Tag Archives: Fey

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!

IFAQ: Immortal Personalities and Chwingas in Eberron

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I’m still battling with COVID, but as time and energy permit I like to answer interesting questions posed by my Patrons. Here’s two…

How do I keep immortals from the Outer Planes from coming across as a really boring, obtuse, and stupid? A Fernian balor is a spirit of fiery destruction, but a typical balor has 20 Int, 16 Wis, 22 Cha—how do you reconcile something that’s so much smarter and wiser than a human also having such a one track mind about just wanting to set trees on fire?

One of the core ideas of immortals in Eberron is that, as Loki would say, they are burdened with glorious purpose. They were created for a reason and most don’t have the ability to question that purpose or to chose a new path. An angel of Shavarath comes into existence knowing it is part of the Century of Mercy in the Legion of Justice. It bursts into existence with a sword in its hand and the knowledge of how to use it, and the concepts of mercy and justice are its guiding stars. This doesn’t mean it’s obtuse or stupid; it may be deeply passionate and highly intelligent, capable of devising clever strategies and of shedding a tear over the horrible cruelty of the war. But the angel knows its purpose and most likely will never question it. It believes in the cause of justice with every fiber of its being. It literally exists to be a symbol of merciful justice. You could say it’s like a robot, but I’d prefer to say that it’s like a poem; its purpose is to make you think about the concept that it represents. But again, the key point is that it has a purpose.

The depth of an immortal’s personality is usually directly related to its power and to the specificity of its purpose. In Dal Quor, a kalaraq quori has a greater depth of personality than the dream figment you encounter as a scary clown. In Thelanis, the Lady in Shadow has more depth than the sprites dancing in the meadow. In Syrania, the Dominion of Swords has more depth than one of the many Virtues of War. Like I said, immortals are in many ways stories; is the story general (fey dancing in the woods) or is it more specific (the Forgotten Prince, gathering all those things that are forgotten or unappreciated). Again, usually this is reflected by the power of the spirit. So looking to Fernia, the burning quasit is likely just embodying the idea of “FIRE! BURN!” but a balor is going to be deeper and more interesting. I didn’t discuss such balors in Exploring Eberron because I didn’t have the time or space, and frankly, I don’t have the time or energy now, either. But let’s talk about one of them.

With any significant immortal, I want to define its name and its purpose. A balor is a fiend of sufficient power that it would never just be “a balor.” Demons as a whole are spirits of chaos and evil, and Fernian demons reflect the chaotic and evil aspects of fire—flame as a source of random, uncaring pain and suffering. For a quasit, that’s all we need—Fire bad! For a balor I’d take it a step farther, and give the balor a more specific dominion within the broad category of the cruelty of fire. So if my players are going to have to deal with a balor, it’s not going to be “a balor.” It will be… Pyraelas, The Love Lost In Flame. Before the session, I’ll offer the players a chance to gain inspiration by telling me about a tragedy their character endured involving fire. Pyraelas will know these stories; if any of them lost a loved one to fire, Pyraelas will reminisce about the death, and may be able to call up the final words of the lost love, spoken in their voice. This is the same idea as the Syranian Dominion of Swords; there are many demons that embody the broad concept of the cruelty of flame, but within that Pyraelas specializes in the tragic loss of love. Now, a key point here is that Pyraelas doesn’t cause those deaths, just as the Dominion of Swords doesn’t cause swords to exist. But he knows about them, and he exists to remind us of those tragedies, to twist the knife in the wound and to embody the pain caused by a love lost in flame.

So this brings us back to how do you reconcile something that’s so much smarter and wiser than a human also having such a one track mind about just wanting to set trees on fire? Pyraelas has no particular interest in setting trees on fire. He dwells in a castle that is forever succumbing to flames, the flames following in his path wherever he goes and the castle slowly regenerating behind him, so that it is forever being lost to the fire yet never fully destroyed; again, Pyraelas is a symbol of tragic loss and his domain supports that story. Here we reach that point—if he’s so smart and wise, why isn’t he frustrated by the fact that he never actually burns down the castle for once and for all? The castle is a symbol, just as he is. He doesn’t NEED to burn down the castle—because he knows that right now there’s a barn fire in Ardev in which a child is losing his father, and a fire in Korth that’s claiming the lives of young lovers. He is ALL the love lost in flame, and it is enough for him that love is being lost in flame, and will continue to do so. As I said before, he’s not a robot, he’s a POEM. He’s a lesson for you to learn.

How will Pyraelas deal with adventurers who come into his domain? It depends why they’re there, of course; did they come looking to steal something from his burning castle? Are they seeking information about someone who died in fire long ago, a secret only he knows as the embodiment of Love Lost In Flame? It’s possible he’ll just attack them as interlopers, but in my campaign he’s more likely to talk to them first—to reminisce about what they’ve lost to flame in the past, to taunt them with what fire will take from them in days ahead. And then, most likely, I’d have him make them an offer: he’ll allow them all to leave safely, except for the one character they all care about the most; that adventurer will die slowly in fire. Or perhaps the price will be someone who’s not even there: You can leave here in peace, paladin: but your sister will die, trapped beneath a burning beam. Because again, that’s part of what it means to deal with a powerful outer immortal; their powers aren’t just about casting fireballs. Dealing with Pyraelas means dealing with the cruelty of fire itself. And should you defeat him? He’ll return. Because you may hack a winged fiend to pieces with your blades, but tomorrow, loved ones will still be dying in fires, and eventually Pyraelas will return to his burning castle to remind us of that. Depending how you defeat him, it might take a while; it could even be that he’ll return as Pyraela, a queen crying burning tears. But there will always be a balor in Fernia who embodies Love Lost In Flame. It’s not a choice they get to make; it’s a glorious purpose.

So how do you keep immortals from coming across as boring, obtuse, and stupid? Make them beautiful, intriguing and intelligent. Think about how they’ve already touched the lives of the player characters—again, have any of them lost a love to flame? The fact that they have a narrow focus and an absolute purpose doesn’t mean they’re stupid; it means that they are part of the universe in a way mortals can’t even begin to understand. There’s a fire spreading in an inn in Fairhaven right now, and Pyraelas knows about it and knows who’s going to die in it. At a glance, he’s a winged beast wandering around an endlessly burning building; but he is the embodiment of Love Lost In Flame, immortal and glorious. He was there when the King Azikan threw himself on his lover’s pyre in ancient Sarlona. And he’ll be there when the Five Nations are lost in ashes and you are only a long-forgotten memory, little paladin with your little blade.

Hopefully that helps.

Where do you see chwingas fitting into Eberron?

As fey. I love everything about chwingas, but in the cosmology of Eberron I don’t see why they’d be elementals. I’ve already talked about the fact that I commonly associate fey with masks, playing to the point that fey are stories and masks make it easy for different species to identify with them. So, small masked magical creatures, who are curious and can grant minor boons? Everything about this screams fey to me. In particular, in the past I’ve talked about Aundairians having bargains with fey—that some families may have ancient pacts with archfey, but that others may simply have a deal with a fey who will mend their shoes if they leave out a saucer of milk. Chwinga are perfect for this sort of fey. This can be represented by the charms they can grant, but also by changing up their cantrips. For example…

  • Nature Spirit. Can grant charm of animal conjuring; can cast druidcraft, guidance, pass without trace, resistance.
  • House Spirit. Can grant charm of vitality; can cast prestidigitation, guidance, pass without trace, mending. Natural Shelter is replaced with Domestic Shelter, allowing the chwinga to take shelter inside the walls or floor of its house.
  • Protector Spirit. Can grant charm of heroism or charm of the slayer. Can cast blade ward, guidance, pass without trace, spare the dying; it can cast blade ward on another creature, with a range of 30 feet.

As I said, I could see many old houses in Aundair having house spirits, but I could definitely see nature spirits and protectors in the Talenta Plains or the Eldeen Reaches, especially around the Twilight Demesne—and certainly around Pylas Pyrial in Zilargo. But such a spirit could be found almost anywhere—curious, possibly mischievous, and with a powerful gift it can grant if is chooses.

How does the balor you mentioned interact with the Devourer? Isn’t the Devourer supposed to cause wildfires?

Good question. Part of the point of Pyraelas is that he doesn’t cause the fires; he’s aware of them and takes pleasure in them, but again, at the end of the day he’s a symbol. He hangs out in Fernia and reminds us that people die tragically in fire. Now, this gets a bit fuzzy when he bargains with you—you can go but your sister will die in flame tonight—but that’s supposed to be tied to the greater magic of his domain. It’s the same way a wish-granting spirit usually can’t grant their own wishes; Pyraelas can broker deals about flame, but he can’t just burn Boranel in his armchair for his own personal entertainment. So how does this all relate to the Devourer? This is where we’ve said that there are immortals who will act as intermediaries for the Sovereigns and Six, who will answer commune and planar ally on their behalf. If you seek to commune with the Devourer asking a question about fire, you might be connected to Pyraelas. Essentially, those fiends and celestials who have faith believe that they are part of the Sovereigns and Six. Pyraelas knows that the Devourer shapes every flame, and that he, Pyraelas, has the specific task of watching those that consume love. He’s never met the Devourer, but he’s certain the Devourer exists, because killing flames exist; that’s all the proof he needs. So Pyraelas is a piece of the Devourer that you can punch in the nose, but even for him, the ultimate existence of the Devourer is a matter of faith.

That’s all for now! I won’t be answering questions on this IFAQ, but thanks to my Patreon supporters for asking interesting questions and for keeping this site going; check it out if you have questions of your own! Next up: Sky piracy!