leave unanswered in canon sources. However, the things I write aren’t canon. I’ve created a version of the Mark of Death as bonus content for my Patreon supporters; you can find that here.

That’s all for now. If you’re going to PAX Unplugged, you can find me at the Twogether Studios booth. I hope to see you there!

Flashback: Haunts and Borders—the Ethereal Plane of Eberron

Posted on October 9, 2024 by Keith Baker

*Technically, these are images of Irian and Mabar. But they COULD be a city and its ethereal border.*

This article was first published in 2022, but with spooky season upon us, it seemed like a good time to revisit the topic!

The cosmology of Eberron is often depicted as a vast orrery. Each of the thirteen planes embodies a particular concept, while the material plane is the nexus where all of their ideas are expressed—the realm of life and death, war and peace, story and stagnation. The Astral Plane is the space between and beyond them, embodying nothing. What, then, is the Ethereal Plane and how does it differ from the Astral?

First of all, forget everything you know from canon sources, Eberron or otherwise. This article is about how I use the Ethereal Plane in my campaign, which combines aspects of the traditional Ethereal Plane, the Plane of Shadow, the Shadowfell, and the Feywild… and builds from there. And the first difference is, don’t call it a plane. If you want to move between planes, or between Eberron and the rest of the Multiverse, you’ll travel through the Astral Plane. The Ethereal has no defining concept, and most importantly, it has no independent existence; it’s a shadow cast by another plane. With this in mind, most scholars in Eberron don’t call it the Ethereal Plane; they call it the Ethereal Veil. Think of it as the backstage of reality, a layer that lets you slip outside reality while still being close enough to observe it.

In this article, I’ll start with a general overview of the Ethereal Veil and then delve into two additional ways you can interact with the Ethereal: Haunts and Borders.

THE ETHEREAL VEIL

The Ethereal Veil is a gray shadow of the world. For the most part, the Veil functions exactly as described in canon.

While on the Ethereal Plane, you can see and hear the plane you originated from, which is cast in shades of gray, and you can’t see anything there more than 60 feet away. You can only affect and be affected by other creatures on the Ethereal Plane. Creatures that aren’t there can’t perceive you or interact with you, unless they have the ability to do so. You ignore all objects and effects that aren’t on the Ethereal Plane, allowing you to move through objects you perceive on the plane you originated from. The Ethereal Plane also disobeys the laws of gravity; a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.

Standing in the Veil, you see a gray shadow of reality. You can see the misty forms of buildings, of trees, of people going about their business… but you cannot be seen or heard, and you cannot affect the adjacent reality. With few exceptions, the Veil is empty. It reflects the adjacent reality, but it holds nothing of its own, and for this reason people rarely stay there for long; there’s no food, no water, and most of the time, no people. As noted earlier, the Veil is an extension of whatever plane you’re currently on. Eberron has an Ethereal Veil, but so does Fernia and so does Syrania; the Veil of Fernia is a gray shadow of Fernia, where the fires are cold and you can pass through the obsidian walls.

Two important facts are that while you can see the images of things in the Material plane—what I’ll call echoes—you can’t affect them and can move through them. This includes the ground beneath your feet. As called out in the description above, “a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.” This looks like walking, and uses the traveler’s standard movement speed; it’s simply that your feet find purchase wherever you want them to. This also means that you could, for example, just start walking straight down toward the core of the planet. However, you’re walking blind. If you hit a Border or a Haunt, the matter you’re dealing with may suddenly become impermeable, or gravity might reassert itself. And if your magic should fail, the standard rules say “You immediately return to the plane you originated from in the spot you currently occupy. If you occupy the same spot as a solid object or creature when this happens, you are immediately shunted to the nearest unoccupied space that you can occupy and take force damage equal to twice the number of feet you are moved.” If you’re deep in solid rock, that could be a very unpleasant return.

Breaching The Veil

The people of Khorvaire know the Ethereal Veil exists, but there’s limited ways to reach it. The two most common tools are blink (which has a maximum duration of one minute) and etherealness (a high level spell that lasts for up to eight hours). When you enter the Veil, the magic that keeps you there also affects the objects you bring with you. If you blink across the Veil and drop a Shard of Rak Tulkhesh it will return to the material plane as soon as the spell ends… so it’s not an easy dumping ground for cursed objects, nor is it an easy matter to build things there (though if you time things right, you might be able to drop a bomb in there just before it explodes… just ask Three Widow Jane in my Threshold campaign!).

Of course, the Veil isn’t much use if there’s no good way for adventurers to get there. Here’s a few options to consider.

Blink is one of the powers of the Dragonmark of Passage, and House Orien has been exploring the Veil since the mark first manifested. Throughout its history, the house has experimented with ways to increase the duration of Ethereal jaunts and to take advantage of their connection to the Veil. The oldest tool in their arsenal is the passage salve, an uncommon form of oil of etherealness that only takes 1 minute to apply; it can be used by any creature, but only an heir with the Mark of Passage can activate its power. The Veil torc allows the Passage-marked wearer to cast etherealness as if it was a 3rd level spell, though the duration is only one hour. The Twelve have been continuing to work on this and may well come up with prototype focus items or eldritch machines that can allow groups of people to linger in the Veil—and naturally, they’ll need bold adventurers to test these new developments!
The Guild of Endless Doors has always been interested in the Ethereal Veil, and they have been working on their own counterparts to Orien’s focus items. The Guild lacks the resources of the Twelve and anything they produce will be available on a smaller scale, but on the other hand, you won’t need a dragonmark to make use of it. And the Royal Eyes of Aundair could be pushing the Guild to fast-track Ethereal tools that can be used by Aundairian spies!
Ancient Secrets. Humanity may not have mastered the Veil… but the elves of Aerenal are more advanced than the people of the Five Nations, and the dragons of Argonnessen are more powerful still. Sul Khatesh may hold secrets of the Veil that she could share with her Court of Shadows… but at what cost? These paths could provide adventurers—or their enemies—with tools or rituals that support Ethereal exploration.
Breaking Reality. Reality is a toy in the clutches of the daelkyr. A cult of the Dragon Below might tear apart the Veil or even collapse a chunk of reality into it. Consider Stranger Things!

The Dangers of the Veil

Eberron is a world where the supernatural is part of nature. The Ethereal Veil is part of life, just like air and water—and just like fish adapt to water and birds soar through the air, there are creatures in Eberron who naturally interact with the Ethereal Veil. Phase spiders are a perfect example of this—a predator with a natural ability to cross the Veil at will. While blink dogs currently teleport directly from point to point, I like to take their name literally and imagine them darting through the Veil, if only for a moment.

Night Hags are another possible threat. Along with their nightmares, these fiends have always had free access to the Veil. Every night hag has at least one sanctum hidden in the Ethereal Veil, and most have left other markers and monuments scattered around it. An old iron lantern hidden in the veil might monitor dreams, calling to the hag who forged it when there’s something worthy of attention. A monolith might be a cache where a hag stores the (literal) nightmares she collects—or she might have a stable of equine nightmares hidden in the Veil. Given the vast scope of the Ethereal Veil, adventurers are unlikely to stumble upon hag creations by accident, but night hags can definitely be a source of deadly traps or enigmatic elements waiting to be found across the Veil.

Another traditionally Ethereal-dwelling species are the Ethergaunts. Originally they’re presented as an alien species with an advanced civilization in the Ethereal Plane. Canon lore suggested that they were tied to the Daelkyr. Personally, I’d take a different approach. I don’t want a powerful civilization in the Veil, and the Daelkyr have enough going on. But I love the idea of eerie alien scientists who are watching us from beyond the Veil—who could be in the room with you right now. I love the thought of an Ethergaunt triggering a series of bizarre and seemingly impossible events—a man killed, the pieces of his body discovered in different locked vaults—in pursuit of fear, or even of children’s toys appearing from nowhere as a way to trigger joy. With this in mind, I’d tie the Ethergaunts to Mordain the Fleshweaver. Mordain never leaves Blackroot. But I love the idea that he’s created a corps of agents who are active all over the world… but active on the other side of the Veil. I love the idea of a man being questioned about an impossible murder, and when the Medani inquisitve casts see invisibility they are shocked by the hideous creature watching the interrogation from across the Veil. And the point of this approach is that each ethergaunt has its own task. It’s not introducing another organized enemy; it’s an army of invisible terrors, each pursuing a unique and unpredictable goal as they gather data for their creator. The final piece of this puzzle is how Mordain created the ethergaunts. Were they made from raw materials? Or did Mordain kidnap Orien heirs—beneath their armor, do ethergaunts have a bizarrely evolved form of the Mark of Passage?

Beyond this, part of the role of the Veil is to be undiscovered and unknown. It is as vast as the reality itself, and there may be powers within it that humanity has simply never encountered. It’s an alien world waiting to be discover that is all around us, just beyond what our eyes can see.

All this deals with the broad swath of the Veil, the gray shadow of the reality. But there are places where the Ethereal takes a more concrete form; the two most common of these are Haunts and Borders.

ETHEREAL HAUNTS

As described in this article, most ghosts in Eberron are “souls trapped between Eberron and Dolurrh, driven to complete their unfinished business or held fast by emotions or memories they can’t let go. While they have at least some of their memories from life, most ghosts aren’t fully aware of their condition or the passage of time, and they generally can’t retain new information.” Let’s call these restless spirits lingering ghosts.

When a lingering ghost is bound to a location—typically due to traumatic events that occurred there—it resides in the Ethereal Veil. Most such ghosts aren’t aware of the passage of time. They linger in the ether until something pulls them across the Veil, typically something tied to the anchors keeping them from Dolurrh. Most of the time, a lingering ghost simply drifts through the shadows of the Ethereal Veil, endlessly retracing its steps until something triggers a reaction. However, a lingering ghost driven by exceptionally powerful emotions or memories can reshape the Veil, imposing its own memories upon the the shadows of reality. So it may be that the ir’Halan Manor is a crumbling ruin stripped by looters long ago—but if a warlock blinks into the Veil, they find themselves in a vibrant replica of ir’Halan Manor at its height. There’s a fire in the hearth, music in the air, and guests mingling and murmuring. This is a Haunt—a recreation of the night that Lady ir’Halan was betrayed and murdered. It’s here that her ghost dwells, endlessly recreating that final night. Ethereal travelers can interact with objects and effects that are part of the Haunt; someone who blinks into the memory of ir’Halan Manor will find that they can’t walk through the walls and that normal gravity is in effect, and that they can take a drink from the waiter passing by. However, for the most part the elements of a Haunt are only real within the Veil. A traveler can take a drink from a waiter and they can savor the flavor of it… but when they blink back to reality, the glass fades from their hand and the wine itself fades from their system. In many ways it’s like a powerful illusion; a popular arcane theory asserts that many illusion spells function by shaping the Veil and pulling it into reality. But while you’re in the Veil, a haunt seems real.

The classic Haunt is tied to a single ghost; if that ghost is destroyed or laid to rest, the Veil will return to its gray shadow of reality. However, a Haunt can also be shaped by a mass surge of emotions or pain so powerful that they leave psychic scars on reality. The site of a massacre, a prisoner of war camp, an orphanage… all of these can leave Haunts on the other side of the Veil. Where the ghost Haunts often perfectly recreate a moment from the past, traumatic Haunts are often more surreal. If you’re in the ruins of a village destroyed by brutal soldiers during the Last War, the Haunt on the other side of the Veil could be haunted by shadowy creatures that blend the traits of Brelish soldier and beast, using the statistics of worgs; the Veil remembers the terror and brutality, not the precise details. As with ghost Haunts, traumatic haunts feel real to people who enter the Veil; travelers can’t move through objects, people can’t walk through the air, and threats can inflict real damage.

While Haunts are usually tied to locations, a lingering ghost can also be tied to an object… or even to a particular event, such as a song. In such instances the ghost won’t completely transform the Veil, but it will leak elements of its anchoring trauma into the environment.

See invisibility is a 2nd level spell and allows the caster to peer beyond the Veil. As such, it’s an important tool for mediums and exorcists; as it’s a gift of the Mark of Detection, House Medani inquisitives may be called in to investigate suspected Haunts.

Beyond ghosts and trauma, there’s another force that can create Haunts within the Veil: the Overlords of the First Age. An unbound overlord can shape reality; a bound overlord might reshape the Veil in its image. The most logical place for this would be around an Overlord’s prison. If you cross the Veil near the prison of the Wild Heart, you might find that the echoes of the woods are not only solid but writhing and aggressive. The Veil in the vicinity of one of Rak Tulkhesh’s prison shards might be stained with blood and the refuse of recent battle… a foreshadowing of Rak Tulkhesh’s desires. Another possibility is that the devotions of a Cult of the Dragon Below could channel the influence of their overlord to shape the Veil in their place of power. Sul Khatesh’s Court of Shadows imagine a magical kingdom that exists beyond the world; it could be that through their devotion, a powerful chapter of the Court could create this shadow-kingdom on the other side of the Veil. If so, the question is whether Sul Khatesh allows her cultists to cross the Veil, or if they simply have the ability to SEE these umbral spires rising behind reality when others cannot. In a twist—in part because otherwise it would be all too easy for House Medani to monitor cults—in my campaign Overlord Haunt effects can’t be seen by see invisibility, though true seeing will reveal their presence; just as rakshasa resist low level spells, the influence of the overlords isn’t so easily revealed.

Lingering Ghosts and Shades

Lingering ghosts usually don’t know that they’re ghosts. They linger because they’re trapped in a particular moment or by a powerful anchor, and they interpret all events through that emotional lens. Often when dealing with adventurers, a lingering ghost will fixate on one or more adventurers who bear some similarity to characters from their own personal drama—recognizing the bard as the lover who spurned them, or the rogue as the cousin who ruined them—and completely ignore the other adventurers. They generally can’t be reasoned with and simply won’t hear things that don’t fit their narrative. Persuasion and Intimidation often have little impact on them, because they essentially can’t change their minds… unless the speaker is actually invoking part of the ghost’s story, in which case a check might have advantage.

Lingering ghosts can use the standard ghost stat block from the Monster Manual, but they aren’t visible on the material plane while in the Veil; there could be lingering ghosts around you right now, but you’ll never know unless something pulls them across the Veil. Also, because lingering ghosts don’t know they’re ghosts, they don’t always take full tactical advantage of their capabilities in combat. They may use Horrifying Visage instinctively, manifesting their horrifying visage in a moment of anguish or rage. Possession is often used to seize control of an adventurer who has some similarities to the ghost’s living form; the ghost doesn’t recognize that they are possessing someone and believes the body is their own. However, the classic ghost stat block is only a starting point. Depending on the ghost’s scenario and the strength of its anguish, it could be a simple poltergeist or even something as powerful as a dullahan. While the core stat blocks are a good place to start, part of what makes encounters with lingering ghosts interesting is to vary them based on the story and unique nature of the ghost.

To harm the ghost, you must recreate the circumstances of its original death. The man who died in fire might be immune to all damage types except fire. A ghost who died in a fateful duel could be immune to all physical damage except from rapiers, and vulnerable to damage from the rapier that actually killed them. If a ghost has such extreme resistances, you might reduce the power of its withering touch—adventurers will need time to realize their attacks aren’t working and find an effective solution.
The ghost can’t attack as an action. Instead, it has three legendary actions it can use to attack an enemy who attacks it. It can taunt and provoke, but if people simply ignore it, it can’t initiate violence.
Instead of targeting everyone within 60 feet, apply the effects of Horrifying Visage to victims of the ghost’s physical attack. When the ghost touches a target, the victim has a flash of its anchoring trauma; this is what causes the fear. The aging effect could be removed or reduced to 1d4 years per attack, reflecting the sheer shock to the victim’s system.
The ghost has no physical attack, Horrifying Visage, or Possession. However, it can cast phantasmal killer at will, drawing the victim into the nightmare of the ghost’s own death. It will typically focus on one person at a time, ignoring all others while it psychically crushes its chosen victim.
Instead of Possession, the ghost has the power to draw a single victim into the Ethereal Veil. The victim’s physical body remains on the material plane, but their consciousness and likeness are pulled into the Veil, where they can interact with it as if they were physically present. So the victim’s companions can see the character struggling with an unknown foe, but they can’t perceive the ghost or interact with it in any way.
Instead of Possession, the ghost can cast dream, targeting creatures across the Veil. It may target someone it identifies with, forcing them to suffer visions of the ghost’s demise, or it could target someone it blames for its tragedy.
Rather than inflicting necrotic damage, a ghost’s attack could reflect something about their life. A duelist could inflict slashing damage with a spectral rapier; a pyromancer could inflict fire damage with a burning touch; a spurned lover could inflict psychic damage, literally breaking the heart of their victim.

Taking a scenario like the ir’Halan manor, the house may appear to be full of people, and the people in these crowd scenes aren’t full ghosts. They’re shades, memories plucked from the life of the lingering ghost. Often shades have no real existence. They’re essentially manifestations of the phantasmal force spell. Any direct attack or defense against such a shade should be resolved with a Wisdom saving throw against the spell DC of the lingering ghost; a shade’s attack deals 1d6 psychic damage. More potent shades could use the statistics of a shadow or a poltergeist; alternately, they could use the statistics of other creatures (such as the worg-soldiers in the massacre haunt). Like the lingering ghost, shades are bound to play out their roles and may not use abilities they possess if they don’t fit their role in the story.

A Haunt reflects the anchors that are binding the ghost to the world, which may not be related to the actual moment of their death. The ir’Halan manor scenario may reflect the night Lady ir’Halan was murdered, but the haunted Cannith foundry may reflect the day that Castar d’Cannith murdered his father or ruined his partner; even if Castar died a natural death, it’s his intense guilt over what he did in the foundry that binds him to the world. In dealing with anchors, consider the following questions.

Was the ghost the victim in the scenario—they were murdered, financially ruined, framed for a crime they didn’t commit? Or are they anchored by guilt for the wrongs they inflicted on others?
If the ghost was a victim, do they want bloody revenge? If they don’t want blood, do they want the wrongdoer to feel remorse or to publicly acknowledge what was done? Or do they just want the truth to be known by the general public?
If the ghost was a perpetrator, do they want to make reparations for the crimes that they committed? Do they want the truth to be known? Or do they refuse to acknowledge that they have done something wrong, and they actually want any lingering evidence of their guilt to be wiped out?
Another option is that the ghost died with a task unfinished. This could be very concrete—a letter that was never delivered, an arcane experiment that was never completed, a buried treasure that was supposed to be found. Or it could be more abstract—they wanted a town to prosper, a child to have a good home.

Loosening an anchor could be a task for an altruistic group of adventurers who want to lay a ghost to rest. However, it can also simply be used to set the tone and parameters of a haunt. A murdered many may not be able to rest until the entire family line of his murderer has been exterminated. The adventurers may consider this extreme and ruthless desire to be vile and cruel; the point is that the ghost’s haunt may reflect their hunger for bloody vengeance, and if one of the player characters is part of the murderer’s bloodline, it could drive the story.

THE BORDER ETHEREAL

The material plane is influenced by all of the other planes. Where this influence is especially strong, you find manifest zones. Traits of the outer plane bleed into the material, and planar energies may produce unusual flora or fauna. However, often manifest zones aren’t obvious to the naked eye. It’s the influence of Syrania that makes it possible for the towers of Sharn to scrape the sky, but if you never try flying, you might never notice its effects.

This changes when you cross the Veil. Where another plane touches the material, you’ll find the Border Ethereal—a dramatic blending of the two realms. The Border Ethereal generally reflects the reality of the material plane in its layout and structure; when you blink into the Veil from a tower in Sharn, you’ll still be in a tower with roughly the same shape. But the cliffs over the Dagger are now formed of thick cloudstuff. The towers themselves are formed of crystal and mist. You can see shadow angels circling in the skies, along with whorls of living cloud-stuff (the minor air elementals mentioned on page 152 of Rising From The Last War).

Likewise, imagine a Fernian manifest zone in the King’s Forest of Breland. In the material plane, this stretch of jungle is unseasonably warm and prone to flash fires. But when you cross the veil, you find that same forest, except that the trees are always on fire and yet never consumed. Mephits leap from tree to tree, delighting in the flames. While the trees are never consumed, their flames will burn any travelers who touch them, and the stifling heat is deadly to mortals.

In short, the Border Ethereal takes on some of the elements of the traditional Feywild (Thelanian Borders) and Shadowfell (Borders with Dolurrh or Mabar), while adding a host of other blended realms. However, the stories of the Border Ethereal are smaller in scope and scale than the stories of the planes; you might make a deal with a terrifying hag in a Thelanian Border, but if you want to deal with an archfey or dance in the Palace of the Moon, you need to go to Thelanis itself.

You can use any of the methods described in Breaching the Veil to reach a Border, but sometimes there are other options unique to the manifest zone. Dance in the ring of mushrooms when Rhaan is full and you might end up on the other side of the Veil. Sacrifice something you love in fire, and your grief might drag you across the Fernian border. These passages shouldn’t be easy—it’s not like the locals should have regular commerce with the Border Ethereal—and most zones don’t have them, but they can provide ways for adventurers to have an adventure across the Veil without having to spend a fortune on oil of etherealness, and a way to have a taste of the planes without entirely leaving home.

Denizens of the Border Ethereal

One of the major things that distinguishes the Border Ethereal from the planes they’re connected to are the inhabitants. The Border Ethereal resembles a blend of the two planes, and people can see shadows of the inhabitants on both sides of the veil. In the example given above, the angels that can be seen in the skies of the Border Ethereal in Sharn aren’t present in the border; they’re shadowy images of the denizens of Syrania, flying through their own skies. The borders of Shavarath appear war-torn and you may see misty images of conscripts and fiends, but the damage you see in the environment around you wasn’t actually caused by recent action. So for the most part, the Border Ethereal is empty and relatively safe for travelers. However, there are exceptions.

Anchors. Some Ethereal Borders are home to an anchoring entity, who plays the same basic role as a lingering ghost does with a haunt. This is usually a powerful immortal from the associated plane, but it’s rarely one of the most powerful beings in that plane. A Mabaran Border could be held by a Ultroloth servant of the Empress of Shadows, or a powerful banshee sworn to the Queen of All Tears. A forested Thelanian border might be bound to the tragic story of an exceptional dryad who is a daughter of the Forest Queen, but you won’t find the Forest Queen herself on the Border. A Lamannian Border might be anchored by a massive megafauna beast, while a powerful beholder might watch the world from the Border Ethereal. If it’s possible to pass through a border, the Anchor Lord may control the passage. Anchor lords typically can’t leave their borders, but those with an interest in the material might well recruit mortal agents; this could be an interesting, smaller-scale patron for a warlock, if a campaign is based in a particular region.
Denizens. Sometimes Borders will have a small population of native creatures from the associated plane. Mabaran Borders are often home to shadows, and sometimes when powerful undead are destroyed in Mabaran zones they linger in the Veil instead of going directly to the Endless Night; a slain vampire might continue to haunt their castle as a wraith in the Border Ethereal. Restless souls can linger on the edge of Dolurrh. A Thelanian Border might have a small population of native sprites… and a Xoriat Border may be home to aberrations. Again, Borders generally aren’t crowded, and the natives will be outnumbered by the misty reflections of the people on the material plane… but some are inhabited.
Shades. As with Haunts, Borders can manifest illusions relating to their story—creatures that seem so real that they can inflict slight damage, but which have no ongoing existence or logical ecology surrounding them.
Travelers. Especially in a Border with no Anchor, it’s always possible you’ll encounter other travelers. Set aside Night Hags, Chamber observers, Lords of Dust, or Ethergaunts and you could still find Orien heirs or Royal Eyes of Aundair using the latest tools from the Guild of Endless Doors to spy across the Veil. But in general the Ethereal Veil is a place you pass through—not a place where mortals dwell.

Passing Through

The Ethereal Veil extends from the plane its attached to, but no farther. There’s no Deep Ethereal, no curtains to other planes; the Astral Plane is the primary corridor for travel. However, the Borders are where planes come together, and it may be possible to move between material and the connected planes in such places. Anchor Lords often have the power to open passages for travelers. Otherwise, passages are often well hidden and may require particular actions to open. There might be a gate of rusted iron in a Shavarath Border that only opens when blood is spilled in anger, or a clearing in Thelanis that provides passage when adventurers tell the story of their destination.

The Effects of the Planes

Typically the Border Ethereal resembles the overlapping region in the Material Plane—the material foundation—transformed to reflect the influence of the outer plane. The Lamannian Border of a city will be overgrown; the Shavaran Border of a city will be shattered by war. The misty echoes of the creatures of the material plane can be seen moving around, and occasionally echoes of extraplanar beings can be seen as well.

A crucial feature of the Border Ethereal is that its structures are solid. Explorers can’t walk through the burning trees of a forest in a Fernian Border, or the fortified walls of a Shavaran Border. Gravity is also usually in effect in Borders, so people can’t walk through the air. Here’s a few elements you could find in the Border Ethereal; the planar traits referred to are described in Exploring Eberron.

DAANVI. Angles feel sharper. People naturally move to an underlying rhythm; the Plane of Truth and No Chance properties (ExE) are usually in effect. Structures or plants may be formed from metal, perfect and precise. Anything naturally chaotic—the patterns of ivy, clouds—are structured and reliable. Misty images of marching modrons can occasionally be seen.
DAL QUOR. The destruction of Crya severed Dal Quor’s direct connections to the material plane, and just as there are no manifest zones, there’s no Border Ethereal between Dal Quor and Eberron.
DOLURRH. At a glance, the Border of Dolurrh looks just like the rest of the Ethereal Veil—a grey echo of the material plane, perhaps with a little more mist clinging to the edges. Shades often linger in Dolurrhi borders. Some are husks whose memories have been stripped away, vague grey outlines of people. Others are the spirits of people who have recently died in the area—not so restless as to become lingering ghosts, yet still clinging to the world, unwilling to slip away. Like lingering ghosts, such spirits usually can’t comprehend their situation—but they know they have somewhere to be, something to do. The Dolurrh Border is a dangerous place; the Eternal Entrapment and Inevitable Ennui traits are in effect, and anyone who lingers too long can get trapped forever.
FERNIA. First and foremost, FIRE. Things burn without being consumed. Bodies of water may be replaced by magma or pure fire. Obsidian, brass, and igneous stone are common materials, and the air may be filled with smoke and ash. The Deadly Heat property of Fernia is in effect.
IRIAN. The Pure Light property of Irian means that there’s no darkness in an Irian Border. Colors are bright and cheerful. Plants and wildlife appear healthy and vibrant, and things seem fresh and new. Most Irian zones also have the Life Triumphant property; it’s a good place to take shelter when you’re pursued by undead.
KYTHRI. A Kythri border has a general resemblance to its material inspiration, but it’s always slowly changing. As one element drifts further away from the aspect of the material that cast it, another will drift back toward it; so again, overall, it resembles the material plane but is constantly shifting. Building materials are constantly in flux; if there’s a row of houses, one might be made from stone and another made from straw; give it an hour and they could both be made from hard candy. The Kythri border has the Constant Change and The Odds Are Odd properties.
LAMANNIA. Natural features are exaggerated and weather effects are more dramatic. If the border is in an urbanized area, it will resemble the Titan’s Folly layer of Lamannia: buildings will be overgrown, with roots cracking foundations and nature reclaiming the land. Even if there are no denizens in the Border, shadows of massive beasts can be seen moving through the land. It has the Primordial Matter property of Lamannia.
MABAR. The Eternal Shadows and Necrotic Power properties of Mabar can be felt in the Border Ethereal, consuming bright light and bolstering undead. The landscape resembles the material foundation, but plants are withered and dying and structures are decrepit and crumbling; it’s a vision of ruin and entropy. Shadows congregate in Mabaran Borders, often following the movements of people in the material world; sometimes their movements can be seen in mortal shadows.
RISIA. Everything is either formed from ice or encrusted with it. Liquids are frozen. Risian Borders have the Lethal Cold and Stagnation effects. There are rarely any creatures in a Risian Border; it is cold and empty.
SHAVARATH. Imagine the world at war. The Border resembles its material foundation, but cast through the lens of a bitter, prolonged conflict. Some buildings are ruined, others are fortified. There are craters and smoldering fires. While occasionally there are shades battling or misty visions of fiends and angels, more often than not it feels like an active war zone, as though the enemy could strike at any moment, but no one ever does. This Border has the Bloodletting property of Shavarath.
SYRANIA. Syranian Borders take different forms, reflecting the aspects of the plane that manifest in the connected zone. In the Border of Sharn, the Unburdened property is in effect and all creatures can fly; as mentioned earlier, structures are formed of crystal and mist and animate clouds drift around. Another Border might be more grounded, but have the Gentle Thoughts and Universal Understanding properties, allowing all spoken languages to be understood.
THELANIS. Every Thelanian Border has a story, and builds on the material foundation to sell that story. In one forest, the woods may grow darker and deeper, promising that wolves and far deadlier things lurk just off the path; in another forest, the trees may be full of dancing lights, with misty images of satyrs dancing in the groves. A city may become more beautiful and magical, or it could seem cruel and oppressive if the driving story is one of a bitter tyrant. The story of the Border will be well known to anyone who lives in the region. In the case of the bitter tyrant, the actual rulers may take pains not to resemble the cruel leader of the tale… or it may be that the Border seeps into reality and drives the locals to be cruel. Storybook Logic is in effect, and where there are fey, Words Have Power.
XORIAT. There is no predicting what a Xoriat border will look like, but it’s always strange and usually disturbing. One Xoriat border may perfectly resemble its material foundation until you realize that all the structures are actually made of flesh and blood; the buildings quiver when you approach, and that low moan isn’t the wind. In another, writhing tentacles stretch up from the earth, burrowing through buildings and grasping any travelers who come to close. Mirrors ripple and reveal unpleasant truths. Colors are disturbing and gravity is unreliable; the Strange Reality property of Xoriat is always in effect.

WHAT ABOUT…

The Plane of Shadow? In my campaign, the Ethereal Veil and the Plane of Shadow are two different words for the same thing. The Feywild is a term that could be used to describe Thelanian Borders, while the Shadowfell could describe Mabaran or Dolurrhi borders.
Plane Shift? The spell Plane Shift can’t transport you to the Ethereal Veil, as it’s not a plane.
Secret Chest? The spell Secret Chest is tied to the Astral Plane, not the Ethereal Veil—as previous discussed in the Subspace section of the Astral Plane article. In general, Ethereal travel takes you sideways to your current location. Any magical effect that creates a new extradimensional space or that connects planes together should be tied to the Astral Plane.
Wild Zones? The Wild Zones of Sarlona are exceptionally powerful manifest zones—often described as planar beachheads. My personal inclination is that Wild Zones don’t have Ethereal Borders—that the reason they are wild is that the Border Ethereal normally acts as a buffer between the planes, but has here collapsed and fused them directly together. This reflects a dramatic breakdown of the cosmic design and I’d also say it’s the source of the Reality Storms—raging surges of planar energy. How could such a thing happen? It’s a mystery, but it could well be tied to the Sarlonan Overlord Ran Iishiv the Unmaker, infamously driven to tear down reality; the Unmaker may have begun this process by tearing away the Ethereal Veil.
The Radiant Citadel? In my campaign, I’d put the Radiant Citadel in the Astral Plane. Personally, I’d make the civilizations of the Citadel legacies of previous incarnations of the Material Plane, just like Githberron. A key question would be if all or some of the civilizations came from the same world, or if each one comes from a different echo of the current reality. It could well be that the Citadel offered sanctuary to the Githyanki, but they spurned it. If I went with this approach, another important question would be the role of the Concord Jewels. Does each jewel hold a preserved version of the civilization even though its world has been lost? Or do the civilizations now only exist in the Citadel itself, while the Jewels take you to the broken worlds that are lost in the Maze of Realities?

That’s all for now! If you’d like to ask me questions on this or other topics, check out my Patreon! And thanks to my patrons for making these articles possible.

Dragonmarks: Muskets in Eberron, 2024 Edition

Posted on September 13, 2024 by Keith Baker

Part of an image by Caio Monteiro from the 2024 *Player’s Handbook*

The Last War spurred constant innovation in weapons of war. While Aundair embraced the path of the wandslinger, the southern nations followed a different direction. Breland had long relied on the crossbows of Starilaskur Arms, but in the last decade a new tool emerged. Fernian ash is a byproduct of the elemental binding work of Zilargo. In its standard form it is perfectly safe, but a whispered word of power can unlock the elemental energy in the ash… readying it to be released in a flash of flame. In 994 YK Merrix d’Cannith and Haldon ir’Lashan of Starilaskur Arms worked together to produce the “Brass Dragon”—the first Brelish musket. Mere months later the Mourning shook the world, and the Treaty of Thronehold brought the war to an end before the dragons were produced in sufficient numbers to have an impact on the battlefield. But Cannith South is continuing to work with Brelish foundries to produce these weapons, and Brelish soldiers are training with them; should the Last War begin again, the face of battle may be quite different.

The 2024 Players Handbook includes the musket and the pistol on the standard list of ranged weapons. Where, then, do these fit into Eberron? While the Dhakaani of the Kech Hashraac developed firearms thousands of years ago, they’ve never played a significant role within the Five Nations. Weapons of war split between the use of pure arcane magic—as seen in the siege staff and the blast disk—and the improvement of traditional weapons, such as the Starilaskur Arms SAC-12 crossbow. During the Last War Karrnath and Breland favored the use of the crossbow, Thrane benefitted from a populace widely trained in the use of the longbow, and Aundair pushed toward greater integration of wandslingers; Cyre drew on all of these options. House Cannith worked with local arcanists and engineers to develop unique weapons, as seen with the floating fortresses and the warforged colossus. It’s just such a partnership that produced the brass dragon musket and the copper dragon pistol, often shortened by those who use them to brass and copper. The impact of these weapons on Brelish military tactics remains to be seen. The brass dragon musket hits harder than a SAC-15 crossbow, and it doesn’t require exceptional strength or dexterity to use. However, its effective range is far shorter than that of either the bow or crossbow—equivalent to that of the fire bolt cantrip, but the bolt is perfectly accurate up to its maximum range. Brelish gunsmiths are certain that they can improve this performance, finding a way to improve the range while maintaining the force of the shot. Breland fielded a few elite units of “dragoneers” during the war, and veterans have brought these weapons back home from the war. Beyond this—Breland being Breland—brass & copper have leaked out into the black market. A number of criminal organizations have taken to the use of these dragons. Short range may be an issue on a vast battlefield, but the typical Boromar enforcer rarely engages an enemy more than a hundred feet away.

Brelish muskets employ cartridges of Fernian ash, casually called ash. While safe and stable by default, the bearer of a weapon must activate the ash by focusing on the weapon and whispering a word of power, while envisioning fire. There are many words that work; Ixen in Draconic and Tashaar in Infernal are two common choices, but there are many other options. Ultimately it’s up to the gunner to find the word that works for them and their weapon. A second word calms the ash. This can be seen as a safety on the gun. It only needs to be spoken once to prepare the gun for battle, and it can only be done by the person holding the weapon; you can’t deactivate someone’s musket by shouting a calming word at them. The wielder of the weapon can speak loudly—a warning to the enemy that my gun is hot—or whisper it to the weapon. At the end of the day, this is a cosmetic aspect of the weapon. In theory you don’t want to walk around with a hot gun because the ash is unstable; but in practice, the rules don’t impose any danger of a gun exploding or misfiring. But the principle is that the ash is a supernatural substance that is charged through a very minor spell—though once activated, the action of the weapon is mundane and is unaffected by counterspell, antimagic fields, or anything similar.

Now here’s the crucial question: what do they fire? The standard musket as presented in the 2024 PHB launches a bullet, as one expects a musket to do. And that could be exactly what happens here. But embracing the idea of a weapon loaded with charges of Fernian ash, I would personally change the damage type to FIRE and say that a dragon launches a bolt of flame. This makes the weapon more unique to Eberron and makes it distinctly different from a bow or crossbow, as well as further justifying the name dragon.

The names brass and copper come from the fittings commonly used on the Cannith-Starilaskur models of these weapons. High quality weapons often have dragons inlaid along the barrel. However, a number of Brelish weaponsmiths have produced their own unique knock-offs of the Cannith design. If you use a musket or pistol, consider how you came by it. If you served in the Last War, were you trained in its use there? Did you come by it through the black market, and just take to the design? Is your gun a unique design made for you by an independent gunsmith? Or do you use one of the other options mentioned below?

Art by Cory Trego-Erdner from Eberron Rising From The Last War

Goblin Guns

The Kech Hashraac—the Dhakaani “Keepers of Thunder”—lacked the evocation techniques that led the Five Nations to develop the siege staff; instead, they focused on mundane explosives and all the things that come with them. Hashraac weapons are driven by a volatile substance they call sarvus, “little fire” and are entirely mundane in nature. The Hashraac have been honing their weapons and techniques for centuries, and their firearms are more effective that Brelish copper and brass; at the DM’s discretion, Hashraac could produce the “modern” firearms presented in the appendix of the 2014 Dungeon Master’s Guide. These are intentionally unbalanced when set against the standard weapons available to player characters, and furthermore, the Hashraac are extremely secretive and definitely aren’t selling their weapons to chaat’oor. However, over the course of countless generations, a few Hashraac have left their vault as exiles or explorers and settled among the other dar. Because of this firearms are occasionally found among the Darguuls and other dar. These aren’t the “modern” weapons produced in the Hashraac vault; each one is hand-crafted and unique. Most use the same statistics as the standard musket and pistol, but at the DM’s discretion a dar gun (get it?) could have one or more of the traits of a modern weapon—improved range, improved damage, or having the Reload trait instead of Loading. These are treasured weapons, but it’s always possible an outsider could have acquired one through battle or diplomacy; of course, ammunition could be an issue!

The Mother of Invention

The archfey known as the Forge Maiden is a brilliant artisan who creates something new in every story told about her. Her favored mortals can produce tools that work through a blending of vague science and fey magic. In Aundair, the ir’Smith family were ennobled long ago thanks to the Maiden’s favor and the wonders they produced. The current heir to the county, Adan ir’Smith, has taken a particular interest in firearms and produced an assortment of weaponry over the course of the last thirty years. His simplest weapons use the statistics of the musket or pistol, but his weapons could have one or more of the following quirks…

Ir’Smith firearms often deal force damage instead of piercing, firing bolts of energy. He has made a few pistols that deal psychic damage, similar to the Sentira lenses of Riedra.
Ir’Smith weapons may use unusual ammunition. Some of his weapons have to be loaded with a secret or a poem.
Tied to unusual ammunition, some ir’Smith weapons have the Reload trait instead of Loading.
There are a few ir’Smith weapons that are made to kill a specific individual or entity. These function as entirely mundane weapons most of the time, but when used against their destined target, each shot acts as an arrow of slaying.

Part of Adan’s pact with the Mother of Invention is that he never makes the same weapon twice; each one is a unique design. He produces around one weapon a year, and his creations are treasured among the nobles of Aundair. However, he could have gifted a weapon to an adventurer with ties to his family, or someone who earned a blessing from the Forge Maiden.

Adan ir’Smith isn’t the only artisan with ties to the Forge Maiden. There could well be a prince in the Lhazaar Principalities who’s earned the favor of the Mother of Invention and equipped their ships and sailors with cannons and muskets. The key is that if these are tied to the Mother of Invention they will on some level be magical and strange; nothing she touches is mundane.

The wandslinger Three Widow Jane by Matthew Johnson

What About Wandslingers?

The purpose of this article is to suggest a few ways to use the firearms that are now part of the 2024 Players Handbook. But just because I’m offering ideas for the people who want to use pistols and muskets doesn’t mean you have to! From the beginning, one of the core principles of Eberron was to consider the way magic could be used to find different solutions to problems than what we use in our world—the siege staff instead of the cannon, sending instead of the cell phone. As such, I’ve suggested places for muskets in the world. But I still personally prefer to dig into the wandslinger, and that’s just what we do in the upcoming Frontiers of Eberron: Quickstone. The book includes optional rules for differentiating arcane focuses, a Fighting Style feat for martial wandslingers, four general feats tied to different sorts of focus, two subclasses for wandslingers (the College of Wands Bard and the Nemesis Sorcerer) and more… along with special rules for running an arcane duel! In my campaign, Aundair made the most widespread use of wandslingers during the Last War, but as called out in Exploring Eberron, every nation fielded wandslingers and they can be found across the Five Nations. So if you’re looking to draw wands at high noon, check out Frontiers of Eberron! And I’ll point out that the PHB pistol deals 1d10 damage with a range of 30/90, while a wandslinger with fire bolt deals 1d10 damage with full accuracy to 120 feet, and never runs out of ammunition! Yes, the wandslinger needs training… but so does the gunslinger, given that the PHB pistol is a martial weapon. The point is that Eberron is a world of widespread magic where cantrip training isn’t especially remarkable. And I’m not saying that Frontiers has a Wandslinger background that grants Magic Initiate (Wizard)… but it might! So if you love the idea of a character with a pistol, use a copper dragon or a feytouched pistol from Aundair, with my blessing! But also consider if that same idea might be just as cool if you had a brace of dueling wands, like Three Widow Jane above…

Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters for asking interesting questions and for making these articles possible!

Dragonmark: Lamias of Eberron

Posted on August 14, 2024 by Keith Baker

Lamia by Brynn Metheney from the *Monster Manual*.

It is said that love is the origin of the lamia—deepest love of primal evil. A warlock may seek power from one of the foul overlords, but only the most remarkable can truly embrace their masters—loving Tyranny, War, Treachery, Secrets—and they are forever changed by this experience. The touch of the overlord burns their mortality away, freeing them from all fear of time but stripping them of the ability to sire or carry new life. Their bodies are reshaped in the feline mold of the spirits they embrace—though there are tales of lamia that are serpentine in appearance. If true, is this a reflection of the overlord that has touched them, or is it evidence that the rakshasa themselves have not always favored a feline appearance? Whatever the truth, the lamia retains half of its mortal form, and the lower shape of a beast. Like the rakshasa, it has the power to deceive and to charm mortals. The behavior of a lamia reflects the fiend it so loves. One that loves Tyranny will be a petty tyrant; one that loves Secrets may conceal itself in a place of knowledge, while one that loves Treachery will surely go into a place filled with people, where factions can be created and bloody feuds can be set in motion…
Dorius Alyre ir’Korran, The Manual Maleficent

The Age of Demons came to an end when the fiendish overlords were bound by the Silver Flame, along with their mightiest servants. But a few fiends slipped through the wards… especially the sly rakshasas, resistant as they are to all forms of magic. Ever since then the rakshasa have moved secretly among mortals, manipulating families and nations in pursuit of Prophetic ends. Along the way, countless mortals have been drawn into cults and into the service of the overlords. And a few among these attracted the attention of the greatest unbound servants of the overlords—the prakhutu. Rakshasas are immortal, and do not reproduce biologically. But there are consequences to loving a fiend. Those mortals who form a true union with a prakhutu—and through this lesser fiend, to the overlord itself—can be transformed by the experience, imbued with partial immortality and a spark of fiendish power. This is the origin of the lamia. Ultimately, immortals are ideas—and a lamia loves the idea of an overlord so deeply that it has become a part of them, forever changing them in the process.

The Monster Manual describes lamias as hedonistic tyrants, saying “Ruined desert cities and the tombs of forgotten monarchs make perfect lairs for the wicked lamias. These decadent monsters take what has been forgotten and make it the seat of their hedonistic rule, surrounding themselves with sycophants.” This is a perfect description of a lamia devoted to the overlord Tol Kharash, and there are such lamias living in the Barrens of Droaam. Some of the weaker lamias have embraced the Daughters of Sora Kell, and they are recognized as chibs within the structure of the nation. But there is one of greater power that defies the Daughters. Hezhala was once a hobgoblin dirge singer. She was seduced by the glorious vision of Tol Kharash and his avatar in that age, seeing in her mind an empire driven not by muut and atcha but rather by the adoration and fear of the perfect empress—her. She blends the powers of lamia and bard, and her words can break the minds of those that hear her. Centuries ago, she returned to the ruins of Ashar Draal, the city of her birth. Much like Ashtakala, Hezhala cloaked Ashar Draal in illusion. She bound a host of goblins to her will, along with ogres and orcs that she cloaked to have the appearance of bugbears and hobgoblins. She ruled an echo of the Dhakaani Empire, not as it was, but as it would have been under her rule. When Sora Teraza came to Ashar Draal, the blind sister wasn’t fooled by the illusions. She offered Hezhala the chance to be a part of something greater—to live in reality instead of clinging to illusion. But she would have to release her hold on her ensorcelled thralls—to embrace the Daughter’s vision. Hezhala refused; she was an empress and would not serve another, no matter how powerful they were. She ordered her champions to kill Sora Teraza, and that was a mistake. When Teraza returned to Ashar Draal, she came with Maenya’s Fist behind her. The city that had long been ruined was reduced to rubble, and today it is known as the Fallen Demesne. Hezhala’s fate is a mystery. She may be bound in chains below the Great Crag; or she may have escaped, and even now she may be dreaming of how she will one day rule the new nation the Daughters are building.

Hezhala is more powerful than a typical lamia. But the point remains: she is a lamia of Tyranny, a lover of Tol Kharash, and she seeks to rule her own petty domain. There are others like her at large in the Barrens. But this is not the only path a lamia can take…

A lamia devoted to Eldrantulku the Oathbreaker can use the standard lamia stat block. But they will dwell among people, hiding in a great city or court, disguising themselves with illusion and using their enchantments to encourage intrigues and to sow discord.
A lamia that loves Sul Khatesh adores watching the impact of dangerous knowledge. Such a lamia might run a coven of warlocks in a small village. They could maintain a “school of magic” in an out of the way tower, drawing in travelers and forcing them to be their pupils. Or they might find a place to hide in an institute of learning, guiding select pupils and driving them down dangerous paths. There could be lamias living in the stacks of the Library of Korranberg… possibly with the blessing of the gnomes.
A lamia bound to Tul Oreshka replaces Disguise Self with Invisibility, Suggestion with Crown of Madness, and Geas with Phantasmal Killer cast as a 5th level spell. They can cast message at will without disrupting their invisibility. They often live as solitary hermits contemplating mysteries, but when travelers draw near the lamia innately knows secrets that will hurt them, and may stalk them invisibly and whisper terrible things to them. When engaged in combat, Crown of Madness and Phantasmal Killer reflect their abilities to trap victims in their own minds, while puppeting their bodies.
Lamias tied to Rak Tulkhesh live to incite others to violence. They rarely stay in one place for long, because wherever they go violence follows. They have incited refugees to turn on those giving them shelter, seeking to take a new home by force… or causes those sheltering refugees to fear such an uprising and take dreadful action. They have enflamed tensions along borders, started crime wars between rival gangs, and far worse. There could be a lamia in Thaliost right now, while another lamia is running a cell of the Swords of Liberty in Breland.

Often a lamia will directly manipulate and rule a force of mortal thralls. However, some lamias love to embrace a talented mortal following the same path that they did. A lamia of Sul Khatesh may find an arcane prodigy and act as an advisor, encouraging the mortal student to start a coven. Lamias living among mortals sometimes start families; while lamia can’t have children of their own, they will steal mortal children and raise them, building families from scratch and guiding the family from the depths of their manor.

All lamia have ties to a prakhutu, but direct contact between them was fleeting and in the past. They love the overlord, and more specifically the idea of it. Lamia don’t usually have direct supervision or guidance from the Lords of Dust; they are usually left to follow their own instincts. However, a lamia may well be helping a prakhutu enact a particular path of the Prophecy — even if they don’t know it. But I could imagine a party of adventurers defeating a lamia in the deep library of Arcanix, only to hear a voice from the shadows…

“Alas, poor Halarax. I always knew it would end this way, but it’s still a shame to see your lovely story end.” Time stands still as an old woman emerges from a book-lined passage. As she moves toward the fallen lamia, her form shimmers, and you see her feline shape, arcane sigils inscribed on her fur in steaming blood. You can feel her age, her power, and her sorrow. She stares into your eyes as she easily lifts the massive corpse with her twisted hands. “I cannot touch you today, little children. But one day… you will pay for killing my lover.”

And then she and the corpse are gone, and you can move again.

The lamias of Eberron typically have the lower bodies of tigers, a reflection of the rakshasa. However, a lamia can have a different appearance if that fits its story. Lamias were once mortal and their upper body reflects that original mortal form. A lamia under Arcanix might be a human or an elf. A lamia in the Barrens might have the torso of a hobgoblin or even of a minotaur. In creating a lamia, consider its history. Lamias have limited immortality; they are immune to the effects of aging, but they can be killed. Nonetheless, Hezhala was a dirge singer before the fall of Dhakaan; consider the things a lamia might have seen, the mortals it might have known. And as shown with Hezhala, a lamia could have greater powers than the basic stat block provides.

Dream Vampires. Many lamias lose the ability to dream as part of the price of their immortality. One myth says that lamias can remove their eyes, and must do so in order to sleep. While this is unlikely, some dreamless lamias learn how to form a connection to the dreams of mortals—to experience dreams through their victims. Such a lamia gains the ability to cast dream once per day, targeting a creature that has been affected by its Idyllic Touch within the last week. Some lamias simply observe their victim’s dreams, or send messages through dreams as a way to direct thralls. Others torment their victims, causing them to sicken and eventually die. This is the “Nightmare” effect of the Dream spell—preventing successful rest and inflicting 3d6 psychic damage. However, keep in mind that while it is mechanically a “nightmare”, the dream could be terrifying, inspiring, or ecstatic bliss; the point is that it is exhausting, reflecting the idea that the lamia is feeding on the victim’s dreams and lifeforce. The nature of the dreams should reflect the overlord the lamia is tied to, as well as their own desires. My thought is that this process prevents the dreamer from going to Dal Quor; the lamia’s Idyllic Touch forms a psychic bond and the victim essentially dreams in the mind of the lamia. So a lamia will never cross paths with a quori in Dal Quori, but a quori could take an interest in the fact that thralls are being cut off from Dal Quor. I might allow a dream-stealing lamia to send messages to any thrall they have a dream bond with, but the idea of this is that they can only feed on one at a time. So they might be able to cast Dream more than once, but they can only use the Nightmare ability once per day.

And now for something completely different… The idea I suggest above makes sense to me and ties to the standard D&D lore of the lamia in that they were once mortal but were transformed by their ties to fiends. However, there is another idea that is sitting in the back of my mind, something completely different but that feels like it could be fun. And this is the idea that lamias are from Sphinxlantis. Sphinxes are powerful members of the civilization of Sphinxlantis, who possess the ability to move through time. Lamias, on the other hand, are rogues and renegades who fled from Sphinxlantis—but it was a one way journey, and they have no ability to travel through time on their own. Following the idea that Sphinxlantis faced an inescapable doom, the common lamia could simply have fled to escape that doom and now seeks to live a hedonistic life in the place that it landed; this gives you the traditional lamia behavior described in the Monster Manual, the petty tyrant and pleasure seeker. On the other hand, you could have a lamia that has fled to a very specific moment in time because there is something it wishes to see or experience, or a person it wishes to interact with. In this, it’s essentially a weaker and more limited sphinx. A lamia might approach could be infatuated with a particular member of an adventuring party, refusing to say what it is that they’re going to do but constantly implying that they are going to be amazing. Such a lamia could be a helpful advisor—dropping the idea that all lamias are evil, though in the eyes of Sphinxlantis this lamia is surely a rogue. Or it could refuse to offer any useful advice, and at some point say “That’s it?” because the adventurer has actually accomplished the moment they came to witness… and the lamia now will try to assuage its disappointment by killing the adventurer.

While this is what I would do with lamias, there are many other good ideas out there. The moderator Jason on the Eberron Discord has a different take on lamias and the Fallen Demesne, and whether it’s to talk about lamias or anything else, it’s a great resource for all things Eberron. Check it out! And as always, thanks to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible! I’m going to be previewing pieces of Frontiers of Eberron for patrons over the next few weeks, so if that sounds fun, now is a good time to join!

Flashback: Sphinxes of Eberron

Posted on July 19, 2024 by Keith Baker

I’ve written a lot of articles over the last decade, and every now and then I like to pull and old article back on top of the stack for people who missed it the first time. This is a combination of two of my previous articles, on Sphinxes and Sphinxlantis. Enjoy!

She had the body of a great black cat, with the neck and head of a beautiful elf-maiden – though if that head was on a humanoid body, she’d have to be nine feet tall to match the scale. Her skin was flawless cream, her eyes glittering gold. Her long hair was midnight black, dropping down and mingling with the vast raven’s wings folded on her back. The black of her fur and hair was striped with bands of brilliant orange, and these seemed to glow in the dim light; when she shifted these stripes rippled like flames.

“Why are you doing this?” Daine said. “If you know so much about our destinies, why the riddles? Why not just tell us what you know?”

The sphinx smiled. “What answer do you wish to hear, Daine with no family name? That I am bound by divine and arcane laws, and have told you all that I can? That I have told you what you need to know to fulfill your purpose in this world? Or that I have my own plans, and I am shaping your destiny as much as any of the others who watch?”

“Which is true?”

“Which will you believe?”
City of Towers

Sphinxes are enigmatic and inscrutable. For all their cryptic insights and challenges, in some ways the greatest riddle of the sphinx is the sphinx itself. Where do they come from? What is the source of their knowledge, and most of all, what is their motivation? In most tales a sphinx is found guarding some arcane site or artifact, only sharing its treasure or its knowledge with those who can pass its test. Why does it do this?

No sphinx will answer these questions. No power on Eberron can read the mind of a sphinx, and divinations shatter against their inscrutable nature. And so the sages of Eberron are left to ponder the riddle, studying the clues that are available. The first and most popular theory about sphinxes was presented by the loremaster Dorius Alyre ir’Korran. In his Codex of All Mysteries, ir’Korran asserted that sphinxes are living embodiments of the Draconic Prophecy. Their oracular abilities are tied to the fact that they are manifestations of the Prophecy and innately know the paths of the future. They are bound to their duties and found in portentous locations because they are literally instruments of destiny, positioned to guide and challenge the people who will in turn shape history. They slip through time and space because they exist beyond it. Ir’Korran suggested that although they appear to be individuals, sphinxes are in fact all part of a greater entity, fingers on a hand too vast for mortals to see.

For centuries most scholars have embraced ir’Korran’s theory. Magister Mara ir’Lain observed that sphinxes often appear to be guarding tombs, temples, or treasures, but there are no reliable accounts of a sphinx being assigned such a task. An androsphinx that identified itself as Silverstorm challenged Harryn Stormblade in the ancient Dhakaani citadel below Cazhaak Draal, but the only Dhakaani account that mentions sphinxes is the story of Jhazaal Dhakaan outwitting a sphinx to obtain its secret knowledge. Ir’Lain believed that this supported the Codex: that as Silverstorm wasn’t posted by the Dhakaani, its stewardship of Cazhaak Draal must be tied to the Prophecy.

However, over the centuries, scholars have learned more about sphinxes. In his paper “The Sphinx in the Library”, Professor Cord Ennis of Morgrave University made the following observations (summarized for the terrestrial reader; Ennis doesn’t mention the Monster Manual):

Sphinxes are powerful and varied spellcasters. The androsphinx in the Monster Manual is a divine spellcaster, using Wisdom to cast cleric spells. the gynosphinx is an arcane spellcaster, using Intelligence to cast wizard spells. While it’s possible that this is tied to the species of sphinx, it’s equally plausible that these are learned skills—that an androsphinx could master arcane magic, or a gynosphinx could channel magic through faith.
While they often appear to be bound to some sort of duty, sphinxes seem to have personalities and even a desire to learn. The most well-documented sphinx of the modern age, Flamewind, resides at Morgrave University and often spends her time reading; she has been known to attend parties and theatrical events.
Sphinxes are monstrosities, not celestials, fiends, or fey. This suggests that they are creatures of flesh and blood, rather than immortal incarnations.

Ennis challenges the Codex on multiple points. If sphinxes are extensions of the Prophecy, why are they monstrosities rather than some form of celestial or fiend? Why do we see what appear to be both wizards and clerics among them, rather than a single path reflecting the channeled power of the Prophecy? Why did Flamewind attend the premiere of Five Lives, and even shed a tear in the final act? There are certainly reports of Flamewind assuming the role of the imperious oracle—as she did when first encountered, and as in the account quoted at the start of the article—and yet, she also seems to be capable of more casual interactions.

Cord Ennis believed this proved that sphinxes could have a more mundane origin: that they are mortal creatures, that they can study and learn, that they have more personality than the typical celestial. But as critics were quick to point out, no one has ever discovered any evidence of a civilization of sphinxes. There’s only a single account (discovered in Cul’sir ruins) of multiple sphinxes being encountered at the same time. All of this supports the Codex. There’s no signs of a sphinx civilization because sphinxes are tools of the Prophecy.

A team of researchers in the Arcane Congress presented a new theory, seeking to bridge the two: that sphinxes are creatures of Thelanis. The premise is that sphinxes aren’t instruments of destiny, but rather that they exist to drive the plot. Thelanis is the plane of stories, and its archfey often seem to enjoy seeing echoes of their stories in the world. Under this theory, the reason sphinxes show up at such dramatic times and locations is because the story needs them to—that they are some form of servants to the archfey, helping to guide the world in ways that echo the story of their masters. This ties to the fact that Thelanian creatures often show more personality and quixotic behavior than celestials, and that lesser fey aren’t immortal. While a compelling theory, opponents counter with the point that sphinxes don’t share the typical traits of Thelanian entities—which is to say, they are monstrosities rather than fey.

Most recently, Cord Ennis returned with a refinement of his thesis. Ennis suggests that sphinxes are mortal, civilized creatures, but that the reason there’s no evidence of any sphinx civilization is because they aren’t from this time. There are a number of accounts in which people facing sphinxes in their lairs are shifted through time—the apocryphal tale that Breggor Firstking was a beggar who was given a chance to relive his life and used his knowledge to become a king, or the story of the man who sleeps in a sphinx’s lair without permission and awakes a hundred years later. According to Ennis’s theory, the idea that sphinxes can move through time helps to explain both their seemingly oracular abilities and their interest in cryptic actions; that their enigmatic behavior shapes future events in ways we don’t see, but they do. The lack of any signs of sphinx civilization is because it doesn’t exist in the scope of history as we know it. And further, the fact that sphinxes only manipulate time in their lairs suggests the use of some form of eldritch machine as opposed to the innate powers one would expect in a living manifestation of the Prophecy—that they accomplish time travel using a tool, rather than personal power alone. Ennis asserted that this could explain Flamewind’s observed behavior—at times the cryptic oracle, and at other times almost more of a curious tourist.

While intriguing, Ennis admitted that there was one piece of the puzzle that still escaped him. When do these time-traveling sphinxes come from? His first thought was the distant future—that they could even be some sort of mystically evolved descendants of the modern races. Yet if that were the case, is there no risk of their meddling changing their own future? Given this, he ultimately favored the idea that the sphinxes are from the very distant past—that they could potentially be the citizens of the FIRST civilization of Eberron, a society that predates the Age of Demons and whose existence was wiped from history by the dominion of the overlords. With this as a foundation, Ennis suggests that the actions of the sphinxes might not be the absolute demands of destiny one would expect from embodiments of the Prophecy, but rather a grand game. As their time is long past, the sphinxes don’t actually care about the ultimate outcome; whether the overlords rise again or the daelkyr are unleashed doesn’t actually hurt them. Ennis further suggests that this could reflect the different techniques seen among sphinxes. The “divine” sphinxes—those wielding clerical abilities—could see their actions as being a divine mission, potentially even one mandated by the Progenitors (because what other gods were there at the dawn of time?) while the “arcane” sphinxes could be the scientists of their time. Thus, Flamewind could be in Sharn because she knows it is a nexus of elements she wants to deal with—events or people she wants to observe or influence—but that between those key events she is simply enjoying studying this time and place, so alien to her native time.

While these are all intriguing possibilities, as long as sphinxes remain inscrutable they will remain a mystery. Servants of the Prophecy? Agents of the archfey? Travelers from the dawn of time? All three are possible, and the only way to learn the truth is through adventure. Within their lairs, sphinxes have the ability to manipulate time and travel the planes.

Why Does This Matter?

The mystery of the sphinx is an important part of the creature, and something I want to maintain rather than simply providing an absolute answer. Are sphinxes time travelers? Agents of Prophecy? Shapers of story? All three are possible—but each has a different impact on both the role a sphinx may play in a campaign and on the mechanics of the sphinxes themselves. Most critically, the rules of the sphinx’s lair action state that the sphinx can shift itself and others to “another plane of existence.” It doesn’t specify which plane of existence or that the sphinx has multiple options. This answer—along with the circumstances under which the sphinx would USE its lair actions—likely depends on its origins. Because again, always remember that just because a sphinx CAN do something doesn’t mean it WILL. A Prophecy sphinx my have the POWER to shift people through time, but it may never use it if it isn’t required. So, let’s briefly consider the theories presented above and the ways these would impact a story.

Time Travelers. One of the core elements of sphinxes as time travelers is the idea that they are a mortal civilization. They are advanced beyond any civilization that exists today, but they are individuals using magical tools to accomplish these things—they are arcane scientists and divine spellcasters, capable of observing the tapestry of time and playing a great game with it. If this is the case, Flamewind in Sharn may indeed have very specific events she wants to observe and people she wishes to drive down specific paths, but at the end of the day she is a mortal wizard. She may play the role of being enigmatic and all-knowing, but there’s a touch of the Wizard of Oz; she DOES have knowledge of the future and of the potential destiny of the characters, but she’s not in fact infallible, she is playing her own game, and she also enjoys being a little bit of a tourist between those critical events. Should you follow this path, there’s a few points I’d consider.

The spellcasting abilities of a sphinx reflect whether they are a divine or arcane spellcaster—essentially, a wizard or a cleric. Under this approach, gynosphinxes and androsphinxes are simply male and female sphinxes, and it should be possible to encounter an androsphinx wizard or a gynosphinx priestess. A key question is what divine power sphinxes serve; personally, I like the idea that they might have a different sort of relationship with the Progenitors than people of the present day.
In shifting themselves or others to another plane, I would specifically use XORIAT. We’ve established that Xoriat is the key to time travel, and I’d assert that the time travel techniques being used by the sphinxes are based in this. The sphinxes aren’t creatures OF Xoriat and have no love for the daelkyr; they are scientists who are USING Xoriat. But they can also toss you into it for kicks.
The lair abilities of a sphinx are tied to a form of eldritch machine. Most likely this is specifically linked to the sphinx and cannot be used or even understood by any other creature… But it’s POSSIBLE that someone who’s figured out the mystery of the sphinx and has access to their lair could find a way to hack their time machine. A second specific question is where Flamewind has her lair. If the lair is a machine, it’s not likely to be something she could build in Morgrave University. In the novel City of Towers, this is why she deals with the protagonists in the abandoned temple in Malleon’s Gate; she hangs out at Morgrave, but her LAIR is in Malleon’s.
The final point is that time-traveling sphinxes are manipulating events, but they don’t have the same sort of agenda as heralds of Prophecy or Archfey emissaries. They aren’t invested in the outcome in the same way as, say, the Lords of Dust or the Chamber. Ultimately, this isn’t their time and the outcome won’t actually AFFECT them; it’s more intriguing than vital. However, divine sphinxes are more likely to be driven by a divine mission, while arcane sphinxes are more likely to be scientists and researchers.

Agents of the Archfey. If Sphinxes are tied to Thelanis, they are a form of fey; it’s up to the DM to decide whether to add the fey subtype or simply to say that you don’t HAVE to be fey to be from Thelanis. Sphinxes would effectively be Greater Fey—not truly immortal, but with a loose relationship to time and reality. A few thoughts about Thelanian sphinxes…

The plane they can travel to is Thelanis. Their ability to manipulate time is something that they don’t use with great precision and essentially only use when it serves the story; they aren’t truly time travelers, but they can throw Rip Van Winkle ahead a century when it fits the story.
A sphinx will be tied to a specific archfey, and its goals and the role it plays—guarding a location, posing a riddle—are tied to the story of that archfey. A Thelanian sphinx will be bound by fey logic: if it eats anyone who fails to answer its riddle, that’s not a CHOICE, it’s what it HAS TO DO. It MUST follow its role in the story.
While they draw on wizard or cleric spell lists, sphinxes aren’t actually clerics or wizards; their spellcasting reflects innate fey powers rather than arcane science.

Incarnations of Prophecy. If they are incarnations of the Prophecy, sphinxes stand sideways to the conflicts of the Lords of Dust and the Chamber. They don’t seek to manipulate the Prophecy: they ARE the Prophecy. While they may not be celestials or fiends, neither are they mortal creatures: they appear when and where they are needed, and likely disappear back into the Prophecy once their purpose has been fulfilled. If you want to explain the curious behavior of Flamewind, one possibility is to say that while a Prophetic sphinx has a limited existence, during the time it does exist it is a conscious entity; that Flamewind has spent eons as a disembodied thread of the Prophecy and is enjoying this incarnate period while she waits for the purpose that has caused her to be made manifest comes to a point. Key points about Prophetic sphinxes…

A Prophetic sphinx has no tied to any specific plane; as such, the planes it can access are likely tied to its specific Prophetic role.
This likewise ties to its ability to time travel. Essentially, a Prophetic sphinx has no free will. It exists for an absolute purpose. It CAN manipulate time or transport people to the planes, but it won’t and can’t use this power unless it is necessary for the purpose it’s manifested to fulfill. If adventurers must travel to Shavarath, it will transport them to Shavarath. If they must go forward ten years, it will take them forward ten years. But it can’t just decide that it would be INTERESTING to take them forward ten years to see what happens, as a time-traveling sphinx might.
The spellcasting abilities of a Prophetic sphinx are an innate part of its purpose and not skills it has learned.
The sphinx only exists to fulfill a purpose, guiding or guarding a particular node of the Prophecy. It is quite possible that part of its purpose is to prevent the Lords of Dust, Dragons, or other forces from interfering with that Prophetic lynchpin. But it has no wider goals, and it will discorporate once its purpose is fulfilled.

Essentially, time traveling sphinxes are the most free-spirited and are essentially playing a game with their riddles and challenges, while Prophetic sphinxes are the least free-willed and most bound to an absolute agenda, with Thelanian sphinxes falling in between.

Do Time Travelers Break The Game?

The fifth edition sphinx has the ability to travel in time, and to take others with it. From a purely abstract perspective, this throws all sorts of wrenches into a campaign. If adventurers fight a sphinx, why doesn’t it just go back in time and kill their grandparents? If the daelkyr rise, why don’t the adventurers get a sphinx to take them back in time and undo everything?

First of all, that last point is an excellent argument for having that power: it IS an ultimate escape hatch. It means that you CAN put failure on the table. You CAN have have Rak Tulkhesh break its chains and drown the Five Nations in blood, and the only hope is for the adventurers to fight their way to Sharn and convince Flamewind to give them a second chance. From a narrative perspective, that option is a great thing to have. The trick is that it shouldn’t be something that trivializes every defeat… “Oh, Flamewind, I lost at cards last night. Can we redo that?” Which brings up a number of points: when they can travel in time, and when they will travel in time.

First of all: time travel is a LAIR ACTION for a sphinx. You may not meet a sphinx in its lair… and a particular sphinx might not even HAVE a lair. In Sharn, Flamewind definitely can’t call Morgrave University “her lair.” Presumably, her lair was in the Xen’drik ruins where she was first found. I’ve suggested that she might have built a NEW lair in some abandoned part of Sharn, but it’s equally plausible to say that she just doesn’t have a lair in Sharn; if she wants to help you time travel, you’ll all have to make a trip to Xen’drik (and hope nothing else has taken over her lair!). So keep in mind that when you meet a sphinx guarding a tomb, there’s no rule saying that the tomb is actually its LAIR.

Second: Even if a sphinx COULD solve all your problems with time travel, why would it? The Thelanian sphinx is there to nudge the story in a particular direction, not to completely rewrite it; as said earlier, it’s likely doesn’t have full free access to time travel, and can only actually use the power when it fits the narrative (IE: it can toss Rip Van Winkle forward a hundred years, but it can’t take you back in time to murder King Jarot). The Prophecy sphinx is even more limited, bound by unbreakable bonds of fate to only do the things it’s supposed to do, and taking you back in time isn’t an option. The wild card is the time traveling sphinx, but here’s the catch: it doesn’t care about your problems. From the perspective of the time traveler, it sees the full scope of history, filled with uncountable deaths and tragedies. From your perspective, the release of Rak Tulkhesh is a horrible tragedy that could be stopped and hundreds of thousands of people could be saved. From the time traveler’s perspective, the rise of Rak Tulkhesh and those tragic deaths are just one page in the book of all history, one filled with countless tragedies and countless deaths; what the time traveler knows is that HISTORY GOES ON, and that in three thousand years these events will only be a memory. The time traveler’s job isn’t to defeat Bel Shalor for Tira Miron; it’s to challenge Tira Miron to realize that she has the power to do it herself. Or they might even just be here to watch! The release of Rak Tulkhesh in 998 YK is a fascinating moment in history and they’re just here to watch it unfold.

The short answer I’d give is that when dealing with a time traveling sphinx, decide EXACTLY WHY IT’S HERE. If it’s a divine sphinx it may have what it believes to be a divine mission. If it’s an arcane sphinx, it may be a tourist here to observe history or it might be playing a game, seeing if it can engineer a very specific outcome. Whatever the goal, nothing else matters to it. Everyone around it is simultaneously already dead and haven’t yet been born. You may want it to solve your problems, but your problems are no more important to it than the problems of every single other tragic person in history, and if it’s not helping them it won’t help you. It’s not here to beat Rak Tulkhesh for you—it’s here to give you the clue or the challenge, and then see if you do succeed… or take notes on exactly how things play out when you fail and then go home to the dawn of time, where that failure is just an entertaining anecdote.

Of course, there’s a third even zanier option to consider, following the model of The Magicians: How do you know that sphinxes HAVEN’T been resetting the timeline? Is it in fact possible that Flamewind is in Sharn to engineer a very specific outcome—and if it somehow fails, she will take the entire city back in time and replay the entire scenario until you dummies get it right? It could be that the adventurers somehow realize that Flamewind has prevented Rak Tulkhesh from being released thirty times already—but again, she can’t solve the problem, she can only pull everyone back a year and hope that this time you’ll figure it out. Or, on a smaller scale, you could have a Groundhog Adventure where each day ends with a second Mourning and the adventurers starting over again… Once again, Flamewind is reseting Sharn each time they fail, but she can’t actually solve the problem for them, because it’s their history. But again, it’s easy enough to say that this is the single reason she’s in Sharn… and once you to get it right, she’ll return to her own time for good.

Essentially, yes, unlimited time travel would cause all sorts of problems. So limit it. Limit what they can do (no lair, no travel; no violating the laws of the Prophecy; etc) and limit what they are willing to do. Your horrific apocalypse is just one page in a very big history book, and for the time tourist it’s a cool event to observe happen, not something they need to fix.

Looking the time travelers from the past, How do they handle and reconcile the fall of their civilization? They can go back to their home at the dawn of time, but eventually that time runs out on their civilization?

Certainly. It’s something we see in various versions of Atlantis. Imagine that they know that their civilization will end in one year. The overlords are going to rise and that is absolutely, 100% inevitable: Krypton WILL explode. They don’t have the resources to project their entire civilization beyond the Age of Demons; they can only support, say, one hundred time travelers. And it may even be that they can only support them for a certain amount of time, that they will eventually be pulled back to the doomed dawn. So those one hundred time travelers are essentially stretching that final year out for as long as possible by dwelling in other times — seeing as much as they can of a future their people will never know, cataloguing the wonders of eternity and doing what they can to be a part of legend—to create stories that WILL be remembered—before they are gone.

On the other hand, if you want a more activist story, consider this: what if the reason the sphinxes are tweaking history and shaping stories is because they are creating a point in the distant future that they CAN move their civilization to? Essentially, it’s an even longer game than the Lords of Dust. Each shift—each hero tested—is shifting the number of a combination lock. At some point they will create the future they are looking for, five thousand years from now, when Sphinx Atlantis can leap forward in time and be saved. So they could, essentially, be from both the past AND the future.

If you had to place “Sphinxlantis”—the theoretical Sphinx lost civilization—anywhere in Your Eberron, where do you think it would be and why? What would it be like?

The answer is simple: It was in a place that no longer exists. This comes back to the idea that it simply isn’t possible for the sphinxes to somehow save it. The overlords ripped their way out of Khyber and they can shape reality with their power. It’s not just a matter of splitting previous continents, though I think that definitely happened. Consider the overlord Ran Iishiv, the Unmaker. It seeks to tear down reality itself, and in the Age of Demons it was free to express that desire; in my opinion, large chunks of whatever existed before were completely annihilated by Ran Iishiv, and that’s just ONE of the overlords. This comes back to the observation that there are no traces of a sphinx civilization… in my opinion, it’s one of the pieces of the world that Ran Iishiv unmade while earning that title. There may be TRACES of Sphinxlantis that have somehow survived, but I think they would be more likely to be artifacts than structures.

A second key point is that in my opinion, Sphinxlantis was just one of the civilizations that existed in the past. So what other creatures were around? For starters, dragons and titans. Dragons are said to have emerged from the blood of Siberys falling upon Eberron; they were there at the start. You could use this to play with some of the “First World” ideas, if you want. However, in my opinion “modern” dragon civilization has absolutely nothing in common with the Sphinxlantis-era dragons—whatever civilization existed at the dawn of time were completely annihilated by the Age of Demons. Rak Tulkhesh and Tol Kharash set existing civilizations against one another in brutal wars, while Eldrantulku and Bel Shalor tore them apart from within. The Wild Heart and the Heart of Winter devastated civilizations with the horrifying potential of nature, while Ran Iishiv simply annihilated them. And dragons themselves would be subsumed by the Daughter of Khyber. Again, these are just a few of the overlords and they dominated the world for millions of years… it’s no surprise that little remains. With that said… who else could have existed? Frankly, anyone. Dragons and titans are sure things. But given the role of the Ghaash’kala, it’s quite possible that orcs existed at the dawn of time and survived through the Age of Demons. I’ve joked about the people of the Five Nations attributing Dhakaani ruins to some lost human civilization… but if it suits the story you want to tell, you could say that there was a human civilization in Sphinxlantis, something far more advanced than the present day. A truly odd idea is that the sphinxes were products of a primordial human civilization. Rather than saying that in the past you had sphinx families sitting around a table together at Sphinxsgiving, it could be that the sphinxes were created by the people of Sphinxlantis AS time travelers—that the reason their eldritch machines can’t be used by others is because the sphinxes themselves essentially ARE eldritch machines. You can explore this idea whether or not you use humans as their creators.

Another thing I’d consider: If the myths are accurate, Sphinxlantis predates both the Sovereign Host and the Silver Flame. Earlier I suggest that the divine spellcasting sphinxes may engage more directly with the Progenitors. This ties to something I suggested in my Siberspace campaign—that LILENDS are children of Siberys. There’s some broad similarities between lilends and sphinxes, both blending humanoid and animal features. It could be that the shape of the sphinx is a reflection of a connection to Siberys (though they ARE mortal, not celestial)… or it could be that the people of Sphinxlantis created the sphinxes in partial emulation of lilends and other celestials. In any case, because Sphinxlantis predates the Silver Flame, they would have had more interaction with individual native celestials—couatls, lilends, and more.

Why Does This Matter?

A key question in deciding why this matters depends on the motivation of the sphinxes. Do the sphinxes have a mission? Are they paving the way for a new Sphinxlantis to be born in the distant future? Are they playing a cosmic chonological game with one another? Is there actually a secret war being waged between the divine spellcasting sphinxes and the arcane spellcasting sphinxes? Or are they ultimately just tourists, stretching out the final days of their civilization by living out their lives in other times and watching the world that takes their place?

Aside from the sphinxes themselves, one reason this matters is because it is an excellent source of artifacts. Part of the whole point of time traveling sphinxes is that they are more advanced than any modern civilization, including Argonnessen. The certainly had a closer relationship with the native celestials, and may have had a closer relationship with the Progenitors themselves. And any object that has survived from the dawn of time would HAVE to be powerful and virtually indestructible. So this is an excellent origin point for artifacts that are incredibly powerful but have no connection to any known civilization—artifacts that could do ANYTHING.

Typing this, another thought occurs to me. I’ve said that the sphinxes could have had a different relationship with the Progenitors. That could include Khyber. If I wanted to explore a story that deals with the Progenitors as actual, concrete entities I might consider the idea that Sphinx civilization is older than the world itself—that rather than being created BY the Progenitors, the sphinxes could have come to this reality WITH the Progenitors. In this concept, they aren’t celestials because they’re older than the celestials. Though again, this is as a civilization—any individual sphinx is mortal, so it’s not like Flamewind is older that Eberron, but her people were. This could be one reason that they aren’t fighting the destruction of Sphinxlantis… because some among them honor Khyber and believe that Khyber deserved an opportunity to express their vision on reality, at least for a time.

Again, it’s important to me to say that we don’t know if the Progenitors were real or if the creation myth is just a metaphor. But part of the point is that if it is a metaphor, it may be a metaphor in which the reality we know was created not by cosmic dragons but by three immensely powerful mortal individuals—potentially, members of the same civilization as the Sphinxes. I say this in the same way I suggest multiple possible causes for the Mourning: because the answer depends on the story you want to tell. If sphinxes are survivors of the first civilization, THEY may know the true nature of the Progenitors… and may have been their servants, creations, or peers.

GENERAL QUESTIONS

What about Zenobaal?

Dragons of Eberron presents the idea of Zenobaal, a rogue dragon who refers to itself as “The Prophecy Incarnate”. One aspect of Zenobaal is that he has an alliance with a gynosphinx named Maris-Kossja, and that they have a brood of half-dragon gynosphinx offspring. How does that fit with this idea?

There’s a few factors: first and foremost, this article is based on the fifth edition interpretation of sphinxes, which positions them as being more rare and unique — as opposed to the default 3.5 approach, by which sphinxes are just part of the world. This article notably doesn’t address hieracosphinxes, for example. The second point is that I didn’t create Maris-Kossja or Zenobaal, and this article is based on how *I* use sphinxes — which is more reflected by Flamewind. With that said, I have no issues with Zenobaal, and I think it can work in this interpretation. The simplest approach is to use the time travel idea, because under that concept sphinxes ARE mortal and could have offspring; Maris-Kossja has come from the past or future, is fascinated with Zenobaal, and has chosen to produce offspring with him… creating that rare time when you could encounter multiple sphinxes. That’s pretty straightforward. The more exotic option is to go with the Prophetic Sphinx and say that this is evidence of Zenobaal’s deep ties to the Prophecy. Zenobaal is so bound to the Prophecy that it has literally manifested a mate for him—and that his half-dragon offspring are flesh-and-blood manifestations of the Prophecy.

In general, however, this article is based on the 5E interpretation of sphinxes and will not necessarily apply to all 3.5 uses of sphinxes. You’ll have to decide how to address other contradictions. If you go with time travel sphinxes, and interesting option is to say that criosphinxes and hieracosphinxes are MODERN sphinxes — that they are either the primitive ancestors of or devolved descendants of the time traveling sphinxes.

The Inscrutable trait prevents anyone from reading the thoughts of a sphinx. Can a sphinx choose to lower this defense and allow an adventurer to detect its thoughts?

With questions like this, my first response is what’s going to make a more interesting story? As I say above, to me the inscrutability and the mystery of the sphinx are part of what make encounters with them so compelling. Consider the exchange between Daine and Flamewind at the start of this article: which answer will you believe? I like the fact that even if a sphinx wants to help a group of adventurers, it HAS to remain cryptic and enigmatic; they will never be able to know for certain whether it’s telling the truth and what it might be hiding from them. The concrete reasons for this would vary based on the story of the sphinx. If sphinxes are manifestations of the Prophecy, it’s reasonable to think that their thoughts are so complex and immense that no mortal mind can grasp them. If they are time travelers, it could be that their perspective is simply too alien to be understood, or it could be that anyone peering into their minds is caught up in a labyrinth of possible pasts and futures. It could be interesting to run an adventure in the mind of a sphinx, with the adventurers trying to find their way out. By the 5E rules as written, a sphinx CAN allow other forms of divination to affect it—so it can allow you to scry or locate it, if it chooses—but it is simply impossible to discern the thoughts or emotions of a sphinx, and I’d continue that.

The latest news from WotC suggests that Sphinxes will be Celestials…

Any sort of new edition will always shake things up, and the lore will have to adjust to it. Consider that this article presents three different interpretations of sphinxes, and that Professor Ennis’s argument against the Prophecy sphinx is that they ought to be celestials. So the whole point is that IN EBERRON ITSELF, next year you can expect to see the a Korranberg scholar publish a paper rebutting Ennis’s work by saying The latest research suggests that sphinxes ARE celestials. The Prophecy Sphinx SHOULD be celestial, just as the Fey Sphinx should be fey; it’s the time traveling sphinxes that make the most sense as monstrosities. So all of the ideas here remain valid; it’s up to a DM to decide if they want to pick the one that makes the most sense with the current mechanics, or if they want to actually keep ALL of them and just say that “sphinx” is being used as a name for three completely different forms of creature because it’s hard for a casual observer to tell the difference. Just like how in The Queen of Stone, Thorn deals with a creature she calls a maniticore, but it’s definitely not the standard monstrosity manticore from the Monster Manual…

Thanks for taking this journey into the past with me, and thanks to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible! The artwork that accompanies this article is an image of the medusa Essra, by the artist Matthew Johnson. Essra is one of the characters in the new Eberron campaign I’m running for my patrons, the first episode of which happens this weekend. If you want to watch the games I’ve run or play in a session yourself, check out my Patreon!

Dragonmark: Mysteries of the Talenta Plains

Posted on May 17, 2024 by Keith Baker

My esteemed colleague’s suggestion of establishing vast farms in the Talenta Plains shows his ignorance of history and lack of common sense. Why do you suppose the Talenta tribes are nomadic, Danison? Why hasn’t House Ghallanda establish its own farms in its ancestral homeland, or brought home the arcane tools they use across the Five Nations? I’ll do you one better: Why didn’t Galifar settle the Talenta Plains? For a thousand years it was called Cyre on our maps. Yet when the Great King chose to resettle the nobles of old Metrol, did he send them to the Plains? No, he sent them all the way across the Blade Desert. Perhaps—perhaps—this could be attributed to wishing to put a desert between his daughter and possible rivals, but why in the century that followed did Cyrans not settle this vast realm? Dig deeper and you may find stories of a Scale empire that spread from what we now call Q’barra into the Plains—where is that empire today?

It’s no accident that the Talenta keep moving, Danison. It’s no coincidence that they’ve developed a mystical tradition that works with spirits, and choose to hold to this path instead of adopting the arcane science of the west. There are forces at play in the Plains you know nothing about… and you are better off not knowing.
Alina Lorridan Lyrris, Aurum Concordian

Over the last twenty years of Eberron, the Talenta Plains have largely been ignored… just as they have largely been ignored by the people of the Five Nations. The Talenta tribes pursue a nomadic lifestyle and employ a system of primal magic rather than embracing the arcane science of the west. This isn’t an accident. The Talenta developed their traditions because they are the key to survival and prosperity in the Plains. Consider House Ghallanda and House Jorasco, both of which build enclaves in the Five Nations and employ arcane science in those facilities—yet beyond Gatherhold they haven’t built enclaves in the Plains, nor pushed western wizardry or artifice onto their cousins. This is no accident. The Talenta tribes have honed their mystical and mundane traditions for countless generations, and these techniques allow them to accomplish things Cannith artificers and Vadalis magebreeders can’t even imagine.

But this article isn’t about the Talenta tribes… it’s about the Plains themselves. Remember always that Eberron isn’t our world. It’s a world shaped by supernatural forces, a world in which fiends, fey, and undead are real. It’s a world in which planar influence and epic curses have dramatic effects on everyday life. And now, lest it go without saying, we’re moving from canon lore into the realm of Kanon lore—what I do with the Plains in my campaign.

So let’s consider the basic facts. When humanity spread across Khorvaire, they didn’t settle the Plains. There’s no Dhakaani ruins in the Plains. The Trothlorsvek did expand from Q’barra into the Plains, because where else could they go? And yet, their empire collapsed (… with a little help from Masvirik). Dinosaurs thrive in the Plains and in Q’barra, yet aren’t widespread elsewhere in Khorvaire. The Talenta halflings have maintained a nomadic tradition for thousands of years, and employ primal spirit-driven magic rather than the arcane science of the Five Nations—and yet, when they leave the Plains (as seen by Jorasco, Ghallanda, the Boromars, and more) they don’t bring that system of magic with them. The Talenta traditions are a path to survival and to power within the Plains, because of unique aspects of the Plains outsiders don’t recognize or understand. So with that in mind… here’s the core principle I’m working with when I approach the Plains.

The Talenta Plains have always had strong connections to Lamannia, Thelanis, and Dolurrh. During the early Age of Giants, the Plains were the heart of a powerful draconic civilization. When this nation of dragons became corrupted by the Daughter of Khyber, it fell into a war with Argonnessen that ended with the corrupted civilization being utterly eradicated. The victorious dragons employed powerful forces to contain the fallout from that conflict and to prevent any repetition of the threat. When Argonnessen later laid waste to Xen’drik, it was drawing on experience and techniques that had first been employed in the razing of the Talenta Plains.

As such, the Talenta Plains are a post-apocalyptic wasteland. But that apocalypse happened tens of thousands of years ago. The devastation was thorough, and beyond that, the civilization was unlike that of any humanoid culture. The people of the present day don’t SEE the traces of that fallen nation and the evidence of its apocalyptic fall. And yet, it holds the core principles we’re familiar with from the post-apocalyptic tales of our media: people roaming across a ruined land, invisible lingering forces that affect everyday life, wonders of the fallen civilization waiting to be uncovered. In the Talenta Plains, those “invisible forces” are spirits rather than radiation… but the basic principles still apply.

So as I’m developing my campaign in the Talenta Plains, I’m thinking about Gamma World, Fallout, and Mad Max: Fury Road in addition to old folk tales… just replace the cars in Mad Max with dinosaurs. There have always been fey, elementals, and ghosts in the Plains because of the planar influences. But there are also relics of a draconic civilization—a civilization so advanced that we don’t even recognize its tools as tools—as well as scars of the weapons that destroyed it. A crucial difference between this and the Mournland is that the basic environment isn’t as relentlessly hostile as the Mournland. There is natural life in the Plains, and it’s possible to survive and thrive there—provided you know what you’re doing and know how to avoid its dangers. And one of the basic principles to that is to keep moving. A second aspect of this is that there are ruins and monsters in the Talenta Plains that you’d never find in the heart of a nation like Breland, because the Talenta know to avoid them. The paths the tribes use in their migrations are safe, but venture off the paths and you can find wonders—along with deadly danger.

THE SPIRITS OF THE PLAINS

At a glance the Talenta Plains often seem vast and empty. But there is far more to this realm than meets the mortal eye. It’s common knowledge that the Talenta traditions involve interacting with “spirits”; what outsiders don’t realize is that this general term actually covers a wide range of entities. There are five distinct classes of “spirit” that are widespread in the Plains. But beyond the type of spirit, an encounter can very dramatically based on the form of the spirit. Ambient spirits are invisible and intangible; they can’t be interacted with directly, but they may produce supernatural effects on the environment. Pure spirits can be physically perceived in their own shape—a spectral ghost, a fire elemental, a dryad. Incarnate spirits are tied to a physical form, whether that’s animal, vegetable, or mineral; this could be face in a pool of water or a talking clawfoot. Bound spirits are similar to incarnate spirits in that they are tied to something physical, but were bound against their will; they are often tied to objects or set as guardians. So let’s talk about the five common types of spirits, but in the context of how you would encounter one as an incarnate spirit tied to a clawfoot.

Elementals are raw primal forces, largely driven by pure instinct. An elemental clawfoot would be supernaturally strong and fast, but it wouldn’t speak or have a particular interest in interacting with humanoids. It’s just much more dangerous than a normal clawfoot.
Fey are spirits that bring magic and story into the world; essentially, their purpose is to make mortal lives more interesting. Fey spirits have a story or a purpose, which could be simple or complex. A fey clawfoot might guard a wondrous treasure, offer wise counsel, or have a thorn in its tail that it can’t get out—do you help it?
Undead of the Talenta Plains are typically spirits that haven’t fully reached Dolurrh. Some wish for rest; others are driven by powerful emotions or unfinished business. A haunted clawfoot might speak with your grandfather’s voice and ask you to fulfill a promise on his behalf… or it might be the corpse of a clawfoot driven by the hunter Orlasca’s vile hunger.
Fiends are malevolent spirits. Some are tied to the Cold Sun or the Daughter of Khyber; others are sparks of evil drifting directly from Khyber. They exist to inflict suffering on mortals, though each has a flavor of tragedy it prefers. A fiendish clawfoot might lure travelers into the darkness with the voices of loved ones, killing them one by one in horrifying ways.
Artificial spirits are relics of the fallen dragon nation that occupied this region tens of thousands of years ago. These are effectively sentient magic items, though they can be bound to fields of energy instead of solid objects. Artificial spirits aren’t usually encountered in animal forms, but there could be a spirit bound to a buried sphere of brass studded with Khyber shards which has the ability to dominate beasts, and uses these creatures to carry out its purpose—still patrolling the borders of an outpost that was ground to dust long ago.

An important point with fey, fiends, and elementals is that for the most path these are native spirits. The ambient energies of Lamannia and Thelanis are strong in this region, but it’s native influences that harness this power and form into spirits. So the fey clawfoot isn’t from Thelanis; it is Thelanian energy that has been shaped by the region and by deep archetypes. There are actually Thelanian manifest zones where travelers may interact with fey of Thelanis; but most of the fey spirits are native to Eberron. Likewise for the fiends; they are tied to overlords or to Khyber, not to Shavarath or Fernia.

So the first thing to known about the Talenta Plains is that they are full of spirits. The next question is… WHY? All of these classes and types of spirits CAN be found anywhere in the world. Why is there such an intense concentration of spirits in the Plains? The answer to that is…

A FORGOTTEN WAR

In the wake of the Age of Demons, the dragons exulted in their victory. They were few in number at that time, and it took them millennia to rebuild and to craft nations. But a time came when dragons set out to claim the world they had saved. The dragons laid down roots in Argonnessen, in Xen’drik, and in Khorvaire. Most began as explorers, artists, and scientists—unlocking the mysteries of the world they had saved. But slowly, a worm began to burrow into the collective heart of the dragons of Khorvaire. The Daughter of Khyber began to play on their pride and their arrogance. Why should they share this world with lesser beings—creatures who’d been so easily dominated by the fiends in the past? They were the children of Siberys. They were made to rule and to enforce their will upon reality. They quickly conquered the humanoids that existed in Khorvaire at the time. But what is now the Plains was the heart of their empire, where they experimented with magic and built terrifying weapons. And in this time, they themselves began to be corrupted, with spawn of Tiamat, abishai and other mockeries of dragonkind appearing. But enthralled as they were, the dragons justified this as a desired evolution and proof of their power and wisdom. When other dragons questioned them, it was proof that these rivals had to be subjugated and made to see the “light of Siberys.”

This isn’t the place to go into a long and detailed breakdown of a war between dragons. Ultimately the power of the Daughter of Khyber was broken, and the surviving dragons withdrew to Argonnessen. But the conflict shook the world. The forces unleashed in the war didn’t just shatter the cities of dragons, they tore at the fabric of reality itself. Part of the reason Argonnessen reacted so brutally to the actions of the Cul’sir Dominion in Xen’drik was because they themselves had come close to inflicting irreparable harm to reality.

Most evidence of this first draconic empire was destroyed in the conflict, and what was left has largely been erased by the passage of time. But there are still lingering consequences of that ancient war.

A Spiritual Cacophony. The barriers to the planes are worn thin. There are concrete manifest zones that have the standard effects, but beyond this the ambient energy of the planes generates an unusual amount of native spirits, as described above.

Rare Relics. Most traces of the draconic civilization were erased, and their magic was unraveled. But there are a few traces that have endured: eldritch machines that have resisted destruction, wards or guardian spirits placed by the victors, or abandoned weapons—the draconic equivalent of an unexploded blast disk. Most dramatically, there’s the potential for time capsules or fallout shelters—things specifically designed to survive the conflict and endure the passage of time.

An Arcane Menace. The civilization of the Imperial dragons was largely driven by arcane science. Over the course of the war, the enemies of the empire unleashed slow, inexorable weapons designed to undermine and break down that draconic civilization. The process is extremely slow by human standards, but it is inexorable. Any static community in the Talenta Plains will suffer the following effects.

It will draw ghosts and undead—tortured spirits unable to reach Dolurrh. The effect ramps up as it goes; the more restless spirits are in a region, the more newly dead spirits are drawn to this mass instead of to Dolurrh. At a glance this might sound like a good thing—isn’t Dolurrh oblivion?—but the spirits are disoriented and tormented. Hauntings can range from merely disturbing to concretely dangerous, and it continues to worsen over time. Think of every haunted house movie you’ve seen, and slowly amplify the effects.
Arcane magic is subtly corrupted over time. Systems may break down or malfunction. Living spells can manifest.

This effect is slow but inexorable. The Trothlorsvek dragonborn were able to resist it—as discussed in more detail later in this article—but the point is that it is dangerous to remain still and that traditional arcane science will slowly go wrong. This effect is slow enough that it doesn’t affect the wizard or artificer passing through to Plains, but it’s why Ghallanda and Jorasco don’t implement the arcane infrastructure of the Five Nations in the Plains. And it’s why the people of Metrol and Cyre didn’t settle in the Plains—They DID, but every settlement came to a miserable end and sages soon recognized that it was a concrete, real effect and that settlement was ill-advised.

WHAT ABOUT THE DRAGONBORN?

During the Age of Monsters, the dragonborn expanded out of Q’barra and into the Plains. They were able to establish an empire of their own, that lasted for a time; it ultimately collapsed when the partial release of the overlord Masvirik forced them to return to Q’barra. Historians will note that they never attempted to rebuild this empire and that there’s very little mention of dragonborn ruins in the Plains. Personally, I’d expand this history in a few ways. I’d say that the expansion of the dragonborn empire was part of the requirements for Masvirik’s release—that the fiends of Masvirik encouraged the spread of the empire knowing it would help their overlord. Likewise, I’d say that the Daughter of Khyber played a role as well. Normally she doesn’t influence dragonborn, but her claws were sunk deeply into the Talenta Plains and she has a greater presence there than anywhere else beyond the Pit of Five Sorrows. So the influence of Masvirik and the Daughter twisted the dragonborn, again unleashing abishai, spawn, and other horrors—along with Dolurrhi hauntings described above. It’s not simply that the Trothlorsvek had to abandon their holdings in the Plains; they had to destroy them in order to break the power of the Daughter and the Cold Sun. In my campaign there ARE definitely still ruins to be found, but they are isolated and limited—and rightly shunned by the Talenta tribes, whose paths of migration keep them far away.

SO… WHAT’S IN THE PLAINS?

The inspiration for this article was a question posed on my Patreon… What are some interesting adventure sites or villains you would place in the Talenta Plains if you were running a game there? The point was that the Plains seems to be vast and empty, without a lot of real points of interest. Why would adventurers go there? Taking everything I’ve suggested above, here’s a few ideas.

Ruins

We don’t hear much about ruins in the Talenta Plains. In part that’s because the previous widespread civilizations were thoroughly and intentionally destroyed… and in part it’s because the few ruins that are left are bad, dangerous places that the Talenta learned to avoid thousands of years ago. There ARE still ruins out there if you leave the migratory paths followed by the tribes… but there’s good reason they’ve been left alone. Here’s a few ideas entirely off the top of my head.

The Temple of Tiamat. Once this was a vast citadel of followers of the Daughter of Khyber. All that’s left on the surface are the faintest traces of ancient walls and broken stone. But there is a passage that leads below—a cavern formed of pure demonglass, something even the dragons couldn’t destroy. The ruin is dead and silent… but as people explore it, it stirs to life. Carvings of abishai become real, pulling free from the walls and eager to torment mortals. And in the deepest layer, a demonglass dracolich—the Ancient Askannath—guards an hoard of treasures from the forgotten civilization. The fiends and their master can’t leave the demonglass sanctum, but the longer mortals remain within it, the more it comes to life. Why would adventurers go there? One possibility is that they stumble upon it by accident, when they choose to ignore halfling warnings about cursed lands. Another is that they are searching for a draconic relic — an artifact a sage has traced to this place. It could be this is purely a source of information or knowledge. Or it could be that an ancient weapon from the forgotten war remains intact. Are the adventurers sent to recover it for the good of their own nation? Or are they pursuing rivals—trying to stop the Emerald Claw from seizing the Stone of Doom?

Haunted Hastalar. Most of the cities of the dragonborn empire were destroyed. Most… but not all. The fortress-town of Hastalar remains perfectly intact. But it has long been shunned by the halflings, and with good reason: it is intensely haunted. Hastalar was attacked by a Dhakaani legion before the full collapse of the Trothlorsvek dominion, and lingering spirits of both Dhakaani dar and dragonborn soldiers remain, howling through the streets. There is a powerful duur’kala banshee here who song is louder and deadlier than that of the standard banshee. Poltergeist activity is a constant threat. There are countless ghosts and shadows, and anyone who sleeps in Hastalar may be possessed by a vengeful spirit that seeks to reenact the final struggle. But there are relics of both the Trothlorsvek and the Dhakaani here. A Dhakaani Kech may send a force here to recover a potent artifact; the Kech Nasaar could try to release the banshee and recruit her to their cause. The Trothlorsvek could ask a team of trusted adventurers to recover a relic of their own; the haunting has a more powerful effect on dragonborn and they need softskins to explore it.

The Planar Workshop. Another subterranean ruin of the forgotten war, this is essentially a fallout shelter and arcane workshop designed to harness and manipulate planar energies. It is shielded from divination and has been hidden even from the Chamber itself. The region around it is especially dangerous, and the workshop itself is filled with malfunctioning magic—deadly artificial spirits, living spells, and golems. It could be that there’s a specific artifact here to be discovered. Or perhaps there’s a Chardalyn dragon—a relic of the forgotten war—that rises up and starts menacing the Plains, and the secret to stopping it lies in this vault.

Legendary Beasts

Incarnate spirits can result in terrifying threats. The Talenta tribes largely avoid these dangers, but perhaps adventurers have a reason to deal with them. A few entirely random ideas…

Flamemaw, a swordtooth titan (tyrannosaurus rex) blended with a fire elemental; it has a burning aura and breathes fire.
The Red Eyes, a pack of clawfeet possessed by fiends. The Talenta avoid their hunting grounds, but perhaps their territory suddenly shifts. Alternately, a Talenta adventurer could wish to recover the weapon of a legendary hunter who fell fighting the pack…
The Great Hammertail is a legend of a massive ankylosaurus that has a town on its back. Think of this as Brigadoon, except on the back of a wandering dinosaur. Needless to say, this is a fey phenomenon. But there could be blessings and wonders to be found in this town! Alternatively, this could be a patron for a halfling warlock that uses the Genie archetype; instead of traveling into a bottle, their sanctuary is a tent on the back of the Hammertail!
Orlasca Ghouls are discussed in Chronicles of Eberron; essentially, these are ghoul beasts that are guided by a single predatory consciousness. They could arise anywhere, and if they spread over a large force—perhaps wiping out an entire small tribe and raising them as ghouls—they could be a terrible threat.
The Carver is a large predator that will bargain with potential prey. Is it a fey spirit that offers fair bargains, or a fiend that will bring only misfortune?
The Living Wish is an epic living spell, a dangerous relic of the forgotten war. It spends most of its time slumbering. Someone—perhaps an Aurum concordian?—learns of its existence and hires adventurers to try to locate it and use its power. What damage might it cause to reality?

Spirits

Spirits are a defining aspect of the Plains. Here’s a few ways they could inspire adventures…

Curses or Blessings. A Talenta adventurer could have a longstanding bond between a fey spirit and their family that is about to become due. This could be a good thing; on their twentieth birthday, if an heir of the Cascala bloodline can find and catch the silver fastieth, they will receive a boon of speed. Or it could be a bad thing; on their twentieth birthday an heir of the Cascala bloodline has one opportunity to catch the silver fastieth; if they fail, they will die.
Minor Fiends. Minor fiends can cause trouble anywhere in the Talenta Plains. The halflings know minor warding rituals and traditions that largely protect their tribes from loose fiends, but outsiders may have to deal with all sorts of minor harassments. Beasts could be possessed. Travelers could have nightmares, or be troubled by anything from illusions to phantasmal killers.
Guiding to Rest. The wandering undead of the Plains are largely tormented by their restless existence. Adventurers could be tasked to find a wandering spirit and help lay it to rest. Alternately, they could be tasked to find the spirit of someone important who died in the Plains and whose spirit was lost. The Cannith seneschal was touring the Plains. Now it seems his spirit’s bound to a clawfoot and he can’t be raised from the dead unless you find it.
Ancient Force. An artificial spirit from the forgotten war could hold priceless knowledge about draconic magic or the history of the first age. But what would convince their entity to help adventurers? And is it actually wise to give humans the knowledge this being possesses?

Villains

What villains might I use in a Talenta campaign? Once again, here’s a few entirely random ideas…

Tellan Narathun. A concordian of the Aurum, Tellan Narathun has made a fortune off of dangerous things his family has recovered from Sol Udar, and now he’s turning his attention to the relics of the Plains. Tellan could start out as a patron for a party of adventurers, but the more they work with him the clearer it becomes that he’s selfish and dangerous. It could be that he is purely driven by mortal greed… or over the course of the campaign he might make one too many bargains with fiends and become a host for an immortal threat. He’s experimenting with symbionts from Sol Udar, and the longer the campaign goes, the more alien he will become. As I said, he could start as a patron, or he could start as the patron of a group of rival adventurers the player characters clash with—either way, the longer it goes, the more dangerous he becomes.
The Scales. A cult of the Daughter of Khyber. They would start out seemingly innocent—perhaps a friendly dragonborn working with a willing tribe of halflings to investigate the fall of the Trothlorsvek empire—but over time would become corrupted, dragon-fiend terrors.
Oblivion. An artificial spirit from the forgotten war that seeks vengeance on Argonnessen. Once recovered, it would serve as a patron (possibly creating warlocks or draconic sorcerers) in a long slow quest that would start by targeting Chamber agents and build to something ever more dangerous. Along the way it would be recruiting both dragonborn and actual dragons, serving as a locus for the influence of the Daughter of Khyber.
Holy Uldra. Let’s not sleep on our existing villains. Uldra is a charismatic halfling lath who believes “following the path of the Five Nations is wrong and goes against the spirits of their ancestors and the beasts with which they share the Plains. She also rails against the dragonmarked houses for abandoning the ancient traditions of the tribes.” As it stands, she’s a cleric of the hunt. But in her ambitions to punish the houses and to strike agains the Five Nations, she could make bargains with fey or fiends, gaining increasingly dangerous powers (even as she drifts away from the ancient traditions herself). Part of the threat of Uldra is the idea that she can lure innocents to her cause and potentially cause war within the Plains itself. It’s not the case that all her followers are possessed or evil; some may have valid issues with the role foreign powers have taken in the Plains.

Supernatural Sites

Setting aside ruins and places that have already been named like Krezent and the Boneyard, what are some interesting locations I might use in the Plains? Before specifics, I’ll call out that the Plains have a number of large, strong manifest zones tied to Lamannia, Thelanis, and Dolurrh; in this current interpretation, I’d tie the Boneyard to Dolurrh instead of Mabar. In addition, incarnate spirits can be tied to plants, stones, soil, or other locations. Very briefling, consider the following…

A large pond inhabited by a water weird. This place is a hybrid of fey and elemental forces. The weird can serve as an oracle, but it demands a price for its wisdom and will drown anyone who seeks to reclaim the tribute thrown into its waters.
A grove of trees that moan in the wind. Each tree holds the essence of someone who died long ago, and speak with dead can be used to give a tree a clear voice for a short time. If trouble, the trees can wail with the same effect as a banshee’s howl.

BUT WHAT ABOUT…

… Krezent? It could be tied to the forgotten war, but I’m inclined to say that it remains as described—a relic of the couatl and the Age of Demons. The Shulassakar take care to contain the potential threats of Krezent, but they can’t guard every dangerous site in the Plains. However, the Shulassakar could be patrons or advisors for adventurers—or dangerous enemies who send a strike force to stop the adventurers if they are blundering around into dangerous territory. I’d also call out that the population of Krezent isn’t sufficient to count it as a “town” for purposes of triggering the ill effects; while it houses a population of Shulassakar, the ECS still identifies it as a “ruin” and not an active city.

... Gatherhold? If settlements in the Talenta Plains are slowly cursed, how does the town of Gatherhold survive? This is a mystery even to the Talenta themselves—the fact is that it does and always has. The most logical answer is that unlike the Mourning, whatever curses were laid upon the Plains long ago don’t perfectly conform to current political boundaries. Gatherhold is already on the edge of the Plains, on the shore of Lake Cyre; likely it’s simply outside whatever effect is responsible for the hauntings. The same is true of the “small towns” along the northern border. On the other hand, maskweavers and other mystics have long been performing rituals to draw in the favor of benevolent spirits to protect and preserve Gatherhold, and it could be that it is these traditions are responsible for its ongoing propsperity. Nonetheless, the fact remains that there’s a reason Gatherhold is an anomaly, and that the there aren’t towns spread throughout the Plains. With that said, it’s important to note that this affect is supposed to target TOWNS and COLONIES, and could spare small outposts. The Tolashcara monitor the Boneyard. The Shulassakar guard Krezent. But in both cases, these aren’t CITIES… and it’s also the case that the Shulassakar channel the Silver Flame and the Tolashcara specialize in necromancy, so both are able to deal with hauntings.

… Fire Ecology? Wildfires play an important role in environments such as the Plains, and that would be just as true in the Talenta Plains as it is in our world. Wildfires are a regular part of life in the Plains and another reason to keep moving. The twist I’d add to consider the ways in which Eberron isn’t our world is that I would have fire spirits in the Plains in addition to purely natural wildfires. These could include elemental wildfires, who largely act just like mundane wildfires but that might sing in Ignan as they burn, and which could respond to druids or bards; fey wildfires, which would play out stories—perhaps being mischievous, perhaps targeting heroes to make their life more challenging; or fiendish wildfires, which would be unnaturally dangerous, aggessive, and cruel.

IN CONCLUSION…

This truly just scratches the surface of what’s possible here, and every aspect of this could be expanded upon; hopefully this gives you some ideas. Again, all of this is KANON—this is what *I* would do if I focused on the Plains—but that doesn’t mean that YOU have to use it.

A few quick points, since I don’t have time to talk about the Talenta themselves…

Talenta “spirit traditions” cover a wide range of actual paths. The Maskweavers are one such path and primarily deal with fey and elemental spirits. The Tolashcara deal with undead. Talenta traditions could produce rangers, druids, warlocks, clerics, bards, monks, artificers, and more. The point is that they generate these effects through interactions with spirits: seeking guidance from them or bargaining with them, binding them, drawing on their ambient power, and more. Saying it again, these spirits aren’t tied to specific CLASSES. You can be a Talentan druid, warlock, or artificer and draw your powers from interacting with spirits! CANNITH artificers employ arcane science, but a Talentan artificer can produce the same EFFECTS by working with spirits of the Plains.
On a large scale, these traditions don’t work when you leave the Plains. This is why House Jorasco largely employs arcane science in the Five Nations rather than calling on healing spirits; the spirits aren’t THERE in Breland. However, a Talentan player character can still use class abilities wherever they are. This can be justified either by the player character being remarkable and maintaining a connection over a distance; by them having an attendant spirit that invisibly travels with them; or by them personally being able to work with local spirits.
I previously said that the Tolashcara deal with Mabaran undead; in this model I’d switch their focus to be on Dolurrh.

Thanks again to my Patreon supporters, who make these articles possible! I won’t be answering questions on this article, but feel free to discuss it in the comments.

Patreon Preview: Mysteries of the Talenta Plains

Posted on April 26, 2024 by Keith Baker

Dragonmarks: Radiant Idols

Posted on February 9, 2024 by Keith Baker

*Image by Craig J. Spearing from Eberron: Rising From The Last War*

“You said this was a fallen angel,” Thorn said. “How’s that different from a devil?”

Drego shook his head. “The two are completely different. Devils are tied to malevolent concepts – hate, fear, greed. What we’re dealing with is a radiant idol, an angel punished for pride by being imprisoned on Eberron. It still possesses its original appearance, more or less, and its powers are still tied to its original dominion.”

“So who are we dropping in on tonight?”

“Do not speak this name casually,” Drego said, and there was no trace of his usual levity. He traced lines in the air as he continued. “You must understand the sheer power of the being we face. He has likely influenced the lives of thousands of your countrymen, Thorn, and just speaking his name could draw unwanted attention to us.” He made a last flourish in the air, and Thorn could just make out a translucent pattern of rippling arcane energy that dulled all sounds beyond and kept Drego’s voice close. “Tonight we shall destroy Vorlintar, the Voice of the Innocent and the Keeper of Hopes, Fifth among the Fallen of Syrania.”

The shimmering glyph burst into flame, burning without substance, and then it was gone.

“Call him by his titles,” Drego said, “But do not speak his name.”

“Keeper of Hopes?” Brom said, and his chuckle echoed off the walls. “He doesn’t sound so terrible.”

“And he wasn’t, when he was a force for light. Now he holds to his dominions, but he has become a force for evil. He is indeed the Keeper of Hopes – the hopes that he has stolen from all those who fall under his sway. He devours innocence, leaving pain and despair. As we draw closer to his throne, you will feel his talons tearing at your mind. You must be strong and hold him at bay, for a clean death is far better than a life without hope.”
– From The Son of Khyber

The Sharn: City of Towers sourcebook introduced a new threat to the Eberron campaign setting: the radiant idol. Sharn is closely tied to Syrania, and we thought it would be interesting to introduce a new sort of fallen angel cast out of the sky. The Sharn book has this to say…

A radiant idol is an angel that has been banished from Syrania and condemned to spend eternity on the Material Plane. Not all radiant idols are evil, and none are as thoroughly corrupt as the fiends of the lower planes. Their greatest sin, as a rule, is the desire to be worshiped by the humanoids they consider lesser beings, and most gather cults of devoted humanoid followers on the Material Plane—thus giving rise to their common name.

I expanded on this in Exploring Eberron, noting…

Many sages believe that touching Eberron’s ground makes angels vulnerable to the influence of Khyber and the overlords, while others theorize that mortal worship—the positive energy that sustains the Undying Court—is like a drug to the dominions. Whatever the cause, dominions who interact with mortals run the risk of becoming corrupted. Such immortals crave mortal adoration and often seek to dominate mortals by exercising the power of their sphere. Not all dominions fall prey to this corruption, but once one does, there seems to be no way to undo it. Even if the angel is destroyed and reforms, the corruption remains. It’s unlikely that such an angel would be met in Syrania itself; typically, these corrupted angels are forever stripped of the power of flight and condemned to walk the Material Plane as radiant idols.

For me personally, a radiant idol brings a few interesting elements to a story. They have no connection to the major factions; they aren’t aligned with the Lords of Dust, the Daelkyr, or the Dreaming Dark. They don’t care about the Draconic Prophecy and they aren’t trying to take over the world; they just want to be adored. In a world where gods don’t walk the earth, it can be fun to have a cult where you can actually beat up their deity. Radiant idols are going to be a problem whenever you encounter them, but an idol is a problem you can solve—something that’s typically intensely regional. They make good monsters. And beyond that, they work well with the overall noir vibe of Sharn and Eberron overall… fallen angels; addicted to mortal worship; glorious and beautiful but bound to dirt and grime.

There are a many ways to base an adventure around a radiant idol…. here’s a few options.

Cult Mystery. The idol is actively recruiting and adventurers run across its spreading cult. Perhaps a friend or ally has a sudden change in behavior. The key question with a radiant cult is whether the cultists are being compelled supernaturally—forced to take a blood oath and terrified that the idol will torture or kill them if they reveal its presence, or simply compelled by charm—or whether they have simply been compelled by its innate charisma (and possibly dreams!) and truly believe in the idol. Perhaps they believe the idol will turn the world into a paradise. Perhaps they believe it will protect them from their enemies in exchange for their faith. In one adventure I ran, the idol convinced its followers that it could give the souls of people killed in a particular way eternal peace as opposed to the dissolution of Dolurrh, in a paradise far more pleasant than the grim lives they were living… compelling these cultists to murder their own loved ones believing the idol would preserve their spirits in a form of paradise (this is a variation of Kotharel the Harvester, an idol canonically imprisoned in Dreadhold). One of the things that distinguishes such a radiant cult from daelkyr cults is that their beliefs are usually very concrete: they interact directly with the source of their faith, whether it’s compelled by a blood oath or freely chosen. Daelkyr cults are typically driven by irrational belief; cultists of Dyrrn’s Transcendant Flesh will never meet Dyrrn and don’t even KNOW their group is tied to him; they are simply gripped by the belief that their flesh could be better. Members of Sul Khatesh’s Court of Shadows may revere the Queen of Shadows, but they will never MEET her. Radiant cultists interact directly with their idol. Which means that in a cult mystery story, the adventurers aren’t just investigating the cult; they can track it directly to its source and face the radiant idol. A few cult mystery points to consider…

What does it WANT? Radiant idols thrive on mortal adoration. But within that, what is the idol actually driving its cultists to DO? Are the actions of the cult something that must be stopped… or at the end of the day, are the actions of the idol harmless or even potentially beneficial? Vorlintar consumes hope. The Harvester drives people to murder their loved ones. These are things that should be stopped. On the other hand, the actions of an idol could be largely harmless—a Dionysian cult that engages in ecstatic raves, as the idol bathes in joy, but that doesn’t FORCE people to participate; or the idol could even be using its powers to protect or aid its cultists. Of course, there could be a twist even here; the idol has never used the blood oath to torture or kill its followers, but it could. So the initial investigation could suggest that the cult is benevolent… until the adventurers find proof that the idol has been using the blood oath to kill any cultist who does try to leave. Or perhaps the idol is broadly benevolent but has to kill a cultist every week to maintain its alter self. Essentially, there could be layers to the cult the adventurers have to dig through.
The Power of the Oath. The blood oath is a distinctive aspect of a radiant cult. The idol can scry upon its cultists, and torture or kill them if they defy it. So a friend could come to an adventurer saying “I’ve made a terrible mistake. The Blessed One, he’s not what he seems. The blessing—no, no, I feel him watching—aaaaagh!’ and die suddenly and horribly. Can the adventurers find a way to save those bound by a blood oath?
Perhaps to Dream… If you follow my (and 3.5’s) guidelines, a radiant idol has access to the dream spell. This can be used to recruit followers by manipulating their dreams; as a way to communicate with minions without directly interacting with them; or also as a way for the idol to confront adventurers without physical danger. If the adventurers are getting close to solving the mystery, the idol could appear in their dreams to warn them off—the “monstrous and terrifying” form of dream. This can also be a fun false flag for people familiar with the quori!
Office Hours. How often DO the cultists interact with the idol? Does it personally lead them in daily services, or does it mainly communicate through dreams and through its dominated high priest? Does the idol move around the city or does it remain in its anchor point?
Is it a Threat? A radiant cult can be a terrible thing. Vorlintar consumes hope. The soul-consuming idol in the example above encourages people to murder their loved ones. The blood oath can be used to torture or kill cultists. But some idols only want worship, and have gifts to offer in exchange. It can be an interesting twist to a cult mystery to discover that the cult isn’t actually a threat… something I’ll explore further below.

Visible Cult. Rather than being a mystery that needs to be slowly unraveled, a radiant cult could be an active force within its community that adventurers will encounter openly. It could be recognized as a fringe religion, with outsiders failing to realize the idol is real—the people in Tumbledown have some weird beliefs… don’t go there on a festival day, is all I’m saying. Or it could be that the idol backs a force that adventurers may not initially identify as a cult. A violent new street gang starts fighting Daask and Boromar thugs in Callestan, guided by a War idol. A district has a volunteer police force that’s picking up the slack from the corrupt Sharn Watch. If they’re doing a good job, does it matter that they worship an Order idol? Adventurers come to a small agricultural village and find it thriving due to the influence of a Nature idol. But does this “Father of the Harvest” demand some sort of price from its followers? This is a solid option for a Children of the Corn scenario. But the interesting point here is is the idol actually a threat, or is it helping its followers? If the Father of the Harvest demands that people kill their parents and use their remains to fertilize the soil, that’s a problem. But what if it doesn’t do that? What if it just wants them to sing its praises and dance in the fields? What if that Order idol is making peoples’ lives better with its volunteer force? Is the idol of Joy actually harming anyone with its dionysian revels? Personally, I like radiant cultists to have a dark twist—as I’ll discuss further below, I like to call out that idols are fundamentally corrupted even if their core concept is pure. But even with that twist, there can still be the question of whether the adventurers are right to interfere. Imagine a Life idol who uses its ability to raise dead to resurrect slain members of its cult… but because of the balance of life, they must pay for the resurrection not with diamonds, but with another life. Perhaps they actually take volunteers—an old man sacrificing himself to give life to a child who died young. Perhaps they impose a death penalty on criminals within their community—do adventurers have the right to interfere with this? Or perhaps they murder travelers to buy life for their own. But again, the idol isn’t forcing them to do this… so what do the adventurers do when they find out?

Hidden Monster. In the story that opens this paragraph, Vorlintar is simply a monster. He is anchored in a desolate place most people never go. He pulls innocents into his orbit and drains them of hope. It’s not a story of slow investigation, and he’s not in a place the adventurers would ever normally go; instead, they learn of his presence and must go to him, entering his lair and discovering the horror he’s been perpetrating in this forgotten corner of the city. This is a simple way to introduce a powerful foe, and the idol could easily have something the adventurers need—a book or blade brought down from Syrania, an angel’s tear… or it could just be that the idol is anchored in a place the adventurers need to be, drawn to a point of power that the adventurers have a different use for.

Power Player. I tend to have my idols anchored in a particular location; a spider lurking at the heart of its cult web. But you COULD have an idol… say, an idol of Trickery… who is less interested in direct worship and more in being part of the game. It needs to be part of a web of deception and intrigue to feel alive, and it’s playing all sides and perhaps stirring up new conflicts within the criminal underworld of Sharn or the rivalries of Aurum Concordians. It could be that it has its own small cult within this tapestry—a few agents in every faction bound by its blood oath—or it could be content to just manipulate on its own. A question here is whether the idol itself is walking around Sharn, using magic to appear human (and having to be careful not to crash skycoaches with its flightless aura)… or if it is acting through a dominated host most of the time, only appearing personally when it needs to exercise its full force. Keep in mind that when it DOES act directly it can use alter self to appear as the person it usually dominates. So you could have a fun twist where the adventurers see the idol using powerful magic and are baffled later when they confront the “idol” and find them to be mortal.

Anchor Points

Mechanically, radiant idols have no limitations on their movement. Just because they are often dropped in Sharn doesn’t mean that they have to STAY there. Sharn: City of Towers suggests that there can be up to six radiant idols in Sharn at a time, but it doesn’t explain why six is a magic number. In my campaign, it’s a territorial thing; idols can feel one another and if there’s more than six in one place if feels crowded, even if it’s a huge city and they aren’t stumbling over one another. So my murder-your-loved-ones idol was in Korth. The Father of the Harvest could be in a little farming village. Idols often start in Sharn but they don’t have to stay there. HOWEVER, I personally like my idols to have an anchor point—a place of power and security. They’re immortal embodiments of ideas, and their motivations aren’t like those of mortals; with the exception of “power players” as I described above, I see idols as wanting to sit on their anchors and bask in the adoration of their cultists. In Sharn, an anchor could be where they first appeared in the material plane. Or it could be a place that particularly resonates with their domain. So Vorlintar, an idol that consumes hope, is anchored in a ruined temple in the desolate distract of Fallen. It’s a double dose of despair, a place where faith failed to protect the people of the distract from a terrible calamity. An idol of war might be anchored beneath the Cornerstone of Sharn, drinking in the aggression of the duels and matches in the arena above… or in a district wracked by gang warfare. Where Vorlintar dwells in the lower city, I could imagine an idol of the tempest who is anchored in a high spire in Upper Sharn that draws lightning. Likewise, there could be a reason the Father of the Harvest has chosen a particular farming village as his anchor… what is it?

Mechanically, you could play up the place of power idea by giving an idol lair actions in its anchor point… or perhaps limiting it, saying it can only cast its highest level spells in its anchor. The 3.5 idol has greater teleport, and I like to allow an idol to teleport 1/day… but I only allow it to teleport to the location of either its anchor. So an idol that ventures out into the world can slip back to its anchor… but if you face it in its anchor point, there’s nowhere to run.

Appearance and Personality

The first thing she saw were the angel’s wings – outspread and glorious, with long feathers as dark as a moonless night. Now the source of the chimes became clear, for there were chains attached to every feather. Strange weights were bound to the ends of the chains, weights of many shapes and sizes, engraved with symbols Thorn didn’t recognize. Their purpose was clear; for all his glory, Vorlintar could not rise from the ground.

Radiant idols embody ideas. As presented in Sharn: City of Towers, each idol has a domain. But WAR or LIFE or NATURE are broad concepts. Exploring Eberron suggests that most idols began as dominions of Syrania, and a dominion has a focus within a domain—a dominion is the Angel of Swords, not the Angel of War. This article discusses immortal personalities and might be spark some ideas. “Swords” may be too broad a concept, but with an Idol of War I could imagine…

The Lady of Lightning, She Who Guides The First Strike. This idol knows all of the moments in history in which mortals made preemptive strikes. She enjoys seeing conflict unfold, but she revels in guiding the stroke that brings down an enemy before they have a chance to prepare. Her cultists will act with stunning precision, striking without warning and melting away. She could potentially pose as Dol Arrah, focusing on strategic precision and claiming that the targets they are sending their cultists to fight are servants of evil.
The Lord of Sacrifice. As an angel, this one watched over those who laid down their lives to protect others. Now as an idol he wants to drive people to sacrifice their lives in his name. Again, he is an idol of War; he doesn’t want his followers to simply die, he wants them to make heroic sacrifices. He may drive them to stir up conflicts in the region; his cult could be a neighborhood watch he’s driving to fight organized crime, or he could subvert a Boromar cell and drive them to doomed battle with Dassk… Or something more ugly, like forming a cult among Cyran refugees and driving them to doomed acts of defiance as they seek to “win the Last War for Cyre.”
The Giver of Strength. As a dominion, this angel watched over bullies and those who used their strength to dominate others. Now they encourage this behavior, and punish those who fail to live up to their standards. If the idol is lurking beneath Cornerstone Arena, it could offer blessings to those who fight as it wishes—perhaps granting the benefits of heroism to its chosen champions—but punish cultists who fail to live up to its standards with torment or death. So adventurers could investigate a general rise in the brutality of a small group of Cornerstone champions… along with the unexplained deaths of those defeated in nonlethal matches in the arena. This idol could potentially masquerade as Dol Dorn (or as a servant of Dol Dorn). Alternately it could drive aggressive behavior among a cult elsewhere in town, creating a district where might makes right. Here again, they could use dominate person to run things through their chosen champion, with the adventurers only discovering the true source of the cruelty on deeper investigation.

These are three ideas I made up ON THE SPOT, and I’m sure I could do better. But it gives that point of a narrow aspect of a broad domain. Beyond that, while it is not in any way required, *I* like to have a radiant idol reflect a slightly corrupted, greedy aspect of its core idea. As in the opening story, Vorlintar has gone from observing hopes to stealing them. The Lord of Sacrifice is pushing cultists to make unnecessary (if heroic) sacrifices. The Giver of Life needs someone to die before it can raise dead. I like the fact that all radiant cults aren’t automatically vile—again, the idea of the Giver of Life using its abilities to cure wounds and raise dead to protect its cultists, creating an idyllic healthy community—but that even there, you’ve got the ethical twist of that health comes at a cost.

So the first question with an Idol is what is its defining concept and personality. For me, its appearance flows from that. When in its true form, the key elements of a radiant idol are that it inspires awe—that high Charisma and Aura of False Divinity—and that it can’t fly, and that there is something suggesting it has been cast down. The simplest way to represent this is with maimed wings—severed, broken, withered, burnt—but there are other options, like Vorlintar’s weighted chains. The key point is that an idol is an idea; when someone sees it they should understand what that idea is. Of course, this is the point to idols having disguise or alter self; they can HIDE their fallen nature.

A last point here is that while it’s easiest for idols to use an existing clerical domain, that shouldn’t be an absolute limitation. There’s no Domain of Hope for Vorlintar. Likewise, I think JOY is a great domain for a radiant idol, inspiring bacchanalian frenzies. It could be that these could be linked to existing domains—Joy could be based on Peace or Life—but a DM can always just make up a spell list that fits a concept that doesn’t match a domain.

Immortality and the Idol

In Eberron, immortals can’t be permanently destroyed, and this is as true for radiant idols as it is for any other immortal. Notably, when an idol is destroyed and reforms, it is still a radiant idol; if their corruption could be undone by death, they’d be killed instead of cast out of Syrania. So radiant idols can’t be permanently destroyed. But we never say HOW QUICKLY THEY COME BACK. Part of what I like about idols is that they are a problem that can be solved. With that in mind, I’d consider the following options.

Slow Return. An idol will return—either to its anchor point or to the point in which it was cast down—but it takes centuries, possibly even millennia. This is a reflection of the fact that it was cast out of Syrania and doesn’t really belong anywhere. So even when adventurers encounter an idol that is JUST STARTING A CULT that doesn’t mean that it was only just now banished from Syrania; it could have been banished ten thousand years ago, and it’s only just reformed from the last time it was destroyed during the first days of Galifar. This is the approach I’d use as the default, though I’d add the option for cultists to be able to speed its return through rituals—so you do want to make sure you deal with the cult as well as the idol.
Lingering. An idol doesn’t return unaided, but its spirit lingers at its anchor point. Perhaps it can still cast dream or have other minor mystical effects. It can only reconstitute itself if mortal cultists perform rituals to summon it back… so it will try to push people to do this through dreams, or by guiding them to lore of its cult.
Swift, Unless… An idol will return in days or weeks of being destroyed, unless it is destroyed in a particular place—using a particular weapon, at a particular time, by a person meeting a particular condition. Essentially, it’s a minor prophecy path. If it’s destroying properly, its return will either be slow or lingering.
Binding. Idols aren’t actually THAT powerful, and I could see allowing them to be bound in iron flasks or similar forms of binding. They aren’t overlords!

This can vary by idol! Canonically, the radiant idol Kotharel the Harvester is sealed in Dreadhold because while it was defeated, it simply could not be destroyed. I could imagine an idol of Life who drains the life of an oath-bound cultist every time it’s dropped below 1 hit point; you can’t defeat it until you free its cultists from their bonds!

Gifts of the Idol

Radiant idols may claim to be gods, either Sovereigns or unique gods; alternately they could claim to be servants or representatives of Sovereigns. But they AREN’T gods. You can’t actually gain the powers of a cleric from a radiant idol. However, there’s a few possible loopholes. If a radiant idol impersonates a sovereign—the Lady of Lightning claiming to be Dol Arrah—then her cultists could be clerics or paladins of Dol Arrah, because they have faith in Dol Arrah; the power is still coming from a divine power source, it’s just not the idol itself. The point here is that the idol can’t take those powers away from them because it’s not given them the powers. Another option is to allow the radiant idol to cast its domain spells through cultists who have sworn a blood oath—so a Life idol could cure wounds through the hands of a cultist. The power is entirely controlled and drawn from the idol, but the cultist APPEARS to cast spells. I would also consider allowing an idol to produce a warlock following this same principle; the warlock’s powers come from the idol investing a fraction of its immortal essence in its servant.

Beyond this, I have no issue with allowing idols to break the rules to fit their story. As I suggested earlier, I’m fine suggesting that the Giver of Strength can give the benefits of heroism to anyone who’s sworn its Blood Oath. Each idol could give unique gifts to its cultists. But purely on a power level, radiant idols can’t create paladins or clerics; the best they could do is take advantage of someone’s faith, claiming credit for divine power that’s flowing from an actual divine power source.

A radiant idol could also be a source of magic items. Perhaps the idol’s blood acts as a magical potion (or a drug!), and it gives this to its cultists. In my adventure where the idol wanted people to murder those they cared about, it gave its cultists amulets they had to give to their victims, to ensure their spirits were channeled to the idol. I could see an idol of fire that could turn weapons into flame tongues by engraving its name on them… but when the idol is defeated, those things would likely lose power.

Relative Power

In both 3.5 and fifth edition, a radiant idol has a challenge rating of 11. They are powerful, yes, but not THAT powerful. In general, this is something I like about them. They’re powerful enough to be exciting, but weaker than daelkyr, the prakhutu of the Lords of Dust, or even powerful Inspired. However, that’s a base level, and radiant idols can be as powerful as you want them to be. In 3.5 canon Kotharel the Harvester is a 30 HD radiant idol who literally cannot be destroyed, hence his being stored at Dreadhold. The description of Vorlintar at the start of this article likewise suggests a level of power beyond the default radiant idol; radiant idols don’t generally have the ability to scry on people who speak their names, and Vorlintar also has what amounts to a feeblemind attack where he tears hope out from his victims and leaves them in a vegetative state. Just as Dyrrn and Belashyrra are more powerful than the generic daelkyr presented in the 3.5 ECS, you can create radiant idols that are more powerful than the base model. You can use a Planetar or Solar as a foundation for creating a more powerful radiant idol, shifting spell lists if necessary and adding the unique traits of the idol (including those I describe below)—Aura of False Divinity, Blood Oath, Flightless, Domain, Guide Thrall.

Let’s Talk About Stat Blocks…

Last but not least… The radiant idol was introduced in Sharn: City of Towers. There’s a stat block for radiant idols in Eberron: Rising From The Last War, but it doesn’t incorporate a lot of what I consider to be the defining elements of the 3.5 radiant idol—ideas I’ve mentioned often in this article. Let’s take a look at those.

INNATE MAGIC. Per Sharn: City of Towers, radiant idols had the following spell-like abilities: At will—alter self, charm person, dream, heroism, nightmare, rage; 3/day—confusion, greater dispel magic, mind fog, slow; 1/day—dominate person, eyebite, hold monster, song of discord, greater teleport (self only). Let’s consider the function of these spells. Alter Self gives the angel the possibility of moving among mortals, and it can reduce itself from large to medium; alternately, it can simply shift its appearance to better fit the image it is creating for its cult, concealing its disfigurement and adding details that fit its God of ____ storyline. Dream and nightmare (which in 5E were combined into a single spell) allow it to influence and lure followers from a distance, as well as giving missions to its loyal cultists; it’s a small-scale Dreaming Dark, and potentially a fun surprise for the player who immediately assumes that when they stumble on someone being manipulated by dreams that quori are responsible. Confusion, mind fog, hold monster, song of discord, and mind fog all play to the idea of the idol’s supernatural charisma and its ability to overwhelm mortal minds, while dominate person is a great way for the idol to directly control a cult lieutenant. Keep in mind that in 3.5 rules, dominate person had a duration of 1 day per caster level; it’s interended to be a long term effect, again, the sort of thing they’d use to telepathically control a minion. Radiant idols also have the inherent power of glibness, which provides a +30 bonus to Deception checks made to convince someone of their honesty and makes them immune to any magic that would force them to tell the truth or reveal the truth of their words.

DOMAIN. S:CoT gives radiant idols a special gift:

Each radiant idol chooses one cleric domain to represent the portfolio it claims in its masquerade of divinity. The radiant idol gains the granted power of that domain, and can use each spell up to 6th level in that domain as a spell-like ability. It can use 1st-level spells at will, 2nd- and 3rd-level spells three times per day each, and 4th- through 6th-level spells once per day each.

For me, this is a crucial aspect of a radiant idol. It’s not just a generic idol; it is an idol of FIRE or an idol of LIFE. In Exploring Eberron I call out that Syranian angels have domains; this reflects that idea. It’s something that adds flavor but also means its idol has a distinct set of spell like abilities.

CULTISTS. The 3.5 idol has a number of powers that specifically tie to its role as cult anchor. FIts Aura of False Divinity afflicts enemies with despair, but grants allies within 30 ft the effects of Good Hope: Each affected creature gains a +2 morale bonus on saving throws, attack rolls, ability checks, skill checks, and weapon damage rolls. This plays up the idea that the idol FEELS DIVINE—that it feels awesome and terrible, able to crush or inspire hope just with its presence. A more dramatic feature is the Blood Oath. After an extended ritual, a radiant idol can form a connection with a cultist that allows them to locate and scry on the cultist, cause them pain, or even kill them outright. This oath can even be forced on unwilling participants, if they are restrained throughout the ritual and fail enough saving throws. This can create an interesting situation where a victim doesn’t believe in the idol, but knows that if the idol could be watching them at any time and that if they defy it, they could suffer pain or death. Which in turn means that adventurers opposing a cult need to recognize that the cultists they are fighting may be innocent victims just trying to save their own lives or the lives of people they care about.

FLIGHTLESS. Radiant idols cannot fly through any means. In addition, per S:CoT, Spells that grant flight to other characters fail within 30 feet of a radiant idol, as if it were at the center of an antimagic field, but only magic related to flight is affected. Magic items that grant the power of flight likewise fail. Even creatures with a natural ability to fly feel uncomfortable near a radiant idol.

HOW’S RISING STACK UP? The radiant idol in Rising From The Last War is a watered down version of the original idea. Its Aura of False Divinity can charm anyone within 30 feet. This is effective against enemies and implies supernatural charisma, but it lacks the original aspect of inspiring allies, which helps with the cult aspect of the story. There’s no mechanical aspect to being flightless; the idol doesn’t have a flying speed, but there’s nothing saying it can’t fly and nothing that stops other creatures from flying around it. Meanwhile, there’s some overlap in the spell list; the Rising Idol can use charm person at will and dominate person once per day, and mass suggestion is in the same sort of mood as dominate and charm, and replaces the nonexistent mind fog and song of discord. But then it has some very specific spells—raise dead, cure wounds at will, commune, insect plague. There’s no clear theme to these; raise dead is handy and insect plague is good for wrathful god, sure, but how do they relate to one another? Meanwhile, they notably lack dream, which is a great tool for a manipulative cult leader.

SO WHAT WOULD I DO? Without entirely redesigning the stat block, I’d change a few of its existing traits and add a few others, as outlined below.

If the idol has an evil alignment, I’d change its creature type to fiend. In my campaign, the definition of “fiend” is “evil immortal”; there’s no such thing as an evil celestial or a good fiend. If the alignment changes, their type changes with it; they are incarnate ideas.
Aura of False Divinity. Allies within 30 feet of the radiant idol have advantage on saving throws made to avoid being charmed or frightened by other creatures. Any enemy of the idol that starts its turn within 30 feet of it must make a DC 17 Wisdom saving throw, provided the radiant idol isn’t incapacitated. On a failed save, the creature is charmed by the radiant idol. A creature charmed in this way can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. Once it succeeds on the saving throw, a creature is immune to this radiant idol’s Aura of False Divinity for 24 hours.
Innate Spellcasting. The radiant idol’s spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 17). The radiant idol can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: At will: alter self, charm person, dream, thaumaturgy; 1/day: confusion, dispel magic (6th level slot), mass suggestion, teleport (self only, only to anchor point). The idol may use alter self to assume the shape of a large or medium humanoid.
Domain Powers: Choose one cleric domain to represent the radiant idol’s sphere of influence. The radiant idol can cast the domain spells associated with that domain, without requiring material components; its spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell ssave DC 17) It can use 1st-level spells at will, 2nd- and 3rd-level spells three times per day each, and 4th- through 6th-level spells once per day each. For example, a radiant idol of Life uses the Life domain and adds the following spell-like abilities: At Will: bless, cure wounds; 3/day: beacon of hope, lesser restoration, revivify, spiritual weapn; 1/day: death ward, guardian of faith, mass cure wounds, raise dead. As I’ve suggested before, I might modify these spells to reflect the nature of the idol—as with the example of the Life idol needing to take a life to cast raise dead rather than needing material components. Idol spells could have unusually long durations, be able to be cast on oathbound cultists regardless of range, etc—though they could also be limited, perhaps ONLY being able to be cast on oathbound cultists, only cast at the idol’s anchor point, and so on.
Glibness. The radiant idol has advantage on Charisma ability checks and is immune to any magical effect that would allow a creature to determine the truth of its words or that would force it to tell the truth.
Flightless. A radiant idol cannot fly by any means. No spell intended to grant flight (even levitate) functions with a radiant idol as its target. A spell (such as polymorph) that changes a radiant idol into a form with the natural ability of flight works normally, but the radiant idol cannot fly in that form. If changed into a form that has only a fly speed (no land speed), the radiant idol can only move along the ground in that form. Spells that grant flight to other characters fail within 30 feet of a radiant idol, as if it were at the center of an antimagic field, but only magic related to flight is affected. Magic items that grant the power of flight likewise fail. (This is verbatim from Sharn: City of Towers.)
Blood Oath. A radiant idol has the ability to perform a ritual of initiation that binds cult members to its service.This requires 24 hours of preparation, and the ritual itself lasts for 2 hours plus an additional 10 minutes for each initiate involved. If a participant wishes to resist the connection, they may make a Wisdom save (DC 19); however, the idol knows whether or not the bond was properly formed. Once a bond is established, it can only be severed by the use of greater restoration on the victim or by the destruction of the idol. As an action, the idol may invoke one of the following powers, targeting a creature on the same plane that is bound by its oath. These saving throws are Charisma-based.
Locate Cultist. This functions as locate creature, with unlimited range.
Scry on Cultist. This functions as scrying. If the target wishes to resist they can make a Wisdom saving throw (DC 24); if they succeed, the idol cannot observe them in this way for 24 hours.
Torture Cultist. The victim must make a Constitution saving throw (DC 17). If they fail, they are wracked with pain and poisoned for 1 minute.
Kill Cultist. The victim must make a Constitution saving throw (DC 17). If they fail, they are reduced to zero hit points. If the save is successful, the victim takes 3d6+6 necrotic damage.
Guide Thrall. Once per day, the radiant idol can cast dominate person on a creature bound by its blood oath. The idol doesn’t have to see the victim, but must be on the same plane of existence. This ability doesn’t require concentration and lasts until the idol uses the ability again or until the victim makes a successful Wisdom saving throw (DC 17, Charisma based). The victim may attempt a saving throw when the effect is first used, and then again at dawn or whenever they take damage. Once it succeeds on the saving throw, a creature is immune to this radiant idol’s Guide Thrall for 24 hours.

Random Idols

Roll twice on the name column and combine the names together: Ranrael, Kastar-Ular. The wings column describes why it can’t fly but also suggests general appearance. Domain and Cult Focus gives a broad domain and a possible cult direction.

d8	Name	Wings	Domain/Cult Focus
1	Kastar	Severed	Order. The cult seeks to bring order to the idol’s sphere of influence, stopping violence and crime, but also enforcing a dress code and restricting free speech.
2	Rael	Petrified	Forge. The cult is building a monument or weapons—or a monument that is also a weapon—that honor the idol.
3	Ular	Chained	Death. The idol promises a peaceful eternity to victims killed in a ritual manner; their souls are contained within the idol, preventing resurrection until the idol is destroyed.
4	Astul	Frozen	Life. The idol uses its magic to provide perfect health to its cultists—but for every cultist it heals, an innocent person suffers the malady removed.
5	Ran	Burnt	Peace. Cultists of the idol exist in a state of perfect, serene peace; however, they are incapable of taking any remotely aggressive action, even in the most desperate situations.
6	Avar	Glass	Trickery. The idol yearns to see intrigues unfold in the community, and dispatches its cultists to infiltrate factions and guilds to sow discord.
7	Tus	Broken	Knowledge. The cultists of the idol cannot lie and others find they cannot lie to the cultists. What chaos will this bring to a community that has a lot of skeletons in its closets?
8	Vala	Spectral	Nature. The idol can provide a community with bountiful crops and healthy stock… but there is a price for this supernatural prosperity.

Q&A

When I have time I answer questions from my Patreon supporters, as this support is what allows me to continue to create Eberron content. Here’s a few questions patrons posed on this article.

In Sharn the presence of Radiant Idol cults seems fairly prominent. With Idols being Large and likely not having subtle falls from grace, how does the city handle this eventuality? Are members of the Blackened Book prepared to handle a “live idol fall” or is their cast to the material more subtle? Does the Sharn Watch have methods of detecting the gravity well the Idols generate, etc?

In my Eberron, they aren’t that obvious. Being “cast down” to the material plane doesn’t mean they literally fall from the sky. In my game they appear in a place that’s suited to their nature—IE, the Giver of Strength might have appeared under Cornerstone, while Vorlintar appeared in Fallen. So you don’t have weather-oracles saying “There’s a 50% chance of falling idols today.” Likewise, I tend to have their cults manifest in places that aren’t all that obvious; the point of Vorlintar in The Son of Khyber is that no one cares about Fallen and so the cult goes unobserved… or in the case of the Giver of Strength, it could be that it takes a player character to notice the strange pattern of deaths. This ties to my general point that the world needs heroes—I want ADVENTURERS to deal with idols, not to have them just make a sending call to the Blackened Book’s Idol Squad. Canonically we know that Kotharel the Harvester was defeated by the Knights of Dol Arrah—which in my opinion was a legendary order of champions who might just as well have been player characters. Essentially, if a idol is too obvious in its manifestation and is causing havoc crashing lifts and skycoaches, the city could send the Redcloaks and Blackened Book to deal with it—but first, that’s why most idols WON’T be that clumsy and obvious and second, that’s going to be a tough fight for the forces of the law. This is a job for Harryn Stormblade, or at least the Harryn Stormblade of today, and that’s all of you. Regarding size, this is where magic comes into play. Rising stats only give them disguise self, but 3.5 let them alter self—which, in 3.5 allowed you to shrink a size category. So ORIGINALLY they were supposed to be able to move among humans unnoticed. I’d personally allow still them to do that; and if I didn’t, that’s the point of Guide Thrall, allowing them to telepathically control a cultist who can serve as their hands and eyes among the common people.

I certainly think that the Blackened Book KNOWS about radiant idols and has records of idols that have threatened the city in the past. But I don’t think that they are aware that there’s six idols in Sharn at any given time. And if you go to the Blackened Book and say There’s a radiant idol in Fallen! in my game, they’ll say Thank goodness it’s somewhere where we can ignore it! Last time one of those things turned up, it wiped out an entire watch station and it was only stopped when Boranel himself came and punched it into Dolurrh. Likewise, the Silver Flame has records of radiant idols, but in Sharn Ythana Morr will probably ask how much you’re willing to pay to have it dealt with (What? It’s in Fallen? Why would anyone even care?) while Mazin Taza would WANT to help you deal with this threat, and might even try to take it on himself… but he doesn’t have the power to deal with a radiant idol, and trying will just get him killed. This is on you, adventurers!

How do other cultures deal with radiant idols, either cases like the Mror or the Zil that may view them differently or outlying cultures like the Dhakaani?

Radiant idols aren’t COMMON and I think it’s entirely plausible that there’s never been a radiant idol in the Mror Holds. If there has been, odds are good that it was JUST ONE — something that spawned a particular story about the bold deeds of Mroranon crushing the wingless angel, but not that has created a cultural attitude.

With the Zil, I could go in one of three very different directions. The first would be to say that the Trust would swiftly identify an idol and eliminate it as quickly as possible whenever it appeared. Why do I say this is possible in Zilargo when it’s beyond the Blackened Book in Sharn? Because it’s THE TRUST, and that’s kind of the point of the Trust; they are terrifyingly efficient and effective, and they are scarier than an idol. The second option is to say that an idol of Knowledge or Trickery might actually find a comfortable home in Zilargo — that a particular Zil family could have a symbiotic relationship with a hidden idol, providing it the adoration it craves in exchange for its knowledge or gifts. Again, I see most idols as having a maximum effective range; they aren’t TRYING to conquer the world, and a radiant cult could happily thrive in a particular village for centuries without ever being known to the outside world. So there could easily be a Zil family who has worked out a decent arrangement with “Grandfather”… as long as you don’t reveal the secrets, he won’t kill you through your blood oath, and everyone’s happy! The final option is to combine the two: the Trust is aware of radiant idols and THE TRUST has absorbed idols of either Knowledge or Order and made them part of their whole system. Are adventurers about to interrogate a Trust agent with amazingly important secrets? Too bad, Oversight just activated his blood oath and killed him.

The Dhakaani have absolutely dealt with radiant idols, because Sharn is a nexus of idols and Sharn began as a Dhakaani city. Part of my point is that defeated idols may take centuries to reform… and have reformed and been destroyed multiple times throughout the history of the city. So there could be Dhakaani tales of Vorlintar or the Giver of Strength, and their appearances in the present day are just their latest of many incarnations.

How do radiant idols clash with other supernatural forces? For instance, how do bonded cultists interact with daelkyr influence, and how do radiant idol dreams conflict with quori dreams?

Radiant idols are unique individuals. They have no particular means to be aware of daelkyr influence or quori schemes, or to be given special treatment by these greater powers. The idol’s ability to influence dreams is the dream spell, no more or less. So if both the quori and an idol are trying to influence the same person, both can; it’s going to be frustrating for both of them realizing that they are playing tug of war. I think it’s quite valid for a party of adventurers to be tipped off about a radiant idol by a Dreaming Dark agent who wants them to get rid of this immortal interloper who’s stumbled into their sandbox. Likewise, there’s no rules or limits regarding what the daelkyr can do. You could have a cult that’s both influenced by a daelkyr AND bound by an idol’s blood oath. You could say the daelkyr influence breaks the blood oath. Or you could have Dyrrn twist an idol and create something horrible and new, blending the traits of the daelkyr and the idol.

That’s all for now! Feel free to discuss the topic in the comments, but I won’t be answering further questions. Thanks again to my Patrons for making these articles possible!

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Posted on February 2, 2024 by Keith Baker