Dolurrh: The Realm of the Dead
Endless caverns stretch throughout Dolurrh, bleak passages of gray stone. Wherever you go, shadowy figures reach toward you, imploring, but you feel only the faintest chill as their insubstantial fingers pass through you. Mist pools around your feet, and as you press forward, you realize this swirling mist is moaning.
This is no natural phenomenon; these are the remnants of souls who have forgotten themselves. This is Dolurrh. It’s not the embodiment of the idea of death or dying, both of which are reflected in Mabar. Rather, Dolurrh is where mortal souls go after their bodies die, where memories fade and lives are forgotten.
Mortal spirits are drawn to Dolurrh within moments of death, and their memories begin to decay immediately. Within days, most spirits no longer have any desire to leave Dolurrh, and within weeks, most only have the faintest memories of their previous lives. The faiths of Aerenal and the Blood of Vol assert that Dolurrh is the absolute end of existence, the last echoes of a life before it’s completely gone. But when Dorius Alyre ir’Korran drew his classic planar map (seen at the beginning of this book), he used the Octogram symbol of the Sovereign Host to represent Dolurrh, because he declared it to be the door through which all mortals must pass to join with the Sovereigns. This has come to be a common view: what appears to be memory fading is actually the soul slowly ascending to a higher form of existence, rising to a level of reality no mortal can experience. The Vassals of the Sovereign Host say the faithful finally join the Sovereigns; followers of the Silver Flame say that noble souls strengthen the Flame. What is left is only a husk—the cast-off remnants, like an abandoned snakeskin or the traces of memory that can be read using speak with dead. Thus, while Dolurrh has long been known as the Realm of the Dead, many call it the Gateway. Ultimately, this is a matter of faith—whether the other side of Dolurrh is oblivion or paradise, no one ever returns from it. The sage Annolysse of Arcanix declared that Dolurrh must be the thirteenth plane, for it has no opposite. It doesn’t embody an idea so much as it serves a purpose—that of gathering, collecting, and (perhaps) transitioning souls. Mortal actions are judged in Daanvi; by contrast, Dolurrh doesn’t judge and it doesn’t punish. It’s simply the end of the journey—or depending how you look at it, the beginning of a new one.
All living creatures come to Dolurrh, sooner or later. Those that come here before death are almost always looking for something—a lost soul, a forgotten memory. But living or dead, any who come to Dolurrh can be trapped by its power.
Nalfeshnee demons patrol the Catacombs of Dolurrh, dispersing melds and lemures and dealing with mortal intruders. They appear as large humanoids whose features are shrouded in gray mist, and they delight in crushing mortals and pulling the shades from their corpses, as well as consuming lemures.
Marut inevitables are powerful guardians, crafted in the Crucible of Dolurrh, forged from husksteel, and tasked to preserve the cycle of life and death. Maruts are occasionally dispatched to Eberron to intervene with acts of resurrection, or when a lich or mummy is created. No one’s sure what triggers this deadly intervention—perhaps the resurrection defied the Prophecy—but Jorasco healers always cast augury before raising the dead. If the result is “woe,” they refuse the job, lest a Dolurrhi marut appear, destroying the resurrected creature, its healer, and possibly the whole healing house in the process.
Shadar-kai are servants of the Queen of the Dead, shades granted new life. Though their new forms appear elf-like, they might’ve been any sort of humanoid in their previous life; when they caught the Queen’s attention, she preserved their soul from entrapment. The shadar-kai serve in the Vault of Memories, and occasionally as her hands on Eberron. They might clash with necromancers (especially the agents of Lady Illmarrow), collect trinkets, or target mortals with no rhyme or reason. Many sages attempt to explain these enigmatic actions, often speculating that they’re collecting especially tragic memories for the Vault. Other denizens of Dolurrh are unique, such as the Librarian, found in the Vault of Memories, and the Smith of Souls, who dwells in the Crucible. The Dead. The spirits of those who have died are omnipresent in Dolurrh, from shades huddled in the shadows to layers of moaning mist. The Dead might be considered manifestations of Dolurrh, but the plane didn’t actually create them—all were once mortals.
Shades are mortal souls that are freshly arrived in Dolurrh. They maintain a portion of their memory and original appearance, though they’re insubstantial and can’t interact with material objects. Shades are susceptible to ennui, and as they gain levels, their appearance blurs and their memories slowly fade. Shades can speak, and they may cry or beg adventurers to help them; however, most are incapable of taking any actions on their own. They’re often found lost in thought, trying to remember something they’ve forgotten, or fixating on a past mistake.
Husks are harmless shades that have been overcome by ennui and possess only the vaguest memories of their mortal existence. Most retain a semblance of their mortal shape, but they continue to fade over decades, eventually merging with other husks to form masses of moaning mist. Having no true consciousness of their own, husks are immune to ennui’s effects. Occasionally, a group of husks cluster around a strong memory, forming an ectoplasmic mass that prowls in search of more scraps of memory, absorbing other husks.
Ghosts are formed when a shade clings to a particular memory with such intensity that even Dolurrh can’t completely eradicate it—perhaps a terrible mistake or a bitter grudge. The rest of the spirit’s memories fade, and it becomes immune to ennui, but this ember remains, defining its existence. Ghosts are driven by a primal desire to return to Eberron, to haunt the place where they died or where their anchoring memory was forged; they might escape to the Material Plane when Dolurrh is coterminous or when a resurrection goes wrong. Ghosts that are destroyed eventually reform; they can only find peace if their unfinished business is resolved. Other forms of undead are rarely seen in Dolurrh. The entities found in this plane are the spirits of the dead, slowly fading, transitioning—or trapped in that process. Corporeal undead such as ghouls, skeletons, and zombies have no place here, while undead that hunger to consume life belong in Mabar. The Lingering. Memories of joy and happiness do no harm in Dolurrh. But memories of pain, of cruelty, of anger . . . these don’t fade so easily, and they can hurt others. Even if they don’t trap shades as ghosts, this psychic residue can build up in the gears of the spiritual machinery of Dolurrh. It often takes the presence of a mortal to trigger it; when this occurs, the lingering pain and hate coalesces into a solid form. The least of these are lemures, formed from hateful memories or deeds. The emotional residue of hundreds or thousands of people can form deadly sorrowsworn—the Angry, the Hungry, the Lonely, the Lost, and the Wretched—as presented in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes.
The Lingering are formed in Dolurrh and are immune to ennui, but they’re a waste product, not the plane’s desired result. As such, nalfeshnee, maruts, and other guardians destroy the Lingering whenever they are found.
The Queen of the Dead, the most powerful being in Dolurrh, dwells in the great spire that rises up above the Vault of Memories. Little is known about her motives or her origins; curiously, she focuses on the Material Plane far more than most great planar powers do. Though she existed long before the elves, the Queen appears as an elf woman, her face hidden by a cracked alabaster mask, her robes of black feathers trimmed with silver. She can pluck shades from the cycle of entrapment, and even grant them new life, creating shadar-kai by housing them in new bodies. Other souls, she saves but doesn’t restore, preserving them in the Vault of Memories. She collects secrets and memories, plucking her favorites from those gathered by the Librarian and keeping them in her personal collection. Sometimes she directly opposes mortal necromancers, especially Lady Illmarrow. At other times, she seems interested in killing specific people, perhaps so she can preserve their spirits or their memories. But such direct action is extremely rare, remarkable if it occurs more than once in a century; most of the time, she remains silent in Dolurrh, unknown and unknowable.
Rarely, the bravest (and most foolish) of adventurers venture into the Queen of the Dead’s realm, hoping to reclaim a lost spirit from Dolurrh. And rarely, they succeed, for she doesn’t care if a shade or two are stolen every century, or even every decade. However, in the Age of Giants, the Cul’sir Dominion sent an army into Dolurrh to recover the spirits of a family lost in the Quori Conflict—none of them returned. The Queen’s power cannot be contested in Dolurrh, and thieves who attract her personal attention find their shades torn from their bodies in the blink of an eye.
This is no natural phenomenon; these are the remnants of souls who have forgotten themselves. This is Dolurrh. It’s not the embodiment of the idea of death or dying, both of which are reflected in Mabar. Rather, Dolurrh is where mortal souls go after their bodies die, where memories fade and lives are forgotten.
Mortal spirits are drawn to Dolurrh within moments of death, and their memories begin to decay immediately. Within days, most spirits no longer have any desire to leave Dolurrh, and within weeks, most only have the faintest memories of their previous lives. The faiths of Aerenal and the Blood of Vol assert that Dolurrh is the absolute end of existence, the last echoes of a life before it’s completely gone. But when Dorius Alyre ir’Korran drew his classic planar map (seen at the beginning of this book), he used the Octogram symbol of the Sovereign Host to represent Dolurrh, because he declared it to be the door through which all mortals must pass to join with the Sovereigns. This has come to be a common view: what appears to be memory fading is actually the soul slowly ascending to a higher form of existence, rising to a level of reality no mortal can experience. The Vassals of the Sovereign Host say the faithful finally join the Sovereigns; followers of the Silver Flame say that noble souls strengthen the Flame. What is left is only a husk—the cast-off remnants, like an abandoned snakeskin or the traces of memory that can be read using speak with dead. Thus, while Dolurrh has long been known as the Realm of the Dead, many call it the Gateway. Ultimately, this is a matter of faith—whether the other side of Dolurrh is oblivion or paradise, no one ever returns from it. The sage Annolysse of Arcanix declared that Dolurrh must be the thirteenth plane, for it has no opposite. It doesn’t embody an idea so much as it serves a purpose—that of gathering, collecting, and (perhaps) transitioning souls. Mortal actions are judged in Daanvi; by contrast, Dolurrh doesn’t judge and it doesn’t punish. It’s simply the end of the journey—or depending how you look at it, the beginning of a new one.
All living creatures come to Dolurrh, sooner or later. Those that come here before death are almost always looking for something—a lost soul, a forgotten memory. But living or dead, any who come to Dolurrh can be trapped by its power.
Universal Properties
Everything about Dolurrh is gray and gloomy. Even the brightest colors seem faded, the most joyful sounds seem dull. The heavy weight of ennui settles on travelers the moment they arrive, making even the simplest tasks feel challenging. And there’s a constant pull, tugging on memory and emotion, a desire to just sit down and let it all go. Eternal Ennui. When a creature enters Dolurrh, it immediately gains one level of ennui (described below). While in Dolurrh, this level of ennui can’t be removed by rest or by any other means. It’s immediately removed when the creature leaves Dolurrh. Creatures native to Dolurrh are immune to this property’s effects.Ennui. Ennui drains motion and memory, reflecting the soul-sapping power of Dolurrh. This special condition is measured in levels, and has the same effects and rules as exhaustion (as presented in appendix A of the Player’s Handbook), with one exception—ennui affects all creatures that aren’t native to Dolurrh, including undead and other creatures immune to exhaustion. Ennui is separate from exhaustion, and exhaustion levels don’t stack with ennui. If a creature has both ennui and exhaustion, use whichever condition it has more levels of to determine the effects.
Undead can’t recover from ennui while in Dolurrh. Whenever a living creature with 2 or more levels of ennui finishes a long rest, if it succeeds against its saving throw against Dolurrh’s Inevitable Entrapment property by 5 or more, it reduces its ennui level by 1. When a creature leaves Dolurrh, all levels of ennui are removed.
When a creature reaches 6 levels of ennui, its will is completely broken and it can take no purposeful action; if this happens to a living creature, its physical body dies and it becomes a husk bound to Dolurrh.
Undead can’t recover from ennui while in Dolurrh. Whenever a living creature with 2 or more levels of ennui finishes a long rest, if it succeeds against its saving throw against Dolurrh’s Inevitable Entrapment property by 5 or more, it reduces its ennui level by 1. When a creature leaves Dolurrh, all levels of ennui are removed.
When a creature reaches 6 levels of ennui, its will is completely broken and it can take no purposeful action; if this happens to a living creature, its physical body dies and it becomes a husk bound to Dolurrh.
Denizens
The Quick. The native creatures of Dolurrh are bound to the cycle of transition, and all have some role to serve in this process. All of the Quick are immune to the ennui condition.Nalfeshnee demons patrol the Catacombs of Dolurrh, dispersing melds and lemures and dealing with mortal intruders. They appear as large humanoids whose features are shrouded in gray mist, and they delight in crushing mortals and pulling the shades from their corpses, as well as consuming lemures.
Marut inevitables are powerful guardians, crafted in the Crucible of Dolurrh, forged from husksteel, and tasked to preserve the cycle of life and death. Maruts are occasionally dispatched to Eberron to intervene with acts of resurrection, or when a lich or mummy is created. No one’s sure what triggers this deadly intervention—perhaps the resurrection defied the Prophecy—but Jorasco healers always cast augury before raising the dead. If the result is “woe,” they refuse the job, lest a Dolurrhi marut appear, destroying the resurrected creature, its healer, and possibly the whole healing house in the process.
Shadar-kai are servants of the Queen of the Dead, shades granted new life. Though their new forms appear elf-like, they might’ve been any sort of humanoid in their previous life; when they caught the Queen’s attention, she preserved their soul from entrapment. The shadar-kai serve in the Vault of Memories, and occasionally as her hands on Eberron. They might clash with necromancers (especially the agents of Lady Illmarrow), collect trinkets, or target mortals with no rhyme or reason. Many sages attempt to explain these enigmatic actions, often speculating that they’re collecting especially tragic memories for the Vault. Other denizens of Dolurrh are unique, such as the Librarian, found in the Vault of Memories, and the Smith of Souls, who dwells in the Crucible. The Dead. The spirits of those who have died are omnipresent in Dolurrh, from shades huddled in the shadows to layers of moaning mist. The Dead might be considered manifestations of Dolurrh, but the plane didn’t actually create them—all were once mortals.
Shades are mortal souls that are freshly arrived in Dolurrh. They maintain a portion of their memory and original appearance, though they’re insubstantial and can’t interact with material objects. Shades are susceptible to ennui, and as they gain levels, their appearance blurs and their memories slowly fade. Shades can speak, and they may cry or beg adventurers to help them; however, most are incapable of taking any actions on their own. They’re often found lost in thought, trying to remember something they’ve forgotten, or fixating on a past mistake.
Husks are harmless shades that have been overcome by ennui and possess only the vaguest memories of their mortal existence. Most retain a semblance of their mortal shape, but they continue to fade over decades, eventually merging with other husks to form masses of moaning mist. Having no true consciousness of their own, husks are immune to ennui’s effects. Occasionally, a group of husks cluster around a strong memory, forming an ectoplasmic mass that prowls in search of more scraps of memory, absorbing other husks.
Ghosts are formed when a shade clings to a particular memory with such intensity that even Dolurrh can’t completely eradicate it—perhaps a terrible mistake or a bitter grudge. The rest of the spirit’s memories fade, and it becomes immune to ennui, but this ember remains, defining its existence. Ghosts are driven by a primal desire to return to Eberron, to haunt the place where they died or where their anchoring memory was forged; they might escape to the Material Plane when Dolurrh is coterminous or when a resurrection goes wrong. Ghosts that are destroyed eventually reform; they can only find peace if their unfinished business is resolved. Other forms of undead are rarely seen in Dolurrh. The entities found in this plane are the spirits of the dead, slowly fading, transitioning—or trapped in that process. Corporeal undead such as ghouls, skeletons, and zombies have no place here, while undead that hunger to consume life belong in Mabar. The Lingering. Memories of joy and happiness do no harm in Dolurrh. But memories of pain, of cruelty, of anger . . . these don’t fade so easily, and they can hurt others. Even if they don’t trap shades as ghosts, this psychic residue can build up in the gears of the spiritual machinery of Dolurrh. It often takes the presence of a mortal to trigger it; when this occurs, the lingering pain and hate coalesces into a solid form. The least of these are lemures, formed from hateful memories or deeds. The emotional residue of hundreds or thousands of people can form deadly sorrowsworn—the Angry, the Hungry, the Lonely, the Lost, and the Wretched—as presented in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes.
The Lingering are formed in Dolurrh and are immune to ennui, but they’re a waste product, not the plane’s desired result. As such, nalfeshnee, maruts, and other guardians destroy the Lingering whenever they are found.
The Queen of the Dead, the most powerful being in Dolurrh, dwells in the great spire that rises up above the Vault of Memories. Little is known about her motives or her origins; curiously, she focuses on the Material Plane far more than most great planar powers do. Though she existed long before the elves, the Queen appears as an elf woman, her face hidden by a cracked alabaster mask, her robes of black feathers trimmed with silver. She can pluck shades from the cycle of entrapment, and even grant them new life, creating shadar-kai by housing them in new bodies. Other souls, she saves but doesn’t restore, preserving them in the Vault of Memories. She collects secrets and memories, plucking her favorites from those gathered by the Librarian and keeping them in her personal collection. Sometimes she directly opposes mortal necromancers, especially Lady Illmarrow. At other times, she seems interested in killing specific people, perhaps so she can preserve their spirits or their memories. But such direct action is extremely rare, remarkable if it occurs more than once in a century; most of the time, she remains silent in Dolurrh, unknown and unknowable.
Rarely, the bravest (and most foolish) of adventurers venture into the Queen of the Dead’s realm, hoping to reclaim a lost spirit from Dolurrh. And rarely, they succeed, for she doesn’t care if a shade or two are stolen every century, or even every decade. However, in the Age of Giants, the Cul’sir Dominion sent an army into Dolurrh to recover the spirits of a family lost in the Quori Conflict—none of them returned. The Queen’s power cannot be contested in Dolurrh, and thieves who attract her personal attention find their shades torn from their bodies in the blink of an eye.
Manifest Zones
Manifest zones tied to Dolurrh rarely possess all of the plane’s properties; travelers generally aren’t entrapped by ennui simply by passing through one. But these zones are still close to the Realm of the Dead and exceptionally haunted, though not blighted, as Mabaran zones typically are. Shadows move in disturbing ways, and travelers may hear whispers they can’t quite make out. The restless spirits of Dolurrh yearn to return to the Material Plane, and it’s easier for them to do so in manifest zones. They might manifest as ghosts, or animate the corpses of people buried in the zone, causing them to return as revenants or zombies. In some Dolurrhi zones, raising the dead can be dangerous; if spells or abilities that raise the dead are used in such a zone, roll on the Dolurrhi Resurrection Mishaps table to determine the result. Dolurrhi zones can also have positive effects. In many zones, it’s easier to return people from the dead, halving the cost of any material components. In others, anyone can cast speak with dead as a ritual that takes an hour to perform, as long as they have a personal connection to the deceased whose corpse they’re questioning. The most dramatic manifest zones are those that serve as gateways to enter the Catacombs of Dolurrh—and hopefully, to return. Opening such a gateway might call for a special ritual or significant sacrifice, perhaps under a particular alignment of the moon Aryth, or when Dolurrh is conterminous.Layers
Dolurrh is universally gray and gloomy. The accounts of brave explorers describe the sense of being underground, and no mortal has seen the moon or sky of Dolurrh. Unlike most planes, the layers of Dolurrh don’t embody different ideas; instead, they serve different functions in this grand machine dedicated to processing souls.The four layers discussed below are the only ones described in the records of mortals who ventured to Dolurrh—and returned. But there could be more, as yet undiscovered, each likely serving a critical purpose. It’s known that the Librarian has recorded the lives of dragons in the Vault of Memories; accordingly, sages theorize there may be a layer dedicated entirely to the spirits of dragonkind, which may linger longer than the spirits of simple humanoids.
The Catacombs.
Endless tunnels of gray stone wind through the Catacombs, the destination of humanoid spirits. Some passages are painfully tight, while others widen into grand halls with ceilings lost in darkness. The Dead are everywhere, shades pleading for release, husks keening in the shadows. The chambers of the Catacombs might contain vast wells filled with moaning mist, or nalfeshnees herding shades into pens and scraping lemures off the walls.The Catacombs may be larger than Khorvaire, or even Eberron itself. A mortal could wander forever through these winding tunnels—at least until they’re consumed by ennui. However, there are junction points that transcend the logic of distance. If one knows the right symbols to follow, they can cross the vastness of the Catacombs quickly or pass to other layers.
The Kennel.
The Kennel is similar in appearance to the Catacombs, but contains the shades and husks of beasts and monstrosities, along with the nalfeshnee and maruts that tend them. Here, you’ll hear the howls of fading wolf spirits, and see flocks of spectral birds flying through grand halls, along with larger and fiercer creatures. Beast spirits rarely linger long in Dolurrh, as most have fewer memories to erase. But all dogs go to Dolurrh!The Queen of the Dead might have created special servants that wander these halls, just as she made the shadar-kai. It’s possible adventurers could be questioned by a clever raven with the soul of a poet.
The Crucible.
In this grand foundry, tended by shadar-kai and guarded by newly forged maruts, the immortal spirit known as the Smith of Souls refines the essence of faded spirits into husksteel. From these lingering scraps of memory and emotion, she forges the armor and weapons of the shadar-kai, and creates the maruts from the husks of brave souls. She also creates smaller and stranger items from husksteel, as described in the “Dolurrhi Artifacts” section.The Smith wears a mask of black steel and an apron of dragonhide. When forging maruts, she takes the form of a giant, and when crafting tiny trinkets, a gnome. It’s possible that she collects the memories of mortal artisans, and can replicate their works at her forge.
The Vault of Memories.
The heart of Dolurrh is the Vault of Memories. This tower, carved up through gray stone, is larger than any of the great towers of Sharn. The lowest levels hold the Vault’s library; here, the spirit known as the Librarian interviews each shade and makes a record of its life. His power is such that an entire life can be confined to a single large page. Every sigil inscribed holds a crucial memory, and if a creature is proficient in Arcana, they can read the symbol to experience that memory. The many floors of the library hold countless books of preserved lives, carefully tended by shadar-kai scribes. The Librarian himself is a massive hooded figure— his books are likewise enormous. It’s said that he can be many places at once, allowing him to speak to every shade, capturing the story of its life, before it fades.In the halls above the library, the Queen of the Dead keeps her many treasures. What seem to be obsidian statues are actually shades, crystallized to prevent them from being entrapped and lost in Dolurrh. Paintings and crystals contain memories that the Queen has chosen to isolate. Beyond these are countless trinkets and oddities, items collected by her shadar-kai over the vast scope of history. And higher still are the chambers of the Queen herself, where she usually sits in silent contemplation, listening to the whispers of the countless shades in her domain.
