In the city of Atur, the undead are part of everyday life. This image of Lady Rose Undertow was drawn by Matthew Johnson.
Every month I answer interesting questions posed by my Patrons. Questions like…
Why do the people of the Five Nations have such a negative reaction to necromancy and necromancers?
It’s a good question. Sacred Flame and Toll The Dead will both kill you; why is one seen as “good” and the other as “evil”? Keep in mind that the practice of necromancy isn’t illegal in the Five Nations; even animating corpses is legal, as long as you have a legitimate claim to the corpse. But it’s still a path that’s largely shunned and those who practice it are often presumed to be evil. Why is that? There’s a few reasons.
Undead are a real, everyday threat. Always remember that Eberron is not our world. It is a world in which predatory undead are a concrete threat that can manifest at any time. Ghouls can spontaneously manifest in graveyards. Shadows can potentially appear in any unlit area, and they’re drawn to negative emotions—especially during the nights of Long Shadows, which is why everyone gathers around the light on those nights. Skeletons and zombies can spontaneously animate in Mabaran zones or when Mabar is conterminous, and when they do, they are predatory creatures that seek to slay the living. So any time people see an animated skeleton, there is an instinctive reaction beyond just the natural that’s a dead thing and it shouldn’t be moving—it’s that you’ve grown up KNOWING that the restless dead want to kill you.
#NotAllNecromancy. There are a number of Necromancy spells that are part of everyday life in the Five Nations. Spare The Dying and Gentle Repose are basic tools used by healers and morticians. No one’s complaining about Revivify or Raise Dead. Speak With Dead is employed by mediums and archaeologists alike. There are other spells in the school that most people don’t even know are necromancy. The common person on the street would likely say “Wait, so Poison Spray is Necromancy, but Acid Splash is Evocation? Who labels these things? With this in mind, a basic point is that appearance matters. If your False Life just looks like a green shield, it’s no different from Mage Armor. But if it’s a whirling shroud of whispering ghosts, or if it causes you yourself to take on a zombie-like appearance, that’s going to upset people. Same with Toll The Dead. If it’s a green bolt that kills people, no biggie. If it’s a bolt of howling shadows that causes flesh to decay, people will be upset. Because…
The problem is Mabar. Necromancy spells draw on different sources of energy. Spells that channel negative energy—pretty much any spell that inflicts necrotic damage or animates negatively-charged undead—draw on the power of Mabar. Spells that draw on positive energy and sustain or restore life—Raise Dead, Spare The Dying—are usually drawing on Irian. And spells that interact with the dead in a neutral way, such as Speak With Dead, typically draw on Dolurrh. People don’t have an issue with Irian, and Dolurrh is spooky, but it’s something that’s waiting for you when you die; it’s not going to come get you. Mabar actively consumes light and life. People know this. They know that crops wither in Mabaran manifest zones. They know deadly shadows and hungry dead rise when Mabar is coterminous. Here again, people have had it drilled into them that Mabar is dangerous—and as a result, any sort of magic that is perceived to have a connection to Mabar can trigger a you’re messing with powers better left alone reaction.
Not everyone agrees. For the reasons given above, most people want nothing to do with Mabaran necromancy. The Undying Court and Silver Flame argue that any invocation of Mabaran energy eats away at the life force of Eberron, and that it’s essentially damaging the environment; even if you aren’t doing something evil with the spell, you’re causing long term harm to get the effect. But the Seekers of the Divinity Within say that the reverse is true—that by channeling existing Mabaran energy into spells, they are actually drawing it OUT of the environment. The Seekers likewise dismiss fear of animating skeletons and zombies because of their deadly counterparts as the equivalent of refusing to use fire in a hearth because wildfires are destructive, or refusing to explore electricity because someone was once struck by lightning. The power of Mabar may be dangerous when it manifests spontaneously, but that’s all the more reason to understand it and to learn to use it safely. These are the principles that led Karrnath to embrace wide-scale necromancy during the Last War, and why undead are still used in many ways in Seeker communities—such as the city of Atur.
There’s no absolute answer here, and if Mabaran magic IS damaging the environment it’s doing it very very slowly. But these reasons are why public opinion is against the most dramatic forms of necromancy in much of the Five Nations—because the power behind it is seen as dangerous and fundamentally evil.
Who cares about corpses? The Church of the Silver Flame practices cremation, precisely to minimize the risk of spontaneous undead. Seekers of the Divinity Within believe that death is annihilation and that nothing important remains with the corpse; they have no sentimental attachment to corpses and feel that it’s practical and sensible to use them for undead labor. But the Five Nations have graveyards, crypts and mausoleums. Sharn: City of Towers describes the City of the Dead, a massive necropolis adjacent to the City of Towers. This is the work of the Vassals. The Pyrinean Creed maintains that the spirits of the dead pass through Dolurrh on their way to the higher realm of the Sovereigns. They believe that the corpse serves as an anchor for the soul; that while the soul may no longer reside within it, it steadies it on its journey. The destruction of a corpse doesn’t doom the soul, but it makes its journeys difficult. Thus, Vassals bury their dead and maintain cemeteries and crypts. The Restful Watch is a sacred order that performs funerals and watch over graveyards. This ties to the fact that Raise Dead requires an intact corpse; while it’s RARE, Vassal myth includes the idea that heroes may be called back to service after death. now, WE know that Resurrection can bring people back from ashes… but remember that in the Five Nations, wide magic tops out at 5th level. People knowRaise Dead is possible; raising someone from ashes is the stuff of legends. Add to this the fact that once a corpse has been made undead, it can’t be restored with Raise Dead. With this in mind, this is another reason Vassals have a instinctive revulsion to animating the dead. While it’s legal as long as someone has a valid claim to a corpse, Vassals consider it a violation. And in the instances where Karrnath animated the corpses of fallen enemies during the Last War, Vassals saw it as a horrifying act.
And if you needed just a little more… The overlord Katashka is an overlord that embodies the horrors of both death and undeath. The cults of Katashka want people to be afraid of the restless dead; throughout history, they’ve unleashed countless undead terrors precisely TO sow fear.
That’s all for now. Thanks to my Patreon supporters for making these articles possible! This month, Patrons received a giant article on House Medani, as well as being able to participate in two live (and recorded) Q&A sessions. If that sounds like a good time, check it out!
A Wyvern from the 2014 Monster Manual, art by Brynn Metheney.
When time permits, I like to answer questions posed by my Patreonsupporters. Questions like…
What are wyverns in Droaam like?
This article talks about wyverns in Thrane, saying…
Wyverns are to Thrane as dragonhawks are to Aundair. For tens of thousands of years, the cliffs around Flamekeep have been home to wyverns. The least of these are typical wyverns as presented in the 5E Monster Manual… generally Large in size and incapable of speech. But there is an exceptional strain of wyverns—typically known as elder wyverns, regardless of their age—that are both more intelligent than their cousins and grow to far greater sizes; as presented in the 3.5 Monster Manual, these wyverns can grow to Gargantuan size. While they are on average less intelligent than humans, elder wyverns are capable of speech. The early settlers of Daskara made peace with the elder wyverns and the rulers of Daskara always had wyvern “advisors.” During the Year of Blood and Fire the wyverns were also threatened by the forces of Bel Shalor, and Tira Miron rallied the elders to her cause; the wyvern Ashtarax carried her in her final confrontation with the forces of Bel Shalor. Following Tira’s sacrifice, the wyverns themselves adopted the faith of the Silver Flame; they consider the defense of Flamekeep to be a sacred duty. The wyverns have relatively little concept of the wider Five Nations and don’t care to know; they serve the church because they believe it serves the Voice of the Flame, and they say that Tira continues to guide them. So, Thrane can field lesser wyverns in battle, but it is the gargantuan elders who spread terror. An elder wyvern can can carry a crew into battle, and early in the war Thrane pioneered new techniques of aerial combat; their trademark was the use of vast bags of holding to drop massive rocks and divinely-infused explosives on their enemies. While the great wyverns lack the powers of dragons, some of the elders have such deep faith that they can channel the power of the Silver Flame; a wyvern might strike at enemies with sacred flame, or even greater powers.
The key part of this sentence is The least of these are typical wyverns as presented in the 5E Monster Manual… generally Large in size and incapable of speech. This is the TYPICAL wyvern found elsewhere in Khorvaire. In the heart of the Five Nations, wyverns were killed off long ago; but they still flourish in the Graywall and Byeshk Mountains, and other parts of the region that is now known as Droaam. These wyverns are carnivorous creatures that don’t have the equivalent of human consciousness and don’t possess a language; they are purely dangerous predators, who will often target goblins or kobolds traveling across the Barrens. Because of this, the Daughters of Sora Kell have placed a bounty on wyverns. The four primary fangs of a wyvern are worth 50 gp each in Droaam; its 46 smaller teeth are worth 10 gp each.
A Manticore from the 2014 Monster Manual, illustrated by Zack Stella
What about the Mror manticores?
Manticores are intelligent and can speak. However, it’s a mistake to think that this means that they think like humans. Manticores are carnivorous creatures. They don’t have hands and typically don’t use tools. Because of this, they typically live alone or in small family groups. When the population grows too large for the region to support it, the youngest manticores will leave the clan to establish themselves elsewhere. While manticores can learn to speak humanoid languages, their own form of communication is song. Manticore song has similarities to whalesong and human throat-singing, reaching into ranges beyond human hearing; manticores can hear the songs of distant relatives as far as a hundred miles away. While this is their primary form of communication, manticore song isn’t comprised of individual words and statements; instead, it conveys mood and experience.… A mighty battle, sorrow of pain. Most manticores have no desire to interact with humanoid creatures; they recognize that intelligent foes are dangerous prey, and beyond that, most manticores find humanoid creatures deeply disturbing—monsters with the heads of manticores poised on horrible soft spindly bodies. So most manticores keep to the highest peaks, places inaccessible save by flight, and prey upon beasts. You may hear their songs echoing across the valley, but they want nothing fo do with you.
There are a few exceptions to this rule. On the whole, manticores aren’t religious. For a Mror manticore, singing is a meditative act, something that connects them to distant family; most don’t feel a need to connect to a higher power. But a few do. Manticores are intelligent, and as such the seeds of a Cult of the Dragon Below can take root in their minds. The most pernicious and lasting cult seen among the manticores of the Mror Holds is that of the Wild Heart. Those manticores who hear the song of the Wild Heart feel a call to prove themselves to be apex predators, to seek ever more challenging prey—a desire that drives them to hunt humanoids. These Hunters of the Heart are cruel and clever, delighting in sowing terror and toying with their prey. This is the source of the common myth of the manticore as evil and cruel. These manticores often learn Common or Dwarvish through their ties to the fiend, the better to taunt and terrify their prey. Hunters of the Heart often have the ability to cast Hunter’s Mark; they can only do this once per day and it requires concentration, but they can maintain it for up to 24 hours. These manticores will often start an attack with a strafing run, wounding landbound enemies with their spikes and marking a foe… and then withdraw, only to attack and retreat again and again, using the mark to track their prey.
The Hunters of the Heart have risen and fallen many times over the centuries, but there’s a younger Manticore cult that has only appeared in the last century. In 943 YK, the illithid Dyrrashar broadcast the message known as Dyrrn’s Promise in Lorran’s Gate. There were five manticores in the mountains who received this telepathic message… and it changed them. Scholars would identify them as following the cultic path knows as The Transcendent Flesh. Three of the five have been slain over the course of the century, but two remain at large, and in the past these “Apostles” have corrupted other manticore clans to their cause. “Transcendent” manticores lose their hair and eyes. They receive a +2 bonus to their natural armor class and have Blindsight with a range of 300 feet, and can spit acid. This has a range of 100 feet and inflicts 2d8 acid damage, with the same attack and damage modifier as their Tail Spike attack; this may be done once per round in place of a Rend or Tail Spike attack. The two Apostles of Dyrrn are especially strong and fast; the DM can increase their stats as appropriate to threaten the adventurers facing them. In addition, the apostles regenerate. A Manticore Apostle of Dyrrn regains 10 hit points at the start of each of its turns. This is negated for one turn if the manticore takes damage from a byeshk weapon; an Apostle can only die if it starts its turn at zero hit points and doesn’t regenerate.
There’s one final group of Mror manticores that break all of these traditions. The Harshaak Clan are a family of manticores that dwell in the mountains of Kundarakhold. Long ago, Dolon d’Kundarak climbed the high peaks and bargained with the clan elder. It’s said that Dolon sung the manticore song, though this should be impossible for a humanoid throat. Whatever the truth of it, Dolon forged an alliance between Kundarak and Harshaak. The Harshaak manticores descended to the lower peaks, and through their interactions with the dwarves they were able to increase their numbers far beyond what the natural environment would support in their high aeries. Now Harshaak manticores form bonds with Kundarak riders, working together to patrol over Kundarak vaults; there is a squad of Harshaak manticores stationed at Dreadhold. Having worked with humanoids for centuries, the Harshaak manticores primarily communicate using humanoid languages, and most speak Common and Dwarvish. They usually wear barding to improve their armor class, and some learn to cast Mage Hand to facilitate their lives in humanoid settlements. While the Harshaak still think humanoids are creepy, they’ve grown used to these spindly half-manticores.
It should be noted that the Dark Lantern Thorn reported an encounter with an unusual creature. While she described the creature as a manticore, the analyst Steel noted that the creature possessed a scorpion’s tail and a number of other remarkable qualities; Steel theorized that the creature might have actually been an unusual sphinx or lamassu.
That’s all for now! If you want to see more articles like this one—or to ask your own questions—check out my Patreon!
In the dawn of time, Eberron was the domain of the fiendish overlords… Rak Tulkesh, the Rage of War, commanded armies of vicious fiends, while the Wild Heart raised hordes of ravenous beasts. In the struggles between the two, the Wild Heart bred dire hyenas with the ability to consume the immortal essences of the Zakya warriors of Rak Tulkhesh. But the Wild Heart failed to anticipate how consuming fiends would affect its creations. Twisted from within by the immortal essence of the demons they’d devoured, the hyenas were warped into something entirely new, something that was neither beast nor demon: and so the first gnolls were born. Formed from both War and the Wild, gnolls were recruited and bred by both Rak Tulkhesh and the Wild Heart… Even after the overlords were defeated and bound by the Silver Flame, gnolls continued to be their pawns. The fiendish spark burned within them, and when they weren’t directly serving the Lords of Dust, most engaged in savage acts of brutality. The Rage of War seeks endless battle, and when there is no greater conflict, it delights in setting its minions against one another. For countless generations, gnolls fought troll, ogre, and other gnolls seeking blood for their hungry idols. Then, centuries ago, two gnolls from rival clans faced one another on a battlefield soaked in the blood of their kin—then questioned the path that had led them there. The two urged others to deny the voice that called for endless war, to refuse to chase death in the service of a fiend. Two became four, then eight, until entire clans heeded the call. Clan leaders dragged their idols to the place now known as Znir—a word that simply means “stone”—and there, they shattered the images of the fiends they once served.
As time permits, I like to answer interesting questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Here’s one from this month…
How would you incorporate Gnolls as Fiends? The 2025 Monster Manual and Flee, Mortals! both type Gnolls as full-fledged fiends rather than simply demon-worshipping humanoids.
Eberron was created for third edition. When a new edition changes the default lore, there’s always the question of how to respond to it. Should we change Eberron to adapt to the latest change, or should we maintain the integrity of the setting’s original lore even if it is contradicted by the latest set of rules? There’s one dramatic example of this in the original setting itself. Eberron was designed while the original third edition rules were in effect. Under those rules, afflicted lycanthropes could spread the curse of lycanthropy, which creates the potential for an exponential spread—one lycanthrope can bite five people, who each become lycanthropes that bite five people, who each become lycanthropes and before you know it, the entire population of Aundair is howling at the moons. It was with this in mind that we instituted the idea of the Silver Crusade, a brutal effort to eradicate lycanthropy—because as depicted, lycanthropy was something that could be seen as an existential threat. Except that D&D was evolving as Eberron was developed, and under the 3.5 rules, afflicted lycanthropes couldn’t spread the affliction… making the crusade seem arbitrary and cruel. With this in mind, we added an explanation that bridged the gap between the two editions—saying that at the time of the Silver Crusade, lycanthropy WAS infectious; the actions of the templars and Moonspeakers broke this power, leaving the curse in its weaker 3.5 form.
This is my preferred approach. I don’t want to simply ignore the new rules, but I also don’t want to undermine unique aspects of Eberron. So my question is always if there’s a way to maintain the original concept while also incorporating the current rules.
So first of all, in making gnolls fiends, I would emphasize the horror of that concept. The 2025 Monster Manual calls them Fiends in Feral Flesh, and I’d really double down on that. The point is that these aren’t just humanoids that have decided to be cruel—they are shells housing ravenous immortal spirits of pure evil. I would go straight to The Exorcist and play up the deeply unnatural nature of this. In describing fiendish gnolls, I’d depict the fiend within twisting their bodies—hearing bones snap and reknit as their jaws extend to impossible width, emphasizing their unnatural ability to ignore pain and fight until they’re torn apart, their ability to consume impossible amounts of flesh. Beyond the physical, I’d consider other things that make them feel unnatural. I’ve talked before about gnoll mimicry; with fiendish gnolls, I’d straight up have them speak with the voices of people the adventurers have lost in war (because they’re fiends of Rak Tulkhesh), or have a troop of gnolls all speak with one voice. I’d consider having a gnoll with a distinctive personality who engages with the adventurers, who keeps coming back in the body of different gnolls. Because to me, the point is that the individual GNOLL isn’t a fiend; it’s a mortal creature of flesh and blood. But that mortal creature has no will or identity of its own; it’s just a vessel for an immortal fiend.
So I can work with gnolls as fiends, and I’d place those gnolls as ravenous servants of the Wild Heart in the Eldeen Reaches and as soldiers of Rak Tulkhesh in the Demon Wastes. The catch is that I’dkeep the gnolls of the Znir Pact as humanoids. Considering the story from Exploring Eberron, it’s not simply that those first Znir gnolls had a change of heart, it’s that they expelled the fiends from their bodies. This doubles down on the importance of the Hwyri exorcists in Znir society; the Znir know more about fighting fiends than almost anyone, because they were made to be vessels for fiends and drove them from their blood. The Znir gnolls still have traces of fiendish influence; the fiends still yearn to control them. But they are mortal humanoids, with the same free will and self-determination as any mortal creation, capable of having any alignment. In some ways this is a parallel to the Inspired and their Chosen hosts; the Znir gnoll is the vessel without the fiend, the equivalent of a Chosen who’s found a way to prevent the quori from possessing them. Which would also be an interesting story for a Chosen adventurer, who was saved by a Hwyri mentor who taught them how to keep their quori at bay.
So, I have no issue with the new Monster Manual presenting gnolls as fiends, and I’d be happy to embrace that and go all in on the horrific aspects of it… for the servants of Rak Tulkhesh and the Wild Heart. But the whole point of the Znir gnolls is that they have broken the hold the overlords once had over them, and I would keep them as humanoids in my 2025 campaign.
If you have questions of your own, I’m holding a live Q&A for my Threshold patrons at 6 PM Pacific Time TOMORROW, Wednesday the 22nd. You can get access to this and post questions on Patreon. Thanks for your support!
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 storyand how it has changedsince 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!
Nunu the bartender loves a spooky story! Art by Matthew Johnson
Every month I answer questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Here’s a few of the interesting questions that have come up this month. In addition, if you’re a Threshold patron you can apply to play in Eberron games I run online. The next game is this Sunday from 10 AM – 2 PM Pacific Time, and I’ll be taking player applications for the next 48 hours. If you’re interested in playing, you can find out more here—but you have to be a Threshold patron to apply. Anyhow, let’s get on with the questions!
The Fort Bones Eye on Eberron article mentions rites that mitigate the power of Mabar in the area, and allow agriculture in the region. The article further notes that when Kaina ir’Duna interfered with the latter rites near the beginning of the Last War, it was disastrous for agriculture and contributed to Karrnath’s famines. I am thinking of setting a campaign at Fort Bones, and my question is what those rites might look like and, loosely speaking, what they might consist of in game terms?
Mabar is the source of negative energy; it consumes life and causes despair. Mabaran manifest zones radiate negative energy, which will cause crops to fail and animals to wither. Seekers contain this energy by using it to perform necromantic magic. Here’s a few rituals that are used for this purpose.
The first and most frequent is Tolling The Dead. The priest gathers the faithful and together they sing prayers and tell stories of the fallen ancestors of the people in the community and other Seeker heroes. With each individual, they generate a pulse of negative energy that blasts into the sky, accompanied by the sound of a great bell. This is essentially the cantrip Toll The Dead, amplified by the group participation and ritual casting. It’s not designed to serve as a weapon; the pulse blasts directly up. The purpose is simply to catch the negative energy and channel it up and away. While meanwhile, as a religious ceremony, it is about remembering those that have been lost.
Every other week, there is a communion service that involves a long and extensive performance of Speak With Dead. The dead are often turned into zombies or skeletons, but Seekers respected for their wisdom may be kept aside from this; their skulls are preserved and polished, and brought out for this service. Anyone in the community can request a chance to ask a question of one of these wise skulls. This begins with a Tolling service that celebrates each of the mentors, remembering their deeds in life before giving people the chance to speak with their remains. Keep in mind that Speak With Dead only draws on traces of memory that cling to the remains; the spirits of the Seekers are gone!
The third option is the creation and maintenance of the undead, typically zombies and skeletons. When a member of the community dies and is chosen for service in undeath, the community will gather and celebrate the victim’s life, after which the priest will animate their remains. Since this only happens when someone dies, it’s not a regular thing. However, there is also a weekly ritual in which the undead servants in a community are brought together. The priest tells the story of each one, reminding people who they were in life and thanking them for their service in death. This ritual channels negative energy to sustain the undead and repair any damage they have suffered.
This isn’t a conclusive list, but it’s a few options to work with!
Art by Ron Spears from the Fourth Edition Monster Manual
What’s the role of Flameskulls in Eberron?
In MY campaign, flameskulls are created using a form of the Odakyr rites—the same rituals used to create the Karrnathi undead. This has a few important aspects.
A flameskull can only be created from the remains of a spellcaster capable of casting the spells on the flameskull’s spell list. You have to lose a capable spellcaster before you can create a flameskull.
Creating a flameskull requires a very capable necromancer anchoring a ritual performed by multiple adepts. I’d make the eye gems of a flameskull Khyber dragonshards enchanted in a particular way. So Malevanor could make a flameskull, but it’s not something your typical Seeker village priest could do.
A flameskull is intelligent, but it’s not HUMAN. As called out in canon lore, “A flameskull only dimly recalls its former life.” I’d tie this to what I’ve already said about the Karrnathi undead: that IN THEORY they are guided by the patriotic spirit of Karrnath, but in practice, it’s possible that they are guided by Mabaran fiends, by Lady Illmarrow, or something else. These Odakyr flameskulls were used as mobile artillery by Karrnath during the Last War, but because of the restrictions—you need a dead wizard to make one—they were relatively uncommon.
That’s the STANDARD story for the most widespread form of flameskull. But you could also have unique flameskulls created in other ways — a malevolent flameskull that DOES remember its previous life and which was reanimated by either Sul Khatesh or Katashka the Gatekeeper. An ancient Dhakaani flameskull, all that remains of a great Dirge Singer; instead of FLAME, her spells are based on sound and deal thunder damage instead of fire damage. A flameskull that was once a priest of the Shadow, whose spells deal necrotic damage. (To be clear, my point here is that you don’t have to actually change the flameskull’s spell list, though you could. The point of the shadowskull is that it would be wreathed in dark mist, and it would attack with a shadow ray that deals 3d6 necrotic damage and cast shadow sphere or shadowball — which work exactly like flaming sphere or fireball, but deal necrotic damage.) A fun twist on the shadowskull would be to reverse the Illumination trait; it can either change bright light to dim light within 15 feet, or extend darkness to 15 feet and dim light to 15 feet beyond that.
Some years ago, you offered a take on Erandis Vol and the Raven Queen in Eberron; that Erandis IS the Raven Queen, and that she is trying to/needs to ascend to take her rightful place as Queen of the Dead. Can you expand on that a little? What does the Erandis need for the ritual of ascension? Does current Erandis even *know* that’s what she’s trying to do, or is she simply trying to unlock her dragonmark? How would you handle Illmarrow as a campaign villain with this sort of thing as a finale? Presumably Erandis’ ascension is a good(ish) thing, but the PCs will likely be diametrically opposed to her; stopping her ascension would be a victory for the PCs, but leave Dolurrh without a Queen, which seems like a problem.
The Once and Future Queen of the Dead. The Queen of the Dead is an enigmatic figure who wields great power in Dolurrh. But there’s another being who uses this title: Erandis Vol, the last heir of the Mark of Death. Through her agents in the Order of the Emerald Claw and beyond, Erandis seeks to restore the power of her dragonmark; no one knows what godlike powers she might wield if she unlocks its full potential. Meanwhile, Dolurrh’s Queen of the Dead seems to oppose Erandis, and often sends her agents—both shadar-kai and adventurers she’s restored to life at a price—to interfere with Vol’s schemes. This could be exactly what it appears… But perhaps there’s more to it. Time works in strange ways when dealing with the planes and beings of vast power. Perhaps the Queen of the Dead isn’t trying to stop Erandis, but guiding her down a very specific path. Perhaps Erandis will become the Queen of the Dead, in which case, she’ll have always been her. Or perhaps that’s what’s supposed to happen, but there’s a way in which it could still go wrong… which could destroy the Queen of the Dead and throw Dolurrh itself into chaos.
So first of all, the central idea here is that Erandis doesn’t know what she’s trying todo. She’s not TRYING to become the queen of Dolurrh; she “seeks to restore the power of her dragonmark; no one knows what godlike powers she might wield if she unlocks its full potential.” Erandis wants POWER. She wants to achieve the destiny that was stolen from her. And in the pursuit of that power, she will do terrible things and kill countless innocents. So there’s not supposed to be any question that Erandis’s ascension is a bad bad thing. As I’ve said before, Erandis and the Emerald Claw are intended to be pulp villains; you aren’t supposed to question whether opposing them is the right thing to do. And the Queen of the Dead can serve as a patron, guiding the adventurers—potentially, setting their service in stopping Erandis as the price of resurrection (though I’ve got more thoughts on this below!). Erandis is performing unnatural acts of necromancy and the Queen wants the adventurers to stop it.
But how does this work as a campaign? How can the adventurers go through a series of sessions where they oppose Erandis’s plans? If they succeed and interfere, she won’t ascend, right? And if they fail, assuming they don’t die, won’t it just be frustrating to fail again and again? This is a basic question that can apply to ANY campaign in which the DM has a villain that’s supposed to be building to a big climax — how do the adventurers feel like they are accomplishing something meaningful without derailing the big final act of the story? The answer is that just as you want space in a game for the players to fail forward, you want room for the villains to do so as well. Don’t create stories in which the only options are absolute success or absolute failure; you want to have missions in which the adventurers can accomplish a heroic task while Erandis still gets what she needs to move forward. Consider these examples…
The Emerald Claw sets up an Emerald Reanimator in the heart of Sharn, triggering a zombie apocalypse. The adventurers, we hope, destroy the reanimator and save the city. But after this victory, the Queen of the Dead whispers to them that this is only one link in a chain. Erandis’s goal was to charge a special Khyber shard with necrotic energy, and the animator was active for long enough to accomplish this task. Her minions have escaped with the charged shard, and she will surely return again.
The Emerald Claw launches an attack in Arcanix. The adventurers fight their way down through the great library, leading to a final conflict with a bodak who’s—reading a book. When the adventurers break into the vault, the bodak looks up at them and laughs with Erandis’s vault. “You’re too late,” she says. “I needed to read one page within the Qabalrin Codex… and now I have.”
The point of these stories is that the adventurers SAVE SHARN AND ARCANIX. They save countless innocents and are heralded as heroes. But there was never a version of the scenario in which they could get to the bodak before they read the book. And yet, the adventurers didn’t even know the book was her goal until the final scene. It’s a solid victory for them; but Erandis also got what she needed. And all of this builds until the end, where Erandis is about to trigger her ascension. The adventurers ready for the final battle and suddenly time stops and the Queen of the Dead speaks in their minds. Do not interfere. You must allow her to do this. She does not know the path she is stepping on, but it is a path she must take. And for the stability of the world you know, you must allow her to do it. And now we know: The Queen of the Dead wanted the adventurers to save as many innocents as possible, but she didn’t mention the Qabalrin Codex because she needed Erandis to get the book. From the start, she’s told the adventurers enough to help them minimize the damage of Erandis’s actions—but her goal was never to stop her. What will they do?
This is a sort of railroad; you aren’t giving the players the option to stop Erandis in advance. But the point is that every victory along the way had to be earned. If they failed in Sharn the city would become a zombie-filled necropolis. If they failed in Arcanix, the Emerald Claw would have claimed countless war rituals. But Erandis was always going to move forward. It’s NOW, in the final act, that they have to make the true choice. Do they trust the Queen of the Dead and allow Erandis to complete the ritual—at which point she discovers her ascension is not what she thought? Or do they fight it? In this instance, I’d set things entirely in their hands (and the dice). They can defeat Erandis and stop the ritual… and which point the Queen of the Dead will howl and vanish, and suddenly the world will be plagued by countless restless ghosts, the product of chaos in Dolurrh. In which case the final act becomes the adventurers undoing the damage they’ve caused. Can they restore Erandis as the Queen of the Dead? Or do they need to find a NEW ruler of Dolurrh — perhaps, even having one of them somehow take up the mantle themselves?
Art by Andrew Jones from the 3.5 Eberron Campaign Setting
The most famous artwork which represents elves of the Undying Court has an ape on it. What is the role or symbolism of apes for Aerenal and Court?
It’s not that the Court as a whole has an affinity for apes; it’s that THAT BABOON is an actual member of the Undying Court. That’s Caerzha the Old, one of the Gyrderi Druids trapped in wild shape by the Cul’sir; sustained by primal magic, he lived long enough to be raised to the Court after his passing.
That’s all for now! Thanks again to my patrons for asking interesting questions and making these articles possible.
This is the oni Roo from my Graywall campaign, illustrated by Matthew Johnson. But she’s kinda fiendy?
Frontiers of Eberron is coming out in September! I am holding a live Q&A at Noon Pacific time TOMORROW, Saturday August 17th, to discuss the book. This is on my Patreon Discord channel, so you have to be a Threshold patron to participate. Even if you can’t attend live, the session will be recorded and shared for patrons. So, that’s a thing. Another benefit of being a Patron is that you get to ask me questions. Questions like…
What are your thoughts on hellfire weapons, lemures, and the River Styx in Eberron?
The principle of Hellfire Weapons is that they catch the souls of creatures killed by them and turn them into lemures on the River Styx, where they are recruited to fight in the Blood War. Eberron doesn’t have the River Styx or the Blood War. So what’s the point of Hellfire Weapons? Off the top of my head, I have three ideas.
One option is to tie them to Shavarath. Say that they’re tied to the Legion of Tyranny and that they catch souls and turn them into devils fighting for the Legion. On the surface, this fits the core idea—recruit you into an army of devils fighting an extraplanar war. But there’s a few issues, notably that mortal souls ALREADY fight in Shavarath. Every mortal projects a conscript into Shavarath, the same way you project a dream self into Dal Quor when you dream. In this very moment, you ARE fighting in the Eternal Battleground. Which makes Hellfire Weapons slightly redundant. The catch is that your conscript-self is recruited by whichever Legion most closely matches your values and nature; the Hellfire weapon would catch your soul and force it into service for Tyranny. If I ran with this idea I’d make it an extremely new development likely initiated by a mortal: the immortals of Shavarath have been fighting their war since the dawn of creation and don’t do dramatic innovation. The idea would be that a mortal (Warlock? Artificer? Dragon? All of the above?) came up with this plan, theorizing that this would be a way to slowly but inexorably shift the balance of power in Shavarath.
Having said that, this isn’t an option I’d use. The whole point of Shavarath is that it’s AN ETERNAL BATTLE. Everyone comes back. It’s not really an interesting backdrop for a CAMPAIGN… and also, again, it’s not really SUPPOSED to be a situation driven by dramatic shifts. Which brings us to option two. What I’d do is to keep the core idea of the hellfire weapon—if it kills you, you are reborn as a devil in a hellscape, stripped of memory and forced to fight—and dump the part where the battle takes place in another plane. That’s right: I’d say that hellfire weapons are manufactured by the Lords of Dust, and you don’t return to the River Styx, you return in THE DEMON WASTES. I’d say that this was a recent breakthrough in Ashtakala—facilitated by Hektula and Sul Khatesh—and that Rak Tulkhesh and, say, Eldrantulku are recruiting forces into the Demon Wastes in this way. In theory they are going to raise a vast army of corrupted mortal souls and roll over the Ghaash’kala and into Western Khorvaire… but for now, they’re mainly fighting each other. So as a campaign, you get killed with a hellfire weapon and find yourself as a lemure in the Demon Wastes, assigned to fight alongside one of the Carrion Tribes against rival Carrions. If this sounds interesting, check out this recent article on the Demon Wastes!
A third option—and the one I’d personally use—would be to say that the weapons are forged by Mordakhesh (albeit with the help of an innovative mortal artificer) and send your soul to the Bitter Shield, the heart demiplane of Rak Tulkhesh, which is another realm of endless war. In theory, again, Rak is building up a massive horde of soul-soldiers who will on day emerge to terrify Eberron, but in the meantime you are in a realm that is the heart of an overlord of war. There could be a river of blood there where you wash up that washes away some memory, filling the Styx role. You’re adjacent to Eberron, but is there any way for you to return to it? Unlike the other scenarios, in the Heart of Rak Tulkhesh the war truly is pointless; the “enemy” might change every day. But this could also be an interesting opportunity to explore a series of epically impossible conflicts, because this is essentially the dream of an archfiend of war. You and your fellow adventurer-recruits are assigned to a squad, and while everything around you changes from day to day, your squad sticks together. Today you need to sneak into a citadel mounted on the back of a tarrasque and kill the commander. Tomorrow you need to hold a narrow pass against a swarm of berserkers. What fresh terror will come up the day after that?
I haven’t read Descent Into Avernus, where Hellfire Weapons come from. so I don’t know how it handles the idea that the adventurers have been recruited into an endless, immortal war… specifically, how it handles death. If you return after you die, then why does any of it matter? Why is it exciting to try and infiltrate the Tarrasque Fortress; why not just jump off it and die? If I was running the session, I’d run with these principles…
Your soul has been bound to this battle. The arc of the campaign is about finding a way to escape and become mortal—or to choose to abandon mortality and try to make a real difference in the hellscape. To succeed on either path, you need to hold onto your mortal identity.
When you die you return. But each time you return, you lose a fraction of your identity and become a little more fiendish. I would have a little set of fiendish boons, and each time you die you get a new fiendish boon—possibly tied to the sort of fiend you’re becoming. But you’d also lose a fraction of your mortality… and I’d also have tasks and tools that respond to that mortality. So aside from your mortality being necessary to escape, it has a practical benefit if you can hold on to it. The main point here is that there is an end: if you lose all of your mortality and fully become a fiend, your character has been lost and you’ll become an NPC.
When you die you don’t return right away; essentially, you are reborn in the downtime between adventures. So an early death is going to hurt the odds of success for your party, potentially leading to a total party kill. Which is possible in this scenario because there will always be another war tomorrow. You will all lose some of your mortality, but failure is an option. I’d most likely recruit players whose characters have died to play NPCs for the duration of a session.
With all this in mind, a thing I’d at least consider is to not run this as a D&D campaign at all, but rather to use my own RPG system, Phoenix Dawn Command, which is all about death and rebirth. I’d just tweak the Phoenix system a little so that the schools represent different types of fiends; add the “mortality” element; and say that if you die seven times, you fully become a fiend and you’re lost.
Anyhow, I know this is very different than how they work in Descent to Avernus, but that’s how *I* would use Hellfire Weapons! And in case it’s not obvious, in all of these cases the soul is being diverted from its proper path—Dolurrh and whatever lies beyond. So it’s possible the Queen of the Dead might eventually take an interest once this hits a critical mass…
But wait! I thought that immortals couldn’t reproduce! Does this change that?
It is a basic principle of Eberron that immortals cannot be destroyed, but that they cannot reproduce—that an overlord is a finite pool of energy, and it supports a finite number of fiends. It’s possible that Hellfire Weapons are a new development that changes that, and there’s a simple precedent for how it would work: It’s a core belief of the Church of the Silver Flame that virtuous mortals join with the Flame after death and strengthen it. If this is actually true, it means that mortal souls are an energy source that can merge with and strengthen a source of immortal power. So it could be that a brilliant mortal artificer—and I say mortal because this is where I’d highlight that mortals are more innovative than immortals—has studied this and figured out a way to do the same for the overlords, binding mortal souls to strengthen the overlords. But even then, mortals bound to the Silver Flame don’t become full fledged celestials. And with that in mind, I’d say what’s happening with Hellfire Weapons is something entirely different. What APPEARS to happen is that a mortal killed by the weapon awakens in a new place as a weak fiend, and with each death they become more and more fiendish until they are full fiends. To an outsider this LOOKS like a new fiend is being born. But that’s not what’s happening at all. Remember that MOST of the fiends tied to an overlord were bound along with it; rakshasa are the most common native fiends because they were best able to escape this binding. What’s going on with Hellfire Weapons isn’t the creation of a new fiend; it’s that the mortal soul is being connected to a fiend bound by the Silver Flame and used as a means of escaping the Flame. Which is why you don’t want to die even though you’d get more power, and why the final fiend becomes an NPC—because it’s NOT the adventurer, it’s an ancient fiend who has hollowed out their soul and used it to escape.
So again, the point is that fiends ARE finite — Hellfire Weapons are a way to bring more fiends into the world, but it’s done by freeing them from their bonds.
Thanks again to my Patreon supporters for interesting questions and the support that makes these articles possible!
Taleth of the Forgotten Choir will be performing at the next Tain Gala.
When time permits, I like to answer interesting questions posed by my Patreon supporters. Questions like this…
I have a session coming up that I’m setting at the Tain Gala. I was curious what sorts of things might go on at the gala that a level 3 or so party would reasonably be able to take part in? My hope for the session is that the players will walk away having made a good impression with some wealthy folk and have it lead into them gaining a group patron.
The Tain Gala was first introduced in the Sharn: City of Towers sourcebook, which had this to say about it.
The Tain Gala (first Far of each month): Balls, galas, and feasts occur throughout the year, as ambassadors, nobles, and dragonmarked heirs wine and dine their relatives and associates. However, the Tain Gala has become an institution in Sharn. The ir’Tains, one of the oldest and most powerful families in Sharn, owns many towers and their wealth rivals that of the Kundarak clan. The guest list of the Tain Gala defines the social order of the city. The families with permanent invitations to the Gala, the Sixty, are the royalty of Sharn.
In addition to these aristocrats and wealthy gentry, Lady Celyria ir’Tain does her best to invite a few unusual celebrities to entertain her guests—artists, poets, and sometimes adventurers. Aside from fantastic food and drink, such guests receive generous gifts and a temporary increase in status; for the next month, the attitude of any member of the Sixty is increased by one category when dealing with the celebrity. An adventurer known to be a friend of Lady ir’Tain often receives invitations to other events or other forms of special consideration.
The Tain Gala is first and foremost a place for the wealthiest and most powerful families of Sharn to mingle: to see and be seen, to share news and gossip, and to network with one another. It is a celebration of their power and wealth, which is displayed through the decor, the clothing, the food, and the entertainment. The attendees will eat, drink, gamble, and dance—all of which provide opportunities to share gossip and discuss plans. Eligible heirs will court and be courted. People engaged in business will talk to allies and rivals. Powerful people will discuss politics with city councilors. So it is a place to celebrate and to be entertained, but there are countless deals and schemes unfolding in the shadows. If you want a quick glimpse at what this is like, I suggest you watch Bridgerton or The Gilded Age. The Sixty Families are engaged in a complex dance that has been going on for ages and which will continue long after tonight.
Against the steady backdrop of the Sixty Families and their negotiations and intrigues, entertainment changes from month to month. There will always be music and dance; here’s a random table of possible performers.
Tain Gala Performers
d8
Performer
1
Taleth of the Forgotten Choir. A harpy songbird from Droaam and devotee of the Fury, whose enchanting voice draws emotion from even the hardest heart.
2
Castalo Con Cavaron. One of the finest Thurimbar players of the modern age, this Zil gnome weaves the complexities of an orchestra with his mystical rod.
3
The Hydra Quintet. The current prodigies of House Phiarlan’s Demesne of Music.
4
The Brelish Symphony Orchestra. The top members of the orchestra, drawn away from the Kavarrah Concert Hall for this command performance.
5
Elvinor d’Phiarlan. The current matriarch of House Phiarlan, giving a rare performance of the legendary Dance of Twenty Shadows.
6
Strings of Steel. A warforged trio that’s become a sensation. Two members of the trio were built to perform, while the third is a former war hero now devoted to music.
7
Duo Delo. A pair of changelings who blend song and dance, switching parts and voices throughout the performance.
8
Hammertail. A trio from the Talenta Plains who combine percussion with sounds generated by small glidewings.
Beyond that, there will be special guests who have been invited to provide entertainment, whether through actual performance or simply by sharing their stories in conversations. There could be poets, actors, athletes or illusionists who will entertain others with impromptu performances. There might be war heroes, displaced Cyran nobles, or ambassadors from Aerenal or Riedra. This Tain Gala Guests table can help with random ideas, but it’s just a foundation; the point is, there will always be a small selection of people who aren’t part of the Sixty, who have been invited to liven up the gala.
Tain Gala Guests
1d10
A…
With…
1
Cyran Refugee
A remarkable artifact
2
War Hero
A fascinating story
3
Popular Actor or Poet
An urgent cause
4
Ambassador
News of a terrible disaster
5
Passionate Priest
An exotic familiar or animal companion
6
Legendary Wizard
An investment opportunity
7
Powerful Noble
An important announcement
8
City Councilor
A desire to wed
9
Dragonmarked Heir
A call to action
10
Wayfinder Adventurer
Roll Again, but the guest is an imposter!
What about the Adventurers?
The main question to address if you’re running an adventure at the Tain Gala is why are the adventurers there? Here’s a few ideas.
Bodyguards. One of the regular guests of the gala asks the adventurers to accompany them because they are afraid of some sort of threat. This threat could be physical, social, or supernatural—as serious as assassination, or as casual as Saiden Boromar always steps on my feet—you need to make sure that doesn’t happen. The question here is why the guest is using the adventurers and not hiring Deneith or Medani. One option is that using house bodyguards is a sign of fear; the adventurers won’t be recognized as bodyguards by the other guests.
Fifteen Rounds of Fame. If the adventurers have done something dramatic and public as part of their adventures, Lady ir’Tain could want them to come and regale her guests with retellings of their recent deeds. This is an excellent opportunity for other guests to try to hire the adventurers for their own intrigues.
Background. One or more of the player characters could be invited based on their background. An entertainer could be hired to entertain; a good performance at the Tain Gala would open all sorts of doors. A soldier could be asked to share stories, or the gala could be having a special memorial for survivors of an especially brutal conflict. A sage could be asked to lecture on their area of expertise, or to confirm the authenticity of an artifact. In this case, the other adventurers could be present as guests of the honored guest.
Undercover. The adventurers are brought in by a guest who has a secret agenda. Posing as servants or family members, the adventurers are expected to break away and perform some sort of heist or scheme over the course of the gala. Alternatively, the adventurers could be hired by the Royal Eyes, King’s Citadel, or some other espionage agenda and charged to infiltrate the gala disguised as servants or entertainers.
Fight Club. We don’t talk about this, but… If you want to take a darker path, the ir’Tains could occasionally hire groups of adventurers to face off in (usually) non-lethal combat. This could be a special occasion—for example, a way to commemorate the festival of Brightblade—or it could be a dark secret that has been going on for years.
Scandal! Some member of the Sixty could choose to bring a group of adventurers to the Gala precisely because they don’t belong there. Cariana ir’Tain could meet the adventurers in a Callestan club and invite them to come to her home, neglecting to mention the big party that’s happening. Daral ir’Tain could want the adventurers to overshadow a rival noble’s big entrance.
Fifteen Rounds and Background are the best approaches if the goal is to connect the adventurers with a new patron; Undercover and Bodyguards are based on the idea that the party already has a patron who’s bringing them to the gala.
But what do you DO there?
As noted, the gala is a PARTY. People talk, drink, dance. What does this look like in terms of scenes and challenges for players? Here’s a few ideas.
Conversation. Much of the party is people talking to one another. A question is whether the adventurers are primarily interested in LISTENING—in which case you might have them make Insight and Perception checks to pick up interesting information—or if they are TALKING, in which case they should be making Charisma checks using the skill that matches their demeanor.
Dancing. Even if they have no interest in romance, adventurers might be asked to dance. At its simplest, a round of dancing could require a Performance or Acrobatics check. For something more dramatic—especially at a gala celebrating an important Cyran refugee—people could dance the Tago or something equally challenging. If romance IS part of the adventurer’s goals, Persuasion, Insight, or Deception could also come into play; you could draw out a single dance with multiple ability checks reflecting both physical and social talent.
Spotlight. Depending on their background and history, an adventurer could be the focus of attention, asked to regale the gathered guests with a description of their deeds or a demonstration of their skills. Depending on the stakes and the complexity of this, it could be a single ability check or it could be a series of checks that provides greater opportunity for a scale fo success and failure.
Gambling. There’s always a room where people play games. Depending on the time and the tone of the session, you could resolve gaming with ability checks or you could have players actually play a game. If you take this approach, you could create a unique game for your session; use games like Three Dragon Ante or Illimat; or as suggested in this article, use Chess or Poker as placeholders for Conqueror or Thrones.
Dining. Eat and drink! An uncouth adventurer could have to rely on Insight or Performance to keep from embarassing themselves; a finicky adventurer might have to make a Wisdom saving throw to force down a particularly unpleasant delicacy. Likewise, adventurers who choose to drink or partake in other intoxicants could have to make Constitution saves (with any relevant bonuses against poison); exhaustion is a reasonable mechanic to use for inebriation.
Now, I’ve suggested ability checks adventurers could make if you WANT to roll dice, but you don’t have to roll dice! Many of these situations work just fine as pure roleplaying. if you do choose to roll, this can be to measure the scale of success rather than to determine success or failure. The soldier can’t actually FAIL at telling her war story—but a exceptional role will make her the center of attention and perhaps earn an audience with the general in attendance. This latter point can be another key to what adventurers are DOING. If they are trying to acquire a patron or if they want to meet an important person who doesn’t mingle, they might have to impress the guests first. In this case, ability checks could be used, but again, failure doesn’t have to mean FAILURE; it just means the performance didn’t impress the people they hoped to impress. It could be as simple as telling the adventurers to get an audience with Saiden Boromar tonight, each one of you will have to do something that impresses people; you’ve got two chances. What do you do?
That’s all for now! This is only the tip of the iceberg, but hopefully it gives you some fun ideas to work with. Thanks to my Patreon supporters, who make these articles possible; I’m posting an extra People You Meet At The Party table on Patreon as bonus content for patrons. I’ll note that Taleth of the Forgotten Choir, the harpy pictured above (drawn by Matthew Johnson) is a player character in the new campaign I’m just starting for patrons! In addition, GenCon is coming up and some of my events are getting booked up: here’s my schedule, though I am NOT in Elisa Teague’s Legacy game and I’m in the 2 PM game on Sunday! I’d also like to give a shout out to friends making good things: KP11 Studios’ Project Dastan, the first studio actual play in India; Todd Stashwick’sProgcore Fantasy: Dark Age of Theer; and Foam Brain Games’ Lost Tome of Monsters 2!
I’ve been very busy this month—and year!—and haven’t had as much time for articles as I’d like. However, I do answer questions for my Patreon supporters every month, and some times the topics are too big to be addresses on Patreon. Such as…
My campaign is Pathfinder 2e, but set in Eberron. It’s been going great, but one major sticking point is that players in Pathfinder are expected to be able to buy or somehow find higher level generic magic items like scrolls and talismans to aid them in adventure. As Khorvaire doesn’t have very high magic, where would a group of adventurers over level 10 equip themselves with strong but generic magical effects? As in, who is selling level 5+ spell scrolls?
First of all, it’s important to clarify the question that’s being asked. The point isn’t just where do you get powerful magic items, but specifically about “generic” and consumable items—scrolls, potions, and similar tools. The system presumes that high level characters have casual access to consumables that are appropriate to their level—that it’s not a big deal for a 12th level character to grab a potion of speed. But 6th level magic is beyond the everyday magic of the Five Nations. So where can a powerful character get a 6th level spell scroll?
There’s no one answer. House Cannith doesn’t have a VIP section of its enclaves that only sells powerful gear to powerful characters. So in my campaign I would tailor the approach to the party of the adventurers and the story of the campaign. Who are their allies? Who are their enemies? Do you WANT it to be as easy as just dropping some gold and getting the items (in which case my homemeade gear suggestion is easy) or do you want to give the players access to the gear but make them have to maintain a relationship if they want to restock? Do you want it to be a slightly shady thing? With that in mind, here’s some ideas.
THE IMMEASURABLE MARKET. From Exploring Eberron…
While most planes are isolated from others and it’s difficult to move from one plane to another, commerce and peaceful interaction are defining aspects of Syrania. Most planes have back doors that lead to the Immeasurable Market. The crystal spire in the Open Sky is merely a gateway leading to an open marketplace that extends as far as the eye can see. To one side, a slaadi haggles with a modron over the price of hippogriff eggs; to the other, a sly dao shows a Shavaran balor a selection of Fernia-forged blades. It’s said that anything you can imagine—and many things you can’t—can be found in the Immeasurable Market.
Are you looking for things that can’t be purchased in the Five Nations? Are you a remarkable, legendary adventurer? The Immeasurable Market of Syrania has what you need. Not only does it provide access wondrous goods, the entrances to the Market could turn up anywhere. If I were to use the Immeasurable Market as an ongoing part of a campaign, I’d have an adventure in which the adventurers stumble onto a doorway to the Market and have to earn the favor of an Angel of Commerce, who gifts them with the ability to return. If you want to limit it, they could be presented with a key that will guide them to the nearest door to the Market and open it (a key that will only work for them). This allows the DM to decide whether or not there IS a door in their current area, just as you can’t always find a shop selling scrolls. If I were to follow this plotline, I would play up how remarkable this is and have some developing stories as the adventurers get to know merchants and other residents of the Market. For simplicities sake I’d generally allow adventurers to spend gold on simple consumables, but Exploring Eberron lists a variety of other options…
SUNDRY. If you don’t want to have the adventurers go to the Immeasurable Market, you have the Market come to them… or, more specifically, to introduce a magical merchant whose storefront appears in different places. Sundry (or whatever you choose to call them) pops up just where the adventurers happen to be with the deal you need. Sundry COULD be getting her goods from the Immeasurable Market, but if you want to add more mundane flavor, she could just have connections across Eberron. Those potions are from Aerenal; that wand was carved by one of the finest artificers of the Venomous Demesne; that scroll? Stolen from Ashtakala. That potion of speed is actually surplus from the Last War, a cutting edge formula Jorasco and Vadalis are working on… Don’t worry, the side effects aren’t too bad. Is Sundry just well connected? Is she a Chamber dragon? One of the Lords of Dust? An archfey? The Traveler? Does it really matter, if she has what you need when you need it? An interesting Good Omens take on this would be to have a little shop that appears just where the players need it to be that has TWO proprietors, one who sells more benevolent goods, one who deals in delightfully dangerous things. This pair could be a Chamber dragon and a Lord of Dust who both have a Prophetic interest in the actions of the adventuring party, who have agreed to monitor them together… selling them the things they need to stay on the proper path, without revealing that path.
HOMEMADE GEAR. If any of the player characters are spellcasters, you could build the story around the idea that they are creating the items they want to purchase themselves. They would still expend the amount of gold it would normally cost to buy the item, and they could only buy items between sessions when they’re at rest, but wouldn’t need to go through the usual process of creating magic items; it’s as if they are their own shop.The expenditure of gold should be recognized as the cost of the components and dragonshards needed to quickly create the items in question. A key point is that THIS IS NOT NORMAL—but high level player characters AREN’T normal. They are supposed to be legendary figures and heroes of the age, capable of doing things that are beyond the typical magewright artisan. The exact flavor of item creation (as well as what the DM decides is available) can vary based on the character. For example…
Artificers and wizards are essentially arcane scientists and would create their consumables in a workshop.
Warlocks could bargain with their patrons to acquire the items.
Sorcerers might channel their raw arcane energy into consumable form.
Druids could GROW organic tools that replicate the abilities of wands, scrolls, or potions
Clerics or paladins could pray during a long rest. This isn’t just about having a scroll appear; they would lay out a seal of faith using raw Eberron shards, and focus their faith on this point, drawing on the energy of the divine and letting it flow through them—essentially, being artificers but without understanding the science involved.
Again, the point here is that cosmetically it is the same as going and buying the item from a store. You can’t do it in the middle of an adventure, you are limited by the money you have on hand, it’s up to the DM to decide what’s available in this moment. But if you’ve GOT the money and you’re in a safe space, you can just get a few scrolls; just spend a minute or two describing how you make them and move on. If you want, you could call out how the items created in this way are unstable or only work for the creator—thus explaining why the PC doesn’t go into business creating and selling magic items. They can’t create permanent items this way—make sure you drink that potion within a few days or it will lose its fizz.
LUCIUS FOX. In some interpretations of Batman, Wayne is the superhero but it’s Lucius Fox who supplies his cool gadgets. The point is that Fox doesn’t have the talent to go out and personally fight crime, but he’s a great inventor. So if you don’t like the idea that the adventurers are creating their own goods, you could have an NPC who does it for them. A key point here is that NPCs don’t follow the same rules as PCs. It is possible for an NPC to be a great INVENTOR without having the full class abilities of an artificer or wizard. They can build amazing things overnight, as long as you provide them with the resources (IE gold), but they can’t cast a spell in six seconds; they aren’t capable of being an adventurer, but they can help you to succeed.
IF YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT… The Sundry idea presents a way for the adventurers to BUY powerful magic items that aren’t available to the general public. However, you could drop that approach and give the party a patron who supplies them with powerful, generic items. If high level adventurers are knowingly working for the Chamber or the Lords of Dust, there’s nothing odd about them being giving the basic tools they need to carry out a mission. If characters have a tie to the Church of the Silver Flame, the Argentum collects dangerous magic items; you could make a big deal about the Argentum doling out items saved for just such an occasion.
So summing up… having the characters create their own items is potentially a way to highlight that the characters are remarkable—that they can create things that couldn’t be bought. Giving the adventurers access to the Immeasurable Market is a way to highlight how remarkable they are and to add a series of plotlines tied to the Market, while Sundry implies that Market connection without having the players themselves engage in extraplanar travel.
In terms of the Sundry section, I have to wonder why even ask for a price as a lord of dust or a chamber agent, I find it somewhat hard to imagine that someone as part of a civilization as powerful as advanced as the lords of dust or argonessen would be strapped for cash to the point where they’d need a couple thousand gold from the party…
Here’s a few ideas off the top of my head as to “Why do the dragon/rakshasa need money…”
They don’t, and they can just give things away for free. As long as it suits your campaign, there’s no reason they’d have to charge anything.
They believe that it’s the only way the adventurers will place value on the things they are buying.
They use the money for other personal projects. The dragon might support a local charity, orphanage, what have you; the rakshasa might fund a Swords of Liberty cell, pay for raves, or similar things. The point is that while they are technically observers for their factions, their factions wouldn’t support those personal projects. The CHAMBER could pay for a thousand orphanges, but THEY WOULDN’T… so the dragon pays for the orphanage with this “Adventurer Tax.”
That’s all for now! All of the ideas I’ve presented here are only a few possibilities, but it’s all I have time for now! If you have other thoughts on how to give high level characters access to high level consumables, add them in the comments. Also: I’m preparing to run a new campaign arc for my Threshold Patrons. This is a monthly campaign: every patron can apply to play in a session, and all sessions are recorded and shared for patrons to watch or listen to. This upcoming campaign is set in Graywall, and we’re in the midst of a series of session zero polls to establish the party of adventurers. If this sounds interesting, this is your chance to get on board before it begins and to help shape the story. Check it out on Patreon!
It was pure luck that Rusty found the loose board in his room in the Crooked Cat. The space below was just small enough to hold a folded sack… but that sack was a bag of holding which was somehow shielded from divination. Now the contents of the bag were spread out across the bed. Three different sets of identification papers. Ten Kundarak letters of credit, each worth one thousand galifars. Three vials bearing the Jorasco seal—high grade healing potions. A spellshard. A wand, a rapier, and a ring… all radiating magic. “So what do you think?” Rusty asked his friends. “Are we the luckiest bastards in Sharn? Or should we put this all back, get a new room, and pretend this never happened?”
My previous post examined buried treasures and how the pursuit of a lost, legendary treasure could be the driving force for an entire campaign. But not all treasures are ancient relics found in a monster’s lair. In Khorvaire, there are many options for finding hidden treasures that are anything but legendary. Consider caches—something stored away or hidden for future use. Here’s just a few example caches that come to mind…
A former assassin decides to live an honest life, and hides the tools of their trade—a hat of disguise, dagger of venom, an assortment of poisons—behind a mortared stone in a shrine to Olladra.
Someone becomes obsessed with the idea that a grand apocalypse is just around the corner, and hides supplies in preparation for this. Are they still alive—perhaps running a cult of the Dragon Below tied to their apocalyptic visions? Or did they die long ago, leaving their doomsday supplies behind? If they left clues about their fears, might the PCs realize there’s some truth to them?
The Swords of Liberty or Emerald Claw have stashed supplies that are supposed to be used in an operation in the next few days. Do you take the supplies and run, or do you try to deal with the cell behind it?
In the aftermath of a botched attack, the last survivor of a Cyran commando squad discarded their gear and tried to blend into the local populace. Perhaps they succeeded and just never returned for it; perhaps they were killed or imprisoned. This is excellent equipment, but it is clearly Cyran military gear.
Once upon a time, there were countless Dhakaani caches spread across Khorvaire—remnants of the last days of the empire, as those dar who resisted the effects of the Kapaa’vola fought against the chaos. Thousands of years have passed, and most of these caches have been recovered. But adventurers could still find a cache containing perfectly preserved Dhakaani adamantine arms and armor, or the hidden treasures of a dirge singer. Such a cache might include trinkets that have no immediate, obvious value to adventurers—but which could be incredibly important to the Heirs of Dhakaan.
During the Last War, a squad of soldiers engaged in forbidden looting and hid their spoils. Perhaps they used the chaos of war to steal from a noble of their own nation, or from a dragonmarked house. Perhaps they had a mission to recover goods from an enemy and chose to hide some of this bounty instead of turning it all over to their superiors. If the PCs stumble onto this cache, will they try to return the goods to their rightful owners? Alternately… were one or more of the player characters part of the group of looters?
The Fifth Crown, King’s Citadel, the Shadow Houses, the Trust, and the Royal Eyes all have supplies hidden across Khorvaire, stashed for the moment when an undercover operative needs something. The nature of the equipment will be tied to the mission it’s supposed to support. The Fifth Crown collapsed with the Mourning, and most of its caches are likely lost and forgotten. But other caches may be placed with a very specific purpose—and if you take the supplies, you could jeopardize an operation. If it’s not your nation that’s involved this might actually be a good thing… but most such caches won’t have a convenient note saying who they belong to or what they’re for. And it’s always possible there’s some way for the owner to trace the equipment…
A more dramatic version of this is a cache set aside for agents of the Chamber or the Lords of Dust. Such equipment may be far more powerful than what spies of the Five Nations would normally employ, but you’re crossing significantly more dangerous people if you take it. Unless, of course, your clearing out the cache is part of their plan, because they need you to have this equipment to carry out your role in the Prophecy…
As uncommon magic items, bags of holding are part of everyday life; portable holes and handy haversacks are rarer but still well known to the general public. Such things make it possible to conceal a significant amount of equipment in a relatively small space. A cache could contain mundane supplies or money—something that would help a group of adventurers but that has little immediate impact or identifying marks. On the other hand, it could contain valuable magic items… perhaps a conveniently interesting item for each of the adventurers, something that will get them started on their adventures. But such items might be distinctive, whether they are clearly tied to a particular organization or to the original owner. Are the players concerned about running into someone who recognizes this loot? On a different spectrum, a cache could contain trinkets that have little concrete value but that tell a story or set the players on a path… A journal that exposes a secret plot or a possible threat, or evidence about a crime that’s long gone unpunished. On the other side, a cache could have magic that is exceptionally powerful, but more than the adventurers want to deal with. A bag of blast disks; a spellshard containing secrets of proprietary Cannith artifice; the Orb of Dol Azur (which for this purpose we’ll say has the same stats as the Wand of Orcus). If you’re a group of 3rd level characters, what are you going to do with the Orb of Dol Azur? Especially knowing that in all likelihood it was stashed by an incredibly powerful and dangerous person who will probably come looking for it? On an even more exotic path, imagine that you find a cache that contains the answer to the cause of the Mourning—along with an item (an arcane core for a weapon, an artifact tied to an overlord) that could allow someone to enact a second Mourning. If this falls into the hands of any nation it will irrevocably alter the balance of power in Khorvaire. What will the adventurers do with it?
Part of the point of a cache is that it’s not a deep dungeon or a tomb full of traps. A good narrative example is the troll’s den in The Hobbit. After the trolls are defeated, Gandalf concludes that they must have a safe hole, and they search until they find it… and when they do, it’s full of treasure, including two named magic swords and some swanky gear for Bilbo. We get a slight repeat of this in Fellowship of the Ring, where the hobbits just kind of stumble across a barrow and end up with some nice equipment. A cache can be a fun way to give adventurers some decent equipment while also setting up interesting story hooks. Do they have to worry about the owner of the cache coming after them? Does anything they’ve claimed rightfully belong to someone else, and if so, do they want to find that rightful owner… who could then become a patron of the party? Does something in the cache draw them into a greater plot—is there evidence of a murder that should be avenged, or an Emerald Claw threat about to happen, a Chamber scheme? With all these stories in mind, one of the key questions is how the players encounter the cache. A few possibilities…
Random Chance. All the clever concealment in the world can’t counter pure luck. Perhaps the adventurers are caught in a skirmish between Daask and the Boromar Clan, and an eldritch bolt that misses its target shatters the hollow statue of Boldrei containing a stashed haversack. Perhaps when the character with Sage background conducts research they need a book in the Morgrave stacks that no one else would ever have reason to look at—and they find that this obscure account of Galifar the Dark’s economic policies is a hollowed out book containing a spellshard, a glove of storing, and a few other key belongings of a rogue Dark Lantern. Perhaps the rogue goes to visit an old mentor and finds them dead—their apartment is trashed, but because the adventurer knows the mentor, they spot the clue that reveals their hidden cache. The PC feels certain the mentor would want them to use these hidden tools, but will they try to avenge their mentor? And why WAS the mentor killed? The point here is that finding the cache isn’t the challenge; it’s a surprise, something that falls into the path of the PCs, and the question is what they will do with it.
Spoils of War. As with the trolls in The Hobbit, a cache could be a reward for victory. After defeating the Emerald Claw’s latest scheme, the adventurers find a key to a Kundarak vault or a note with the address of their safehouse. The cache contained goods or equipment they wouldn’t just carry around town, and may have additional clues about future threats, local agents, or other hooks for future stories. But the challenge is fighting the cache owner; once that’s accomplished, the cache itself is relatively easy.
The Tiny Dungeon. On the other hand, there are countless ways a cache could be secured. This article discusses a few examples of how everyday magic can take interesting forms. Glyphs of Warding are extremely flexible, and even an alarm can be a concern if you’re afraid of who will be alerted. So one option is that the players find a cache but have to deal with considerable security to gain access to it. Another is that they learn of a cache but reaching it is going to be a journey. A group of Cyran adventurers might be contacted by an old comrade in arms who has located a cache of Cyran treasures just inside the Mournland. When they arrive, the contact is missing; perhaps kidnapped or killed by agents of an Aurum concordian who wants the cache. Can the adventurers get there first, and if so, can they bypass its security? Will they keep the goods or turn it over to New Cyre and Oargev? The main difference between this and the buried treasure stories of the last article is the scale. This isn’t an epic expedition that will cover multiple sessions, and the treasure in the cache is significant, but it’s not a dragon’s hoard. This is an adventure low level characters can complete; the loot creates more opportunities and hooks for them, but it’s not a king’s ransom.
That’s all for now! Thanks as always to my Patreon supporters, whose support makes these articles possible. Speaking of which, I will be doing a live Q&A on the Last War on Sunday January 14th at 9 AM Pacific time, on the Threshold Discord channel associated with my Patreon. If you’re a patron and you can’t make it live, don’t worry – it will be recorded and shared with all patrons. Thanks for your support! And also, thanks to Matthew Johnson for the image of the artificer Ink Narathun that opens this article!
The year is coming to a close, but there’s still time to answer an interesting question posed by one of my Patreon supporters…
What sort of legendary buried treasures might Eberron have stories about? Where might they be located? My players are big fans of the One Piece series, and expressed interest in looking for treasure on the scale of the in-universe “one piece,” said to be so grand that it could set you and your family up for the rest of your bloodline. Are there any hidden treasures of this variety that would be whispered in taverns and told between crews over pints of ale?
Buried or otherwise, legendary lost treasures are a great trope for setting a campaign in motion. From One Piece to The Hobbit to Raiders of the Lost Ark, it’s an easy drive for story. This doesn’t have to be driven by greed; just comparing those three examples, the quest for treasure could be driven by the status that will accompany the recovery of the treasure, by a rightful claim to the wealth, or by the desire to keep a dangerous artifact out of the hands of people who will abuse it. Regardless of whether the adventurers are driven by pure self-interest or whether they’re serving a greater good, a grand quest for a legendary treasure can be a solid drive for adventure.
So… what are some legendary treasures of Eberron? Let’s consider a few, canonical and otherwise.
TREBAZ SINARA. The island of Trebaz Sinara was Lhazaar’s seat in life and her home in death, and its vaults held the treasures and tribute she gathered in her decades as the pirate queen. Her heirs followed in this tradition, adding vast wealth and extravagant tombs… and each one did something to add to the security of the island. Lystara the Red bargained with one of the Lords of Dust and established a deadly demonglass reef—a maze that can gut a ship from below. Hungry Lhazaan imported the most terrifying monsters from across the world to guard the shores. Duros the Wise worked with the greatest mages of the age to add arcane wards and traps to the halls and tombs of Trebaz Sinara. And Astalaar—the last pirate queen to rule from Trebaz—well, no one knows exactly what she did. Astalaar swore that no one would ever steal her treasures after her death, and no one has… because since the moment of her death, no one has set foot on Trebaz Sinara. Most ships that enter the demonglass maze around Trebaz Sinara never return. But a few captains claim to have safely navigated the maze and its monsters, only to find themselves on the opposite side of the island. In 997 Koulton Brightwind sought to land on Trebaz Sinara using a stolen airship; his vessel barely survived the unnatural storms that rose up, and despite pressing through them Koulton was unable to find the island. Trebaz Sinara is a large island, and people can safely sail around it, but something prevents anyone from landing on it. Has the island been shifted to another plane? Is it simply concealed from any ship that lacks the proper enchantments? The truth remains a mystery. But Trebaz Sinara holds the treasures of a dynasty of legendary pirates, including the crown jewels of Lhazaar herself.
The first challenge to Trebas Sinara is finding the island itself—discovering what Astalaar did to conceal it and how to overcome its defenses. Once this is accomplished, however, it will still take a very capable ship and crew to thread the needle of the stormlashed demonglass maze (an airship is an option, but as Prince Brightwind can attest, the supernatural storms make this a dangerous choice!). And making landfall on Trebaz Sinara is just the start of the story, as the isle is home to countless monsters, and every tomb has its own host of traps. A party of treasure hunters could simply snatch all that they could carry and flee back to sea. But Trebaz Sinara was the seat of Lhazaar herself, and if someone claimed Lhazaar’s crown and her ancient keep they would be in a powerful position to challenge Rygar for the title of High Prince of the Lhazaar Principalities; the wealth of Sinara could be enough to jumpstart a new nation.
RED KNIGHT. During the Last War, House Cannith established a number of hidden forgeholds where they worked on military projects of the utmost importance. Some of these are relatively well known within the house, such as the Whitehearth facility that plays a role in Shadows of the Last War. But there’s another forgehold whose existence was hidden not only from the Twelve, but even from the Lords Seneschal of House Cannith. Red Knight was personally established by Starrin d’Cannith. It’s existence was only revealed after a team of adventurers recovered one of Starrin’s journals from the ruins of Metrol; potentially, this could have been the work of the player characters, either before the campaign begins (it’s a prelude that the PCs were brought together to work on this Metrol job, and their success is what leads to the ongoing campaign) or potentially as their first adventure. Regardless of how they come by it, Starrin’s journal reveals the existence of Red Knight, a forgehold isolated even from House Cannith, where the Gorgon was working on his most cutting edge, dangerous experiments. Unfortunately, the journal is damnably vague about what those experiments were. It’s possible that Red Knight holds the secret to the Mourning, or that it houses some other weapon of incalculable power. But it could be that its research was focused in an entirely different direction, but one that could be equally world-shaking. Perhaps Red Knight holds the prototype for a teleportation network (that doesn’t need House Orien), or a reliable resurrection creche (with no need for House Jorasco). Maybe Starrin found a way to create portals to other iterations of Eberron lost in the Maze of Realities. Perhaps he was harnessing the full power of an overlord… in which case, it could be that the accidental release of that overlord triggered the Mourning!
It could be that the adventurers learn of Red Knight on their own and choose to conceal this information from everyone else, not wanting anyone to know about it until they’ve found it and learned exactly what it contains. On the other hand, every power player in Eberron would jump at the chance to seize this hidden facility. All three Cannith factions would be desperate to acquire it, as would the Aurum, the Dark Lanterns, the Royal Eyes of Aundair, the Blood of Vol, the Lord of Blades… so the question for the DM is who they want to be involved in the race. The initial challenge will be trying to locate the forgehold without revealing anything about it to the rest of the world. The secrets could be hidden in the Mournland (especially Eston or Making), but it’s possible that Merrix, Jorlanna and Zorlan have critical keys or pieces of information whose relevance they aren’t aware of. Once it’s located, bypassing the security of the forgehold will be an epic endeavor in its own right, as it will be defended by remarkable magic and cutting-edge constructs. The exact nature of the defenses could relate to the work being done there. If involves teleportation, it could exist in the astral or ethereal plane. If it deals with resurrection, it could have a staff of arcanists who are automatically reborn any time they die—similar to a lich’s phylactery only without death. If it’s tied to an overlord, Red Knight could be located in the heart demiplane of that overlord… and possibly been overrun by its minions. And if the adventurers succeed, the question rises again: do they take what they can carry and run? Do they destroy it so no one can harness its power? Or do they seek to operate it? If one of the player characters is a Cannith heir, do they work with one of the three aspiring barons, or do they make their own claim to reuniting the shaken house?
THE GRAVEDIGGER’S HOARD. As noted in this article, Hazcoranar the Gravedigger is a rogue black dragon infamous for looting treasures of fallen or falling human civilizations. He’s gathered artifacts from the Empire of Dhakaan, the Cul’sir Dominion, and the pre-Sundering kingdoms of Sarlona… not to mention pillaging battlefields during the Last War. There’s many accounts of priceless treasures stolen by the Gravedigger. But where does he keep his hoard? As a rogue, Hazcoranar isn’t welcome in Argonnessen. Which means his hoard is hidden somewhere where it could be found. The Gravedigger spends much of his time actively pillaging, and a clever group of adventurers could sneak in while the dragon is away. But would they take what they could and flee, spending the rest of their lives wondering when the Gravedigger would track them down? Or might they believe that they could fight the dragon and survive, claiming his lair as their spoils?
Hazcoranar’s hoard is an opportunity for a classic dragon’s lair tale. Somehow the adventurers stumble onto a secret leading them to his hoard… a map? A lone survivor of a previous expedition? A journal whose pages have been torn out and scattered? The lair could simply be isolated and well-hidden; or it could be in a demiplane or an extradimensional space, where the challenge isn’t simply finding it but finding out how to forge an arcane connection to it. Perhaps the adventurers find the back door and are able to sneak in and steal something while the dragon is away, but can they come up with a way to actually defeat the Gravedigger? Beyond that, what will they do with their spoils? Relics from ancient Xen’drik may not have any active claimants, but the treasures Hazcoronar stole from the Dhakaani or during the Last War could well have people eager to recover them; will the adventurers restore these relics to their rightful owners or claim their rights of salvage?
THE MOURNING VAULT. On a far smaller scale, countless noble families lost their estates and their treasures when the Mourning struck. If a Cyran adventurer has the Noble background, they could have just such an estate in the Mournlands. Perhaps they discover the existence of a vault they never knew about—an ancestral hoard hidden beneath their estate, holding treasures that are rightfully theirs. This is smaller and more manageable that some of the earlier ideas. The adventurer knows exactly where their estate is. The challenge is that it’s in the Mournland. They will have to cross the untold dangers of the Mournland to reach it, and there’s no telling how the estate itself has been transformed. There’s also the question of whether the vault holds secrets about the character’s family they themselves never knew… in which case, the recovering of the first treasure could just be a stepping stone toward the next phase of the campaign. There’s also the question of whether the noble will just claim the treasure as their rightful due, or whether they will use it to try to help New Cyre or other refugees. Nonetheless, this is a concept that is smaller and more manageable than some of the preceeding ideas—it’s a treasure that the adventurers COULD recover and take away without it being the end of their lives as professional adventurers, or threatening the balance of power of a region.
These are four solid ideas. But this is still just scratching the surface. A few more to consider…
The Imperial Treasury. The legendary vault of the last emperor of Dhakaan. Of course, this is vitally important to all of the Heirs of Dhakaan…
The Orb of Dol Azur. This isn’t a HOARD, but rather a singular lost treasure. It’s said to be the treasure that caused the Mockery to betray his siblings, an object of immeasurable power. One possibility is that it is the eye of the overlord Katashka; depending on the path of a campaign, it could have the abilities of either the Wand of Orcus or the Eye of Vecna. In any case, this is a solid option for a legendary TREASURE that could be sought by Antus ir’Soldorak, Lady Illmarrow, or other powerful and dangerous people.
Noldrunhold. The dwarves of Clan Noldrun mysteriously vanished. The riches of their hold remain, for anyone willing to brave the strange terrors that lurk in the Realm Below. This is another case where the location is KNOWN, it’s just DANGEROUS… likewise, like the Mourning Vault, it’s less that there is one singular treasure hoard and more that the wealth of an entire wealthy hold is spread out below… UNLESS it’s been gathered and concentrated by some foul creature in the darkness over these many centuries.
The Demon’s Trove. During the Sundering, refugees fled from Ohr Kaluun to Khorvaire. Some landed in the Demon Wastes and became Carrion Tribes. Some crossed safely to establish the Venomous Demesne. But surely some ships didn’t survive the journey. What Kaluunite artifacts and treasures were lost in the Barren Sea?
The Heart of Siberys. The RTS game Dragonshard dealt with an alliance from Khorvaire seeking to recover a massive dragonshard from a dangerous region of Xen’drik, contending both with the scales set to guard it and a force of Umbragen drow with their own plans for the Heart. The Heart of Siberys isn’t a traditional TREASURE, as it’s a massive geological feature; but Dragonshard is still a campaign driven by a race to claim an object of great power that’s located in a dangerous, inaccessible region.
The list goes on! The Lair of the Keeper, the master vault of House Kundarak, the hoard of Hassalac Chaar or the lich Gath… I’m going to stop here, but I hope this gives you some ideas.
Any of these treasures could start a campaign rolling. A few things to consider…
Do the adventurers have a patron supporting their quest, or are they operating on their own?
Do the adventurers or their patron have a rightful claim to the treasure? If they don’t, does anyone?
Is anyone else actively searching for the treasure? If so, are they aware of the PCs, and will clashes between them be a regular part of the story?
Is the primary challenge locating the treasure, or is that only one piece of the puzzle? Perhaps the key to the vault was carried by a lycanthrope who fled into Lamannia during the Silver Crusade, or the five seals of Trebaz Sinara are described in five scrolls that are in the collections of different Aurum Concordians…
Once the adventurers HAVE the treasure, is it just a question of dividing it up and carrying on with life? If it’s a case of grabbing something and running this might be true. But if the wealth involved is truly vast, the next phase of the campaign could be about MANAGING it, and what the adventurers choose to do with the influence that it gives them—such as if they want to use the Mourning Vault to help New Cyre or to claim the crown of a united Lhazaar Principalities!
There’s only a few hours left in 2023, and this is all I have time for. I hope it gives you somethign to work with! And again, my deepest thanks to my Patrons who have supported my in 2023. It’s been a hard year, and this support is the only thing that allows me to spend time continuing to explore Eberron. In addition to asking questions, patrons have access to live and recorded Q&A sessions and the opportunity to play in my ongoing Eberron campaign. If that sounds interesting, check it out. And regardless, happy New Year!!!
