Tag Archives: Dragonmarks
Unlock with PatreonDragonmarks: Manifestations, Components, Greater Dragonmarks, and More!
Over the course of this year, I’m going to be writing about a Dragonmarked House each month. I’ll be posting bonus content on my Patreon, including character options and focus items associated with each house. Currently, I’m working on an article about House Orien. But before diving into the individual houses and Dragonmarks, I want to discuss some basic details about dragonmarks themselves—both in broad concept and specifically in how they function in Fifth Edition in 2025, especially considering the recent Unearthed Arcana.
THE DRAGONMARKED EXPERIENCE
Much has been written about what Dragonmarks DO — about the powers they manifest and the focus items that work with them. But little has been written about how it FEELS to have a Dragonmark. One of the key aspects of a dragonmark is often described as intuition—a natural talent for a particular set of skills or tools.This is a crucial element of how the houses achieved their early dominance in their fields; aside from its spell-like abilities, a Dragonmark makes its bearer better at their speciality. An heir to the Mark of Making has a bonus when using Artisan’s Tools. The Mark of Sentinel enhances Perception and Insight. The Mark of Passage provides a bonus to Athletics and Acrobatics. Set aside the mechanical effect of this for a moment and just think about what it means for the person who bears the mark. When a Cannith heir picks up a tool, they have a sense of what to do with it, even if they’ve never seen it before. The Sentinel heir is always on alert, sensitive to the tics and tells of people around them. The Passage scion yearns to move. When playing an adventurer with a Dragonmark, consider the effect of your mark’s Intuition ability and how your character experiences it. The same holds true for the spell-like abilities of your mark. As an heir to the Mark of Passage, the ability to Misty Step is bound up within you, waiting to be unleashed. With a thought and a word, you can tear through space. What does that feel like?
A second aspect of the Dragonmarked experience is the question of how your lineage affected your childhood. Were you born in a Dragonmarked house and raised in an enclave? If so, you’ve been surrounded by fellow heirs through most of your life, and you had a clear path for your future—an expectation that you would eventually join one of the house guilds or arms. What was that like? How did it affect you? Are you a devoted member of your house, or have you always harbored a rebellious streak and yearned to escape the path laid out for you? Conversely, if you’re a foundling, what were the circumstances of your childhood? What was the event that triggered the appearance of your Dragonmark in lieu of the Test of Siberys? How did you feel when the Dragonmark first appeared—were you excited to join a house, or did the idea repel you? How were you eventually approached by the house, and did you embrace the offer or refuse it? Or have you yet to be noticed by the house that carries your mark?
A final point to consider is how the Last War affected you. The houses are neutral forces, and if you were raised in a house enclave you were encouraged to embrace that — to view the warring nations as clients and nothing more. Most scions who served in the war did so in a purely mercenary capacity. Did you embrace this, and if so, is it a viewpoint you maintain today—seeing the houses as a force that stands apart from and above the concerns of the nations? Or did you develop an attachment to the country in which you lived, or another nation? Did you give up your birthright to fight for one of the nations?
SPELLS OF THE MARK
Magical power has always been a core element of the Dragonmarks. In Fifth Edition, this is represented by Spells of the Mark, a set of spells added to the lists of any Dragonmarked character capable of performing magic. Despite the name, these aren’t supposed to be actual SPELLS; the character is channeling power through their mark in a way that replicates the effects of a spell. When a Cleric with the Mark of Passage uses a spell slot to cast Misty Step, they aren’t doing it in the same way as the prayer to Olladra that produces Cure Wounds. MECHANICALLY it’s just like casting a spell, but it should look and feel different from whatever spellcasting is normally associated with the scion’s class. Consider the following.
- A character’s Dragonmark glows and becomes warm to the touch they cast a Spell of the Mark. This isn’t dramatic—it doesn’t serve as a source of illumination—but it is noticeable to people in the area.
- Somatic components—gestures—often involve slapping the mark or running a finger along its lines, or if it’s on a hand, presenting it clearly. However, some marked heirs trace the shape of their mark in the heir, or simply make a dramatic gesture; a Denieth heir using the Mark of Sentinel to cast Shield might raise a palm, fingers spread wide. The point is that the character needs a free hand and it’s clear to observers that the action is associated with the magical effect, but it shouldn’t look like Arcanix wizardry or a divine invocation.
- Likewise, verbal components require the character to be able to speak and are clearly associated with the magical effect, but they don’t have to be traditional arcane words of power. Often a scion will give a deep grunt or sharp shout; this sound reflects the focusing and release of energy. However, some heirs devise their own unique words of channeling. Phiarlan bards often sing a note when releasing their power.
- Material components can feel strange when associated with a dragonmarked “spell.” However, refined Eberron dragonshards can take the place of any material component, and in the case of a Dragonmark ability I’d just make those the default component for the spell; the character needs the surge of energy from the dragonshards to produce the effect.
When playing a dragonmarked character, think about how you manifest your power. Where is your mark located? What sort of sounds and gestures do you use to focus its energy?
LEAST, LESSER, AND GREATER DRAGONMARKS
In the original Eberron Campaign Setting book, Dragonmarks were represented by a chain of feats. Each feat allowed you to cast a particular spell once per day, and each level—Least, Lesser, Greater—gave you access to an additional spell-like ability of higher level (in addition to a bonus to a skill check—Intuition!). The idea is that as you improve your feats, the physical dragonmark on your skin grows in size and complexity, and that this is something recognized within the world. People KNOW that someone with the Greater Mark of Passage can teleport, and within the house a larger mark carries some prestige—though not necessarily rank, and there are many unmarked adinistrators! This idea has evolved in later editions. One of the key concepts is that rather than having feats that concretely give you access to more powerful spells, we’ve said that Dragonmarked characters could and should describe class features and spells as coming from their mark. This is the same concept I discussed earlier with Spells of the Mark—it’s about how you describe the spell. So a Lyrandar Storm Sorcerer could describe their lightning and wind spells as being drawn from their Mark, while describing their fire spells as being more traditional arcane magic, even though all of those spells are coming from their Sorcerer class. But in introducing this idea—beginning in Fourth Edition—we dropped the feat chains and the idea of a clear distinction between Least, Lesser, and Greater Marks.
The latest Unearthed Arcana has a set of Greater Dragonmark feats. However, the EFFECTS of those feats don’t match up to the effects of the Greater Dragonmarks of Third Edition. In the ECS, a Greater Dragonmark allowed you to cast a 5th level spell; the Greater Mark of Passage allowed you to cast teleport. Under the Unearthed Arcana rules, the Greater Dragonmark of Passage lets you take one other person along with you when you cast Misty Step, once per day. It’s a neat trick, but it’s not teleporting your entire party across the world.
I like the concept of the different levels of Dragonmark. I like it having a meaning in the world, and I like players having a sense of what an NPC is capable of based on the size of their Dragonmark. I think the Unearthed Arcana feats are fine, but I’m not going to call them “Greater Dragonmarks” in my campaign; I’ll call them “Passage Expertise” or “Making Expertise.” Instead, I think the simplest way to handle the idea of a dragonmark evolving through the three basic sizes is to base it on the level of the most powerful spell the character can cast because of the Dragonmark. So a 1st level character or a character with no ability to perform cast Spells of the Mark will have a Least Dragonmark. Once they are capable of casting a 3rd level Spell of the Mark—whether by having the Spellcasting feature or using the Potent Dragonmark feat—their mark grows and they have a Lesser Dragonmark. When they have access to 5th level Spells of the Mark, they possess a Greater Dragonmark. Siberys Dragonmarks remain their own separate thing; by the original Third Edition Rules you couldn’t advance a normal mark to become a Siberys Mark. So it would look like this:
| Dragonmark | Spells of the Mark |
| Least | 1st or 2nd |
| Lesser | 3rd or 4th |
| Greater | 5th |
NPCS AND DRAGONMARKS
By default, Spells of the Mark are only available to characters that have levels in a spellcasting class. However, there are other ways to access this power.
- The Potent Dragonmark feat presented in the recent Unearthed Arcana gives a Dragonmarked character a single spell slot that can be used to cast a Spell of the Mark, with a slot level equal to half the character’s level (to a maximum of 5). They regain this slot after completing a short or long rest.
- Exploring Eberron includes a number of items that allow an heir to cast the Spells of their Mark. The Dragonmark Channel allows a single use of a 1st level Spell of the Mark, once per long rest; this is a common item, often worn as a symbol of house membership. The Dragonmark Reservoir provides access to a 1st or 2nd level Spell of the Mark; the Channeling Rod provides access to any of the spells of the Mark.
Potent Dragonmark is a feat designed for player characters. It’s flexible—allowing a character to access any spell on the Spells of the Mark list—and recharges after a short rest. But it sets the precedent that there are people in the world who have no spellcasting ability but who can still produce spell-like effects with Dragonmarks. With that in mind, I’d generally give dragonmarked NPCs a form of this, mirroring the original ECS marks. An NPC with a Least Dragonmark would be able to cast a 1st or 2nd level spell from their Dragonmark’s Spell of the Mark list, once per day. An NPC with the Lesser Mark would get a single use of a 3rd or 4th level spell, in addition to the Least Mark. And an NPC with a Greater Dragonmark would gain a single use of a 5th level Spell. Exceptional scions might have a choice of more than one spell at each level, just like a player character with Potent Dragonmark. Dragonmarked NPCs could also carry any of the items presented in Exploring Eberron.
Keep in mind that these once-per-day spell-like abilities have never been a critical part of the power of the houses. Overall, the most important aspect of possessing a Dragonmark is the ability to use Dragonmark Focus Items, from Channeling Rods to Creation Forges. For a Lyrandar heir, being able to cast Feather Fall once per day is a useful safety net—but it’s the ability to pilot an airship or elemental galleon that drives the industry of the house.
UNEARTHED ARCANA: DRAGONMARKS AND SPECIES
Traditionally, Dragonmarks have been associated with specific family lines and species. Only humans can carry the Mark of Making; only Khoravar possess the Mark of Storm. The latest Unearthed Arcana presents a new set of Dragonmark Origin Feats that aren’t limited by species. What does this mean?
First of all, this isn’t new. Fourth Edition did the same thing. The point is that this exists as an option for PLAYER CHARACTERS, who are innately supposed to be remarkable individuals. The lore and history of the Dragonmarked Houses isn’t going to change. Again, look at Fourth Edition, which allowed player characters to have unusual Dragonmarks but kept all the lore of the Houses intact. The fact that your halfling rogue can have the Mark of Storm doesn’t mean that there are hundreds of halflings who have it; it means that you are special. Dragonmarks are themselves manifestations of the Prophecy. Player characters are prime candidates for being focal points for the Prophecy, and having an unusual Dragonmark would just be a clear sign of that. Personally, I’d be inclined to say that it’s happened before throughout history, and that the people who have had unusual marks have often been remarkable people who have done great things… But they didn’t pass their marks onto their offspring and so they were blips in history. The point is that with the Houses, it is the FAMILIES that have a role to play in the Prophecy and as such it’s the FAMILIES that carry the Dragonmarks. If you are an INDIVIDUAL who has a role to play in the Prophecy, you might have a mark as a sign of that… but you won’t pass it on.
Which comes to the question: Will the houses care? Let’s imagine you’re playing a Talenta halfling with the Mark of Storm. Does Lyrandar care? The answer is ultimately up to you and the DM, based on the story you want to experience. But let’s consider the options.
- Honestly, it’s reasonable to say that they just don’t care at all. A single halfling with the Mark of Storm poses no threat to Lyrandar’s airship business. Especially if this HAS happened before and the marked individuals didn’t pass on the mark, your character is a curiosity but not a threat that has to be dealt with.
- On the other hand, if it’s a story you like, the Houses could be delighted and celebrate your character as a miracle. They could be eager to recruit you, and if you accepted, to make you a poster child and a special envoy for the house, sending you out to promote Lyrandar interests in the Talenta Plains. Consider the story of Ashi in The Legacy of Dhakaan novels. She’s a foundling with a Siberys Mark of Sentinel, not a halfling with the Mark of Storm, but the point is that Deneith takes her in and makes a big deal about her; they could do the same thing with your halfling.
- Or, if it’s a story you really want to tell, the houses could see you as an abomination that has to be eradicated and you could have to hide your mark. I find this reaction a little hard to justify; if I was determined to tell this story I’d probably say that it’s a thing that’s happened throughout history and Lyrandar believes that if you have children the Khoravar will lose the Mark and it will be passed on to your offspring. THAT would make it dramatic; you actually do pose an existential threat to their house. But if you’re just one random halfling, I don’t see it as being that big a deal.
So the main point is that yes, this makes it possible for player characters to have any Dragonmark they want. Because player characters are exceptional. But it doesn’t negate or change the existing lore of the Dragonmarked Houses, and it’s something you can ignore if you choose. In this way, it’s exactly like Rising From The Last War providing an option for there to be contact between Eberron and the rest of the Multiverse if that’s the story you want to tell. But that change in Rising still maintained that until this moment, Eberron has been shielded from the Multiverse by the Ring of Siberys. It presented a new option for DMs who wanted it, as something that could be actively evolving in 998 YK; but it didn’t demolish all preexisting lore. Same thing here. You can be that remarkable halfling with the Mark of Storm; but House Lyrandar is still a Khoravar house.
WHAT ABOUT FRONTIERS OF EBERRON?
In Frontiers of Eberron I presented my own ideas for Dragonmark origin feats. I like my design, but the short answer is that the Unearthed Arcana content is the CANON content. Because it provides a unique feat for each Dragonmark, it also has the ability to provide more unique benefits, like the Mark of Passage granting +5 movement speed. Personally, I’d allow players to use either one (though not both at once!) in my campaign; it’s up to you to decide what works best for you.
That’s all for now! House Orien will be coming in the future. Thanks to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible. I’m holding two live Q&As this month for Patrons, and will also be posting further polls and previews about the next Eberron book I’m working on. If you’d like to know more, follow the link!
Customs of Eberron: The Tago
Nowadays, Cyrans don’t do the Tago the old way, not when so much Cyran blood has already been shed. And how could we celebrate so, with our memories of the Day of Mourning and all those we have lost? But do you remember the way the Tago once was danced, wild and fierce?
To perform the Tago in the old style, as they did here at Princess Marhya’s ball, the lead would take off their left glove, and their partner their right. But no Cyran would ever clasp naked hands in public; each ungloved hand held a Taga dagger, a poniard joined to your partner’s by a short chain. As the music played, the dancers would keep the Tagas together as tightly as a kiss, lest you miss a cue from your partner and be cut by a Taga’s edge. And people of the other nations wondered why we danced the Tago so perfectly!
Of course, a daring dancer could drop their guard for a moment and perhaps feel the touch of their partner’s hand against their own, or brush their fingers against their partner’s lips; and occasionally, the dance floor would erupt in laughter and scandal, as two dancer’s hands would meet in passion as their daggers clattered against the floor, abandoned. But even when the dance was performed properly, there are moves where a Taga strokes a neck or slides across an ear, whispering your secret wish to your partner, whether you desire them or only want to see them bleed.
Tago’s reward could be a bloody hand, or worse, for your insolence or recklessness; or your partner’s glove, tucked in your belt, to be exchanged for later in private. And from that custom, the Cyran saying, “bringing a third glove”, for a lover or rake who is well prepared for a secret tryst.
From “The Fall of Cyre” by Dan Garrison
The Day of Mourning occurred on 20 Olarune 994. We’ve always called out that the anniversary of this tragedy is a time when Cyrans seek to celebrate their fallen nation, sharing their stories and traditions with the people around them, keeping Cyre alive in their memories. But what are these customs and stories? Exploring Eberron provides thoughts about Cyran cuisine and fashion. As for stories, if you’re playing a Cyran adventurer take a moment to thing about what that means for your character, and the story they would tell. It could be a favorite story about the nation, perhaps a tale of King Cyre. It might be a memory from childhood, something that made the community they grew up in unique. Or perhaps it was an experience from the war, something tied to the Cyran spirit and the sacrifices made by friends and family.
If you want a more concrete way to remember Cyre, consider dancing the Tago. This is a dance beloved by the people of Cyre, and it can make for a wonderful opening for an evening of romance and intrigue; who will cut and who will touch? The rules that follow were created by my friend Dan Garrison, the co-designer of Phoenix Dawn Command. He developed these for “The Fall of Cyre”, an Eberron campaign I had the good fortune to play in; unfortunately, the scenario itself has never been published. But we hope you enjoy this little taste of Cyran culture, and take a moment to remember the Jewel of Galifar.
Dancing the Tago
The first step in the Tago is to determine the couple that will be dancing. If there are only two dancers, this problem solves itself. At a larger gathering, have each PC choose a partner for their dance, and have them state whether they sought out their partner, were chosen by their partner, or if the pair was thrown together by chance.
Each PC’s dance has three choruses: for each one, have each character secretly choose Guard or Touch, and then reveal their choice. One way to play this bluffing game is to give each dancer two playing cards, a heart and a spade, and have them show hearts to Touch and spades to Guard. If a PC asks, they can look at their partner’s choice with a Wisdom (Insight) check DC 20, and change their own choice before they are revealed.
- If both dancers choose Guard, nothing happens, as the Tago is performed properly.
- If one dancer choose Guard and the other Touch, the Touching dancer loses 1 HP. Have the Guarding dancer describe the location and degree of their partner’s cut. If the Guarding dancer wants to severely hurt their partner, have them make an attack roll with advantage, treating the Taga knife as a regular dagger.
- If both dancers Touch, than each dancer without Inspiration gains Inspiration. Ask any dancer that receives Inspiration what detail of the dance, or their partner, particularly excites or interests them.
After the three choruses, a dancer may make a Charisma check (Performance) DC 15, to have danced at a level of excellence that attracts the applause of those around them; their partner may impose advantage or disadvantage to this check as they wish.
While the Tago is properly danced with knives, it can be danced using training rods, light wands connected by a chain. The principle is the same, but a guard/touch combination causes no loss of hit points—though it is still a source of embarrassment.
Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters, who make these articles possible. I’m currently conducting a series of polls on Patreon to finalize the topics for my next Eberron book, and I’m holding a live Q&A for Patrons this Saturday (the 22nd)! If this sounds interesting, follow the link to check it out.
Dragonmarks: Etrigani and Kaius
People say that Queen Etrigani hears ghosts. That when she’s near you, she hears the echoes of the people you’ve lost, the traces of the dead that cling to you. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not. But I’ll tell you this. If you’re hiding something… she’ll know it. Whether it’s supernatural or not, our queen has a gift. We’re fortunate she seems devoted to our country and our king.
The year was 991 YK, and Karrnath was shaken. Regent Morrana had condemned the Blood of Vol and disbanded the Seeker orders, but the army still relied on the Karrnathi undead. A dramatic offensive into the Mror Holds ended with massive losses and a humiliating retreat. The warlords demanded change, and they received it. The heirs of King Jaron had remained in isolation since his death, supposedly out of fear of Emerald Claw assassins. Now Jaron’s eldest son stepped out of the shadows and claimed the crown, taking the regnal name of Kaius. It wasn’t just his name that recalled the king who’d led Karrnath into the Last War; the new king bore an uncanny resemblance to his ancestor. Kaius III took full advantage of this, urging Karrns to recall their days of glory. He was more than just a familiar face. Kaius III was a brilliant strategist and a surprisingly skilled diplomat, with charisma that seemed almost supernatural. He seized the reins of power as if he’d held them for decades. Within the span of a year he’d united feuding warlords, revitalized Karrnath’s military, and brokered peace with the lords of the Mror Holds. When he took to the field, Kaius proved to be a capable warrior. And while the king preferred to solve his problems through diplomacy, when a warlord proved an implacable thorn in his side, they simply disappeared—and the other warlords nodded, respecting the ruthlessness of their new king. And somehow, in the midst of this diplomatic whirlwind, Kaius even found love. He didn’t strengthen his position by courting a scion of one of Karrnath’s ancient lines, nor did he pursue a diplomatic relationship with a noble of an opposing kingdom. Instead, Kaius pursued a stranger from a distant land—the Lady Etrigani. She was an elf of Aerenal, a noble of the Line of Melideth, an envoy at large observing the warring nations. Etrigani met Kaius at his coronation, and they were married in the same place, two years later to the day.
Etrigani is an outsider in a nation proud of its history, an elf in a kingdom dominated by humans, a wizard in a realm that lives by the sword. Who is she? How did she win not just the heart of Kaius, but the support of his warlords and the common people? And why would an elf of Aerenal—child of a culture that despises Mabaran necromancy—embrace Karrnath and even spend much of her time in the infamous city of Atur?
WHO IS ETRIGANI?
Queen Etrigani is an elf from Aerenal. The skull tattooed across her face marks her as a noble of the Line of Melideth, the Aereni province notable for producing most of its envoys, merchants, and explorers. She is elegant and poised, a model of nobility and elven grace. But she’s neither arrogant nor cold. Etrigani is quick to smile and has a talent for putting others at ease. Even when she’s delivering a threat or an ultimatum—and over the course of a decade of dealing with the warlords of Karrnath, she’s done plenty of both—she speaks gently, showing remarkable empathy for everyone she deals with.
Etrigani was barely a century old when she met Kaius III for the first time—a remarkable age for an elf to be both raised to the nobility and sent out into the world as an observer. Stories say that she’s an necromantic prodigy with an uncanny connection to Dolurrh. Supposedly Etrigani has an innate talent for hearing the traces of emotion and memory that people draw on when casting speak with dead. Where most necromancers can only speak with corpses, Etrigani hears these traces all around her, anywhere someone’s spirit left a mark on the world. If the DM decides these stories are true, this provides her with a few concrete benefits. She can cast speak with dead at will. She has expertise with Insight and advantage on all Insight checks that she makes. Beyond that, this gift manifests as a limited form of legend lore. Etrigani knows things about objects, people, and places she can see. This knowledge isn’t comprehensive; it’s based on the traces people have left on the subject of her observation, moments of high emotion and intensity. So she gets a sense of triumphs and tragedies, moments of loss and joy. Etrigani can’t shut down this ability. She can choose to remain silent about what she knows, but she can’t help but hear the ghosts moaning around you. However, this gift is a form of divination, and nondetection or any other effect that shields someone from divination will silence these ghosts.
Canonically, Etrigani is a skilled Aristocrat and a novice Wizard. In Fifth Edition, I’d blend these two ideas together and cast her as a non-musical bard, in the model of the 2014 College of Spirits. She is still young, and her direct spellcasting abilities are limited, but she is charismatic, persuasive, and empathetic—and she has a gift for practical necromancy, with a particular talent for speaking with the dead; I could also see her using silvery barbs, enhance ability, or borrowed knowledge to reflect her ties to unseen spirits. An important point is that her necromantic gifts are primarily tied to Dolurrh, not to Mabar. She has an affinity for ghosts, but she doesn’t animate the dead.
Etrigani is canonically chaotic in alignment, and I see this as reflecting a refusal to embrace the weighty traditions of Aerenal. This ties to her role in Karrnath and the Blood of Vol. The Undying Court asserts that all Mabaran necromancy is destructive, slowly eating away at the lifeforce of Eberron. I see Etrigani as challenging this fundamental precept and seeking to learn more about the Seekers and their ways—studying how the Seekers use their rituals to contain the deadly energies of Mabar, and interacting with Mabaran undead who haven’t become monsters. I see her as wanting to limit the widespread use of Mabaran necromancy and the role of undead, but still being willing to explore and to learn. This takes the idea that her marriage was her choice and not a mandate from Aerenal. She is a minor noble, whose strange gift and resistance to tradition always made her something of an outsider; the Sibling Kings are watching Etrigani, but she’s not their servant. In this vision of Etrigani, she is with Kaius because she truly loves him, and because she wants to help him stabilize Karrnath and help his people.
All of this is how I see Etrigani. However, just as King Kaius III may not be who he appears to be, this vision of Etrigani could also be a lie. Instead of being a young, rebellious outsider, Etrigani could be an experienced agent of the Deathguard, the Undying Court’s elite undead hunters. In this case, Etrigani is surely far more capable than her canon stats suggest. And if this is the case, her relationship with Kaius is more likely an arrangement of convenience than a love match. Kaius needs help dealing with Lady Illmarrow and the Order of the Emerald Claw; he made a bargain with the Deathguard, and Etrigani is here to do a job. In this vision of Etrigani, any apparent sympathy for the Seekers is feigned as she seeks to ferret out Emerald Claw agents.
I’ve suggested two possibilities for Etrigani. But the path I’d choose would depend on the truth about her husband… King Kaius III.
WHO IS KAIUS?
The Eberron Campaign Setting puts forth a shocking accusation, claiming that King Kaius III is in fact King Kaius I—a vampire who imprisoned his descendant and took his place. According to this tale, when Karrnath faced a crisis, King Kaius I forged an alliance with the Blood of Vol… and made a secret arrangement with the infamous Lady Illmarrow. To seal the deal, Illmarrow forced Kaius to become a vampire. When Kaius later challenged Illmarrow, she used his sire’s power over the king to drive him into a frenzy, during which time he slew his first wife. Refusing to be used as a puppet, Kaius fled into the shadows. He remained in hiding until he found a way to break Illmarrow’s control over him. Perhaps he located and slew his sire; perhaps he found a Qabalrin artifact or some other magic that blocks a vampire’s control over their spawn. Whatever the nature of this protection, once he acquired it, Kaius I returned to Karrnath and worked with Moranna to plot his return. He used cosmetic transmutation on his descendant to create an early resemblance. He allowed his descendant to take his name and claim the crown… and then immediately replaced Kaius III, imprisoning the young king in Dreadhold and taking his place.
The original ECS presented this as canon fact. However, Rising From The Last War chose to step back, taking the approach that it was a possibility… but that it could in fact just be a pernicious rumor. Kaius III might simply have a remarkable resemblance to his ancestor! He could truly be a young idealist who seeks peace and to mend the wounds of his nation.
Personally, I have always preferred an approach that blends both of these stories together—the idea that Kaius III is Kaius III pretending to be Kaius I pretending to be Kaius III. The idea here is that the story of Kaius I played out exactly as described above, and that he went into hiding to avoid becoming a tool of Lady Illmarrow… but he never found a way to break that control. But he saw Kaius III’s potential early on and guided his protege, molding him into an excellent king… and when young Kaius took the throne, his ancestor imprisoned himself in Dreadhold, placing him outside Illmarrow’s reach until a the new king could find a way to break the lich’s hold over him. Kaius III is intentionally playing up the similarities because he wants Illmarrow to think he’s Kaius I. He wants Illmarrow to be mystified by her inability to control him, to confuse her and throw her off her game.
For me, the story of Kaius and Etrigani are entwined, and the truth about Kaius will determine the path I take with Etrigani. So looking at the different ideas…
Kaius III is Kaius I. If this is the case, then then the man who claims to be Kaius III is actually Kaius I — the last of the heirs who set the Last War in motion. This makes him a powerful individual carrying a terrible burden. He’s the man who drove his country into war, and instituted the harsh Code of Kaius. And he’s the man who made a bargain with Lady Illmarrow, and paid a terrible price for it. He slew his beloved wife. If you follow canon, he turned his granddaughter into a vampire, and either killed his great grandson or imprisoned him… all because he believes that he is the only one who can do what has to be done. While he seeks peace, Kaius I is canonically lawful evil; what we’ve always said about this is that it reflects his absolute view that his ends justify his means. Part of the point of Kaius I as Kaius III is that he’s trying to restore the world he helped break—but he’s been a monster for so long that it’s hard to change his ways. We’ve said before that it’s hard to maintain empathy as a vampire; Kaius I is a perfect example of that. On some level, he wants to be a good; but it’s hard for him to remember what that even feels like. Looking to the newspaper clipping, the point is that Kaius I IS a vampire, but there’s lots of ways for him to stage scenes that make this seem impossible.
If Kaius is Kaius I and a vampire, what is the story of Etrigani? Either of the two options I’ve presented can work. In the Deathguard story, Etrigani’s public tale is as much a lie as the king’s; I’d suggest that they met years ago, and that it was Etrigani who found a way to break Illmarrow’s hold over the king. In this case I’d say that Etrigani’s mission isn’t just to destroy Illmarrow; the Undying Court knows that this would just kick the can down the road. She is tasked with destroying the influence of the Order of the Emerald Claw, but also with doing all that she can to find Illmarrow’s phylactery. The hope is that this will be exposed in Illmarrow’s conflict with Kaius. Etrigani and Kaius are partners, not lovers; they are united by their desire to bring down Illmarrow. This Etrigani has no love for Mabaran undead; if she did manage to defeat Illmarrow, she might try to destroy Kaius before returning to Aerenal.
However, it’s still possible to keep the empathetic Etrigani with the Kaius I. This Etrigani can hear the ghosts people carry with them. She met Kaius “III” at his coronation and immediate saw his pain; she could hear the ghost of his wife he carries with him. While her people teach that Mabaran undead are monsters, Etrigani sees the man he was, and is working to help him regain his humanity—to lay his ghosts to rest and find new love.
Kaius III is Kaius III. In this scenario, both Kaius and Etrigani are exactly what they appear to be. Kaius III is a young noble with big dreams for his nation, haunted by the shadow of his long-dead ancestor; if there IS a vampire Kaius I, they don’t know about him. Etrigani is also a young noble who wants to break away from the traditions of her ancestors and who has embraced her new homeland. She wants to learn more about the Seekers and their traditions—how they are using their rituals to contain the threat of Mabar, and the ways in which the use of undead serve the greater good. The point of this story is that these are two young and idealistic people who want challenge the traditions of their people and make the world a better place… but will the world allow it? Kaius truly wants peace, but the warlords of Karrnath are hungry for war. Etrigani sees beauty in Atur, but the Undying Court could be leaning on her and demanding that she serve their ends. Can they find a path to a better world? Or will they be forced into the molds their cultures wish for them?
Kaius III is Kaius III pretending to be Kaius I pretending to be Kaius III. Kaius I is the ruthless vampire who set the war in motion and now seeks redemption, but he can’t fight this battle alone. Kaius III is his chosen tool, trained and prepared to enact his will, saving his great grandfather and his nation. As described in the story, Kaius III is a brilliant leader. But he is fighting his ancestor’s war, and being driven to use his methods. Here again, we get that canonical lawful evil alignment—the idea that he’s been taught to be utterly ruthless in pursuit of his goals. But what does he want? If we take Etrigani as she stands, we have the idea that when she met Kaius at his coronations, she could feel the shadow of Kaius I hanging over him. She loves him, but she’s also trying to be a counter to K1’s darkness. And the point is that both Kaius and Etrigani won’t truly be free to chart their own course until they finish K1’s war—finding a way to free him from Illmarrow’s control and breaking the power of the Order of the Emerald Claw. Essentially, this takes the characters from the K3 is K3 story and commits them to this ruthless secret war. Etrigani wants them to win, but she also wants her husband to retain his humanity. A second question to consider on this path: Even if K3 is K3… is he still a vampire? The most convincing way for this masquerade to work would be if Kaius I turned his great grandson into a vampire. The idea is that Illmarrow’s control doesn’t pass down over generations; she can control Kaius I, but not his spawn. If Kaius III is a vampire of Kaius I’s bloodline, it would be the best way to convince Illmarrow he is Kaius I. But what does this mean for his future with Etrigani?
A fourth option is that Kaius I has taken the place of Kaius III and imprisoned him in Dreadhold, but that Etrigani loves Kaius III. She is working with Kaius I to defeat Illmarrow; once that task has been completed, he has promised to release the true Kaius III and return to the shadows.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR YOU?
If your adventurers are going to clash with the Emerald Claw or Lady Illmarrow, Etrigani and Kaius could be valuable allies. Etrigani has more freedom of movement than the king, but she’d still have a difficult time running around fighting Emerald Claw agents; but she has resources and information, and she could be an excellent patron for a group of adventurers. Etrigani could guide her agents both in dealing with agents of the Emerald Claw and also in seeking to maintain peace in Karrnath—dealing with rivalries and vendettas among the warlords, or even opposing Royal Eyes of Aundair or Dark Lanterns of Breland. On the other hand, if Etrigani is an agent of the Deathguard seeking Illmarrow’s phylactery, she could be a more powerful patron suited to more experienced adventurers, guiding them on ever more dangerous investigations into possible sites for the phylactery.
Regardless of this path, the DM can also explore the idea that Etrigani truly does want to learn more about the Seeker traditions—possibly, that she wants to try to soften the stance of the Deathguard and the Undying Court itself, to prove that when used wisely, Mabaran necromancy isn’t as dangerous as the Aereni believe.
Of course, there’s another option that could throw a twist into any of these stories. Etrigani has an unusual gift that allows her to communicate with the dead in a way most people cannot. She has a rebellious streak and doesn’t hold to the traditions of the Undying Court. What if she has a deeper secret? What if she has deep and distant ties to the Line of Vol, so distant they were ignored by the Undying Court in its purge? What if Etrigani is the first living elf in millenia to develop the Mark of Death? This would certainly explain her enthusiasm for leaving Aerenal far behind. Surely, she wouldn’t possess Erandis’s Apex Dragonmark (among other reasons, because such a mark would be physically difficult to conceal). But a living bearer of the Mark of Death could be the key to Erandis’s quest to somehow unlock the power of her dead dragonmark. Even if you don’t go down this path, Etrigani’s supernatural abilities could be a gift of Dolurrh’s Queen of the Dead… somehow tying into the Queen’s plans for Lady Illmarrow.
WHAT ABOUT REGENT MORANNA?
Moranna continues to serve as regent of Karrnath, a post that has been transformed from a stewardship to an advisory position. She never ventures far from the court or from Kaius’s side, except when he sends her out in his name to handle crises near and far. Moranna, a large, strong woman, has a commanding manner and a no-nonsense approach that leaves most of her underlings shaking in her wake.
That’s what the Eberron Campaign Setting has to say about Regent Moranna, and that remains true no matter which of the above stories you choose. Five Nations adds a little more to this: If the PCs undertake missions for the crown, Regent Moranna eventually becomes their patron and main contact point. Other than Kaius himself, she’s the most feared presence in Korth. Everyone knows she has some necromantic power, and it’s an open secret that she uses magic to give herself a deathlike pallor and some undead qualities.It complicates things a little by making Moranna an Aristocrat/Wizard, while the ECS had her as an Aristocrat/Sorcerer. Following the spirit of the text I’m inclined to agree with making her a necromancer wizard; alternately, Sorcerer levels could be used to reflect innate abilities. Because those same stories that say that Kaius I was a vampire say that he turned his granddaughter Moranna into a vampire as well, using her as his catspaw to manage things until he was finally ready to return.
Moranna’s basic position remains intact regardless of what story you choose. Whether she’s the king’s granddaughter, aunt, or spawn, she’s a trusted advisor and troubleshooter for the king. She is ruthless—lawful evil in alignment—and thus is untroubled by Etrigani’s empathy. I’m offering Etrigani as an alternative patron for adventurers serving the crown, but Moranna remains a possible patron, especially if their missions will take them down dark paths.
But is she a vampire? If Kaius I is a vampire, than Moranna is likely his spawn regardless of whether or not he is posing as Kaius III. As I’ve suggested, the idea is that Illmarrow can’t control Kaius’s spawn. If Kaius I is posing as Kaius III, she is his loyal aide as she always has been. If Kaius III is posing as Kaius I posing as Kaius III, then Moranna is the spawn of his great grandfather; she remains in her role of advisor and seeks to guide him down the path Kaius I would wish for him to follow; in this case, there could be tension between Etrigani and Moranna, given that Moranna is utterly ruthless and Etrigani would encourage the king to cultivate compassion. On the one hand, if Kaius III isn’t a vampire and Moranna is, she could be his bodyguard; on the other, in the same scenario, she could be a frightening watchdog appointed by Kaius I to make sure his descendant doesn’t lose his nerve. If, on the other hand, you decide that the stories of vampires are completely false, than Moranna may be exactly what she appears to be—the king’s aunt, a necromancer with a goth vibe and a cruel temperament. Or, it could be that she is still a vampire—and, perhaps, still the spawn of Kaius I—even if Kaius I has been destroyed and Kaius III is a living man.
Ultimately, the pieces remain the same. Kaius III is a relatively young king seeking peace and willing to be ruthless in his pursuit of it. Etrigani is his queen, a foreigner adapting to this new land and trying to balance her empathy with the harsh ways of Karrnath. And Moranna is the old advisor who is prepared to be the king’s heavy hand when needed. Are any of them vampires? That’s up to the DM to decide.
Kaius and Moranna blame the Blood of Vol for Karrnath’s failures in the Last War. Assuming Etrigani’s sympathies for the Seekers are legitimate, what are her opinions on the matter?
This isn’t a simple question. Because the fact that Kaius has publicly blamed Karrnath’s failings on the Blood of Vol doesn’t me that KAIUS actually believed that. The key example of this comes from the original Eberron Campaign Setting, which calls out that (following the K3 is K1 story) Kaius has a harem of devoted followers of the Blood of Vol who provide him with blood. I’ve always seen Kaius as oppressing the Blood of Vol for two reasons. The first was to eliminate LADY ILLMARROW’S influence in Karrnath — dissolving the Order of the Emerald Claw and targeting Illmarrow’s agents throughout the Seekers. The second is because Kaius needed to do something to change the story and unite the warlords behind him. The Seekers are scapegoats; blaming Karrnath’s failings on the Seekers lets the warlords reclaim their pride, to assert that they COULD have won if they’d just relied on pure Karrnathi steel. But in MY campaign, Kaius himself has never been against the common Seeker — as shown by the loyalty of his “blood bank.” Kaius is RUTHLESS. He is willing to make hard sacrifices to achieve his ends. In my opinion his persecution of the Seekers is exactly that — a sacrifice he made to cripple Illmarrow’s power base and strengthen his own position. Etrigani’s frequent presence in Atur reflects Kaius’s desire to maintain a connection to the true Seekers — even while he continues to persecute the Emerald Claw and Illmarrow’s loyalists.
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Dragonmark: Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol
‘Here.’ I pointed to the massive rainforest that lies between Blackwood Bay and the Madwood Gulf. ‘There’s no name listed for this jungle; the cartographer must have overlooked it. What’s it called?’ Jaelon said nothing. ‘It doesn’t have a name?’ I said. ‘I told you its name,’ he replied, but when I asked again, he said nothing. I won’t relay the entire ridiculous conversation that followed, but in time, the truth emerged: the name of the jungle is a moment of silence. And that’s just the start of it. Southwest of this Silence, there’s a fertile valley with two rivers flowing into the Blackwood Bay. Do a scry-by and you’ll see farmlands and villages. There’s a huge city on the coast of the river, a place called Shae Deseir. But no one’s lived there for over two thousand years. ‘Why?’ I asked Jaelon. It seems there was a war, a bitter feud that ended with a great house eradicated and their supporters exiled. But we’re talking about a span of time over twice the length of Galifar. Wars happen, and the survivors claim the spoils. Why is this region shunned? ‘No one lives there,’ he told me. ‘But the dead remain.’
The elves that followed Aeren were a rag-tag alliance drawn from a dozen different cultures. They were escaped slaves, survivors of independent city-states that had been crushed by the giants, nomads whose warbands were scattered, primal adepts trapped in the forms of beasts, and more. All were shaken by their devastating losses, both of Aeren and those left behind on Xen’drik. Following Aeren’s death, the refugees coalesced around a handful of charismatic leaders and philosophies. The Tairnadal swore to keep the memory of their champions alive by continuing to fight, laying claim to the northern plains. Tolaen led his people to the edge of a vast rainforest, vowing to preserve the image of the fallen in living wood. The Mendyrian siblings were wizards and mystics, and they believed that they could harness the light of Irian to extend life. Vol chose the lands others shunned—a region peppered with manifest zones tied to Mabar, a place where shadows might suddenly prey upon those who cast them. Mabar was long seen as the antithesis of life. But Vol could speak to the dead, drawing on the traces of her ancestors’ spirits. She’d learned secrets from the long-dead psychopomps of Shae Tirias Tolai and the fallen necromancers of the Qabalrin. And Vol believed that she could harness the power of Mabar and use it to overcome death—to give the next Aeren eternal life, even if it meant feeding on the blood of others. This was her pledge to the elves who laid the foundations of her city: We will not live in fear of death. We will learn its secrets, learn everything there is to know about the nature of life and its loss. We will redefine what it means to live, and in so doing we will never lose those that we love again. And so Shae Deseir rose on the bank of the river of Night.
The Rise of the Undead
Humans often imagine that Aerenal has always been as it is today—that the Undying Court has always guided its people, that the Line of Vol began exactly as it ended. But Shae Deseir began as a village of a few hundred elves with just a handful of necromancers among them. It took over ten thousand years for the Mendyrian and Jhaelian to unlock the secrets of the deathless, and ten thousand more for the Undying Court to attain the power it wields today. The Line of Vol grew over that same span of time, delving ever deeper into the mysteries of Mabar and Dolurrh and unlocking the secrets of necromancy. True to their vow, the Vol didn’t have the same fear of death as the other elves—or even the modern Seekers. Speak with dead was always a core aspect of Vol society. The skulls of the dead were preserved and consulted. The Vol understood that speak with dead only spoke with the traces of memory that remained, but they held to the principle that as long as we are remembered, we remain. So the Vol were comfortable with death. However, they still wished to overcome it—to preserve their greatest people as more than just memories. So while the Mendyrian and Jhaelian experimented with the deathless, the Vol studied the ways in which the power of Mabar could animate the dead.
The first sentient undead created by the Line of Vol was a form of wight; it consumed life force directly by touch. However, the insatiable hunger of Mabar overwhelmed the mortal memories of these undead, and they quickly became ravenous monsters that had to be destroyed. Vampires mitigate this by consuming blood rather than directly absorbing life energy, but the early vampires of Vol were still highly unstable; most devolved into feral creatures like the nosferatu of Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft. Over time the Vol were able to restore and refine what scholars call the Qabalrin vampire—the standard vampire, complete with its limitations on running water and not entering a house unless invited. That last one may seem a little strange; why is it that vampires innately can’t enter a stranger’s home? The answer can be found by looking at the most common form of sentient undead produced by both the Line of Vol and the modern Seekers of the Divinity Within: the oathbound, which the Monster Manual refers to as mummies. The oaths are vows that are mystically imposed upon the spirit, and it is these vows that keep the essence of the mortal from being dragged to Dolurrh and consumed. The more restrictive the oaths, the simpler the ritual and the more stable the personality of the creature. Forbiddance is an oath woven into the Qabalrin strain of vampirism; it is part of what makes the line more stable than the earlier nosferatu strains. So with that in mind, the line of Vol included the following forms of undead.
- Oathbound were widespread throughout the region. They’re very stable; existence as a mummy is less of a strain on the spirit than vampirism or lichdom. The more restrictive the oaths binding the mummy, the easier it is to create and the more stable it will be. The majority of Vol oathbound were bound to specific locations, tied to a family estate or institution. Oathbound served as guardians and guides, often teaching the living. They often lacked the fire and creativity of the young, and so it was always seen as valuable to have the living and the dead work closely together.
- Vampires have far more freedom than oathbound, but the state of vampirism takes a greater toll on the personality of a creature—and, of course, a vampire has to feed to maintain its existence. As a result, vampirism was granted to exceptional individuals who intended to spend their undeath in motion. Vol vampires were often diplomats and envoys, conducting business in the cities of the other lines. Some of the greatest innovators of the line chose vampirism simply to ensure flexibility in whatever the future could hold. But vampirism was a state that had to be earned, and would-be vampires underwent tests and trials to assure the lich-lords they had the strength of will to survive.
- Vampire spawn are the first step to becoming a true vampire, as discussed in this article. So in imagining daily life in Shae Deseir, keep in mind that there were more vampire spawn than there were full vampires.
- Liches were rare. As called out in Chronicles of Eberron, a lich typically has to perform the rites of transition themselves, and it requires both an exceptional understanding of necromancy, an iron will, and an absolute conviction not to die—a conviction that must remain firm throughout the lich’s existence. There were liches among the line of Vol, and they were revered by the living—but it was a state that could only be earned, never granted. The case of Erandis Vol was a remarkable exception, tied both to the incredible skills of Minara Vol and to Erandis’s dragonmark.
Skeletal humanoid labor wasn’t as common among the Vol as it is among the Seekers of the present day, as the Vol preferred to preserve the skulls of the dead in vast bone libraries where they could be consulted, much like the spirit idols of the Undying Court. However, beasts were regularly reanimated for tireless labor. The Vol also had a great affinity for shadows, tied to the Mabaran resonance all around them. Many Vol elves could employ their own shadows as a wizard does a familiar, sending them on tasks, seeing through their senses or speaking through them. Shadow puppetry was a common form of entertainment, and an arcanist could conduct an entire company of shadows through the performance of a play or an artistic display.
Life in the Line of Vol
The Line of Vol shared many basic traditions with the other Aereni lines. There was always tension between Vol, Mendyrian, and Jhaelian; there were feuds and vendettas that stretched out over the centuries. But the Melideth and Tolaen respected the Vol, honoring the shared struggles of their ancestors and engaging in commerce and conversation. Like the other lines, the Vol honored their ancestors and followed in their footsteps. And like most Aereni, elves of Vol would typically focus on a particular craft or field and spend centuries perfecting that skill. Generally speaking, innovation was less important than tradition—mastering the way a thing had been done was more important than finding a better way to do it. Necromancy was the crucial exception to this rule, and the Vol were always exploring new variations of existing rituals and spells.
Given its reliance on necromancy—often seen as a sinister form of magic—and the prevalence of skulls and bones in its art and architecture, scholars of the Five Nations have often assumed that the Vol were a cruel or malefic culture; in this, they are usually compared to the Qabalrin or the people of Ohr Kaluun in Sarlona. But the leaders of the Line of Vol weren’t ruthless or cruel. They had no desire to conquer their neighbors, and the dead used their experience to lift up the living. In studying necromancy, their focus wasn’t developing ways to kill the living but rather on finding ways to prolong existence and to communicate with the dead. The development of deadly spells was a side effect of their research, but war magic was never the purpose of it. Overall, the Line of Vol sought to celebrate life. It’s for this reason that they didn’t flood the province with vampires. The hunger of Mabar is difficult even for a person of strong will and tends to erode empathy; most elves who sought immortality in undeath were content to live a more limited but peaceful existence as one of the oathbound.
Some might wonder how this aligns with the grim culture of the Bloodsail Principalities, which has a direct path back to it. But the circumstances of the Bloodsails are very different from that of the Line of Vol. The Vol thrived for thousands of years in an atmosphere of relative peace and prosperity. By contrast, the Bloodsails began as exiles who had seen that peaceful culture utterly eradicated by its enemies. Farlnen is a harsh land with limited resources; sacrifices have to be made to sustain the living population. And from the beginning, the Lhazaar Sea was far more dangerous than Aerenal was for the Vol. The Bloodsails had to fight to survive—to fight both their barren land and their rivals on the sea. Because of this, the Bloodsails are more aggressive and ruthless. Their ancestors saw the peaceful Line of Vol exterminated by its rivals; they won’t allow that to happen again.
Religion and Divine Magic. The Line of Vol preferred the concrete truths of arcane science to abstract ideas of distant gods. They didn’t believe in any form of the Sovereigns and Six, and they didn’t invoke the power of the Silver Flame. However, they did have two traditions of magic beyond arcane science. Vol worked closely with Mabar, and there were points in their domain where the borders to the Eternal Night were very thin. Over the generations, some Vol engaged in commerce and conversation with the Dark Powers of Mabar—notably, the Bone King and the Empress of Shadows. Most Vol arcanists recognized the malevolence of these beings and didn’t idolize them; but they were willing to work with them in exchange for knowledge and arcane power, and this produced a tradition of warlocks. Over time, the Vol also developed a path through which adepts could channel and mold the power of Mabar through sheer will and mental discipline. Practitioners of this art were known as dusk weavers. Mechanically, exceptional dusk weavers could resemble Shadow Monks, Trickery Clerics or Oathbreaker Paladins. This tradition is still practiced among the Bloodsails. While it provides a form of divine magic, it is fueled by the practitioner’s absolute faith in their own ability to shape the power of Mabar. And while technically I’m suggesting that such characters could have the abilities of clerics or paladins, the magic they can wield should always reflect the power of Mabar; even though mechanically light is a spell on the cleric spell list, it’s not a spell a dusk weaver should possess… unless they manage to flavor it in a way that fits Mabar, such as a creating a ball that draws all shadow to it and leaves light in its absence.
Architecture and Artifice. Animated skeletons are bound together by an invisible, ectoplasmic force. The bone crafters of the Line of Vol discovered ways to adapt this arcane principle, creating structures that appear to be formed from swirling shadow with bones suspended. In Mabaran manifest zones—like Shae Deseir—bone crafters could pull raw bone-stuff from the layer of the Bone King, creating pillars and walls from ivory, though this substance was never part of a living creature. This is incorporated with darkwood and often built into and around living trees in the Silence. Vol communities can feel very gothic and sinister to outsiders, but the Vol don’t see anything malevolent in the use of bone; instead, it reminds them of their ancestors, and to enjoy life while it lasts.
Vol communities often contain the following structures.
- Bone Libraries are ossuaries holding the skulls of deceased elves. People come to the library to consult the skulls using speak with dead, but there are also services that commemorate ancestors either en masse or highlighting the deeds of an individual or group.
- Shadow Sanctums are where dusk weavers learn and practice their arts. They are somber and monastic in tone, typically filled with adepts engaged in meditation and pools of shadow drawn from Mabar. Dusk weavers are also often trained as healers, and the sanctums double as healing houses.
- The Hall of Life is the center of the community, where people gather to support one another and to resolve civic issues; it also serves as a school for the young.
- The Arcanum is the center of necromantic research and development. This is where undead are created, where shadows are bound, other important magical work is done.
Beyond this, a Vol community will have buildings common to any town—taverns and inns, a theatre, artisans, and homes.
General Demeanor. The leaders of the line of Vol had no interest in imposing their will through force. Throughout much of their history, the Vol were a prosperous culture with more space and resources than their relatively small population required. As such, their focus was on enjoying life—the dead teaching the living and helping them find a satisfying road to walk through life. The Vol liches were the most powerful members of the culture, but they didn’t band together as the Undying Court; a Vol lich typically used its power and knowledge to help its local community. Much as the Sibling Kings of Aerenal stand distinct from the Undying Court, the civic leaders of the Line of Vol were living people who worked to make sure every village had what was needed, to resolve disputes, and to engage in diplomacy with the other lines. But largely the role of leadership was to guide and assist, while always pursuing greater knowledge. Of course, it was this pursuit of knowledge that ultimately doomed them, when they sought to unlock the full potential of the Mark of Death.
The Silence. Shae Deseir is located in a verdant valley along the Night River, so named because a curious effect of the Mabaran manifest zone causes the reflection in the water to always show the sky above as if at night. There were a few villages spread out along the banks of the river. But the majority of the Line of Vol dwelt not in the valley—which, among other things, has issues with hostile shadows—but in the vast forest to the east of it. In the past it was known as Antalyn Orioth, the “Jungle of Peace”… though the term has connotations of “final peace” or “peace of the grave.” Since the eradication of the line of Vol, this name has been stricken from all maps and the Aereni do not use it. Instead, they refer to the jungle by casting their eyes down and remaining silent for a long moment.
The Silence contains a number of Mabaran manifest zones of varying size and intensity. Some of these are deadly to mortal life; these produce moss, fungi, and crystals that are useful components for necromantic magic. Others were once home to Vol villages. There are also two wild zones in the Silence. The Gray is tied to Dolurrh, and under the proper circumstances it can serve as a gateway to the Realm of the Dead. The Bones are tied to Mabar, and trees of bone rise from black soil; here the Bone King of Mabar watches the world. Aside from its planar influences, the Silence contains massive groves of darkwood; before they were destroyed, the Vol worked with Tolaen to harvest this resource.
Defenses and Damage. The Line of Vol wasn’t a warlike culture… until the end. Their civilization was wiped out in a brutal, decisive conflict against dragons and the Undying Court. It was a swift conflict fought by beings wielding immense power, and as a result many of the typical tools of war were irrelevant; there was no wall that would protect a village from a flight of dragons. Traveling through the Silence, adventurers can find vast clearings still scorched by dragonfire, with scattered shards of building bone or vague outlines of foundations. While active defenses are rare, undead are common in the region, and this is why the Aereni shun it to this day. Due to the presence of the manifest zones, all of the factors that contribute to haunts and restless dead are intensely magnified. There are a handful of haunts where shades of villagers relive their last hours, often entirely peacefully. But there’s also countless undead spawned by the intense trauma of the final days of Vol. There are angry ghosts and banshees that still retain some semblance of their former lives, but there are also more raw manifestations of pain and of Mabar’s hunger—swarms of shadows, angry specters, and at the extreme, powerful sorrowsworn born of anguish and pain. Within the Bones, a former Mendyrian commander remains as a death knight. Laen Mendyrian is tormented by the massacres he set in motion during the conflict, and now lingers as a vassal of the Bone King; he is accompanied by the Silver Wind, a silver dragon slain by the Emerald Claw who lingers as a ghost dragon.
Shae Deseir
Shae Deseir was the first and greatest city of the Line of Vol. Built from darkwood and shadow, it was a gothic metropolis. This is where the Vol made their last stand, focusing the might of their liches and the Emerald Claw. So great was their power that they were able to shield the city from aerial and arcane assault, which meant that dragons and elves stormed it directly. Because of this, the city has been devastated. There is a massive crater where the First Arcanum once stood, soil seared by a blend of flame, acid, and raw radiant power. The Hall of Life is cut in half, and the bones of defenders remain fused with the stone.
In assaulting Shae Desier, the forces of Argonnessen and Aerenal ensured that all living denizens of the city died, and that the phylacteries of the liches were destroyed. As soon as this mission was complete, they retreated, and the city has been left untouched ever since. Because of this, there are treasures hidden in the wreckage. The Great Bone Library is still intact, with thousands of skulls waiting to speak. But Shae Deseir is intensely haunted. The region was always known for its hostile shadows; rituals performed by the Vol kept the influence of Mabar in check. Now it is a place of bitter sorrow. The spirits that remain in Shae Deseir cannot leave this cursed city, but they will make any living creature that comes to it suffer.
What sort of treasures could you find in Shae Deseir? The First Arcanum was the site of some of the most remarkable necromantic work ever carried out. Any sort of magic item related to death and the dead could be found in the haunted city, along with scrolls of necromantic spells, such as horrid wilting and true resurrection. But the research could be even more valuable. How exactly did Minara Vol turn Erandis into a lich? How did they produce a half-dragon bearing an apex dragonmark, and what was the ultimate goal? These secrets are surely hidden in the ruins. Beyond that, scattered across the city are the remains of the warriors who fought that final bitter battle; there may be legendary arms and armor once wielded by champions of the Undying Court still lying on the battlefield. Another idea to consider: I’ve said before that the Eye and Hand of Vecna could be associated with Lhazaar in Eberron. However, if you wanted to remain closer to the original idea—to keep them as remnants of an ancient archlich—then they could be the Eye and Hand of Vol, the last pieces of the first and greatest lich produced by the line. Perhaps they went toe to toe with the Ascendant Councilors of the Undying Court and were torn apart. Now only a few pieces remain… but they want a vengeance greater and more terrible than anything Lady Illmarrow could devise.
What sort of monsters could you find there? Shadows roam freely in the region around Shae Deseir, and they can be found in many sizes and shapes. There are shadows cast by dragons long ago that are still crawling across the soil, and swarms of shadows that could be drawn by light or warmth. Beyond this, there are pockets of haunting scattered across the city, bitter moments captured in eternity. On the outskirts you might fight sword wraiths facing a banshee, an echo of Cairdal commandos fighting a Vol arcanist. Deeper in you could find dullahans fighting death dragons. Near the heart there are nightwalkers formed from the sheer rage of the fallen elves. And in the Bone Library or the First Arcanum there may well be a lingering demilich, nearly mindless after the loss of its phylactery, but somehow still sustained by its grief.
Why does this matter? Any campaign involving Lady Illmarrow could involve a trip to Shae Deseir. Illmarrow might need resources that can only be found in the Mabaran groves of the Silence. She could need research from the First Arcanum, or an artifact lost on the battlefield. Alternately, adventurers seeking to destroy Illmarrow could seek to find the details of her creation to learn how she can be permanently destroyed. Illmarrow aside, an Aereni adventurer could seek to enter Shae Deseir to recover a sacred artifact lost by an ancestor—or a necromancer of any culture could yearn to claim the secrets of the Vol arcanists.
What About The Mark of Death?
The alliance between the Undying Court and Argonnessen slew every living creature that carried the Mark of Death, and almost every elf tied to the Vol bloodlines. Erandis Vol still carries the mark, but it has been inactive since her death. There has been no confirmed manifestation of the mark since that time. The nature of the Mark of Death—how it could reappear and what powers it might possess—is a mystery we have always chosen to leave unanswered in canon sources. However, the things I write aren’t canon. I’ve created a version of the Mark of Death as bonus content for my Patreon supporters; you can find that here.
That’s all for now. If you’re going to PAX Unplugged, you can find me at the Twogether Studios booth. I hope to see you there!
Flashback: Haunts and Borders—the Ethereal Plane of Eberron
This article was first published in 2022, but with spooky season upon us, it seemed like a good time to revisit the topic!
The cosmology of Eberron is often depicted as a vast orrery. Each of the thirteen planes embodies a particular concept, while the material plane is the nexus where all of their ideas are expressed—the realm of life and death, war and peace, story and stagnation. The Astral Plane is the space between and beyond them, embodying nothing. What, then, is the Ethereal Plane and how does it differ from the Astral?
First of all, forget everything you know from canon sources, Eberron or otherwise. This article is about how I use the Ethereal Plane in my campaign, which combines aspects of the traditional Ethereal Plane, the Plane of Shadow, the Shadowfell, and the Feywild… and builds from there. And the first difference is, don’t call it a plane. If you want to move between planes, or between Eberron and the rest of the Multiverse, you’ll travel through the Astral Plane. The Ethereal has no defining concept, and most importantly, it has no independent existence; it’s a shadow cast by another plane. With this in mind, most scholars in Eberron don’t call it the Ethereal Plane; they call it the Ethereal Veil. Think of it as the backstage of reality, a layer that lets you slip outside reality while still being close enough to observe it.
In this article, I’ll start with a general overview of the Ethereal Veil and then delve into two additional ways you can interact with the Ethereal: Haunts and Borders.
THE ETHEREAL VEIL
The Ethereal Veil is a gray shadow of the world. For the most part, the Veil functions exactly as described in canon.
While on the Ethereal Plane, you can see and hear the plane you originated from, which is cast in shades of gray, and you can’t see anything there more than 60 feet away. You can only affect and be affected by other creatures on the Ethereal Plane. Creatures that aren’t there can’t perceive you or interact with you, unless they have the ability to do so. You ignore all objects and effects that aren’t on the Ethereal Plane, allowing you to move through objects you perceive on the plane you originated from. The Ethereal Plane also disobeys the laws of gravity; a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.
Standing in the Veil, you see a gray shadow of reality. You can see the misty forms of buildings, of trees, of people going about their business… but you cannot be seen or heard, and you cannot affect the adjacent reality. With few exceptions, the Veil is empty. It reflects the adjacent reality, but it holds nothing of its own, and for this reason people rarely stay there for long; there’s no food, no water, and most of the time, no people. As noted earlier, the Veil is an extension of whatever plane you’re currently on. Eberron has an Ethereal Veil, but so does Fernia and so does Syrania; the Veil of Fernia is a gray shadow of Fernia, where the fires are cold and you can pass through the obsidian walls.
Two important facts are that while you can see the images of things in the Material plane—what I’ll call echoes—you can’t affect them and can move through them. This includes the ground beneath your feet. As called out in the description above, “a creature there can move up and down as easily as walking.” This looks like walking, and uses the traveler’s standard movement speed; it’s simply that your feet find purchase wherever you want them to. This also means that you could, for example, just start walking straight down toward the core of the planet. However, you’re walking blind. If you hit a Border or a Haunt, the matter you’re dealing with may suddenly become impermeable, or gravity might reassert itself. And if your magic should fail, the standard rules say “You immediately return to the plane you originated from in the spot you currently occupy. If you occupy the same spot as a solid object or creature when this happens, you are immediately shunted to the nearest unoccupied space that you can occupy and take force damage equal to twice the number of feet you are moved.” If you’re deep in solid rock, that could be a very unpleasant return.
Breaching The Veil
The people of Khorvaire know the Ethereal Veil exists, but there’s limited ways to reach it. The two most common tools are blink (which has a maximum duration of one minute) and etherealness (a high level spell that lasts for up to eight hours). When you enter the Veil, the magic that keeps you there also affects the objects you bring with you. If you blink across the Veil and drop a Shard of Rak Tulkhesh it will return to the material plane as soon as the spell ends… so it’s not an easy dumping ground for cursed objects, nor is it an easy matter to build things there (though if you time things right, you might be able to drop a bomb in there just before it explodes… just ask Three Widow Jane in my Threshold campaign!).
Of course, the Veil isn’t much use if there’s no good way for adventurers to get there. Here’s a few options to consider.
- Blink is one of the powers of the Dragonmark of Passage, and House Orien has been exploring the Veil since the mark first manifested. Throughout its history, the house has experimented with ways to increase the duration of Ethereal jaunts and to take advantage of their connection to the Veil. The oldest tool in their arsenal is the passage salve, an uncommon form of oil of etherealness that only takes 1 minute to apply; it can be used by any creature, but only an heir with the Mark of Passage can activate its power. The Veil torc allows the Passage-marked wearer to cast etherealness as if it was a 3rd level spell, though the duration is only one hour. The Twelve have been continuing to work on this and may well come up with prototype focus items or eldritch machines that can allow groups of people to linger in the Veil—and naturally, they’ll need bold adventurers to test these new developments!
- The Guild of Endless Doors has always been interested in the Ethereal Veil, and they have been working on their own counterparts to Orien’s focus items. The Guild lacks the resources of the Twelve and anything they produce will be available on a smaller scale, but on the other hand, you won’t need a dragonmark to make use of it. And the Royal Eyes of Aundair could be pushing the Guild to fast-track Ethereal tools that can be used by Aundairian spies!
- Ancient Secrets. Humanity may not have mastered the Veil… but the elves of Aerenal are more advanced than the people of the Five Nations, and the dragons of Argonnessen are more powerful still. Sul Khatesh may hold secrets of the Veil that she could share with her Court of Shadows… but at what cost? These paths could provide adventurers—or their enemies—with tools or rituals that support Ethereal exploration.
- Breaking Reality. Reality is a toy in the clutches of the daelkyr. A cult of the Dragon Below might tear apart the Veil or even collapse a chunk of reality into it. Consider Stranger Things!
The Dangers of the Veil
Eberron is a world where the supernatural is part of nature. The Ethereal Veil is part of life, just like air and water—and just like fish adapt to water and birds soar through the air, there are creatures in Eberron who naturally interact with the Ethereal Veil. Phase spiders are a perfect example of this—a predator with a natural ability to cross the Veil at will. While blink dogs currently teleport directly from point to point, I like to take their name literally and imagine them darting through the Veil, if only for a moment.
Night Hags are another possible threat. Along with their nightmares, these fiends have always had free access to the Veil. Every night hag has at least one sanctum hidden in the Ethereal Veil, and most have left other markers and monuments scattered around it. An old iron lantern hidden in the veil might monitor dreams, calling to the hag who forged it when there’s something worthy of attention. A monolith might be a cache where a hag stores the (literal) nightmares she collects—or she might have a stable of equine nightmares hidden in the Veil. Given the vast scope of the Ethereal Veil, adventurers are unlikely to stumble upon hag creations by accident, but night hags can definitely be a source of deadly traps or enigmatic elements waiting to be found across the Veil.
Another traditionally Ethereal-dwelling species are the Ethergaunts. Originally they’re presented as an alien species with an advanced civilization in the Ethereal Plane. Canon lore suggested that they were tied to the Daelkyr. Personally, I’d take a different approach. I don’t want a powerful civilization in the Veil, and the Daelkyr have enough going on. But I love the idea of eerie alien scientists who are watching us from beyond the Veil—who could be in the room with you right now. I love the thought of an Ethergaunt triggering a series of bizarre and seemingly impossible events—a man killed, the pieces of his body discovered in different locked vaults—in pursuit of fear, or even of children’s toys appearing from nowhere as a way to trigger joy. With this in mind, I’d tie the Ethergaunts to Mordain the Fleshweaver. Mordain never leaves Blackroot. But I love the idea that he’s created a corps of agents who are active all over the world… but active on the other side of the Veil. I love the idea of a man being questioned about an impossible murder, and when the Medani inquisitve casts see invisibility they are shocked by the hideous creature watching the interrogation from across the Veil. And the point of this approach is that each ethergaunt has its own task. It’s not introducing another organized enemy; it’s an army of invisible terrors, each pursuing a unique and unpredictable goal as they gather data for their creator. The final piece of this puzzle is how Mordain created the ethergaunts. Were they made from raw materials? Or did Mordain kidnap Orien heirs—beneath their armor, do ethergaunts have a bizarrely evolved form of the Mark of Passage?
Beyond this, part of the role of the Veil is to be undiscovered and unknown. It is as vast as the reality itself, and there may be powers within it that humanity has simply never encountered. It’s an alien world waiting to be discover that is all around us, just beyond what our eyes can see.
All this deals with the broad swath of the Veil, the gray shadow of the reality. But there are places where the Ethereal takes a more concrete form; the two most common of these are Haunts and Borders.
ETHEREAL HAUNTS
As described in this article, most ghosts in Eberron are “souls trapped between Eberron and Dolurrh, driven to complete their unfinished business or held fast by emotions or memories they can’t let go. While they have at least some of their memories from life, most ghosts aren’t fully aware of their condition or the passage of time, and they generally can’t retain new information.” Let’s call these restless spirits lingering ghosts.
When a lingering ghost is bound to a location—typically due to traumatic events that occurred there—it resides in the Ethereal Veil. Most such ghosts aren’t aware of the passage of time. They linger in the ether until something pulls them across the Veil, typically something tied to the anchors keeping them from Dolurrh. Most of the time, a lingering ghost simply drifts through the shadows of the Ethereal Veil, endlessly retracing its steps until something triggers a reaction. However, a lingering ghost driven by exceptionally powerful emotions or memories can reshape the Veil, imposing its own memories upon the the shadows of reality. So it may be that the ir’Halan Manor is a crumbling ruin stripped by looters long ago—but if a warlock blinks into the Veil, they find themselves in a vibrant replica of ir’Halan Manor at its height. There’s a fire in the hearth, music in the air, and guests mingling and murmuring. This is a Haunt—a recreation of the night that Lady ir’Halan was betrayed and murdered. It’s here that her ghost dwells, endlessly recreating that final night. Ethereal travelers can interact with objects and effects that are part of the Haunt; someone who blinks into the memory of ir’Halan Manor will find that they can’t walk through the walls and that normal gravity is in effect, and that they can take a drink from the waiter passing by. However, for the most part the elements of a Haunt are only real within the Veil. A traveler can take a drink from a waiter and they can savor the flavor of it… but when they blink back to reality, the glass fades from their hand and the wine itself fades from their system. In many ways it’s like a powerful illusion; a popular arcane theory asserts that many illusion spells function by shaping the Veil and pulling it into reality. But while you’re in the Veil, a haunt seems real.
The classic Haunt is tied to a single ghost; if that ghost is destroyed or laid to rest, the Veil will return to its gray shadow of reality. However, a Haunt can also be shaped by a mass surge of emotions or pain so powerful that they leave psychic scars on reality. The site of a massacre, a prisoner of war camp, an orphanage… all of these can leave Haunts on the other side of the Veil. Where the ghost Haunts often perfectly recreate a moment from the past, traumatic Haunts are often more surreal. If you’re in the ruins of a village destroyed by brutal soldiers during the Last War, the Haunt on the other side of the Veil could be haunted by shadowy creatures that blend the traits of Brelish soldier and beast, using the statistics of worgs; the Veil remembers the terror and brutality, not the precise details. As with ghost Haunts, traumatic haunts feel real to people who enter the Veil; travelers can’t move through objects, people can’t walk through the air, and threats can inflict real damage.
While Haunts are usually tied to locations, a lingering ghost can also be tied to an object… or even to a particular event, such as a song. In such instances the ghost won’t completely transform the Veil, but it will leak elements of its anchoring trauma into the environment.
See invisibility is a 2nd level spell and allows the caster to peer beyond the Veil. As such, it’s an important tool for mediums and exorcists; as it’s a gift of the Mark of Detection, House Medani inquisitives may be called in to investigate suspected Haunts.
Beyond ghosts and trauma, there’s another force that can create Haunts within the Veil: the Overlords of the First Age. An unbound overlord can shape reality; a bound overlord might reshape the Veil in its image. The most logical place for this would be around an Overlord’s prison. If you cross the Veil near the prison of the Wild Heart, you might find that the echoes of the woods are not only solid but writhing and aggressive. The Veil in the vicinity of one of Rak Tulkhesh’s prison shards might be stained with blood and the refuse of recent battle… a foreshadowing of Rak Tulkhesh’s desires. Another possibility is that the devotions of a Cult of the Dragon Below could channel the influence of their overlord to shape the Veil in their place of power. Sul Khatesh’s Court of Shadows imagine a magical kingdom that exists beyond the world; it could be that through their devotion, a powerful chapter of the Court could create this shadow-kingdom on the other side of the Veil. If so, the question is whether Sul Khatesh allows her cultists to cross the Veil, or if they simply have the ability to SEE these umbral spires rising behind reality when others cannot. In a twist—in part because otherwise it would be all too easy for House Medani to monitor cults—in my campaign Overlord Haunt effects can’t be seen by see invisibility, though true seeing will reveal their presence; just as rakshasa resist low level spells, the influence of the overlords isn’t so easily revealed.
Lingering Ghosts and Shades
Lingering ghosts usually don’t know that they’re ghosts. They linger because they’re trapped in a particular moment or by a powerful anchor, and they interpret all events through that emotional lens. Often when dealing with adventurers, a lingering ghost will fixate on one or more adventurers who bear some similarity to characters from their own personal drama—recognizing the bard as the lover who spurned them, or the rogue as the cousin who ruined them—and completely ignore the other adventurers. They generally can’t be reasoned with and simply won’t hear things that don’t fit their narrative. Persuasion and Intimidation often have little impact on them, because they essentially can’t change their minds… unless the speaker is actually invoking part of the ghost’s story, in which case a check might have advantage.
Lingering ghosts can use the standard ghost stat block from the Monster Manual, but they aren’t visible on the material plane while in the Veil; there could be lingering ghosts around you right now, but you’ll never know unless something pulls them across the Veil. Also, because lingering ghosts don’t know they’re ghosts, they don’t always take full tactical advantage of their capabilities in combat. They may use Horrifying Visage instinctively, manifesting their horrifying visage in a moment of anguish or rage. Possession is often used to seize control of an adventurer who has some similarities to the ghost’s living form; the ghost doesn’t recognize that they are possessing someone and believes the body is their own. However, the classic ghost stat block is only a starting point. Depending on the ghost’s scenario and the strength of its anguish, it could be a simple poltergeist or even something as powerful as a dullahan. While the core stat blocks are a good place to start, part of what makes encounters with lingering ghosts interesting is to vary them based on the story and unique nature of the ghost.
- To harm the ghost, you must recreate the circumstances of its original death. The man who died in fire might be immune to all damage types except fire. A ghost who died in a fateful duel could be immune to all physical damage except from rapiers, and vulnerable to damage from the rapier that actually killed them. If a ghost has such extreme resistances, you might reduce the power of its withering touch—adventurers will need time to realize their attacks aren’t working and find an effective solution.
- The ghost can’t attack as an action. Instead, it has three legendary actions it can use to attack an enemy who attacks it. It can taunt and provoke, but if people simply ignore it, it can’t initiate violence.
- Instead of targeting everyone within 60 feet, apply the effects of Horrifying Visage to victims of the ghost’s physical attack. When the ghost touches a target, the victim has a flash of its anchoring trauma; this is what causes the fear. The aging effect could be removed or reduced to 1d4 years per attack, reflecting the sheer shock to the victim’s system.
- The ghost has no physical attack, Horrifying Visage, or Possession. However, it can cast phantasmal killer at will, drawing the victim into the nightmare of the ghost’s own death. It will typically focus on one person at a time, ignoring all others while it psychically crushes its chosen victim.
- Instead of Possession, the ghost has the power to draw a single victim into the Ethereal Veil. The victim’s physical body remains on the material plane, but their consciousness and likeness are pulled into the Veil, where they can interact with it as if they were physically present. So the victim’s companions can see the character struggling with an unknown foe, but they can’t perceive the ghost or interact with it in any way.
- Instead of Possession, the ghost can cast dream, targeting creatures across the Veil. It may target someone it identifies with, forcing them to suffer visions of the ghost’s demise, or it could target someone it blames for its tragedy.
- Rather than inflicting necrotic damage, a ghost’s attack could reflect something about their life. A duelist could inflict slashing damage with a spectral rapier; a pyromancer could inflict fire damage with a burning touch; a spurned lover could inflict psychic damage, literally breaking the heart of their victim.
Taking a scenario like the ir’Halan manor, the house may appear to be full of people, and the people in these crowd scenes aren’t full ghosts. They’re shades, memories plucked from the life of the lingering ghost. Often shades have no real existence. They’re essentially manifestations of the phantasmal force spell. Any direct attack or defense against such a shade should be resolved with a Wisdom saving throw against the spell DC of the lingering ghost; a shade’s attack deals 1d6 psychic damage. More potent shades could use the statistics of a shadow or a poltergeist; alternately, they could use the statistics of other creatures (such as the worg-soldiers in the massacre haunt). Like the lingering ghost, shades are bound to play out their roles and may not use abilities they possess if they don’t fit their role in the story.
A Haunt reflects the anchors that are binding the ghost to the world, which may not be related to the actual moment of their death. The ir’Halan manor scenario may reflect the night Lady ir’Halan was murdered, but the haunted Cannith foundry may reflect the day that Castar d’Cannith murdered his father or ruined his partner; even if Castar died a natural death, it’s his intense guilt over what he did in the foundry that binds him to the world. In dealing with anchors, consider the following questions.
- Was the ghost the victim in the scenario—they were murdered, financially ruined, framed for a crime they didn’t commit? Or are they anchored by guilt for the wrongs they inflicted on others?
- If the ghost was a victim, do they want bloody revenge? If they don’t want blood, do they want the wrongdoer to feel remorse or to publicly acknowledge what was done? Or do they just want the truth to be known by the general public?
- If the ghost was a perpetrator, do they want to make reparations for the crimes that they committed? Do they want the truth to be known? Or do they refuse to acknowledge that they have done something wrong, and they actually want any lingering evidence of their guilt to be wiped out?
- Another option is that the ghost died with a task unfinished. This could be very concrete—a letter that was never delivered, an arcane experiment that was never completed, a buried treasure that was supposed to be found. Or it could be more abstract—they wanted a town to prosper, a child to have a good home.
Loosening an anchor could be a task for an altruistic group of adventurers who want to lay a ghost to rest. However, it can also simply be used to set the tone and parameters of a haunt. A murdered many may not be able to rest until the entire family line of his murderer has been exterminated. The adventurers may consider this extreme and ruthless desire to be vile and cruel; the point is that the ghost’s haunt may reflect their hunger for bloody vengeance, and if one of the player characters is part of the murderer’s bloodline, it could drive the story.
THE BORDER ETHEREAL
The material plane is influenced by all of the other planes. Where this influence is especially strong, you find manifest zones. Traits of the outer plane bleed into the material, and planar energies may produce unusual flora or fauna. However, often manifest zones aren’t obvious to the naked eye. It’s the influence of Syrania that makes it possible for the towers of Sharn to scrape the sky, but if you never try flying, you might never notice its effects.
This changes when you cross the Veil. Where another plane touches the material, you’ll find the Border Ethereal—a dramatic blending of the two realms. The Border Ethereal generally reflects the reality of the material plane in its layout and structure; when you blink into the Veil from a tower in Sharn, you’ll still be in a tower with roughly the same shape. But the cliffs over the Dagger are now formed of thick cloudstuff. The towers themselves are formed of crystal and mist. You can see shadow angels circling in the skies, along with whorls of living cloud-stuff (the minor air elementals mentioned on page 152 of Rising From The Last War).
Likewise, imagine a Fernian manifest zone in the King’s Forest of Breland. In the material plane, this stretch of jungle is unseasonably warm and prone to flash fires. But when you cross the veil, you find that same forest, except that the trees are always on fire and yet never consumed. Mephits leap from tree to tree, delighting in the flames. While the trees are never consumed, their flames will burn any travelers who touch them, and the stifling heat is deadly to mortals.
In short, the Border Ethereal takes on some of the elements of the traditional Feywild (Thelanian Borders) and Shadowfell (Borders with Dolurrh or Mabar), while adding a host of other blended realms. However, the stories of the Border Ethereal are smaller in scope and scale than the stories of the planes; you might make a deal with a terrifying hag in a Thelanian Border, but if you want to deal with an archfey or dance in the Palace of the Moon, you need to go to Thelanis itself.
You can use any of the methods described in Breaching the Veil to reach a Border, but sometimes there are other options unique to the manifest zone. Dance in the ring of mushrooms when Rhaan is full and you might end up on the other side of the Veil. Sacrifice something you love in fire, and your grief might drag you across the Fernian border. These passages shouldn’t be easy—it’s not like the locals should have regular commerce with the Border Ethereal—and most zones don’t have them, but they can provide ways for adventurers to have an adventure across the Veil without having to spend a fortune on oil of etherealness, and a way to have a taste of the planes without entirely leaving home.
Denizens of the Border Ethereal
One of the major things that distinguishes the Border Ethereal from the planes they’re connected to are the inhabitants. The Border Ethereal resembles a blend of the two planes, and people can see shadows of the inhabitants on both sides of the veil. In the example given above, the angels that can be seen in the skies of the Border Ethereal in Sharn aren’t present in the border; they’re shadowy images of the denizens of Syrania, flying through their own skies. The borders of Shavarath appear war-torn and you may see misty images of conscripts and fiends, but the damage you see in the environment around you wasn’t actually caused by recent action. So for the most part, the Border Ethereal is empty and relatively safe for travelers. However, there are exceptions.
- Anchors. Some Ethereal Borders are home to an anchoring entity, who plays the same basic role as a lingering ghost does with a haunt. This is usually a powerful immortal from the associated plane, but it’s rarely one of the most powerful beings in that plane. A Mabaran Border could be held by a Ultroloth servant of the Empress of Shadows, or a powerful banshee sworn to the Queen of All Tears. A forested Thelanian border might be bound to the tragic story of an exceptional dryad who is a daughter of the Forest Queen, but you won’t find the Forest Queen herself on the Border. A Lamannian Border might be anchored by a massive megafauna beast, while a powerful beholder might watch the world from the Border Ethereal. If it’s possible to pass through a border, the Anchor Lord may control the passage. Anchor lords typically can’t leave their borders, but those with an interest in the material might well recruit mortal agents; this could be an interesting, smaller-scale patron for a warlock, if a campaign is based in a particular region.
- Denizens. Sometimes Borders will have a small population of native creatures from the associated plane. Mabaran Borders are often home to shadows, and sometimes when powerful undead are destroyed in Mabaran zones they linger in the Veil instead of going directly to the Endless Night; a slain vampire might continue to haunt their castle as a wraith in the Border Ethereal. Restless souls can linger on the edge of Dolurrh. A Thelanian Border might have a small population of native sprites… and a Xoriat Border may be home to aberrations. Again, Borders generally aren’t crowded, and the natives will be outnumbered by the misty reflections of the people on the material plane… but some are inhabited.
- Shades. As with Haunts, Borders can manifest illusions relating to their story—creatures that seem so real that they can inflict slight damage, but which have no ongoing existence or logical ecology surrounding them.
- Travelers. Especially in a Border with no Anchor, it’s always possible you’ll encounter other travelers. Set aside Night Hags, Chamber observers, Lords of Dust, or Ethergaunts and you could still find Orien heirs or Royal Eyes of Aundair using the latest tools from the Guild of Endless Doors to spy across the Veil. But in general the Ethereal Veil is a place you pass through—not a place where mortals dwell.
Passing Through
The Ethereal Veil extends from the plane its attached to, but no farther. There’s no Deep Ethereal, no curtains to other planes; the Astral Plane is the primary corridor for travel. However, the Borders are where planes come together, and it may be possible to move between material and the connected planes in such places. Anchor Lords often have the power to open passages for travelers. Otherwise, passages are often well hidden and may require particular actions to open. There might be a gate of rusted iron in a Shavarath Border that only opens when blood is spilled in anger, or a clearing in Thelanis that provides passage when adventurers tell the story of their destination.
The Effects of the Planes
Typically the Border Ethereal resembles the overlapping region in the Material Plane—the material foundation—transformed to reflect the influence of the outer plane. The Lamannian Border of a city will be overgrown; the Shavaran Border of a city will be shattered by war. The misty echoes of the creatures of the material plane can be seen moving around, and occasionally echoes of extraplanar beings can be seen as well.
A crucial feature of the Border Ethereal is that its structures are solid. Explorers can’t walk through the burning trees of a forest in a Fernian Border, or the fortified walls of a Shavaran Border. Gravity is also usually in effect in Borders, so people can’t walk through the air. Here’s a few elements you could find in the Border Ethereal; the planar traits referred to are described in Exploring Eberron.
- DAANVI. Angles feel sharper. People naturally move to an underlying rhythm; the Plane of Truth and No Chance properties (ExE) are usually in effect. Structures or plants may be formed from metal, perfect and precise. Anything naturally chaotic—the patterns of ivy, clouds—are structured and reliable. Misty images of marching modrons can occasionally be seen.
- DAL QUOR. The destruction of Crya severed Dal Quor’s direct connections to the material plane, and just as there are no manifest zones, there’s no Border Ethereal between Dal Quor and Eberron.
- DOLURRH. At a glance, the Border of Dolurrh looks just like the rest of the Ethereal Veil—a grey echo of the material plane, perhaps with a little more mist clinging to the edges. Shades often linger in Dolurrhi borders. Some are husks whose memories have been stripped away, vague grey outlines of people. Others are the spirits of people who have recently died in the area—not so restless as to become lingering ghosts, yet still clinging to the world, unwilling to slip away. Like lingering ghosts, such spirits usually can’t comprehend their situation—but they know they have somewhere to be, something to do. The Dolurrh Border is a dangerous place; the Eternal Entrapment and Inevitable Ennui traits are in effect, and anyone who lingers too long can get trapped forever.
- FERNIA. First and foremost, FIRE. Things burn without being consumed. Bodies of water may be replaced by magma or pure fire. Obsidian, brass, and igneous stone are common materials, and the air may be filled with smoke and ash. The Deadly Heat property of Fernia is in effect.
- IRIAN. The Pure Light property of Irian means that there’s no darkness in an Irian Border. Colors are bright and cheerful. Plants and wildlife appear healthy and vibrant, and things seem fresh and new. Most Irian zones also have the Life Triumphant property; it’s a good place to take shelter when you’re pursued by undead.
- KYTHRI. A Kythri border has a general resemblance to its material inspiration, but it’s always slowly changing. As one element drifts further away from the aspect of the material that cast it, another will drift back toward it; so again, overall, it resembles the material plane but is constantly shifting. Building materials are constantly in flux; if there’s a row of houses, one might be made from stone and another made from straw; give it an hour and they could both be made from hard candy. The Kythri border has the Constant Change and The Odds Are Odd properties.
- LAMANNIA. Natural features are exaggerated and weather effects are more dramatic. If the border is in an urbanized area, it will resemble the Titan’s Folly layer of Lamannia: buildings will be overgrown, with roots cracking foundations and nature reclaiming the land. Even if there are no denizens in the Border, shadows of massive beasts can be seen moving through the land. It has the Primordial Matter property of Lamannia.
- MABAR. The Eternal Shadows and Necrotic Power properties of Mabar can be felt in the Border Ethereal, consuming bright light and bolstering undead. The landscape resembles the material foundation, but plants are withered and dying and structures are decrepit and crumbling; it’s a vision of ruin and entropy. Shadows congregate in Mabaran Borders, often following the movements of people in the material world; sometimes their movements can be seen in mortal shadows.
- RISIA. Everything is either formed from ice or encrusted with it. Liquids are frozen. Risian Borders have the Lethal Cold and Stagnation effects. There are rarely any creatures in a Risian Border; it is cold and empty.
- SHAVARATH. Imagine the world at war. The Border resembles its material foundation, but cast through the lens of a bitter, prolonged conflict. Some buildings are ruined, others are fortified. There are craters and smoldering fires. While occasionally there are shades battling or misty visions of fiends and angels, more often than not it feels like an active war zone, as though the enemy could strike at any moment, but no one ever does. This Border has the Bloodletting property of Shavarath.
- SYRANIA. Syranian Borders take different forms, reflecting the aspects of the plane that manifest in the connected zone. In the Border of Sharn, the Unburdened property is in effect and all creatures can fly; as mentioned earlier, structures are formed of crystal and mist and animate clouds drift around. Another Border might be more grounded, but have the Gentle Thoughts and Universal Understanding properties, allowing all spoken languages to be understood.
- THELANIS. Every Thelanian Border has a story, and builds on the material foundation to sell that story. In one forest, the woods may grow darker and deeper, promising that wolves and far deadlier things lurk just off the path; in another forest, the trees may be full of dancing lights, with misty images of satyrs dancing in the groves. A city may become more beautiful and magical, or it could seem cruel and oppressive if the driving story is one of a bitter tyrant. The story of the Border will be well known to anyone who lives in the region. In the case of the bitter tyrant, the actual rulers may take pains not to resemble the cruel leader of the tale… or it may be that the Border seeps into reality and drives the locals to be cruel. Storybook Logic is in effect, and where there are fey, Words Have Power.
- XORIAT. There is no predicting what a Xoriat border will look like, but it’s always strange and usually disturbing. One Xoriat border may perfectly resemble its material foundation until you realize that all the structures are actually made of flesh and blood; the buildings quiver when you approach, and that low moan isn’t the wind. In another, writhing tentacles stretch up from the earth, burrowing through buildings and grasping any travelers who come to close. Mirrors ripple and reveal unpleasant truths. Colors are disturbing and gravity is unreliable; the Strange Reality property of Xoriat is always in effect.
WHAT ABOUT…
- The Plane of Shadow? In my campaign, the Ethereal Veil and the Plane of Shadow are two different words for the same thing. The Feywild is a term that could be used to describe Thelanian Borders, while the Shadowfell could describe Mabaran or Dolurrhi borders.
- Plane Shift? The spell Plane Shift can’t transport you to the Ethereal Veil, as it’s not a plane.
- Secret Chest? The spell Secret Chest is tied to the Astral Plane, not the Ethereal Veil—as previous discussed in the Subspace section of the Astral Plane article. In general, Ethereal travel takes you sideways to your current location. Any magical effect that creates a new extradimensional space or that connects planes together should be tied to the Astral Plane.
- Wild Zones? The Wild Zones of Sarlona are exceptionally powerful manifest zones—often described as planar beachheads. My personal inclination is that Wild Zones don’t have Ethereal Borders—that the reason they are wild is that the Border Ethereal normally acts as a buffer between the planes, but has here collapsed and fused them directly together. This reflects a dramatic breakdown of the cosmic design and I’d also say it’s the source of the Reality Storms—raging surges of planar energy. How could such a thing happen? It’s a mystery, but it could well be tied to the Sarlonan Overlord Ran Iishiv the Unmaker, infamously driven to tear down reality; the Unmaker may have begun this process by tearing away the Ethereal Veil.
- The Radiant Citadel? In my campaign, I’d put the Radiant Citadel in the Astral Plane. Personally, I’d make the civilizations of the Citadel legacies of previous incarnations of the Material Plane, just like Githberron. A key question would be if all or some of the civilizations came from the same world, or if each one comes from a different echo of the current reality. It could well be that the Citadel offered sanctuary to the Githyanki, but they spurned it. If I went with this approach, another important question would be the role of the Concord Jewels. Does each jewel hold a preserved version of the civilization even though its world has been lost? Or do the civilizations now only exist in the Citadel itself, while the Jewels take you to the broken worlds that are lost in the Maze of Realities?
That’s all for now! If you’d like to ask me questions on this or other topics, check out my Patreon! And thanks to my patrons for making these articles possible.
Dragonmarks: Muskets in Eberron, 2024 Edition
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?
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.
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
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!