D&D 4th Edition Design Playtesters Rob Heinsoo, Andy Collins, James Wyatt Angela Amburn, Bryan Amburn, C.J. Thrasher, Douglas Kilpatrick, Eva Orta, Galen. Player's Option - Heroes of the Feywild - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd D&D 4th Edition Design. Index of /public/Books/tronunbucambrin.cf & Dragons/D&D 4th Edition/ Supplement/ Sep 4M Player's Option - Heroes of The Feywild. pdf.
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Player's Option: Heroes of the Feywild enables players to weave elements of the Feywild D&D 4E Game System Electronic (PDF, DOC, eBook, HTML, etc.). Heroes of the Feywild is a 4th edition Dungeons & Dragons rules supplement published in November The book introduces three new player races. One of the things I expected to see one day in the life of 4e was a pair of robust boxed sets for the Shadowfell and the Feywild. While it doesn't.
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This title was added to our catalog on November 12, Publisher Average Rating. See All Reviews. Publisher Website. See all titles Need help? Common Questions FAQ. Contact us. Astrazalian The crystal stone towers of the City of Starlight sparkle like the wide sea that sur- rounds the island's emerald slopes, like the coins and gems that trade hands on its winding streets, like the stars that are the city's namesake.
In spring and summer, this city you call home occupies an island in the natural world. It is the crown jewel of the eladrin realms, the incarnate dream and the envy of every mortal race. As an inhabitant of Astrazalian, you are surrounded by affluence, diversity, and trade. You might be a mer- chant with the Star and Dolphin Coster, a warrior in service of Lady Shandria niece of the Summer Queen and ruler of Astrazalian , or a student of magic at the oldest and most prestigious school of wizardry in the planes.
If you have lived in Astrazalian for any amount of time, you cannot help but feel overwhelm- ing pride when you look to the city's banners high among the clouds, the graceful swan boats in her harbor, and the bountiful magic that brings luxurious conveniences to every citizen.
Perhaps other grand cities exist, but if there is one more perfect, richer with opportunity and diversity, you have never seen its like. Yet for all Astrazalian's qualities, it is nearly impos- sible for you to attain significant power here. The ancient noble houses hold fast to their positions, as they have done for time out of mind. For all practi- cal purposes, the Feywild exists as described in these pages and in sources such as Manual of the Planes regardless of the mortal world to which it is connected.
Your OM might add or modify details of the Feywild depending on his or her campaign, and these changes might open up new possibilities for your character. A fey character in a DARK SuN campaign can come from these pocket planes, but Athasian characters are unlikely to have extensive adventures in the shattered Feywild. You cannot tell who might rise to power or when, and it is good to have as many "friends" as possible when opportuni- ties present themselves.
You recognize the arrogant deceits that corrupt the veins of your home, though when you go abroad amid crude mortals, Astraza- lian's legendary civility and grace never stray far from your heart.
You know a few mortals, but you rarely know them well; they can never secure power in Astrazalian. At the end of summer, they pack up their families and stalls and leave your beautiful city before it makes worldfall back to the Feywild.
All through the autumn and winter, savage fomorians besiege Astrazalian from their Feydark borderlands in hopes of plundering the city and using it as a base from which to raid the natural world. The City of Starlight is lean and grim during these annual periods of war, and you are accustomed to enduring the giants or fighting them on the battlefield.
The darkness that taints your home, both inter- nally and externally, has taught you that supreme beauty cannot exist without corruption, but the beauty is worth preserving at any cost.
Astrazalian is the grandest city in the known realms, and you have long acknowledged that a grim price must be paid for your bounty. Mithrendain Growing from the forest floor like a copse of towering trees, the fortress city of Mithrendain glints with copper, bronze, and gold in the amber rays of fey sunlight.
Here, time drifts by as gradually as the first tentative falling leaves of autumn. As an inhabitant of the Autumn City, you are accustomed to the slow passage of time.
Mithren- dain has no clocks, sundials, or magic timepieces, and you live your life as if ageless, basking eternally in the golden afternoon. In the light that glimmers through the russet boughs above, your people work toward the slow perfection of everything they touch. In a city without time, there is no hurry, no project left forever incomplete or abandoned, and no sense of early, late, or never. The results of the Mithrendain perspective show in the sheer artistic perfection that surrounds you at every natural angle.
As a resident of the Autumn City, you have grown accustomed to this point of view, regardless of whether you embrace it, and you appreciate any task that is carefully and flawlessly executed. A legend told in Mithrendain speaks of an age when time moved more quickly. In fact, it moved so quickly that it formed a wide, deep hole in the Feywild from which issued fomorians, draw, and all the evils of the Feydark underworld.
Then this council of wizards banished time from Mithrendain so their wards might remain ever new, thrumming with the magic that courses through every leaf, rock, and timber of the plane. Everyone in Mithrendain knows this legend, but few, if any, know whether it is true.
Nevertheless, its legacy remains in the customs and traditions of your home. Timekeeping devices are considered ill fortune, and at every grand festival in Mithrendain, an hourglass is shattered before the crowd, its sands scattered to the winds.
The city, already overrun by wilderness, recedes from the Feywild and emerges in the Howling Forest of the natural world. As an inhabitant of the Fading City, you are a creature of two worlds, each as perilous as the other. In the golden sunlight of the Feywild, you work through the day, cultivating the plump grapes of the hills for feywine, fletching keen-tipped hunting arrows with the feathers of homing pigeons, or patching the places in the city where the roots of strong trees have grown through.
They seek to conquer Shinaelestra so they can raid the natural world each night when the fey city appears in the Howling Forest. You are a veteran of dozens of fomorian skirmishes, fervently battling the twisted giants until midnight when Shinaelestra fades away into the mortal realm. Even after the worldfallleaves the fomorians behind, you cannot lower your guard.
Creatures of the Howling Forest cry their bloodlust into the night air, and the trolls, especially, have developed a taste for the sweet delicacy of fey flesh. You shoot them with a hundred arrows, and still they come crawling from the darkness to steal your people.
And although it is true that fire will stop a troll, fire will also burn a forest- and all life within it-to ashes.
Despite your troubles, the people of Shinaelestra are among the most valiant and vibrant in the Fey- wild. Though these factions claim some loyalty to their chosen archfey, there is little to bind a creature to a faction permanently. Court of Stars: Periodically, representatives of the factions assemble in a grand conclave hosted by the Summer Queen. Each of these gatherings is partly a political or business meeting and partly a time of revelry and friendly competition.
For more information on the Court of Stars, see the Shiradi Champion epic destiny, page Among the fac- tions that might be in attendance at any time are those described here. Court of Coral: The Court of Coral encompasses the aquatic and island-dwelling fey, ruled by the Sea lords. The Sea lords are Elias and Siobhan Alastai, siblings who oversee the rivers and seas of the Fey- wild, respectively.
Gloaming Fey: The Gloaming Fey are associated with dreams, darkness, stars, twilight, and dusk. They owe allegiance to a variety of archfey, the most famous of which is the Maiden of the Moon, a formidable hunter and the bane of alllycanthropes. Green Fey: The Green Fey are the servants of Oran the Green lord, the loftiest of the archfey of nature.
Most of the Green Fey are forest-dwelling creatures, such as hamadryads, satyrs, and elves. Summer Fey: Of all of the archfey, Tiandra commands the largest following of Sid he lords and other eladrin.
Winter Fey: Fey creatures bound to the icy power of winter rarely consider themselves to belong to any faction and have no true leader. The most powerful among them is the Prince of Frost, and those who follow him and similar fey lords are roughly grouped together as the Winter Fey. Unseelie Fey: Though they have no true repre- sentative among the Court of Stars, there are fey creatures of evil, maliciousness, and corruption that are collectively known as the Unseelie fey.
Many of these creatures draw power or are shaped by the power of shadow, drawn from the Feywild's oppo- site counterpart, the Shadowfell.
If you come from Shinaelestra, you embrace your sylvan fellows, the elves, as close kin- dred, and you recognize the value of allying with humans who share your goals. It is your custom to offer small gifts and tokens to new friends and pot en- tial allies as an outward show of trust.
Some people refer to your home as the Fading City not because of its nightly worldfall but because they deem it a dying civilization. However, no one who witnesses your fighting spirit would dare make such a comparison. Under the able leadership of the ranger lord Calenon Thray, the people of Shinaelestra embrace the challenges they face, fighting more fero- ciously than drow and celebrating more vigorously than lusty satyrs.
Wonder-struck mortals who chance upon your city pass on tales of elegant warriors, radi- ant as starlight, who hunt for the heads of giants. Ever victorious, the fey heroes feast and revel until dawn in marvelous halls arched by the boughs of trees, open to the night sky.
Demesnes of the Archfey Among the most alluring and dangerous places in the Feywild are the demesnes belonging to the archfey. The personal realms of the mightiest fey creatures, these locations reflect the true nature of their lieges, each acting as a mirror of what lies within its core.
Senaliesse Cresting the titanic silver trees of the Summer Queen's demesne is a palace woven from the living wood by the hand of Or an, the Green Lord, one of the greatest of the archfey. Summer never ends in this realm, hung with curtains of ivy and cascades of orchids, lavender, and roses. Here, the archfey of the Court of Stars gather to confer, revel, and scheme. Courtiers and petitioners from every realm in the known universe, overburdened with wondrous gifts, come to beg the Summer Queen's favor.
Cradled in mighty silver limbs high above the Feywild, the Summer Queen's demesne is a sacred haven reserved for the Court of Stars and those who have business with the archfey. The sheltering light of high Senaliesse bathes the enchanted forest for miles around in the protective glow of the Summer Queen's presence. It is here in the land of eternal summer that you make your home. Industrious gnomes flit amid the massive roots of great trees while sun-eyed summer nymphs play in the shady groves among passionate satyrs, stately treants, and quiet dryads.
When the sun sets over the Feywild, unicorns the color of midsummer stars emerge to drink from the enchanted streams, and the tall grasses giggle with the childlike laughter of pixies reveling in the warm summer night. If you hail from Senaliesse, you are accustomed to a life of perpetual merriment, experiencing every sensation as iffor the first time. Your people never tire of games and sport. Visitors to Senaliesse who refuse to play become the targets of your tricks and pranks-a game unto itself However, you give each friend of the fey a blue chrysanthemum that never loses its petals; those favored few can travel through your realm without molestation.
Diplomats and courtiers of every stripe pass through your enchanted forest, including benevolent sprites, wicked hags, and everything in between.
Player's Option - Heroes of The Feywild.pdf
Few creatures encounter as many powerful beings in their lives as you do in the course of a year, and you are quite comfortable in the presence of such beings. When you cross paths with a mighty archfey or hag, your people chant the rhyme, "Beneath the sun or falling rain, I yield to thee thy path again," in deference to the dominant traveler.
Such verses have power in the fey realm, and anyone who recites that particular rhyme must immediately be excused for any perceived slight against the archfey. Despite the wonder of Senaliesse, as an adventurer at heart you yearn for something beyond the protec- tive light from above. Even among the most exquisite sights in existence, a restless part of you craves the conflicts and struggles of the wider world.
People come to the Summer Queen for favors, bringing des- perate causes, terrible tragedies, and tales of tyrants and monsters to be overthrown.
And when they cannot find succor among the Court of Stars, some turn to you, begging for your help. Vale of the Long Night Beneath the oppressive snowfalls that drown the land in a crystal- white ocean of winter, the Fortress of Frozen Tears rises from a high glacial spire like a jagged icicle. The constant glow of the ever-full moon shines down on frozen lakes, gnarled and barren orchards, and lonely, snow-covered mountains.
The stars burn coldly overhead, as distant and pitiless as billions of icy snowflakes poised in the everlasting darkness, waiting to descend.
Long ago, the Summer Prince who lived here lost his heart to one of the fair Daughters of Delight see "Court of Stars: The Prince ofFrost" in Draaon 3 7 4. She betrayed him for the love of a mortal hero, escaping to a time and place beyond his reach. As a result, the prince's heart turned to solid ice, and his demesne became a desolate realm of frozen night, the least hospitable land on the surface of the Feywild.
Only the winter fey feel at home here, although they do not share the intense spite exhibited by the Prince of Frost. If you hail from the Vale of Long Night, your exis- tence constitutes little beyond grim survival in the endless moonlight. Ill u.. Winter fey sculpt the snow to make ice castles, hags take flight across the frosty skies, and winter nymphs ride on the backs of wolves, howling across the tundra in search of prey.
You might cling to this place for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the Prince of Frost froze you in a block of ice and kept you captive in his fortress for years or centuries, then recently released you to fur- ther his ends. You might be part of a nomadic tribe living on the border of the Vale oflong Night, or a subject of the prince, dwelling within the walls of his cold fortress.
If you are a hamadryad, perhaps the vale contains your tree home, and you subsist on moonlight and snow rather than sunlight and water. However you came to be here, your survival depends on your wit, strength, endurance, and capac- ity to make uncompromising choices. The indecisive are extinguished as quickly as candle flames in the winter wind.
In this land, emotions are flaws to be manipulated, and the weak fall quickly to stronger predators. As a native of the Vale of long Night, whenever you allow your emo- tions to rule your actions or words, it is your custom to spill three drops of your blood on the ground. You take this action in homage to the Prince of Frost, whose frozen heart can no longer feel or bleed.
Borderlands and Wilderness The Feywild offers breathtaking vistas of natural beauty-forests that are graced by unicorns, moun- tain peaks that sweep the stars, sparkling oceans that resound with the songs of mermaids-inter- spersed with small cities that dot the great expanse of the magical realm.
Brokenstone Vale Deep in the shadows of a mountain pass lies Brokenstone Vale, a haven for werebeasts and shapechangers that was con- ceded to them by the eladrin after years of brutal warfare. According to an ancient pact between the shape changers and the Court of Stars, no creature can set foot in Brokenstone Vale without the lycan- thropes' permission.
If any careless traveler does so, his life is as good as forfeit. This pact also works the other way; lycanthropes that hunt beyond the vale can be slain by the Maiden of the Moon, an archfey who keeps her wary eye on them. You come from the forested mountains above Brokenstone.
By day, you hunt in the woods, farm the lower mountain slopes, or practice your trade. However, others eye you when you pass by as if you were nothing more than a potential meal. It is the cries of these predators that seem the strongest when the vale fills with a chorus of feral howls beneath the light of the moon.
During these times when the monsters are on the hunt, painting a silver stripe across the door to your dwelling tells the shapechangers that you have silver and the protection of the Maiden of the Moon. Even the most bloodthirsty of their kind heed the sign of the stripe.
You also know that the lycanthropes will not touch the wolfsbane that grows on the slopes of Broken- stone Vale. It is said that a touch of the plant, when properly applied, transforms a werecreature into its humanoid form and prevents it from changing again until the next moon rises. Displaying wolfsbane around your dwelling usually deters lycanthropes, but use of the plant can enrage them and single you out as a target.
Wolfsbane is often dangerous to obtain because aside from its toxic nature, hags and witches collect the plant for use in their charms and spells. These creatures flit like black shadows across the face of the moon while the terrible howls fill the night from below. Cendriane In the midst of a dark, twisted forest as old as the world stands the abandoned city of Cendriane, its crystal towers risi ng through the treetops like polished skel- etal fingers emerging from the earth.
The city's desolate streets sprawl through the wood, creating a unique harmony between nature and the ruins of civilization. Natives of the forest surrounding Cendriane believe that this place, once the most radiant of eladrin realms, is cursed. Ages ago, the longest battle of the bloody war between the eladrin and the drow took place here, and ever since, Cendriane has known no birdsong, no signs oflife, nothing but the pall of silence surrounding the city's perfectly pre- served architecture.
Giant spiders, displacer beasts, and owlbears make their lairs in mansions where noble eladrin once dwelled, and sometimes by night terrifying specters drift through the streets.
If you come from this region of the Feywild, you stay clear of the abandoned city and its dangers, making your life in a small settlement on the perim- eter of the forest. Why do you live in such close proximity to the haunted ruin? Perhaps your family originated in glorious ancient Cendriane and never had the heart to leave it far behind. Lyrindel and Andronus find themselves shipwrecked on the Isle of Dread During your time on the outskirts, you have accu- mulated a variety oflore regarding the city within the wood.
One rumor suggests that the elders of your settlement belong to an order that is dedicated to preventing outsiders from entering the ruined metropolis.
Another story claims that the elders are charged with keeping something dangerous con- tained within the dark forest. Outlaws and exiles eke out solitary lives in the wood, but they rarely last long.
Eventually, rumors of fabulous wealth still unclaimed in Cendriane reach their ears, and they go out in search of ancient librar- ies stocked with eldritch scrolls and treasure maps, or they try to find vaults hidden beneath the city that are said to be filled with gold and magic.
Such explor- ers seldom return. You have seen treasure seekers walking the road to Cendriane. They come through your settlement, eyes glittering with visions of wealth. Before these would-be heroes enter the forest, your people offer to paint their faces and bodies black and white in equal measure.
It is said that this ritual appeases the spirits of the draw and the eladrin that haunt Cendriane. Over time, the ritual has adopted new meanings, and now it is used on anyone who goes forth from home. Natives ofCendriane who hold with tradition carry two tokens, one pitch black and one snow white, as a reminder that long ago, the two fey races that fought and died in the ancient city were one people.
Accord- ing to the stories of your people, anyone carrying two such tokens will always be recognized as a native of Cendriane by draw and eladrin alike, no matter how dire the circumstances. The Isle of Dread Somewhere above the coral kingdoms of the Sea Lords rises a tropical island ringed with treacherous reefs and storm-tossed seas. The sands of its beaches are as dark as the jagged obsidian mountains in its center or the plumes of smoke spewing from its vol- canoes, and its coasts are littered with the wreckage of ships.
Sinister stone ziggurats break the canopy of verdant jungles blanketed in clouds of steam. Unseen beneath the dense foliage, enormous reptiles of the primeval world hold sway. The Isle of Dread is also the home of the dreaded su monsters, dangerous treetop predators created by the wizard Halkith.
Su monsters use their psychic link to monitor events that transpire on the island, including keeping tabs on the island's population of yuan-ti. If you come from the Isle of Dread, you managed to stay alive in an environment determined to kill you. The island constantly shifts from the Feywild to the natural world at random, possibly at differ- ent points in the ocean of time. Chances are that you are one of these castaways.
Once you had another life among more ordinary people-perhaps you were a merchant, a soldier, a trader, or a member of royalty-but your old existence was wrecked along with your ship. You became part of a tribe that might have consisted of your former shipmates, another group of castaways, or primitives you encountered on the island. You spent your time hunting any game you could catch, harvesting the bounty of the jungle, and searching for a way off the island. The Isle of Dread tests every person it pulls to its shores.
Few live long enough to escape or be rescued. Friends betray one another for survival, a chance to leave the island, or leadership of the tribe.
Those who survive together-even if they come to hate one another-are forever bound; no other living being can understand their shared experience. If you come from the Isle ofDread, portals that cross between worlds might make you anxious, and the customs you remember from your life before the island might be from a different time and place. Groups hold deep meanings and associations for you, and you cannot help but see your party members as your tribe.
A close-knit group is everything, for such bonds contribute directly to survival. Did you get along well with the other members of your island tribe, or were you an outcast? What happened to the rest of your tribe? Did anyone escape with you? Do you dare speak of your island experiences, or will your new companions dismiss your stories as mad ravings?
The Fomorian Cities Across the enchanted surface of the Feywild, fair eladrin cities glitter like bright jewels in the Summer Queen's crown. Three of these domains are fomorian cities: Harrowhame, Mag Tureah, and Vor Thomil. As a humanoid subject of one of CHAPTER 1 I Into the BriBht these cities, you were captured to serve as a slave or born to enslaved parents; at best, you bore the title of servant or herald, though the distinction is purely academic.
For a long time, your life was one of con- stant toil in the subterranean night while you feared being killed at any time for any reason. Most of the beings you regarded as companions were slain in the dark by quickling assassins, smashed into form- less stains on the cavern floor by cyclops guards, or charred to ashes and dust by a chortling fomo- rian overlord.
Captured eladrin, tuathans humans touched by fey magic , and gnomes shared your confinement, but any alliances seldom lasted long because slaves inevitably betrayed one another to save their own lives.
No matter which fomorian city you came from, you knew only misery and peril beneath the fist of its warped tyrant. In Harrowhame, you mined tunnels or dug for precious gems in narrow Feydark channels where toxic gases brought silent death and danger- ous monsters made their lairs.
In Mag Tureah, you were employed as expendable infantry in bloody skirmishes against legions of myconids and vicious drow. In Vor Thomil, you served as a gladiator, a court entertainer, or an object of street sport hardly expected to survive a day in the Feydark.
Of all your city's terrified inmates, only the gnomes, who had endured captivity under fomorian rule for time out of mind, could find wonder in the dismal cir- cumstances.
Their optimism called to mind the old gnome saying "There are diamonds, too, in the darkness. Attempted escape is punished by a brutal death beneath the blades of vicious spriggans and quicklings. Besides, if a prisoner somehow managed to escape and gain freedom, where would one go after such long captiv- ity below?
Most chastened subjects choose to remain with the dangers they understand rather than flee toward unknown perils. When you meet another survivor of fomorian cap- tivity meet, you recognize one another in an instant. The sign is not a brand of the flesh-the fomorians consider all creatures their subjects and find little point in taking the trouble to mark them-but rather a familiar faded look in eyes that have beheld the unspeakable horrors of the Feydark. The two of you rarely trade stories, for words cannot sate a survivor's guilt.
Silently, each of you buries a small black stone next to the other's, and you part ways. This custom derives from a Feydark cant acknowledging your mutual time of darkness, of which the less said, the better. The Maze of Fathaghn There is a place in the Feywild where the trees grow close together and the twisting brambles are as tall and thick as living walls.
Here the trees speak their secrets in the faint whisper of rustling leaves. The woodland path loses its way among shifting copses and the trunks of wandering treants, and playful nymphs and dryads lure unwary travelers along twisting detours to shady glades from which they will never emerge.
If you come from the outskirts of this perilous woodland labyrinth, you are almost certainly a fey creature, since few other humanoids can survive here for long. As enchanting and abundant as the Maze of Fathaghn might seem, it is no less a stronghold than Mithrendain, Mag Tureah, or the Fortress of Frozen Tears. The treants, dryads, nymphs, gnomes, pixies, and other fey denizens of this place might appear whimsical or harmless, but each is dedicated to safe- guarding the secrets at the center of the maze, where it is said that the dryad queen Fathaghn protects the great Mother Tree that gave life to the first Green Fey.
As a fey inhabitant of the maze, you spend your time at play, in harmony with nature. However, when necessary, you frighten intruders away or lure them to their deaths in the maze. Legends warn that if a trespasser were to destroy the Mother Tree, your lives too would come to an end-or, worse yet, the Feywild would lose all its magic and become as ordinary as the mortal world. In the Maze ofFathaghn, you had protection and security, surrounded on all sides by some of the most powerful natural forces in existence.
Why did you leave? Did you go forth to stem a stream of infiltrators at its source? Did mortals capture you from the maze and bind you into service elsewhere? Were you sent on a mission by Queen Fathaghn, chosen as her living representative beyond the maze?
Whatever your reason, you carry your home within your heart. Though some creatures feel paralyzed when pre- sented with a choice of routes, abundant options give you a familiar sense of comfort. For example, at a woodland crossroads where paths diverge, you seldom deliberate.
Instead, you turn around slowly three times to gain a strong impression of what lies in every direction. Then you choose one path and whisper a blessing down the other. You have little concept of what it means to be lost, for all roads lead somewhere for you, and fey natives of the Maze ofFathaghn take comfort in knowing that, in time, you will discover your destination, wherever it might be.
The Murkendraw If the Feydark is a cancer that eats at the beauty of the Feywild from below, the Murkendraw is a pustu- lant boil on the face of that splendor. The bleak, sodden landscape in various shades of brown, gray, and black festers beneath thick swamp fog that is sometimes poisonous. Clotted mud gives way to sudden quicksand or curtains of assassin vines and yellow musk creepers. In the starless night skies, only the moon gazes down, casting its stark light across the drab wasteland.
The Murkendraw is a swamp the size of a sea, infested with feymire crocodiles as large as the flat- bottom skiffs that float among the putrid detritus.
Fat, bloodthirsty marsh flies, some the size of dogs, buzz through the late afternoon air. Thunderstorms cover the area for days at a time, riddling the swamp with lightning, and hags such as the infamous Baba Yaga exult in the unbridled chaos. If you come from the Murkendraw, you are accus- tomed to living in inhospitable conditions.
Survival here requires extreme care; a single misplaced step can spell your end. However, for those who know the perils of the swamp, it can prove a stalwart ally. Witches driven from civilization by zealous clerics learn to use the natural environs of the Murkendraw against witch hunters, whose corpses feed the croco- diles, marsh flies, and quicksand pits. Natives of the swamp learn to be careful, patient planners.
The Murkendraw hags have a saying: Doing so is said to prevent hags and other evil fey from entering. Murkroot Trade Moot: Somewhere beneath the sodden soil at the edge of the great Murkendraw Swamp, a secret hides from the angry nobles of the Summer Court.
Lost to all but those who have been there before, this place remains beyond the reach of those who would destroy, conquer, or exploit it- at least until someone who has been there betrays it. The Murkroot Trade Moot is an underground bazaar of the illegal and the illicit in the Feywild, a black market of things the Sid he lords don't want the people of their realms to know about. Suppliers of slaves, purveyors of poisons, mixers of uncertain elixirs, merchants of mercenaries, inno- vators of unusual items-all meet at the Murkroot Trade Moot to sell their wares.
When an eladrin chokes upon wine at a ball or falls in the forest after the scratch of a dart, poisons downloadd at Murkroot might be held responsible.
When a princess swoons at the sight of a pauper or a priceless jewel vanishes from a vault, the potions of Murkroot frequently take the blame. The curse that cripples the hero might have its origins in Murkroot, as might its cure.
Nachtur, the Goblin Kingdom Along the overland route between the eladrin realms and the goblin kingdom ofNachtur lies a great expanse of wilderness. To the south of eladrin territory, this wide swath ofland is green and thickly forested. As a traveler moves east and north, the forest gives way to open meadows and eventually to dry, rocky ground before it becomes gray badlands of fissures, crevices, high cliffs, and glowering hills.
These wastelands are the gates to Nachtur, the realm of the goblin king known as the Great Gark. When the goblins come storming from their domain in the company of giants, ogres, and trolls, they take what they want and slay at random. In these twilight borderlands in which you dwell, rumor says that the goblins steal fey creatures and children and drag them back to the palace of the Great Gark, where the innocent are eaten and the malicious are changed into goblins.
Perhaps you were kidnapped from the natural world, escaped or were rescued from the goblins, and have been stranded in Nachtur ever since. Few but exiles, witches, and loners live in the bad- lands, and if you willingly make your home here, you must tread cautiously. Those cast out from their own societies wash up in dingy border towns on the out- skirts ofNachtur with nowhere else to go.
Some outcast eladrin make deals with the distant spaces, reaching through from far away to goblins to act as informants and spies; others broker steal your belongings or strangle you in your sleep.
Exiles or outlaws that collect a hun- The fairy tales told on the borders ofNach- dred goblin heads might be offered such a reprieve tur rarely end with the hero defeating a foul ogre. Others might deem your skulking in the night.
These small fey are cowardly stories bloody or morbid, but in the lands ofNachtur, when confronted. Boggles can make holes between that's just how life is.
In that village, there was a boy on the threshold of manhood who was unruly and caused problems for almost everyone else. The boy was selfish, and wanted to be treated like a man, but everyone in the village could see that he was not ready. One evening at twilight the boy was sitt ing on the edge of the dark forest , a common test of bravery among the children of the village, when a frightening creature emerged and approached him. My lord has heard your whispers into the dark of the night, and the Great Gark knows that your people do not appreciate your potential.
He refused me apprenticeship and told the village elders I was not ready to be treated like a man. The next morning, when the boy awoke, a crowd had gathered in the village around the smithy.
When the boy went to see what had happened, he discovered that the blacksmith had vanished in the night, and tiny footprints were left in the mud all around the house. That day, the boy went to see the village baker. The baker was young and pretty, and the boy fancied her. However, she would not be wooed by him, and the boy left angry, his advances spurned.
When the goblin came to him again that night, the boy said, "If the baker will not allow me to court her, then no one will be allowed to! I wish to be rid of her. The next morning, the people of the village gath- ered around the baker's house, and again all that remained were dozens of tiny footprints- no sign of the baker herself. This time, there were some people in the village who remembered seeing the boy courting the baker, and recalled his disagreements with the blacksmith.
Frightened, the boy fled back to his home and locked himself in, refusing to let even his parents inside. The villagers banged on the door and demanded he come out and face them, but the boy would not relent.
Night fell, and the villagers drifted back to their homes. The goblin appeared to the boy again, this time in his own home, and asked what the boy wished for. I wish the villagers would trouble me no more! When the boy awoke the next morning, there was no crowd outside. In fact, when he emerged from his home, he found that there were no villagers either. The entire community was empty, and the ground was covered with goblin tracks. In this way, the boy found himself free of the villagers' accusations.
At first the boy was pleased that he had no one to reject him and no one to answer to. But as the days passed, the boy became lonely. Eventually, he real- ized that he needed the company of his people, and he hoped for a chance to take back his wish. But the goblin never appeared to him again. So the boy pre- pared for a long journey and then set off into the dark forest, seeking out the goblin kingdom of Nachtur, where he hoped he might find out what happened to the vanishing villagers.
The eladrin and the drow are perhaps the best known of these, but they are not the only heroic fey peoples who travel in both worlds. This book presents three new Feywild races suitable for any campaign. At one with nature, they can be as calm as the autumn sunset one moment and as violent as a thunderstorm the next.
Childlike fairies full of wonder and magic, the tiny pixies fly on vibrant wings and vanish into thin air on a whim. Half humanoid and half goat, satyrs love music and celebration, and they constantly seek the chance to prove themselves good friends and deadly enemies. Ability Scores: Your character race offers a bonus to one ability score and a bonus to your choice of one of two other scores.
Your race determines how fast you can move. Certain races, including the ones presented here, have the ability to see clearly in dim light.
Some races master a wider variety of languages than others, based on their culture and history. Pixies, for instance, can speak to the beasts of the world and those of the Feywild. Racial Powers: Each fey race has a special racial power-usually a utility power, but sometimes an attack power.
In addition, characters of a fey race have access to unique powers that they can take instead of class powers. The twilight that separates day from night, the uncertain days between one season and another, the perimeters of doorways and win- dows that are neither inside nor outside—these places are subject to superstition, which claims that demons, fey, and other frightening creatures can enter the world through indefinable regions.
In the natural world, magic too is governed by rules. Wizards study arcane texts, learn to cast spe- cific spells, and improve their techniques through research and dedication.
Fey magic, however, bends and breaks such rules. The humblest midwife can pledge herself to powers that can instantly plague mortals with curses that last a lifetime. Many fey change shapes as easily as a mortal changes clothing. Such unknown quantities inspire fear in the people of the natural world.
Fey creatures are not without limits, but their boundaries are more flexible and, at the same time, more binding. Most fey that make pacts and bargains are magically bound to their promises. Breaking an oath or granting a favor places the fey under the power of another creature. Thus, fey rarely swear oaths or promise favors, usually only in desperation or when they desire high-stakes fun. Similarly, fey respect ancient conditional laws, such as those that block them from boundaries ritu- ally sealed with cold iron.
HEROES OF THE FEYWILD ™
But as long as you have lived here, you have Those who were born in the Feywild and those who noticed something strange and magical about the dwell near a fey crossing have an entirely different hamlet.
When pestilence and famine strike other perspective about the lands beyond the veil. If you are nearby settlements, your crops grow tall and strong, a Feywild native or grew up near the places where wild game is plentiful, and your water remains pure eladrin cities appear in the mortal world, you are and clean.
The mists that rise in the evening suggest aware of the perils and enchantments of the place. Sometimes after dusk in the moonlit woods and life has given you at least some exposure to the won- fields beyond your village, you hear strange sounds ders that lie beyond the ordinary world.
Sometimes strangers happen by your them as an intrinsic part of your existence. In addition, beauty. You are fair, the elders forbid your people from wandering in well aware of the brutal fomorians and sadistic the woods after sunset, warning of villagers through drow in the Feydark below and their desire to the ages who strayed from the known paths and overthrow the surface world.
You know of were lost in a fairy realm. Some are said to wicked hags in the Murkendraw swamp have returned years later, not a day older that eat mortal flesh, lure unwitting fools than when they disappeared.
But those into ironclad pacts, or turn them into who return never truly recover.
Player's Option - Heroes of The Feywild.pdf
Their newts. You know about wild pixies, eyes remain aglimmer with distant skulking boggles, and capricious yearning as they recall enchanted forests, nymphs that play so hard with visitors majestic hills, and flawless skies, like that few survive the experience. In the same ing in the mortal world, you are way that mortals can point out areas of privy to charms, superstitions, and the natural world, you can provide rumors regarding the creatures of general directions to the eladrin the realm.
In some villages, once each city of Mithrendain, the fomorian week the priest circles the settlement with a city of Mag Tureah, or the Summer bag of iron shavings donated by the blacksmith. Given the shifting sprinkles pinches of the shavings on the ground as boundaries of the Feywild, however, even the most he goes along, followed by chattering children and carefully detailed map can lose accuracy between dogs sniffing for handouts.
When you were young one sunrise and the next. Not being locale, or in a mortal locale that has a fey crossing of the mortal world, they must respect its boundaries nearby. These sections also detail traditions and cus- and cannot pass over a border of cold iron without toms that your character might know if you hail from risking great peril.
The local wise woman disagrees the vicinity. The storyteller of your Fey Crossing Hamlets village offers a different tale, saying that the creatures of the Feywild are magic beings far older than iron, In the quiet wilderness far away from the cities of the and every mechanical achievement decreases their natural world, small villages rest near areas where magic and strength in the natural world.
And you the border with the Feywild wears thin. You live in once spoke to a traveling sage who refuted all these one such place, and every day passes much the same WAY N E E N G L A N D claims, swearing that only iron forged from a fallen as the one that came before. You and your neigh- bors plow and harvest fields, hunt game, pull flax CH A P T ER 1 Into the Bright 9 star can weaken the fey, for stars are beings of magic incarnate, with bones made of solid iron.
For all practi- Feywild, teems with magic and life on a much greater cal purposes, the Feywild exists as described in scale than the Underdark of the natural world. Many these pages and in sources such as Manual of the sections of the Feydark, especially those inhabited by Planes regardless of the mortal world to which it is myconids, could be described as verdant.
Food and connected. You can view this consistency as a mys- water are plentiful for the underground inhabitants, terious property of the Feywild—its features mirror but so are predators and malicious fey that inhabit every world at once—or as a convenience to make the subterranean realm. Your DM might add or modify details of the Eladrin Cities Feywild depending on his or her campaign, and Throughout the Feywild, the cities of the eladrin are these changes might open up new possibilities for bastions of civilization.Young satyrs resemble infants in size and appearance, but they speak and interact with the competence of a human adolescent.
The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh. Sometimes strangers happen by your hamlet, smelling of faraway scents that create cloud In this place, magic is inher- Faerie, is a place bright with magic. And although.