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Dragonmark: Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol

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‘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!

IFAQ: What Is Elven Trance?

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A masculine elf stares at the symbol of the Silver Flame.

When time permits, I like to answer questions from my Patrons… questions like this:

In Eberron, what do elves experience during their trance?

In my campaign, I like to highlight the fact that elves aren’t just humans with pointed ears. This isn’t about making elves exceptional; it’s about emphasizing that they are an alien species that differ from humanity in deep and fundamental ways. I want to explore what it means to have Fey Ancestry, and how that explains some of their other traits, including their long lifespan. With that in mind, let’s review the mechanical definition of Trance. All elves have the following trait:

Trance. You don’t need to sleep, and magic can’t put you to sleep. You can finish a Long Rest in 4 hours if you spend those hours in a trancelike meditation, during which you retain consciousness.

The Player’s Handbook further notes that elves “don’t sleep but instead enter a trance when they need to rest. In that state, they remain aware of their surroundings while immersing themselves in memories and meditations.”

There’s two things that stand out to me. First of all, an elf remains fully conscious and aware of their surroundings while they trance. They can’t take other activities during their trance, but they are aware of everything going on around them. Second, this provides them with all of the benefits of a long rest… including healing. This brings up something that’s important to me, which is that different species can apply different cosmetic filters to shared mechanics. Warforged heal fully by taking a long rest. But they don’t sleep while resting, and I’ve always described their process of healing as the warforged engaging in minor repairs. A human sleeps and allows their body’s natural healing processes to occur… while a warforged spends that same time hammering out dents in their armor plating and mending severed root tendrils. Both emerge from the long rest fully healed; but the cosmetic details of HOW they healed can be different. Keeping this in mind, I’ve also already said that I’d allow elves to change gender during a long rest.

So consider this. The fey of Thelanis are stories made manifest. Elves are flesh and blood, mortal creatures of Eberron. But they have Fey Ancestry; the essence of Thelanis is within them. In my campaign, what an elf does in trance is to reflect on their own story and how it has changed since yesterday. On a practical level they meditate on their memories and emotions and reflect on the events of the day. On a magical, instinctive level they are comparing their body to their subconscious self-image and changing it to match that image. The article above suggests that this is how an elf changes gender; their physical gender is a manifestation of their current sense of self. This same idea could manifest in other ways. Eye, hair, and skin color could all change based on an elf’s emotional state and a significant change to their story. A particular elf could have golden eyes and silver hair most of the time… but when they are deeply angry their hair could become fiery red; and when they suffer an intense loss and are mourning, their eyes and hair could become colorless. This concept extends to physical healing. An elf gets the full benefits of a long rest through four hours of meditation, because their body resets to its ideal state. With this in mind, I’d suggest that elves only get lasting scars as a reflection of trauma as opposed to physical injury. When an elf heals from a wound, it heals perfectly—unless the injury has deeper meaning in the mind of the elf. So an elf can bounce back from a serious wound in a battle that meant nothing to them with no sign of the injury… but a scratch in a duel with a hated rival could leave a dramatic scar that no magic can remove, at least until the elf gets over the incident.

A side effect of this is that it explains the long lifespan of an elf. As I’ve said before, I see elves maturing physically and mentally at about the same pace as humans. It’s that when an elf reaches what they instinctively consider to be their ideal state, they stop aging—or more accurately, they reset to that ideal age when they trance. This also allows for interesting variety in apparent age regardless of actual age. One elf could be only a century old but have deep lines and gray hair, while another could be six hundred years old but could have an appearance a human would see as that of a teenager; it’s about how the elf views themself. A key point here is that by default this is subconcious and instinctive. This is what differentiates an elf from a changeling. I suggested that a particular elf might have flaming red hair when they are deeply angry. But that change only happens when they trance and won’t change until they trance again… and further, they didn’t consciously choose the color and couldn’t have made it purple instead. Their emotional state has a physical manifestation. Furthermore, the whole point is that this varies from elf to elf—as in the young elf that appears to be old because they feel old versus the old elf who is young at heart and therefore young in form. If an elf has a stable sense of self, they won’t change dramatically from day to day; when they do, it’s likely to be small things like eye color. Tairnadal elves likely develop some physical traits that make them resemble their patron ancestor, but they wouldn’t just become a duplicate of the ancestor, because they are still unique individuals and their appearance reflects that. Likewise, an elf doesn’t consciously choose to heal and they don’t get to DECIDE if a wound leaves a scar; it’s a reflection of their subconscious and emotional state. Having said all of that, an elf adventurer could use class abilities to reflect this innately magical nature. I could see an elf Archfey warlock who presents their patron as their story of themself, a sort of twist on Blood of Vol beliefs; their Mask of Many Faces reflects their absolute control of their sense of self. And to be absolutely clear about this, this isn’t intended to give elf characters any sort of mechanical advantage; it is a purely cosmetic concept. In suggesting that this is how elves heal, it is still limited to the benefits of a long rest. If an elf loses a limb, they don’t get to grow it back by taking a long rest; like it or not, their story has changed. Likewise, they can’t shake off diseases; they simply get the benefits of a long rest in a different way than a human does. The whole idea is to emphasize that they’re not human—that they are creatures of a fundamentally magical world, still tied to fey. If an elf starts to feel old for some reason, they will start to look old. Their appearance is based on their story and how they see themselves.

Which brings us all the way back to the original question… What do elves experience during their trance? Again, an elf remains conscious and aware of their surroundings during their trance. It’s not a dream. In my vision it’s about reflecting and remembering—reflecting on the events of the day, remembering key moments of the past, and comparing the two. An elf fighter remembers both their martial training and their greatest moments in battle and compares them to recent conflicts. An elf wizard remembers learning to cast fireball and reflects on the sensation of channeling evocation magic. Religious elves reflect on lessons, proverbs, and moments that established and defined their faith; Tairnadal reflect on the deeds of their patron ancestors. But trancing elves also remember moments from childhood, conversation with loved ones, their greatest accomplishments and tragedies… they tell their story to themselves.

Again, I’ll emphasize that most healthy adult elves have a pretty strong sense of self and this is reflected by a fairly stable appearance from day to day; shifts in appearance are often reliable, IE “When Raevan is feeling sad, her hair is jet black.” But it could be that elves can suffer from a dramatic form of bed head—that an elf who’s troubled might have difficulty trancing and that this would manifest in a disheveled appearance! But generally speaking, the changes that would occur in this way wouldn’t be so dramatic that a friend of the elf wouldn’t recognize them. The core of an elf’s self-image won’t usually change overnight; it’s little details that will change.

Elves don’t HAVE to sleep and dream… but CAN they?

This is open to interpretation. The 2024 PHB says “they don’t sleep but instead enter a trance when they need to rest”; to me, this implies that it’s not a choice, it’s a biological fact about elves. This is reinforced by the fact that magic cannot put an elf to sleep, which again implies that sleep is just not a concept that applies to them. The counter argument is that the Trance trait states “You don’t NEED to sleep” which could imply “… But you can.” In my campaign, I say that elves can’t sleep, and even when unconscious they don’t dream. This is a plot point in my novel The Gates of Night, in which a drow adventurer can’t go to Dal Quor with her companions because she doesn’t dream. As a DM there’s lots of ways to overcome this for purposes of an adventure—rituals, relics, potions—notably, in that same novel, the warforged uses an artifact to join their companions in the dream. But by default, in my campaign elves cannot dream. In my opinion this further supports the overall stagnation of Aereni society—the fact that the people of the Five Nations have made tremendous advances over the last few centuries while Aerenal hasn’t changed much over the last few thousand years. Trance is a way for elves to reflect, but it’s unlikely to produce entirely unexpected moments of inspiration as dreams can. And also, trancing elves don’t get ideas dropped in their heads by night hags or quori…

How is this different for eladrin, with their connection to the seasons?

Eladrin seasonal transformation is a key part of this idea. What we suggested in Fourth Edition was that the ancestors of the elves were eladrin refugees from the destruction of Shae Tirias Tolai, and that between the forces the giants unleashed in that attack and generations in the mundane world, the descendants of the survivors adapted to the material plane, becoming elves. The eladrin have a seasonal affinity that provides them with a magical gift—and eladrin of different seasons are typically depicted with dramatically different appearances that reflect their season. Eladrin trance instead of sleeping, and can change their season after completing a long rest. So this is the point: the ancestors of the elves could and would undergo dramatic physical transformations while trancing. What I’m suggesting here is that the elves of Eberron still maintain an aspect of this. Unlike the eladrin there’s no mechanical impact, and the physical changes are usually more subtle; but it speaks to idea of fey ancestry, that elves are still fundamentally magical beings shaped by story.

With that in mind, how is the eladrin trance different from the elf trance? The key to me is that the eladrin are more fey, less tied to the material world, and that one aspect of this is, frankly, that their stories are less complex and thus more fluid. The point of Thelanis is that its stories are often iconic… and I’ve also called out that the fey of Thelanis are often largely untouched by the passage of time, being swept away by their stories and their passions. An eladrin shifting from Summer to Winter is experiencing BIG FEELINGS and a dramatic change from wild joy to cold gloom. While trancing, an eladrin thinks less about specific moments and more about grand feelings. Essentially, I’d play eladrin as being far more mercurial and dramatic than most mortals, and that’s reflected in that shifting. By contrast, elves have become more mortal. The story of an individual elf—let’s say a Phiarlan actress who’s moonlighting as a spy for the Serpentine Table, but who’s torn between her love for a Brelish soldier devoted to his nation and her job to unearth Brelish secrets—isn’t as simple as SUMMER and WINTER. And thus the shifts in appearance are themselves far more subtle. The question is both whether it’s possible for an elf to become an eladrin with the proper experiences, or whether conversely an eladrin could become an elf—or whether (as was the case historically) it’s a slow process that requires generations and can’t be easily undone.

Would you say the same can be applied to Drow? Seeing as they are descended from eladrin too, do they trance in the same way like elves do?

So let’s take a moment to consider the drow. By the current rules they are an Elven Lineage option. Aside from the benefits of this Elven Lineage, they are mechanically identical to other elves. So yes, they have Fey Ancestry and they Trance, and I’d say that this trance serves the same general function: reflecting and reinforcing their identity, as well as restoring their health and energy. But what exactly makes a drow different from an elf? I said that hair, skin, and eye color could all change due to trance—could a wood elf become a drow in Trance, or vice versa? In my campaign, they couldn’t—because the difference between drow and elf is more than skin deep. From the beginning we said that the Sulat giants created the drow by “infusing elves with the essence of night.” But what does that actually MEAN? I’ve always seen them as forging a connection to Mabar and using that to change the fundamental fey nature of the drow—essentially, changing their story. But there’s two distinct impacts of this connection to Mabar. The first is obvious: Darkness. Mabar consumes light, and drow have superior darkvision and the ability to summon darkness. But the second aspect is because they wanted the drow to be ruthless assassins. I’ve said before that the hunger of Mabar erodes empathy in the undead. The drow don’t need blood like a vampire does, but they have an innate, subconscious instinct to extinguish light and life. Again, this is SUBCONSCIOUS and it’s absolutely something a drow adventurer can suppress. But it’s a supernaturally imposed instinct that fundamentally differentiates a drow from an Aereni elf. The both have Fey Ancestry, but their stories are inherently different. So in my campaign, drow trance, and in that trance they restore their energy and health, and their appearance can shift to match their self-image, just like other elves. But there is an innate bleakness that pervades the reflections of the drow, regardless of what they may consciously choose to meditate upon. Because of this, some drow struggle with depression; most don’t let it slow them down, but it tends to add a grim edge to the average drow. Although, again: this is something any particular drow can overcome. You can have happy, altruistic, optimistic drow; good diet and a regular exercise routine helps! The Umbragen, on the other hand, take this to the next level. Once an Umbragen forms their connection to the Umbra, it is a powerful force within their subconscious that actively erodes empathy and that whispers to them in trance. For the standard drow it’s a subtle thing; for the Umbragen the experience is more like that of a vampire, a shadow that eats away at the light in their spirit.

And on that happy note, that’s all for now! My next article will be on Shae Deseir and the Line of Vol. I’m also going to be running two sessions of a 4E Eberron adventure for my patrons this weekend, and any Threshold patron can apply to play in a session—if that sounds like fun, check out my Patreon!

Monsters of Eberron: Quaggoths and the Gaa’aram

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The Quaggoth as depicted in the 2014 Monster Manual

Frontiers of Eberron is out on the DM’s Guild, and I’m going to be writing some supplemental articles tied to Quickstone and the Western Frontier over the next few weeks. But I also answer questions for my patrons on Patreon. And every now and then, something that SEEMS like an obscure question takes on a life of its own. Case in point: “What’s the role of quaggoths in Eberron?” And if you don’t care about quaggoths, there’s another way to use these concepts — consider the Gaa’aram! 

Now,  I’ve never actually SEEN a quaggoth. But I’ll tell you a story. If you know your history, you know that there wasn’t any sort of indigenous culture on Aerenal when the elves landed there. They didn’t arrive as conquerors or colonizers—they were desperate, starving refugees lucky to escape the destruction of Xen’drik. It was a stroke of good fortune that they found such a fertile, uninhabited realm. 

That’s what history says, and what the typical elf believes. But it’s not quite true. The valleys and fields of the island were uninhabited, yes. The elves came in peace, and as they laid down their roots and raised their walls, all they had to deal with were their own restless dead. But as time passed they spread farther and dug deeper. The line of Tolaen went the deepest of all. The Tolaen were from the evernight jungles of Xen’drik, and they were well used to working with wood. They made a business of lumber, and it’s a path on which they’ve prospered; to this day, it’s the Tolaen who sell soarwood to the gnomes and bronzewood to the smiths. But every path has a beginning. The Tolaen set their sights on the vast jungle they call Jaelarthal Orioth. In this wood they saw a treasure as rich as any dragon’s hoard. But the Moonsword Jungle is deep and wide, so vast that a people could live there for ten thousand years and never be seen by those beyond its edge. And so it was with the quaggoths. They had lived in the deepest part of the Orioth since before elves were elves, minding their own business and taking no interest in the world beyond the woods. Quaggoths are primal creatures on the line between beast and humanoid, more bear than bugbear. They have a simple language and use basic tools, but they are driven by instinct as much as reason. I can’t tell you how the war between Tolaen elf and quaggoth began. It’s easy to imagine it was the Tolaen that struck the first blow. Of all of the Aereni lines, they’ve always been steeped in war; Tolaen champions are as fierce as any Tairnadal. But it could have been the quaggoths who struck first. They’d never encountered any humanoid species before, and the Tolaen came for lumber; the quaggoths might have seen them as alien and abominable, a foe that had to be destroyed at all costs. Most likely the truth lies somewhere between; the quaggoths saw the elves as defilers, and the Tolaen responded to the attack as they would to an assault by giants or dragons. Whoever struck that first blow, it was no fair fight… and once the Tolaen begin a thing, they see it through. By the time the war was over there were no quaggoths living in the Moonsword Jungle. The Tolaen buried the story along with the bones of the quaggoths, and today there is no Tolaen still living that knows the tale; only the dead and the deathless remember it. 

But not all of the quaggoths died in the Jaelarthal Orioth. As their people were falling, a quaggoth clan fled east, making their way to a place where no elf would follow them—the shunned shadows of the Madwood. The roots of that jungle run all the way to Xoriat, and there are cracks and chasms that lead to the heart of Khyber. The soil soaked up the anger and despair of the quaggoths, and it bloomed in the shadows. A pure force of fury flowered in the Madwood, and it flowed into the veins of the quaggoths. Nothing can live in the Madwood for long, and the quaggoths made their way down into the sheltering darkness of Khyber. There they’ve remained for thousands of years. Their pale fur has forgotten the sun, but their hatred still burns bright… and that fury gives them power. 

DRIVEN BY RAGE

While quaggoths have a simple language, they have always possessed an intuitive empathy that allows them to understand one another. The quaggoths who fled into the Madwood were driven by fear and anger—and hatred of the alien abominations who defiled their home and slaughtered their kin. Through that empathetic link they carried all the rage of the quaggoths that had fallen with them into the Madwood, and the power within that place crystalized that into a force with a life of its own. The Quaggoth Rage is a psychic power tied to every quaggoth descended from those original survivors, in much the same way that the kalashtar are tied to their quori spirits. It is not a sentient entity that communicates with the quaggoths; but it is a potent force within their subconscious, burning anger waiting to be unleashed. Young quaggoths learn to contain this rage, so as not to lash out at their own kind—but it is always there, and can be seen when an injured quaggoth enters their Wounded Fury. Usually a wounded quaggoth has an enemy they can focus on; but when there are no enemies, it can be a challenge for the injured quaggoth to control their rage and avoid attacking their own allies. 

Wounded Fury is a trait all quaggoths share. But some quaggoths have a closer connection to the Rage, and can manifest its power in different ways. Some draw on the Rage to strengthen themselves in battle, but others learn to manipulate the rage in subtle ways. These quaggoths are called thonots. They serve as the spiritual leaders and champions of their people, filling the same role as clerics or paladins. But thonots aren’t drawing on a divine force; they are channeling their own ancestral rage, and their supernatural abilities are psionic in nature. The choices of a powerful thonot can shape the direction of an entire quaggoth community. A Thonot can use their gifts to contain the rage of their people, drawing the anger away from them and helping to maintain a stable, peaceful community. On the other hand, an angry thonot can amplify the Rage, broadcasting it through the empathic connection, driving an entire clan to roam as aggressive nomads seeking endless conflict to satiate their bottomless rage. The Rage is, ultimately, directed at elves—but most subterranean quaggoths have never seen an actual elf. Encountering an elf for the first time can be an intense trigger for even the most peaceful quaggoth; they don’t remember the details of what happened to their ancestors, but they feel an intense desire to spill elf blood. 

The Power of Rage

Under the 2014 rules of fifth edition, all quaggoths possess the Wounded Fury trait. In my interpretation, quaggoth champions could draw on the Rage to produce more dramatic effects. Here’s a few abilities a DM could choose to give to an elite quaggoth. I wouldn’t give one quaggoth ALL of these abilities; the point is to have the Rage manifest in different ways and to make quaggoths interesting and unpredictable.  

  • Reckless Attack. When the quaggoth makes an attack roll using Strength they can choose to gain advantage on the roll; if they do so, all attack rolls made against them have advantage until the start of their next turn. 
  • Vengeful Strike. When the quaggoth is struck with a melee attack, they can use their reaction to make a melee attack against the attacker. 
  • Destructive Fury. When the quaggoth makes a successful melee attack, they can enter a state of fury that lasts for one minute or until the quaggoth triggers its Wounded Fury, whichever comes first. While in this state, the quaggoth deals an additional 7 (2d6) damage to any creature it hits with a melee attack, but when it does so it suffers 3 (1d6) damage that cannot be reduced in any way.   
  • Terrifying Blow. When the quaggoth strikes an enemy with a melee attack, they can channel their Rage to strike with devastating force and terrify their foe. If they choose to do so, both the quaggoth and the target suffer an additional 7 (2d6) damage and the target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw (based on the champion’s Strength or Dexterity, default 13) or be frightened of the quaggoth until the end of its next turn. 
  • Psychic Howl. When the quaggoth drops to half its total maximum hit points or below, it can immediately use a reaction to emit a psychic howl of pain and rage. All enemies within 30 feet must make a Wisdom saving throw (based on the champion’s Strength or Dexterity, default 13); those who fail are frightened of the quaggoth until the end of its next turn. 

Thonots, Revisited

The 2014 rules give quaggoth thonots Innate Spellcasting (Psionics). The thonot can cast a number of spells without need for components, using Wisdom as their spellcasting ability. This concept works, but the spells don’t particularly fit my concept of the thonot manipulating or channeling rage. As such, here’s a few different options you could grant to thonots, reflecting different ways of harnessing the Rage. 

  • Forceful. The forceful thonot channels the Rage into telekinetic force. They can cast the following spells: Eldritch Blast, Mage Hand; Entangle, Levitate, Shatter, Shield. When cast in this way, Entangle reflects manifestation of telekinetic threads rather than vines.   
  • Fury. The furious thonot projects the Rage as a telepathic assault, terrifying or paralyzing enemies. They can cast the following spells: True Strike, Vicious Mockery; 1/day Cause Fear, Crown of Madness, Hellish Rebuke, Hold Person. When cast in this way, Hellish Rebuke deals psychic damage. 
  • Empath. The rarest form of thonot, the empath uses their understanding of rage to absorb fury, soothing friend or foe. They can cast the following spells: Guidance, Message; 1/day Calm Emotions, Detect Thoughts, Enthrall, Sanctuary. 

This is a general set of rules for reflecting typical thonots. A more powerful thonot could have an expanded spell selection. Beyond this, powerful thonots could have broader abilities that affect a larger region. A thonot fury might modify the Wounded Fury trait of quaggoth allies to trigger when a quaggoth reaches half its hit points. Less mechanically, it would generally drive the quaggoths around it to aggression; a campaign of quaggoth attacks could be stopped by defeating the thonot enraging the clan. On the other side, a thonot empath might have a permanent sanctuary effect—negated for a round if it takes an aggressive action—and reduce the aggression of quaggoths in its clan. 

Scattered Across The Deep

Quaggoths descended into Khyber long ago and were scattered across its passages and demiplanes. As a result, they could be found almost anywhere. 

  • A quaggoth clan could be found in the Realm Below under one a Mror Holdfast; they could be fighting against aberrations, or they could be enslaved by neogi or illithids and forced to fight the surface dwellers.
  • A clan could be allied with Umbragen drow beneath Xen’drik, perhaps joining forces to fight a Sileus Tairn warclan. 
  • A new village in Aundair or the Eldeen Reaches could be plagued by a series of elf disappearances. The murderer is a quaggoth driven by their ancestral fury, not even truly knowing why they are compelled to kill these pointy-eared softskins; this could be the key that draws the adventurers to uncover the hidden shame of the Line of Tolaen. 
  • Thonots are sensitive to rage and hatred. A thonot could be drawn to the heated emotions of Thaliost. A thonot fury might unintentionally amplify the rage of the locals and trigger greater outbreaks of violence; a thonot empath could create a pocket of peace by consuming the rage, even if the locals don’t know the source of this. 

Part of the idea of the quaggoths is that they initially just appear to be aggressive berserkers, but that if adventurers dig deeper they discover that the quaggoths aren’t driven by simple cruelty or by an overlord, but rather that they are haunted by their own ancestral rage. The quaggoths themselves don’t know their perfect history, but adventurers could find a way to get to the truth and to reveal the ancient crime of the line of Tolaen; there may be Tolaen deathless who took part in the original massacre or even set it in motion. Can the adventurers help settle this ancient injustice? 

No Quaggoths? Meet the Gaa’aram.

The world of Eberron can feel kind of crowded when you start squeezing in every monster that’s ever existed. What I like about the quaggoths is the idea of a species scarred by an ancient trauma that has grown in strength and that they carry with them. Quaggoths are aggressive not because they are evil, but because they are literally haunted by the pain inflicted upon their ancestors. However, there’s another way to use these idea—a culture driven by lingering rage, whose champions and shamans channel its power—without adding a new creature to the mix. Meet the Gaa’aram orcs of Droaam—the “Children of Wrath.” Exploring Eberron says…

The Gaa’aram orcs embraced the chaotic, raiding lifestyle of the Barrens. Where the goblins and kobolds were often enslaved by more powerful creatures, the Gaa’aram voluntarily rallied around the most powerful leaders and served as fierce warriors. To an orc of the Gaa’aram, who you fight for is less important than the fact that you fight and fight well. As such, Gaa’aram orcs were often encountered as raiders; they’re the reason for the name of the Orcbone fortress that guards the Gap of Graywall. Gaa’aram orcs can be found in all of the diverse cities, and they’re passionate supporters both of Droaam and their local warlords. 

The Gaa’aram could adopt all of the ideas suggested here for the quaggoths. Rather than being driven into the depths by the elves, the Gaa’aram were driven to the edge of the Barrens by the Dhakaani. Rather than the Madwood, it was Dyrrn the Corruptor who crystalized their Rage and bound it to them, making them another point of chaos in the final days of the Dhakaani empire. The idea remains that the Gaa’aram are linked to their ancestral Rage; it’s not just that they LIKE fighting, it’s that they cannot contain their own anger; it’s only by directing it outward at enemies that they keep from tearing themselves apart. If I were to use this Quaagoth story for the Gaa’aram, I’d do the following. 

  • I’d add the Wounded Fury trait of the quaggoth to Gaa’aram orcs: While it has 10 hit points or fewer, the gaa’aram has advantage on attack rolls. In addition, it deals an extra 7 (2d6) damage to any target it hits with a melee attack.
  • I’d add thonots to Gaa’aram culture; they could be Vola’Aram, “Wrath Speakers.” I’d likely drop the idea of Gaa’aram empaths, BUT I could see adding mystics with the abilities of the thonot empaths to the OTHER orc culture of Droaam, the peaceful Gaa’ran. A twist would be that the Gaa’ran ALSO feel the Rage but manage to contain it; that they are pacifists because they refuse to give into that burning fury, and that if they began to fight they might not be able to stop. Their secret, essentially, is that they’re always angry. 

As the Gaa’aram are an aggressive part of Droaam and notably make up part of the population of Turakbar’s Fist, this is something you can easily use in a Frontiers of Eberron campaign! 

Why Does It Matter? 

Many of you, like me, may never have used a quaggoth in your campaign and you may wonder why write about quaggoths? As I mentioned above, I like the idea of taking these monsters long depicted as savage beserkers and cannibals and saying that they are in fact driven by ancient injustice and trauma; that they are in some ways prisoners of the pain inflicted upon their ancestors. Beyond that, I like the idea of this parallel to the Kalashtar—that there is a psychic force bound to a humanoid bloodline that can grant them psychic power. And I like the idea of creatures so tied to rage that they can either be drawn to aggression in places like Thaliost—or that, as with the empath, they are so attuned to fury that they have learned to disperse it. Meanwhile, the Gaa’aram have been a part of Droaam since Exploring Eberron. Here again I like the idea that it’s not just that they are a militant culture, but that they are involuntarily tied to this ancestral rage that drives them onward; that if they don’t find an outlet for it, they will essentially explode.

A Gaa’aram orc is an easy option for a player character, if someone chose to explore it. This could be reflected by an orc barbarian, but it could also be a path for any of the psionic subclasses in the 2024 rules, looking to the Rage as the source of their power. Quaggoths don’t exist as a playable species. Aside from their fury, their dominant traits are immunity to poison, a climbing speed, and claw attacks. One option would be to use tabaxi for a quaggoth character; the tabaxi has claws and a climbing speed. The tabaxi’s Feline Agility could be represented as furious adrenaline, or a DM might be willing to exchange it for resistance to poison damage and advantage on poison saving throws. A player character wouldn’t have the Wounded Fury trait, but this could be reflected by a barbarian’s rage. 

So for the thousands of you wondering about the role of quaggoths in Eberron—your long wait is finally over! Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters, who both determine the topics of these articles and make it possible for me to write them—if you want to see more articles like this one, check it out! 

IFAQ: Nonbinary Elves and More About Githberron

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I’m getting ready for PAX Unplugged—more information on that tomorrow—but as time permits I like to answer interesting questions from my Patreon supporters. Questions like…

Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes includes “Blessed of Corellon”—rare elves who can change their sex in a short period of time. How would you incorporate this into Eberron, beyond changing the name to remove the reference to Corellon?

My immediate question is WHY MAKE IT RARE? Why not just make it a standard trait of elves, a reflection of their fey ancestry? Once you do that, I’d just keep in mind that for elves, sex is a form of expression as opposed to an absolute. Some settle on one path that feels natural to them, never using the gift again once they’ve made that choice… or perhaps shifting every century, taking time to explore different paths. Others might shift casually from day to day, reflecting the mood of the moment. Some elves might use it the same way some changelings use personas, developing a set of unique identities and using the one best suited to a particular scenario. A question a DM should consider if incorporating this into the world is whether an elf can only choose from two options, or if there are other forms they can take with this blessing; this might also lead to the Elvish language having a broad range of pronouns.

Personally, I’d keep the core mechanics intact: invoking the blessing requires completion of a long rest and it doesn’t dramatically change the elf’s appearance. It’s a form of personal expression, not a disguise. But with that in mind, and with the idea that people KNOW this about elves, I don’t see why it can’t just be a common trait to all elves. Given that it requires the completion of a long rest and elves trance during a long rest, I’d personally present it as a sort of meditation in which the elf reflects on their self-image and identity, with their physical form shifting to match their thoughts. If it’s something that all elves possess, I’d just call it “The Change” and add it as a trait of the base elf race…

The Change. You may change your sex when you complete a long rest.

In a previous article about obyriths, you said it was possible that “Githberron” had its own overlords and some of them might still exist.

Exploring Eberron presents the idea that the Gith may be the survivors of a previous incarnation of Eberron that was, essentially, wiped and rebooted after being transformed by the daelkyr, which has been refered to in a few places as “Githberron.” What I say in the article is that the Obyriths could be fiends from a prior incarnation of Eberron, but that this wouldn’t have to be Githberron. Here’s the relevant quote from the article:

Exploring suggests that the Gith may be refugees from a previous incarnation of Eberron. An exotic option for the obyriths would be to say that they are fiends from a previous iteration of Khyber… That somehow they escaped into Xoriat and ultimately came to the current incarnation of reality, most likely finding shelter in a shadow demiplane.

This suggests that obyriths may be from “a previous iteration of Khyber”—not necessarily the same one that spawned the Gith. This ties to the idea that the Obyriths are extremely alien—fiends altered by the destruction of their world and by their experiences in Xoriat. The article also calls out that these fiends wouldn’t have heart demiplanes in the current reality, and that while they might be physically immortal they wouldn’t have the true immortality of a native fiend, and a former overlord wouldn’t wield that full power in the current reality.

If Githberron had overlords, did it have its own version of the Silver Flame or some other sealing magic? It’s hard to imagine the Gith’s ancestors being able to build a civilization with unbound overlords running around.

Who knows? The whole point of Githberron is that it’s a previous iteration of reality, one that’s different in substantial ways. There could be a union of celestials much like the Silver Flame, sure. But perhaps in Githberron the heart planes of the Overlords were deeply buried and they never emerged to rule an Age of Demons. Perhaps in Githberron the overlords fought one another so fiercely that they crippled one another. Perhaps a few of the overlords overwhelmed the others and dominate the world in a stable, if fiendish fashion. Perhaps there was a proto-Gith Empress who holds the overlords bound with the awesome psionic power of her unmatched mind. Each one of those is possible, and each would have a very different impact on how the world would evolve.

If there was a celestial binding force in another iteration of reality, do you think this power might still be able to be tapped into by a player character?

Anything’s possible. Githberron presumably had some form of native celestial. It’s possible that some form of native celestial survived that transition. But the point is that it WOULDN’T HAVE THE SAME POWER in this reality that it did in its native reality, because it doesn’t belong here. Just as the Obyriths can be permanently destroyed, the same thing would be true of a Githberron celestial. If it draws too much attention to itself and gets targeted by the Lords of Dust, it could simply be destroyed.

So could there be some sort of lingering celestial that could provide power to a player character? Sure, why not? But it wouldn’t be remotely on the same level of power as the Silver Flame, and it would carry the risk that it could be destroyed if the actions of the player character draw attention to it. I could imagine, for example, using this as the basis for a Aasimar cleric or paladin, saying that their divine power comes from THEIR PERSONAL CELESTIAL—but that it’s a small enough well of power that it couldn’t support other clerics or paladins beyond them, and that there’s a very real risk that it could be destroyed. Frankly, I think this could be a fun story to explore—what does the paladin do when their divine power source is literally extinguished by the Lords of Dust?—but I’d want to match sure the player was prepared for that to be a possibility.

That’s all for now! Thanks again to my Patreon supporters, who are the only thing that makes these articles possible. I hope I’ll see some of you at PAX Unplugged!

IFAQ: Elven Miscellany

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My last article discussed the impact the long lifespan of elves has on the elves of the Five Nations. This brought up a few other points I’d like to discuss.

Elves are Old for a Long Time

The elves of Aerenal devote decades or centuries to intense, focused study. In the previous article I said that the elves of the Five Nations don’t do this because the infrastructure doesn’t support it; a Brelish elf is going to the same school or university as a Brelish human, and there’s no decades-long classes in the Brelish core curriculum. This raised the question of whether that means the elves of the Five Nations are more versatile than the Aereni… and if so, if combining greater versatility with longer life meant that they dominated the study of arcane sciences in Khorvaire. The answer to this is NO. It’s not just the culture of the Aereni that’s the issue; it’s the fact that elves mentally mature at the same pace as humans and then are OLD FOR A VERY LONG TIME. Here’s a quote from a previous article…

This ties to the idea that a seven-hundred year old lifespan is both a blessing and a curse. Our fluid intelligence – which fuels our ability to adapt to entirely new things – peaks in young adulthood. You grandfather may be a brilliant doctor, a skilled mathematician, and still have trouble learning to use an iPhone that a three-year-old masters in three days. The child is running on fluid intelligence, which allows them to quickly adapt to new things. You grandfather is working off crystallized intelligence, the concrete skills he has perfected over time. For me, this is the fundamental difference between elves and humans… because in my Eberron, both elf and human peak in fluid intelligence at the same time. An elf’s mental facilities don’t deteriorate due to age as a human’s will, so the 110-year-old elf is still sharp and alert… but they’re is also just as firmly set in their ways as a hundred-year-old human, and it’s difficult for them to adapt to entirely new things.

Eberron Flashback: Aereni and Tairnadal

This follows the principle that older people tend to be more conservative than younger people, and the point I made earlier that Brelish elves are more likely to support the monarchy because they don’t like change. Aereni society is built with this in mind, but the general idea is that elves are more likely to specialize than to be diverse in their skills because it’s harder for them to learn entirely new things—and, just as I don’t remember much of the Latin I learned in college, if an elf doesn’t USE a skill for 50 years, it will atrophy. Focusing on a few skills ensures that they MAINTAIN those skills. So if you go to Arcanix, the 500 year old elf professor is more likely to be the one who’s been teaching the same Siberyan Principles course for 300 years—and who is AMAZING at it—than the young hotshot teaching the course that challenges all established principles. There are always exceptions; Mordain the Fleshweaver is a remarkably innovative elf, though it’s questionable as to whether you can still call him an elf. And your player character elf can certainly defy this pattern. But generally, elves are old for a long time; a 200 year old elf has the same general outlook on life that a 200 year old human would if they could live that long, and they aren’t as flexible in their outlook as a 20 year old human.

Where Did You Get Your Training?

Throughout many editions of D&D, elves, dwarves, and other races have had features that feel more cultural than genetic. All elves have “Elf Weapon Training” with longswords and longbows. All dwarves know how to use axes and they’re either brewers and smiths; in third edition, all dwarves had a bonus to fight orcs. It doesn’t matter if they’d never SEEN an orc or ever picked up a hammer: ALL DWARVES HAVE THIS.

This stems from the same monocultural impulse that says “All orcs are evil,” and from the beginning we pushed against this in Eberron. In third edition we largely just ignored it. In fifth edition we’ve more actively challenged it. The Aereni elf subrace in Wayfinder’s Guide and Exploring Eberron removes the Elf Weapon Training trait, because elves in Eberron DON’T all know how to use swords and bows. In Wayfinder’s and Rising From The Last War we suggested that assigned racial languages could be changed, because dwarves aren’t born knowing Dwarvish; if you’re a dwarf born in the slums of Sharn, you might know Goblin instead of Dwarvish. Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything expanded on this with the optional Proficiency Swap system; they specifically call out the example of an elf who swaps longsword proficiency for an instrument proficiency. So Maza Thadian, the best cook in Sharn, doesn’t know how to use a longbow—because she traded that proficiency for Cook’s Utensils.

So the key point here is that Elf Weapon Training—or Dwarf Weapon Training, or similar features—don’t represent some sort of genetic talent. Which means that if you’re playing an elf and you choose to KEEP Elf Weapon Training, it’s up to you to decide how your character acquired that training. In Exploring Eberron I note that Mror dwarves can base their racial Weapon Training and Tool Proficiencies on their experiences in the War Below. This is an equally logical approach for dwarves and elves of the Five Nations. The Last War lasted for a century. Even if your background is entertainer, you can still say that you served in the last war for a decade back eighty years ago. It didn’t because the focus of your life, which is why you’re a bard instead of a fighter, but you still retain that basic training. On the other hand, if your background is ENTERTAINER, perhaps you worked archery into your act. Or, even if you don’t worship the Silver Flame NOW, perhaps you spent a decade as part of a devout Thrane militia fifty years ago and received your training then. Or you could say that your elf character never touched a bow until yesterday—but YOU have an ancestor who lives in your memories and who’s been training your while you trance. Essentially, the fact that you have skill with these weapons is part of your character’s story, and I want to know the STORY behind it. Three Brelish elves may all have Elf Weapon Training—but HOW they got those proficiencies may be completely different for each of them, and it’s certainly different from the training a Tairnadal ranger received.

Potential Lifespan is Just That

In the last article a question was raised as to whether elves would have a different outlook on the Blood of Vol, because the religion evolved as a reaction to the brutality of life and elves are less likely to see life as brutish and short. Well, the Blood of Vol evolved in the cold, harsh regions of Karrnath and the northern Lhazaar Principalities. It evolved among people who were fighting famine and plagues, and who were oppressed by tyrannical rulers. It is a reaction to the basic question what just gods would allow death and suffering… and SUFFERING is an important word to remember. Because just because an elf can POTENTIALLY live to be 700 years old doesn’t mean they WILL. Elves have no special resistance to cold or disease. They may not sleep, but they still need food and water. They can suffer from the cold, and they can suffer the agony of watching their starving children dying from diseases. The long lifespan can seem like a curse on two levels: first, when an elf child dies of a fever when they are ten years old, it seems more unjust because they COULD have had centuries of life. Second, the elf who does live for centuries while enduring starvation and disease and who has to watch their friends dying around them may well feel that another century of life is just more time to suffer.

Aerenal is in many ways a utopia. It is a peaceful, advanced nation where people DO expect to live out most of their natural life in comfort and health. And yes, the Blood of Vol won’t find much purchase there. But it won’t find much purchase ANYWHERE where people live long and comfortable lives. It takes root in those places where people are surrounded by suffering and loss, places where the cruelty of mortal life is made manifest. And just because elves can potentially live longer than humans doesn’t mean that they will—and it doesn’t protect them from starvation, poverty, plague, or any of the other tragedies that humanity endures.

My Patreon backers have posted a lot of good questions on other topics, so this is all for elves for the moment… I’ll try to get back to it in a century or so! Thanks to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible.

IFAQ: Elves and Pugs

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In the fifth edition of Dungeons & Dragons, elves can live to be up to 750 years old. In the past I’ve written many articles about the elves of Valenar and Aerenal and how their long lifespans have affected their culture. But what about the elves of the Five Nations, who are part of a culture driven by short-lived humans? This month, my Patreon supporters posed a number of interesting questions on this topic.

An adult elf of the Five Nations is not only older than the current monarch of their nation, they’re older than the NATION, given that Galifar only dissolved a century ago. How does their long lifespan affect their national loyalty?

First of all, we’ve always said that most demihumans of the Five Nations tend to put their national identity before their species. A third-generation Brelish halfling might support the Glidewing in the Race of Eight Winds as a nod to their Talentan heritage, but they consider themselves Brelish, not Talentan. So that’s the first point to consider: elves born in the Five Nations generally embrace that culture. Which comes to the second point: until the Last War, the Five Nations were united as Galifar. But there were still Five Nations, each of which was culturally distinct and maintained traditions that predated Galifar; Galifar united them under a single ruler and code of laws, but it didn’t erase that cultural identity. The point of this is that not only does your 300-year-old Brelish elf think of themselves as Brelish, they’ve thought of themselves as Brelish far longer than a 30-year-old human; they’ve had far longer to invest in the traditions of Breland and to have a very strong sense of what it means to be Brelish. Which ties to the second point. Because their long lifespan means they’ll outlive the humans around them—whether we’re talking about their monarch or their neighbor—the elves of the Five Nations tend to invest in institutions and customs more than in individual humans. An elf invests in the concept of Breland more deeply than in any one ruler. Likewise, they invest in families more than individuals, seeing the living members of the family as the latest incarnation of that beloved family. For an off the cuff example, consider the relationship between humans and dogs. My household is a pug household. We had a pug we loved, and when he passed away we got a new pug—who is very much his own person, but also very much a pug. And when he passes away, I expect we’ll get another pug. We love our pugs, and in the moment, we love our current pug most of all. But we also know that barring tragedy we will outlive him. So we love him in the moment, we give him the best life that we can, and when he passes we’ll honor him by bringing a new pug into our lives. What we’re NOT going to do is suddenly decide to get a St. Bernard; we’ve become pug people, and we don’t WANT a different dog.

This basic principle applies both to national identity and to an elf’s personal relationships with shorter lived races. Breland in this instances is “Pugs” while King Boranel is “The Current Pug.” The elf who has chosen to live in Breland for three centuries loves Breland more than any other nation. Most likely, they also love Boranel; they may fondly remember Wroaan or other rulers, but Boranel is alive and with them now; they will always honor Wroaan’s memory, but they support the current king. Unless, of course, they don’t like Boranel, in which case they may grumble and think “There’s always a bad one in the litter, but in another ten yeas we’ll get a new one that will be better.” That elf doesn’t want to go live in Thrane any more than I want to get a St. Bernard; they’ve become comfortable with Breland and it’s become part of their identity. With this in mind, I would also say that Brelish elves in particular likely strongly oppose the Swords of Liberty and the anti-monarchy movement, because the four hundred year old elf is far more invested in the institution of the Brelish monarchy than the human who’s only lived with it for twenty years. They’ve invested in the idea of Breland for centuries, and part of that idea of Breland is that it’s a monarchy.

As I said, I’d extend this to an elf’s personal relationships with humans. In playing an elf character, I’d consider whether I know the ancestors of one or more of the other player characters. I might ask one of the other players (it’s a collaborative story and I want to work with them, not impose my story on them ) if they’re OK with the idea that my character has had a long relationship with their family. Throughout the campaign, I might discuss my experiences and adventures with their ancestors. It might even be that the reason I’m part of the adventuring party is to look after that character—because their grandfather would never forgive me if anything happened to them. If you’re familiar with Deep Space Nine, there’s a touch of this in the way Dax refers to their previous hosts. As an elf, play up the fact that you may have known Queen Wroaan or met Kaius I. When you’re at a store in Sharn, mention how it use to be a restaurant a century ago and had the best fried spider legs in the city—they just don’t make them like that any more.

It’s suggested that some elf immigrants to Khorvaire came with a plan to marry into human families and essentially outlive their way to power, inheriting family fortunes from their short-lived spouses. Canon lore suggests that this was abandoned out of an initial revulsion for the Khoravar, but how has it played out in the present day?

The canon answer is clear: elves haven’t taken over all the noble families of Galifar, and in fact, very few elf nobles are mentioned. The question, then, is WHY. The answer is that people of Galifar are well aware of the disparate lifespans of their neighbors and that the laws of the land take it into account. Any position with a lifetime appointment will have clauses that allow for the holder to be removed, so you can’t just appoint a warforged to a lifetime position and then have no way to remove them ever. Meanwhile, nobles will always has pre-nuptial agreements to address this; I think the standard one is simply that a spouse doesn’t inherit the title. It passes to the eldest child or, failing that, to a sibling.

Looking at an example of this in play, Kaius III of Karrnath is married to Etrigani, an Aereni elf. As long as Kaius is alive, Etrigani carries the title of queen. When Kaius dies, however, the crown of Karrnath would pass to their eldest child, not to Etrigani. If they have no children (and currently they don’t), it would pass sideways along the line to Kaius’s sister Haydith. A spouse could likely serve as a regent while waiting for a child to come of age, but they can’t claim the title as their own… thus preventing an elf from marrying into a family of human nobles and holding the title for the next five centuries.

There are a few elf nobles in the Five Nations, and it’s certainly the case that if you’re an Aundairian elf with the noble background, you may be waiting a LONG TIME before the title falls to you.

This raises another question. If my elf character is two hundred years old and knew the wizard’s grandfather, how come I’m only a first level character?

The long-lived races are always a problem in this regard, and I’ve talked about this before in this article. First of all, I’ll call out the fact that in REAL LIFE, skill doesn’t progress in a continuously upward line as we grow older. I learned Latin in college, I haven’t used that skill in two decades, and at this point I can recognize some words but I couldn’t write a sentence in Latin. In another 20 years I may have forgotten it entirely, and that’s nothing like an elf living for centuries. Generally speaking, we reach plateaus with skills and have to work to maintain them. I also fenced in college. Guess what? I’m older now and while I still know some tricks, I’m not a better fencer than I was. Admittedly I multiclassed and took levels of writer instead of fighter, but the point remains: age alone doesn’t equate to skill. A second point is simple: How good is your grandfather at making TikTok videos? Now, replace “TikTok videos” with “Modern Techniques of Arcane Spellcasting.” You could absolutely say that your 1st level elf wizard was a cutting edge wizard 300 years ago, but he’s been out of the game for a while—writing novels, perhaps—and now his spellcasting techniques are incredibly out of date and he can’t figure out these fancy somatic components the kids are doing these days. “That thing! With the fingers!”

While that’s a FUNNY option, I would personally be more likely to use my elf character being 1st level to add a hook to their backstory: WHY are they 250 years old and only first level? My immediate inclination is just what I said above but without the comical agism. My elf character trained as a wizard 200 years ago, and then spent the last 200 years as a novelist or a poet—some career that essentially has no concrete bearing on the skills I use while adventuring—and I need to get back in practice. I remember the basics, and it’s all going to come back to me quickly once we get going, but come on people, I haven’t even cast a cantrip since before you were born.

A more dramatic option would be to justify my temporary low level as a form of injury. Perhaps I served in the Last War—possibly even serving with the parents or grandparents of one of the other characters—and suffered “spellshock” from an arcane attack. Or perhaps I was caught in the Mourning and was found in a coma—I’ve recovered, but my whole body feels numb and I haven’t fully recovered my spellcasting ability. OR, perhaps I was on an epic adventure (again, could be with an ancestor of one of the PCs) and was cursed by an archfey. Breaking that curse could be an ongoing story hook, or it could be something that is broken BECAUSE I’m adventuring with the descendant—allowing me to regain my skills. All three of these options would allow me to say that I WAS a fairly high level character a century ago but I’ve temporarily lost those skills. While other characters may feel like they’ve dramatically improved by the time they reach 9th level, I feel like I’ve only just gotten my sea legs back.

The main point here is that you shouldn’t look at the old dwarf or elf and say “It makes no sense that I’m 120 and still have the same skills as a 20 year old human.” First of all, remember that in Eberron ANY player character is remarkable. Second, don’t just say “it makes no sense”—figure out a way that it COULD make sense. An injury, a curse, a century away from adventuring. The fact that you’re only 1st level NOW doesn’t prevent you from having BEEN higher level at some point in the past.

Do the longer lived races like the elves and dwarves view the Blood of Vol differently (insofar as their lives are not as short, cruel and hopeless as the oppressed humans who latched onto it a couple millennia ago)?

This raises an important point: the fact that you CAN live to be seven hundred years old doesn’t mean that you WILL. Elves are just as susceptible to disease and to cold as humans are. They may not sleep, but they certainly need to eat. So if you’re an elf farmer in Karrnath surprised by a sudden frost, you can still be worried that you’re hungry, that your children are freezing and one has a fever, and that if the frost kills your crops there’s no knowing how you’ll get the money you need to survive. Even if you do somehow live through it, the fact that you get to look forward to hundreds of years of watching your friends die may not feel like a blessing. Those people who founded the Blood of Vol, who felt that life was short, cruel, and helpless, weren’t dying of old age. So no, I don’t think it has a notable effect. And also, the Blood of Vol has never been widespread in the Five Nations. The Brelish elf may not see the appeal to the Blood of Vol, but most Brelish HUMANS don’t see the appeal either.

That’s all for now! I am VERY busy with writing deadlines and family matters and I likely won’t have times to answer questions on this topic. Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters for asking interesting questions and for making this website possible!

IFAQ: Aerenal, Continued

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The island of Aerenal is home to the majority of the elves of Eberron, including the Aereni and the Tairnadal. I’ve written a number of articles about these cultures, and Exploring Eberron delves deeper still, but my Patreon supporters came up with a few new questions!E

Are the people of Khorvaire aware of the basics of the Undying Court?

I think the common people of Khorvaire are aware that the Aereni worship their ancestors and keep them alive as some form of undead, but that’s about it; I wouldn’t expect a random citizen of the Five Nations to know what a “Deathless” is without making an Intelligence (Religion) check.

Have the Aereni sought to colonize a major Irian manifest zone elsewhere?

It’s never been mentioned in any canon source. The Valraean Protectorate in Exploring Eberron was established to create a secure buffer around Aerenal rather than being driven by a desire for significant expansion. However, just because it hasn’t been done in canon is no reason not to do it in your story. If *I* were to do this, I personally wouldn’t make it AERENAL that’s driving the colony, but rather a specific noble line or dissident group that wants to essentially found a “New Aerenal”—perhaps tied to the Skullborn, the elves who yearn to become deathless but who aren’t willing (or worthy) to follow the long and difficult path this transition usually requires. A secondary advantage to this—making it a smaller faction, not Aerenal as a whole—is that it makes it easier for adventurers to oppose the colony (or ally with it) without affecting their relationship with Aerenal itself.

Is it possible for other non Elven religions or groups to create and maintain positive energy undead like the Undying Court?

Sure. It requires powerful Irian manifest zones, a specific set of rituals and resources, and a population that’s fiercely devoted to the undead—as part of the idea of the positive energy undead it’s that devotion that sustains them when they leave the manifest zone. Like any sort of magic, this isn’t supposed to be easy or trivial; if it was, everyone would be doing it! But it’s not supposed to be something that’s somehow limited to ELVES. I could easily imagine an Irian zone in the Demon Wastes that serves as a bastion for the Ghaash’kala, with a few deathless elders who have protected this haven for millennia.

It seems weird to me how close the Undying Court is to the goals of the Seekers, especially considering the latter were inspired by its enemy.

All of the Elven cultures—the Tairnadal, the Aereni, the line of Vol—were driven by the basic question of how do we preserve our greatest souls? The Aereni created the Undying Court, preserving their heroes with their devotion. The Tairnadal become living avatars of their patron ancestors. The line of Vol noted that the flaw with both of these approaches is they are dependent on their being living elves who continue to practice their devotion. If all elves died—or simply had a change of heart—the patron ancestors would be forgotten and the Undying Court would be trapped in Shae Mordai. So Vol embraced Mabaran necromancy, ensuring that its beloved ancestors would be able to TAKE the lifeforce they needed to survive, whether as vampires, liches, or other undead.

As discussed in Exploring Eberron, the Blood of Vol is a comparatively young religion that was born on Khorvaire and is only loosely inspired by the traditions of the line of Vol (which are preserved more closely by the Bloodsail elves of Farlnen). But actually, the goals of the Undying Court and the Blood of Vol aren’t really that similar. Both agree that death is oblivion. The Blood of Vol believes that all living creatures have a spark of divinity within them—that there is divine potential in life, but that most creatures die before they can master this power. They believe that only the living have this power, and that while undeath may be a way to escape oblivion, undead creatures—both deathless and Mabaran—no longer have the spark of divinity and can never achieve their true potential. The Undying Court essentially believes the OPPOSITE of this; they believe in a transcendental state that can only be attained by the deathless, but the fact that the deathless rely on the living to sustain them prevents everyone from getting to pursue this power. So the Aereni don’t want to live forever; they believe that death and the transition to deathlessness is a necessary part of ascension.

So, they’re similar in “They are religions that believe death is bad and that it’s possible for people to ascend to a higher state.” But the Aereni believe that only a few people can achieve this higher state and that it can only be achieved after death, while the Blood of Vol believe that it’s possible for everyone to achieve divinity, but that death is the absolute end of that journey.

What was there in Aerenal before the elves?

Describing all of the challenges the elf refugees faced in founding their nation and all of the wonders they discovered would be the subject of a major article, not an IFAQ. However, if the question is were there any CIVILIZATIONS in Aerenal before the elves, no. The elves didn’t come to Aerenal as conquerors with the power to sweep aside an existing nation. They were a diverse armada of refugees from different subcultures, fleeing both war and dragonfire. The modern cultures—Vol, Aereni, Tairnadal—evolved ON Aerenal. But the idea has always been presented that Aerenal was an untamed and undeveloped land, a seemingly blessed refuge for these weary travelers.

Having said that, it’s a valid question as to WHY Aerenal was uninhabited. Humanoids are spread across Eberron, and Aerenal is a large and fertile land. Why had no one settled there? Here’s a few possibilities, each of which could support a different story.

  • It wasn’t sheer luck that brought the refugee fleet to Aerenal, and it wasn’t pure chance that the land was uninhabited and ready from their use. A cabal of dragons were responsible for both of these things; they secretly protected and guided the fleet, and they had carefully cleared the land in advance. This surely means that Aerenal has a role to play in the Prophecy, and it would surely be tied to the ongoing Elf-Dragon Wars. Canon sources have already suggested that those “wars” might be Argonnessen honing the skills of the elves in preparation for a true challenge yet to come; it could be that they set this plan in motion tens of thousands of years ago. If this is the case, it both means that the dragons have a plan for Aerenal and that there MIGHT have been a previous civilization on Aerenal, but if so, the dragons destroyed or removed it. Who knows? Perhaps Seren civilization began on Aerenal!
  • Aerenal is filled with powerful Irian manifest zones that support the creation of deathless. It’s possible that there was a previous civilization that achieved the creation of deathless, only to disappear completely long before the elves arrived. Did all of its members achieve some sort of deathless transition? Or, like the line of Vol warned, did the living members of the society die (perhaps due to a plague, perhaps due to dragons?) leaving their deathless to fade away without mortal devotion?
  • Aerenal also holds powerful Mabaran manifest zones. One possibility is that the prior society sought to harness THIS power, and their unwise efforts ultimately resulted in the death of their people. Alternatively, their major cities could have been consumed by Mabar (as described in Exploring Eberron), perhaps still existing there; could this be the origin of the Bone King? If either of these scenarios are true, could the cataclysm occur a second time? Or could the Undying Court hold it at bay?

Are there humanoids that have a significant presence or role in Aerenal beyond elves and half elves—something more meaningful than just traders, ambassadors, or tourists?

No. The 3.5 Eberron Campaign Setting presents the population of Aerenal as 77% elves, 19% deathless, 3% half-elves, 1% other. Both Aereni and Tairnadal are insular cultures unwelcoming to outsiders, and at least throughout the history of the elven presence there’s never been a rival humanoid culture on Aerenal.

That’s all for now! Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters for making this blog possible.

IFAQ: The Elvish Language

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My new book Exploring Eberron is available now on the DM’s Guild. You can find a FAQ about it here. Yesterday I posted an IFAQ about developing languages. In the comments, a question came up about the role of the Elvish language in the world. Since the answers have broader implications on a general philosophy of worldbuilding, I wanted to make it a standalone IFAQ. So…

Elvish is the language of Thelanis. Is that primordially true, i.e. did Elves speak that language prior to their enslavement by the Giants? Also, if Elvish is the language of Thelanis, are Elves born knowing it, or must it be taught to children like any other language?

There are no canon answers to these questions. By the rules of D&D, elves speak Elvish. It’s part of their racial features. There’s no explanation of where the language came from or how they come to learn it. So first, to be clear, everything I’m about to say is what I do IN MY CAMPAIGN. It has no foundation in any canon source, though as far as I know it doesn’t contradict any canon source either; the topic has simply never come up. But if you don’t like it, don’t use it. To me, this is a perfect example of a choice where you need to think about the broader implications—you need to be sure you WANT your story to go down a particular path. So I’ll tell you my answer, but then I want to talk about WHY I’d answer that way.

First: Elvish is the language of Thelanis. That is primordially true. The planes are universal concepts, and their fundamental principles don’t change (setting aside the complications of Dal Quor!). With that said, one of the minor effects of Thelanis is that while you are in Thelanis, you understand Elvish. When you’re wandering through the Endless Weald, you can understand the songs of the dryads singing in the trees; you are part of the story and that means you understand its words. It is only when you and a dryad LEAVE Thelanis that you realize that you can’t understand her any more, and start hearing her words as Elvish instead simply understanding their meaning.

Second: In my Eberron, every elf is born with an innate understanding of the Elvish language. It doesn’t matter if you’re an orphan born in a Sharn gutter or a proud Aereni. You don’t have to be taught; the language a part of you, tied innately to the Fey Ancestry feature. It is impossible to be an elf and NOT understand Elvish.

WHY DO THIS? What appeals to me about this is that in concretely establishes that elves are not human. They aren’t just humans who have pointed ears and live for centuries. They are fundamentally alien beings whose minds do not work the same way as human minds. It further reinforces other things we’ve established about the elf cultures, namely that they are extremely tied to tradition and that they aren’t as innovative as humans. This makes sense if elves have a greater degree of engrained knowledge and instinct than humans. As an elf, you never have to develop a new language. You are born knowing THE LANGUAGE, the language that will allow you to speak to any elf anywhere.

This comes back to one of my basic principles of world building. I like exploring worlds that are unlike our own. To me, it’s fascinating to consider the impact of having a language seared into your brain from the moment of birth. How would that affect the development of culture? It is fundamentally the antithesis of the Babel story—the people of the world are divided by their many languages, but all elves are united by their common tongue.

The original question included this: was Giant the language that the oppressed elves were supposed to use with their overlords, while Elvish was preserved as the language they used among themselves? Absolutely. The giants weren’t going to learn Elvish, so elf servants had to learn at least basic Giant. It’s not that Elvish was preserved, because the elves couldn’t forget it even if they wanted to. But it was unquestionably SUPPRESSED, and elves would be punished for speaking it. But this is also a crucial factor in the eventual uprising. Captives of the giants, descendants of Qabalrin refugees, the unconquered ancestors of the Tairnadal—despite their different cultures and histories, they were united by the Elvish tongue and could always understand one another. Given this, one might well ask what about the Drow? First of all, by the RULES drow speak Elvish. Second, they possess the Fey Ancestry trait. To me, those two facts hold the answer. While altered by the giants, the drow still have their Fey Ancestry, and it is through that ancestry that they know the Elvish language.

This gets to a much deeper and more complicated question: Do the Khoravar (half-elves) innately understand Elvish, or do THEY have to learn it? The reason this is complicated is because it has vast ramifications on the relationship between Khoravar and Elves. We’ve often raised the question can a half-elf become a Tairnadal? Could they join the Undying Court? If all elves innately understand Elvish and Khorvar do NOT understand Elvish, that’s a deep point in favor of the idea that Khorvar are fundamentally not elves… while if they are born with the knowledge of Elvish, that’s a strong argument that they ARE spiritually part of the elf species and COULD connect with Patron Ancestors. PERSONALLY, I would say that Khoravar DO innately know Elvish, for the same reason as drow. Under the rules of 5E, half-elves possess the Fey Ancestry feat and have Elvish as an ingrained language. For me, it’s all about that Fey Ancestry; part of what it means to have Fey Ancestry is to KNOW ELVISH, in the same way that I’ve said that part of being a druid is that you KNOW DRUIDIC. This also explains why the Valenar were so quick to bring in Khoravar administrators; they may not consider them equals, but it’s good to have an administrator who KNOWS THE LANGUAGE. But this is definitely a case where I could see a DM ruling the other way specifically because of how they want to play out that story of the Khoravar who wants to be Tairnadal. We’ve also made a point of saying that many Khoravar communities develop a Khoravar Cant that is a unique blend of Elvish and Common; part of the point of this is that they KNOW Elvish, but they are choosing to speak in a manner that is unique to THEIR people, not simply relying on the language of either parent. Likewise, it adds color to the relationship between Aereni and drow; even though the drow were created to kill elves, they still know the Language.

So this raises another interesting question… what happens when you need a new word? A situation arises where there’s a concept that’s never been expressed in Elvish, or a poet is expressing an entirely new concept. Do they create a new word? If so, wouldn’t they have to teach it to others? Isn’t this exactly how we end up developing unique dialects and new languages? Certainly. But this is where we get back to the point that they’re not human, that they are touched by the Fey, that this is something that fundamentally doesn’t make sense. The poet doesn’t create a new word the way a human poet would. They realize they already know the word, even though it’s never been spoken in Elvish before. And once spoken, every other fey creature also knows that word. Because Elvish isn’t just a mundane, mortal language; it is an immortal, magical language. An elf knows Elvish because fundamentally, they are fey, and being fey means knowing Elvish. The language evolves as it is needed, and all fey creatures know the language. What this DOES mean is that any creature without Fey ancestry who learns Elvish WILL find that new words occasionally appear and they’ll have to learn their meaning, because without Fey Ancestry, they don’t get those automatic dictionary updates.

This is a long discussion of a point that, mechanically, makes no difference. Because by the rules, elves just know Elvish. It’s a racial feature with no inherent story. But the point is that once you add a story you GIVE it meaning. The reason I’d say that they DO all know it, that it is fundamentally tied to Fey Ancestry is because I WANT to explore the impact of that decision—on the Xen’drik Uprising, on the relationship between Khoravar and Aereni, on the idea of elves being bound to tradition. I think it’s interesting to explore ways in which elves AREN’T like humans, and to imagine what it would be like to be born with immediate, perfect knowledge of a language.

So, in conclusion, when there is no canon answer to questions like this—or even if there is!—the question to me is always how will it affect the story, and what story do I want to tell? *I* find the story of innate-knowledge-of-Elvish more INTERESTING that Elvish-is-just-a-mundane-language-like-any-other. But you certainly don’t have to agree with me!

Are there other languages that would work the same way?

Certainly. I’d say that an aasimar understands Celestial the same way that an elf understands Elvish; they don’t have to learn it, and you can’t be an aasimar and NOT understand Celestial (unless you’re an aasimar tied to a power that speaks another immortal language; note that the Court aasimar in Exploring Eberron speaks both Elvish and Celestial, and of course has Fey Ancestry!). All true immortals are born innately possessing all of their basic knowledge, including languages, and I would say that just like I’ve suggested with Elvish, if Celestial needs a new word, all creatures with an innate knowledge of Celestial automatically know that word. Again, MORTALS who have LEARNED the language wouldn’t get that automatic update. This could be an interesting element for archaeologists, being able to date inscriptions in Abyssal or Celestial based on “Note the use of ‘Alael’, which didn’t become part of the language until the Age of Giants.” But in general this would be an aspect of immortal languages. Humans can make new languages; immortals are born knowing their language, and again, can usually make themselves understood when they wish to.

In this article I suggested that Undercommon might be constantly evolving, but that anyone who could speak Undercommon automatically knows the current form of it—essentially the same principle as the Elvish dictionary updates, but that rather than just ADDING to the existing language, the pre-existing words are always changing… and that when you find inscriptions in Undercommon, they may make no sense under the current form of the language or they might have taken on a new meaning. However, this is a pretty difficult concept for us poor mortals to wrap our brains around, and I didn’t actually push it in either the Wayfinder’s Guide or Rising From The Last War.

Before the fall of Xen’drik were there multiple Giant languages for each realm?

This comes back to the whole question of language-in-games in general. Xen’drik is a massive continent and there were multiple, very distinct giant civilizations. Barring some exterior factor—IE Fey-Ancestry-means-you-speak-Elvish—it’s reasonable to assume that these different giant cultures would all have developed unique languages. However, it’s also the case that we haven’t defined those languages; we’ve never mentioned Sulatan or Elevenese. What we’ve said is that the language we know as Giant was the COMMON TONGUE of Xen’drik, widespread enough that it is what you find spoken by the vast diverse range of creatures across the continent. I might very well introduce the idea of Elevenese as a PLOT DEVICE—the adventurers have found an ancient scroll in Risia that’s written in old Elevenese, the pre-Giant language of the Group of Eleven! It’s completely unknown in the modern age, and you’ll need to use Comprehend Language!—but I’m not going to expect a player character to waste a language slot learning Elevenese; Giant is the language you NEED to know to get by in Xen’drik. Again, at the end of the day, it’s the question of how will this decision affect the story you and your friends tell at your table?

What is the difference/relationship between Celestial and Draconic?

In the article that’s been linked a few times I suggested that they might be the same, but I’ve actually backed off from that (and we didn’t include it in Rising From The Last War). I think that there are SIMILARITIES between the two, just as I’ve suggested that Goblin and Orc may have their roots in Abyssal (noting the similarity between Goblin and the names of the Overlords). But essentially, I think Draconic is the oldest MORTAL language, but it’s not an IMMORTAL language.

What about gnomes? Aren’t they fey? Do they know Elvish?

The idea that gnomes are from Thelanis was added into the fourth edition books specifically to address the fact that in fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons, gnomes were fey creatures. This is no longer true in fifth edition, and it’s not something we mention in Rising From The Last War. To my mind, this is in the same category as BAATOR, which was added into the planar cosmology in fourth edition, and REMOVED AGAIN in Rising From The Last War. Canon can evolve, and the latest canon does NOT have gnomes as Thelanian immigrants. What I have suggested is that there are gnomes who have immigrated FROM EBERRON TO THELANIS through the Feyspires, but they are natives of Eberron. They do not have Fey Ancestry and as such don’t have an innate understanding of Elvish. If a gnome knows Elvish, it’s because they learned it like anyone else.

Setting aside the fact that the idea of gnomes being from Thelanis was always a 4E artifact, the gnomes and elves of Eberron have a few very fundamental differences that reflect this. The elves are deeply bound to tradition and not driven toward innovation. They are happy to exist in isolation. By contrast, gnomes are typically extremely inquisitive. They are called out as being explorers, seeking out new lands and discovering new cultures. The Zil try different religions. House Sivis is specifically called out as having created multiple languages. They’ve reverse-engineered elemental binding techniques recovered from Xen’drik. The fact that there’s some gnomes in Thelanis is a reflection of that deeply inquisitive nature—not of Thelanian origins. With that said, as I describe in the Exploring Eberron FAQ, I’m playing a gnome artificer from Pylas Pyrial in my current campaign. But he’s NOT a fey creature; he’s just using the “Magical Thinking” style of artifice tied to his Pyrial upbringing.

Thanks for taking this deep dive into the Elvish rabbit hole. And thanks to my Patrons for making it possible!

IFAQ: The Elves of Aerenal

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As chosen by my Patreon supporters, my next major article is going to be on the nobility of Khorvaire. This article is a shorter subject. Last week I wrote about the Tairnadal elves. This article deals with the other culture of Aerenal: the Aereni elves, the servants of the Undying Court. I’ve written about Aerenal in this article and this article, and there’s a section on Aerenal in Exploring Eberron; I’m including the two pages we’ve already previewed below. Let’s consider a few infrequently asked questions!

Image by Matthew Riley for Exploring Eberron

Are Phiarlan and Thuranni elves still considered Aereni? Are they eligible to become spirit idols or deathless? What about the elves with the Mark of Shadow who serve with the Cairdal Blades in Aerenal?

The answer to this is largely spelled out in this article. “Aereni” is a culture; being Aereni means that you honor your ancestors, give your devotion to the Undying Court, and serve the Sibling Kings. The shadow-marked families—Tialaen, Shol, Ellorrenthi, Paelion, Thuranni—were never actually Aereni; they remained independent from the Undying Court, the line of Vol, and the Tairnadal, and traveled between communities of all of these cultures. When the Undying Court eradicated the line of Vol and exiled its allies, the shadow-marked families chose to leave with them. Some feared that they too would be persecuted for their marks; others believed that the supporters of the Undying Court had committed an unforgivable sin in spilling so much elven blood. As this article says, “to mark their departure from elven society, (the shadow-marked families) formally joined their lines into a new alliance: House Phiarlan.“

As for those shadow-marked elves who are occasionally seen in the Cairdal Blades? This is also explained in the article: “A handful remained, believing that it was their duty to the kingdom; these elves found themselves largely absorbed into other lines, and this mingling of blood causes the Mark of Shadows to occasionally appear in Aerenal.” The elves who develop the Mark of Shadow in Aerenal aren’t Phiarlan or Thuranni; they are now Jhaelian or Mendyrian. And the mark only appears rarely because unlike the houses, the Aereni aren’t trying to arrange matches to produce the mark; the marked bloodlines are heavily diluted.

So no: the elves of House Thuranni and Phiarlan aren’t Aereni. They intentionally severed their ties to their homeland and have no loyalty to the Undying Court or the Sibling Kings. And since elevation to the Undying Court—whether as a spirit idol or as one of the deathless—is an honor the Aereni bestow on their most celebrated citizens, it is not offered to those elves who have abandoned their homeland and its traditions.

With that said, a Phiarlan elf could return to Aerenal, abandoning the house and embracing the Aereni traditions; they’d just have to find a noble line willing to adopt them, just like the shadow-marked elves who stayed behind when the phiarlans originally left. And as Aereni, such elves would be eligible to join the Court, though again, they’d have to impress the priests and people with their worth. But joining the court isn’t about whether you have a dragonmark; it’s whether you are a devotee of the Undying Court who has proven yourself worthy to join it, and whose talents and achievements justify this gift.


Could someone use a spirit idol as a template to clone a revered ancestor? Perhaps by transferring the soul into a construct body, or even a living elf willing to give their body to the ancestor?

All of this seems possible, but the real question is would the ancestor be happy about it? As noted in the ExE preview, for many Aereni becoming a spirit idol is something they look forward to. When they aren’t interacting with the living, the spirit within the idol exists within a paradise of its own making, dwelling within its memories and ideas. The Aereni see life as something you do to prepare for your afterlife. You don’t want to die too quickly, because then you don’t have enough memories to build a satisfying eternity. But most see life as the chrysalis, with the spirit idol as a blessed ascension, eternity unbound by the physical form.

So COULD the soul within a spirit idol be transferred into some other vessel? Sure, I don’t see why not. But this isn’t a problem the Priests of Transition are trying to solve; they see the spirit idol as being a blessed member of the Undying Court, not as a victim who needs to be saved.

Do Aereni ever join the Tairnadal, for instance one who feels rejected and out of place with their family?

Sure! We’ve mentioned it before. And likewise, zaelantar youths sometimes leave the steppes and become Aereni; this is one path for a Tairnadal youth who doesn’t get chosen by a patron ancestor. This isn’t common in either direction; a would-be Aereni has to be accepted by a noble line, while a would-be Tairnadal has to be chosen by a patron ancestor to truly become Tairnadal. But it certainly happens.

The Tairnadal faith seems fundamentally more demanding than the Undying Court. Both revolve around preserving and communing with honored ancestors, but the Tairnadal faith requires imitation and constant war, while it doesn’t seem like the Undying Court places any demands on its followers (maybe to eliminate Mabaran undead)?

The Tairnadal faith is more demanding than the Undying Court, yes. This is because the end result of the devotion is completely different. Through their faith, the Aereni seek to preserve the Undying Court. But with the exception of the ascendant counselors and divine spellcasters, the Aereni have a very concrete, limited relationship with their ancestors. If you took the Right of Counsel feat in the 3.5 ECS, you had to physically go to Shae Mordai to speak with your ancestor. By contrast, each Tairnadal vessel believes that they are a living vessel for the spirit of their patron. They believe that the patron offers them direct, personal guidance—that their remarkable skills are the result of the patron guiding their hands. So the Tairnadal endures this more demanding service because they believe that they receive a more dramatic benefit in exchange.

Having said that, a critical point is that we just haven’t talked much about what Aereni devotion actually looks like. Only the elite Deathguard are charged to fight Mabaran undead. An Aereni civilian shows their devotion through prayers, which combine expressions of gratitude for the ongoing protection the Court provides with tales that commemorate their deeds and discoveries. But the second way an Aereni honors the ancestors is by following in their footsteps. This isn’t as dramatic or absolute as the Tairnadal revenant. But Aereni do seek to hone a skill that one of their ancestors perfected—to study their teachings and master their techniques. The point is that these skills often have nothing to do with WAR and often aren’t as OBVIOUS as the revenant’s martial devotion. But the Aereni painter is honoring a great painter of the past. The bowyer followers the example of a legendary artisan (and may have served the deathless artisan as an apprentice). As a side note, this is why the WGtE suggested an Aereni variant that sacrificed weapon proficiencies for expertise with a single skill or tool—because that focused expertise is a form of Aereni devotion. Exploring Eberron includes a different approach to this concept.

So Tairnadal devotion is more demanding and intense than Aereni devotion. But the Aereni do offer prayers to their ancestors throughout the day, and they think about their ancestors constantly, reflecting on their lessons and honoring them through the exercise of their skills.

How do clerics of the Undying Court actually MANIFEST? Are they rare? For the cleric, what does it feel like to cast a spell and how do they believe they are doing it?

So under the hood, the Undying Court actually has a great deal in common with the Silver Flame. The Silver Flame was created when a force of immortals bound their spirits together into a force of pure celestial energy. The Undying Court is likewise a gestalt of souls—it is essentially a smaller Silver Flame, whose coherent elements are able to also maintain independent existence (as deathless) while still adding their power to the whole.

When a cleric of the Undying Court casts a spell, they are drawing on that GESTALT, not dealing with a single, specific member of the Court. They don’t send in a request for magic that has to be approved; what it MEANS to be a cleric of the Undying Court is that you have been recognized as a worthy vessel of its power and you have been granted the ability to draw on that well of energy. This is especially important beyond Aerenal, as the Court can’t directly affect the world the way it does in Aerenal; it NEEDS champions to serve as its hands. But essentially, as a cleric of the Undying Court, when you cast a spell, you are reaching out with your mind and channeling the power of your collective ancestors. You can FEEL them all around you, hear dozens of whispering voices, feel their strength and support. But it’s not that ONE SPECIFIC ANCESTOR is with you; it’s the gestalt as a whole.

HAVING SAID THAT, in my campaign I WILL give a cleric or paladin of the Undying Court a close relationship to a particular ancestor. They can’t initiate contact with that ancestor, but it may give them divine visions (something I discuss in this article) and missions. If they use commune or similar spells, it will be that ancestor who gives them answers. It’s a little like the idea of Tira Miron being the Voice of the Flame; the UC spellcaster will have a specific ancestor who acts as their intermediary to the Court. So that’s a unique aspect to worshipping the Court.

As for rarity, in my opinion Aerenal has more divine spellcasters than any nation in Khorvaire, even Thrane. For the Aereni, divine magic IS a science. They CREATED a divine power source, and it’s part of their government! A divine caster of the Undying Court still needs faith; it’s that faith that allows them to channel the power. But they are also, essentially, granted a license to draw on the power of the Court.

Of course, that’s if they ARE legitimate representatives of the Court. You could certainly play a character who is in essence a divine hacker—stealing energy from the Court to cast their spells WITHOUT actually being an authorized agent of the Court. This could be an interesting path for a Divine Soul sorcerer. Another option would be an Undying Warlock, who would have a relationship with a specific ancestor rather than drawing on the power of the Court… which could be because the ancestor is running a rogue operation hidden from the rest of the Court!

Just how many bodily desires do Deathless retain anyways?

In my opinion, none. Deathless are described as desiccated corpses. Consider the description of the ascendant counselor: the corpse of an elf so shriveled and aged it seems no more substantial than smoke. What survives in the deathless is the SOUL, loosely bound to the body. What makes an ascendant counselor “ascendant” is that they have moved almost entirely beyond their bodies; from the 3.5 ECS “They rarely inhabit their physical forms, preferring to explore the universe in astral form.” The body of a deathless is a corpse. it has no biological processes; if you pushed food down its throat it would just rot in its stomach cavity.

However, the counter to this is that the deathless experience reality in a way mortals can’t imagine. They are sustained by positive energy, by the love of their descendants; that is their food and drink. Do they love? Certainly. On a certain level, they ARE love; just as they are sustained by the energy of their descendants, they are defined by the love they feel for them in return. This is why deathless are “usually neutral good.” What we’ve said about Mabaran undead is that they are drawn towards evil because the hunger of Mabar hollows them out emotionally, driving them to become predators; conversely, the Deathless are sustained by love, and this softens a cruel heart.

Meanwhile, spirit idols are sustained by positive energy but live in a world they craft from their memories. They eat, they drink, they love. But they eat anything they can imagine, whether it’s having the memory of their favorite meal or whether they can combine different tastes they remember to create something new. Their companions are likewise the memories of people they knew, so they can return to an old lover, duel with a rival, or share a drink with a close friend. All of which ties to whether either form of deathless would WANT to return to life. The key with the spirit idol is that the elves believe that you need to live long enough to HAVE enough memories and ideas to populate eternity. So they will raise people who die young, even if they are deemed worthy of joining the court, because they haven’t completely the life segment of their spiritual journey. But they see physical existence as, essentially, a chore—something you do in preparation for what comes next, not the highest form of existence.

That’s all for now, but there’s more Aerenal ahead in Exploring Eberron! Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters, who keep this site going!

iFAQ: Aereni Learning

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Until I’m done with Exploring Eberron, I don’t have time for deep dives. My next major article will take a deeper look at the Mror Dwarves. But meanwhile, with all of us trapped inside, I want to do a few daily posts dealing with some interesting questions from my Patreon supporters. Here’s the first!

The elves of Aerenal are supposed to spend decades perfecting the techniques of their ancestors. When an Aereni character starts out 100 years old, it’s not because they spent decades in diapers or because they’re dumber than human wizards, it’s because they’ve spent decades going deep in their studies. But how does this hold up for Aereni adventurers? They advance at the same pace as other player characters. How does an elf go from taking decades to perfect a cantrip to suddenly casting far more complex spells in a much shorter period of time?

First of all, let’s shoot the elephant in the room: character advancement doesn’t make sense. How is it that your HUMAN wizard can spend a decade studying at Arcanix, but exponentially increase their skills after a month of adventuring? How does the halfling rogue get expertise with Persuasion by stabbing a bunch of goblins? It’s a mistake to look at any of this too deeply, because it’s not logical. This also ties to the idea that the way in which player characters advance is part of what makes them remarkable and NOT typical for all inhabitants of the world. There are veterans of the Last War who still use the “Guard” statblock, because for most people that represents an OK level of skill. Player characters are supposed to be heroes, and their ability to quickly skyrocket to a greater level of power is a narrative device, not something that holds up to any sort of close analysis.

WITH THAT SAID: That doesn’t mean we can’t make it make as much sense as possible, and this is a good question. How come the Aereni wizard spent decades studying magic back home but can advance just as quickly as the human wizard? The key point is that the Aereni apprentice didn’t spend decades studying a specific spell; it didn’t take them that long to learn to cast one particular cantrip. Instead, they were mastering techniques of spellcasting. They were studying history, theory, and concretely, they were mastering somatic and verbal components. Arcane magic is a form of science, and somatic and verbal components are the underlying mechanics that make it possible. An Aereni apprentice learns precise accent and inflection of verbal components, and precise performance of somatic components, exactly mimicking the techniques of the masters of their line. They spend endless hours drilling until these techniques come naturally. When an Aereni wizard casts a spell, it looks and sounds exactly the same as the master who created the spell ten thousand years ago. Because they’ve perfected these basic principles, when they learn—or even create—new spells, the basic techniques will carry them forward. They CAN advance quickly precisely because they spent all that time learning to crawl… ensuring that they are building on a perfect foundation.

This same principle applies across all classes. The Aereni fighter is learning the basic techniques of all weapons, perfecting the most basic guards, learning to hold and move with the weapon just as their ancestors did. They are learning the most fundamental martial principles—and then they can quickly build on top of those without losing those core techniques.

Aereni PREFER to take their time with things. An Aereni fighter might spend four hours each night practicing a specific move while the other characters are taking a long rest, and continue to practice that move in their mind while trancing. But the decades they spent learning before created a foundation that lets them advance quickly when needed. They were honing the basic building blocks that they assemble as they advance with the other characters.

Now, ultimately, does all that work actually make the Aereni player character a better wizard? No. Mechanically, there’s no difference between the Arcanix-trained wizard and the Aereni wizard. But THEMATICALLY the idea is that the Aereni wizardry is beautiful and perfect, like watching a dance; by contrast the Arcanix wizard is taking a lot of shortcuts and throwing in a lot of personal touches. It works great for THAT WIZARD and may be more innovative, but the Aereni find it painful to watch. The second aspect of this is the idea that player character classes reflect a level of talent most people can’t attain, and that the Aereni have MORE people with that level of skill. It takes them longer to get there, but Aerenal has more actual wizards than Khorvaire, whereas in the Five Nations most people just spend the few years required to become magewrights.

Taking as given that player character advancement is not logical, mostly a game mechanic construct, can this focus on learning the exact techniques and history of the past account for the slow pace of technological development in Aereni cultures?

Exactly so. This is something that’s discussed in this article and in this episode of Manifest Zone. A critical quote:

This is why, despite Aereni society having been around for over twenty thousand years, humans are beginning to do things with magic that the elves have never done. Elven society is driven by tradition rather than innovation – by absolutely perfecting the techniques of the past instead of developing entirely new ways of doing things. Innovation does happen – and an Aereni player character might be the great elf innovator of this age – but it isn’t enshrined as a cultural value as it often is among humanity…

Part of the idea is that what the elves see as sloppy Arcanix techniques might actually be BETTER than the ancient Aereni traditions; certainly they’re easier to learn. But the elves take comfort in adherence to what they know.

Thanks again to my Patreon supporters, and I’ll tackle another question tomorrow!