{"name":"Mist Talisman","item_type":"Other","rarity":"Uncommon","price":"","weight":"Varies","properties":"A Mist talisman is a nonmagical object, akin to a dowsing rod or a lodestone, that resonates with the unique nature of the domain where it originates, allowing the creature holding it to find a path through the Mists to that domain. By holding the talisman and focusing on its domain of origin, a creature in the Mists can reach that domain after 2d6 hours of travel. Any creatures that willingly follow the creature with the Mist talisman also reach the same destination. A Mist talisman is no help to a creature imprisoned within a domain\u2019s closed borders. If the borders of the destination domain are closed, roll on the Wandering the Mists table to determine what happens.\r\n[in]Mist talismans take ominous forms, and no two are alike. A family\u2019s burned holy book, a battered stuffed toy, a papyrus scroll, etc. might serve as Mist talismans. Few who dwell in the Domains of Dread know how to use Mist talismans or have interest in traveling to other domains. Those who do, though, might share a Mist talisman with adventurers or could know where such an item is located. You can use Mist talismans to guide characters from one domain to another as your adventures require.[\/in]\r\n","description":"[in]While by no means an exhaustive list of the domains of dread, those catalogued by Azalin Rex, Wizard-King of Darkon, are as follows:[\/in]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Strahd von Zarovich[\/b] - Hallmarks: Undead despot, notorious haunted stronghold, tragic resurrection[br]In Barovia, the night is a curse. With the dying of the light, wicked souls slip from the darkened spires of Castle Ravenloft to work the will of an immortal overlord. This is the realm of the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, whose depravities have doomed him and countless generations to endlessly repeating cycles of obsession and despair.[in]The howls of wolves and shrieks of raven swarms echo through the dismal valleys and oppressive forests of Barovia. In isolated communities, superstitious villagers find the brightness in their lives smothered by dread of their aloof overlord, his baleful servants, and ancient evils that fester unopposed. All the domain\u2019s residents know to fear the Mists and the long Barovian nights, as through them the Devil Strahd watches and reaches to claim whatever he desires. Yet none realize their torments have played out over and over again, all part of Strahd\u2019s plot to claim one victim who has eluded him for generations.[\/in]\r\n| Barovia[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]The God-Brain of Bluetspur[\/b] - Hallmarks: Alien abductions, otherworldly landscapes, untrustworthy memories, monstrous experimentation[br]Protean apocalypses scar the impossible vistas of Bluetspur, and none who witness them remember. This alien domain etches itself not upon the waking mind, but rather upon the body as inexplicable scars and on the psyche through nightmares.[in]Not all the Domains of Dread are drawn from worlds hospitable to life. Bluetspur\u2019s scale and impossible geometry induce instinctual anxiety. Gaseous tempests whirl upon the hooked peaks of gravity-defying mountains, oily spires twist in semi-organic contortions, caustic fumaroles yawn and snap shut hungrily, and above it all hangs a dying red orb. Little can survive this wasteland, which is why Bluetspur\u2019s masters dwell underground.[\/in][in]Beneath the alien surface, the mind flayers of Bluetspur drift through the howling darkness of their ancient metropolis-laboratory. Within this sprawling installation, the illithids\u2019 numbers are few and their tentacles twitch with undisguised urgency. They toil to prevent the unthinkable: their primordial leader, the God-Brain of Bluetspur, is dying. Through these end times, the mind flayers work desperately to reconcile their god\u2019s demented whims even as they struggle to delay its demise. To those ends, their tentacles slip through the Mists to drag unwitting souls back to Bluetspur for all manner of experiments. Many abductees are returned with only psychic scars, while others are never seen again. An unlucky few find themselves set upon strange routes leading back to the alien realm, arriving only to realize they\u2019ve visited Bluetspur before.[\/in]\r\n| Bluetspur[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Ivana Boritsi and Dilisnya[\/b] - Hallmarks: Political intrigue, poison, revenge[br]Borca\u2019s nobles entangle the domain in a web of intrigues. While the common folk scrape for survival, the domain\u2019s callous aristocrats distract themselves with cruel diversions. They pay what they consider pittances in gold, land, and lives in pursuit of power, thrills, and the rarest pleasure: untarnished emotion. The common folk are merely tools to be exploited and discarded. Silver-tongued schemers use dreams and ambition to tempt innocents into debt, blackmail, and ruin, while furthering their rivalries or searching for decadent thrills. Guile and apathy are virtues in Borca, and none embody them more than the domain\u2019s two Darklords: the genius poisoner Ivana Boritsi and the childishly cruel stalker Ivan Dilisnya.[in]Outside the bejeweled playgrounds of the land\u2019s elite, Borca\u2019s common folk struggle against crime, poverty, and starvation. In scattered villages and tenement-filled cities, locals view nobles as celebrities, and their idealized vision of noble life leads them to mimic the aristocrats\u2019 callousness and appetite for empty fads. These starry-eyed innocents provide ready pawns for corruption. And those who don\u2019t bend to the whims of Borca\u2019s rulers face humiliation before they\u2019re inevitably crushed.[\/in]\r\n| Borca[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Nepenthe[\/b] - Hallmarks: Entertainment, fey bargains, misfits, wandering exiles[br]Resplendent with bright banners, calliope music, and the smells of rich food, the Carnival promises visitors a surreal wonderland where any dream is possible.[in]Garish fliers appear before the Carnival\u2019s arrival, promising marvels, terrors, and a brief escape from the gloom of daily life. But nothing in the Land of the Mists is beyond suspicion, and the wise know strangers are intrinsically dangerous.[\/in]\r\n[in]The Carnival doesn\u2019t exist to entertain its visitors. Rather, it\u2019s a traveling domain, capable of visiting other domains and lands beyond the Mists. Visibly marked as outsiders by birth, circumstance, intention, or talent, the Carnival\u2019s troupers trade their unique performances for coin and whatever else they need to survive. Although these entertainers are well intentioned, sinister forces travel in their wake. The longer the Carnival tarries in one place, the greater the threat to the performers and visitors. So the Carnival travels constantly, lest the troupers endanger the lands they visit.[\/in]\r\n| The Carnival[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]None[\/b] - Hallmarks: Fractured realm, magical ruins, ongoing supernatural catastrophe[br]The domain of Darkon has failed. Across the land, ageless monuments and magical wonders crumble before the Shroud\u2014the Mists turned hungry.\r\n[in]Once the prison of the lich Azalin Rex, Darkon stretched between two oceans, its lands filled with gothic cities and the monuments of forgotten wizard-tyrants. Largely ignoring his role as ruler, Azalin dwelled in seclusion while manufacturing magical atrocities and manipulating prophecies to free himself from the Dark Powers\u2019 grip. He finally succeeded, orchestrating a magical event that shook the entire domain: the Hour of Ascension. The Darklord vanished\u2014and Darkon changed.[\/in][in]Since Azalin\u2019s disappearance, a strange golden star called the King\u2019s Tear hangs in the heavens, and each night the Mists surrounding the domain roil with hidden activity and creep inward. These Mists, now known throughout the domain as the Shroud, erode Darkon\u2019s borders. Those fleeing the Shroud report strange shapes and figures within. What happens to the lands claimed by the Shroud is a mystery, and none who enter it return.[\/in][in]Despite facing gradual annihilation, Darkon\u2019s living population largely ignores the threat, dismissing reports of vanished regions as rumors and fearmongering. As the domain splits into crumbling islands, ambitious beings vie for Azalin\u2019s power, each claiming to be the lost king\u2019s obvious successor. These would-be tyrants blame one another for the domain\u2019s dissolution, and each believes they alone can save Darkon by becoming its sole ruler.[\/in]\r\n| Darkon[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Saidra d'Honaire[\/b] - Hallmarks: Masquerades, decadent aristocracy, social decay, impostor syndrome[br]Every night brings another glittering affair in Dementlieu, whose citizens live glamorous and exciting lives. They enjoy the finest clothes, elegant jewels, grand ballrooms\u2014and most extravagantly, the Grand Masquerade hosted by Duchess Saidra d\u2019Honaire every seventh day at her island estate. Everyone who is anyone attends the duchess\u2019s balls, and everyone who longs to be someone tries to wrangle an invitation or sneak in uninvited. But Duchess Saidra\u2019s wrath upon those who dare to set foot where they don\u2019t belong is truly horrible\u2014and inevitably fatal.[in]The domain of Dementlieu consists of the city of Port-a-Lucine, which embraces the murky waters of Pernault Bay and Lucine Bay, as well as shifting scraps of fog-shrouded suburban areas around the city. Port-a-Lucine is a festering mire of rot and decay hidden beneath a glittering facade of decadent wealth. Everything appears more valuable, more solid, and more wholesome than the actuality, and everyone behaves as if the illusion of grandeur and prosperity were real.[\/in][in]Everyone in Dementlieu sweats to get by, but admitting to reality means social ruin. The poorest citizens struggle to maintain a middle-class appearance, scrounging through garbage heaps at night to find wares to sell in their shops in the morning. The members of the true middle class pretend to be titled aristocracy, but they wear much-patched and mended clothes, and starve for a week to host a ball that barely passes as lavish\u2014by recycling table scraps into mysterious p\u00e2t\u00e9s and cleverly disguised dumplings. The real aristocracy of the domain exists solely in its Darklord, Duchess d\u2019Honaire.[\/in][in]Anyone who lets the mask slip meets a grisly end. When an \u201caristocrat\u201d at the duchess\u2019s masquerade loses a button from a fraying coat, the duchess pronounces the impostor\u2019s doom and the unmasked pretender crumbles to dust. When a struggling merchant fails to keep up appearances, the resulting fall is less public but no less final. Left with no home and no livelihood, these wretches inevitably fall prey to the Red Death. This mysterious spirit haunts the poorest parts of town and drains every glimmer of life from its victims\u2014and is embodied by Duchess Saidra.[\/in]\r\n| Dementlieu[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Vladeska Drakov[\/b] - Hallmarks: Dwindling resources, fickle hero worship, impending disaster, suspicion, totalitarianism, zombies[br]The days of the living are numbered in Falkovnia. The people would flee if they could, taking their chances in the Mists, but they aren\u2019t allowed that choice. The military has turned against the people, making them prisoners within their own country. With cudgel and pike, the soldiers of Falkovnia force every commoner into grueling labor, rushing them to raise fortifications and scrape scrawny roots from the dirt. Every lash strike, every day of meager rations is necessary\u2014or so the soldiers claim\u2014because time is short and the dead are coming.[in]Falkovnia is a land besieged. Empty countryside surrounds ruined or crumbling cities. A few desperate pockets of civilization survive, carrying on not out of hope, but out of fear of the land\u2019s merciless soldiers. Led by General Vladeska Drakov, Falkovnia\u2019s military organizes a desperate and occasionally effective defense against an implacable foe: the ever-growing armies of the dead.[\/in][in]Every month a new zombie legion issues from the Mists. Never emerging from the same place twice, the horde sweeps across the land, drawn to the densest populations of the living. That\u2019s currently the Falkovnian capital of Lekar, where unfit and underfed conscripts defend crumbling walls alongside General Drakov and her crimson-armored elite soldiers, the Talons. Causalities stack up during the zombie sieges, but miracles and moments of valor have not abandoned Falkovnia. The people\u2019s numbers dwindle, but they soldier on.[\/in][in]In the aftermath of an attack, the Falkovnians burn their dead, repair what they can, and whisper that now might be the time to flee. Invariably, though, someone speaks too loudly and a so-called traitor is impaled upon Lekar\u2019s walls. The people might want to abandon their homes, but Vladeska Drakov will not know defeat.[\/in]\r\n| Falkovnia[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Ankhtepot[\/b] - Hallmarks: Ancient tombs, desert perils, lost gods, mummies[br]The sands of time bury the desert realm of Har\u2019Akir. Here, the wonders of fallen empires and pyramids of forgotten pharaohs crumble beneath a merciless sun. Untold generations of tombs and secrets lie beneath the sands, markers of a history the land\u2019s few residents know of only in story and song. Their interest in past splendor is smothered, as life is harsh in Har\u2019Akir and the living exist only to serve a deathless god-king.[in]This realm of fierce deserts and mysterious monuments is ruled by the mummy Ankhtepot, speaker for the gods and immortal pharaoh. From his golden pyramid in the City of the Dead, the Darklord watches over his domain, careless of the passage of mortal lives as he sends his servants in search of his only remaining desire: his ka, the missing piece of his fractured soul.[\/in][in]As the pharaoh obsesses over his lost treasure and thoughts of escaping his impossibly long undead existence, his servants plague the domain in his name. In hidden tomb-courts, withered, animal-headed elder mummies known as the Children of Ankhtepot luxuriate as emissaries of false gods. And in the mud brick city of Muhar, the priests of morbid gods oversee all aspects of life, apportioning food and blessings to the worthy and punishing blasphemers. But all the pharaoh\u2019s servants also pursue his quest to find his mysterious lost treasure, and are ever desperate for some clue or news to placate Ankhtepot and spare them from the storms of his wrath and his buried legions of the ancient dead.[\/in]\r\n| Har'Akir[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Hazlik[\/b] - Hallmarks: Amoral spellcasters, magic-ravaged environment, magical experiments, wild magic[br]In Hazlan, magic is authority, justification for any excess, and\u2014for those without it\u2014the specter of inevitable doom. This domain is less a nation than a vast magical laboratory, whose wizard overlord Hazlik views every being as either an apprentice or a test subject. He conscripts those he acknowledges as lesser wizards into performing elaborate magical experiments, twisting the fabric of magic and reality until it frays. These experiments endlessly scar a domain drained of vitality, tortured by magical disasters, and overrun with abominations. The greatest wounds affect the invisible flows of magic underpinning the land, turning it erratic and dangerous.[in]Despite the domain\u2019s magical dangers, the ambitions of the spellcasting elite grow more audacious by the day. Paranoid and controlling, Hazlik watches the schemes of his lessers, observing them through the Eye of Hazlik. This pervasive eye-shaped symbol marks structures, decorations, clothing, and individuals, and through these eyes the Darklord sees all. He watches as common folk cower at the passage of his ostentatious apprentices. He watches as monstrosities birthed from strange experiments prowl openly. He watches as ravenous worms from deep within the poisoned land crawl to the surface in search of food. And he watches every new magical innovation, eager to claim it and add the discovery to his list of glorious achievements.[\/in]\r\n| Hazlan[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Tsien Chiang[\/b] - Hallmarks: Endlessly changing labyrinth, deadly jiangshi, inescapable dreamworld[br]When the inhabitants of I\u2019Cath fall asleep, they enter an alternate version of the city they call home\u2014a city dreamed into being by the domain\u2019s Darklord. In time, these poor souls can\u2019t remember which version is the real I\u2019Cath and which one is the dream.[in]In the physical world, I\u2019Cath\u2019s surreal, knotted streets echo with their emptiness. Within spare, meandering row houses, the majority of the populace slump against walls or sprawl against each other where they fell. These people lie trapped within a collective dream world created by the city\u2019s ruler, Tsien Chiang. Within this shared dream they labor ceaselessly, ever striving to create the impossible, perfect city of a perfectionist mastermind.[\/in][in]Within the dreaming domain of I\u2019Cath, Darklord Tsien Chiang rules a golden vision of the city\u2014a place of ultimate beauty and efficiency where all things move according to her design. For her, it is near perfection. For her people, it is a nightmare of inescapable drudgery from which death is the only escape. The dream city\u2019s identical, even streets sprawl across a broad hill, atop which rises a glorious palace Tsien Chiang shares with her four perfect daughters. Day or night, the streets are filled with people ever toiling to perfect the buildings, reshape the gardens, and undo the work of the previous days and weeks in favor of new designs. Within the dream, the people don\u2019t sleep, eat, or need to attend to any other concerns. They know only their work and the glory of Tsien Chiang.[\/in][in]In the waking world, the truth of I\u2019Cath is starkly apparent. Rows of decrepit, moldy homes merge to line endless, coiling avenues. The streets wind and double back, but eventually climb the rise at the city\u2019s center, where the infamous Palace of Bones and the gold-scaled Ping\u2019On Tower loom. By day, the streets are largely empty, except for those few desperate residents of I\u2019Cath who have yet to succumb to the domain\u2019s dream. They rush through their days, scavenging what they can in hopes of enduring the coming night.[\/in][in]Every twilight, Tsien Chiang climbs the spirit-infested Ping\u2019On Tower and tolls the Nightingale Bell. This renews the magic of her dream world and keeps her citizens asleep, but it also calls forth the legion of I\u2019Cath\u2019s undead ancestors whom she has bent to her will. Nightly these jiangshi emerge from their tombs and reshape the city\u2019s mazelike streets, striving to match Tsien Chiang\u2019s vision with merciless perfection. The Darklord\u2019s servants carefully move any sleepers they encounter out of the way of their work, but prey upon any waking souls who cross their paths.[\/in][in]Any whom the Mists carry to I\u2019Cath or who wake from Tsien Chiang\u2019s dream find themselves in a gray, haunted, ever-changing city where food is scarce and jiangshi hunt the living. With twilight comes a terrible choice: endure the uncertain terrors of the waking world or succumb to endless servitude in sleep.[\/in]\r\n| I'Cath[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Ramya Vasavadan[\/b] - Hallmarks: Monstrous leaders, family intrigue, war-torn nation[br]For untold generations, the Vasavadan dynasty has ruled over the Great Kingdom of Kalakeri. This land was one of stability and prosperity until a barbarous civil war and a queen\u2019s dying curse brought low what centuries never could. Once an unrivaled power known throughout the world for its rare resources and vibrant trade, Kalakeri is now locked in an endless storm of violence. At the center of that storm stand the remnants of the Vasavadan: three heirs transformed into unspeakable monsters by their depravity and hatred.[in]Kalakeri is a deceptively beautiful land of verdant rain forests and an idyllic web of rivers and lakes known as the Backwaters. Rare creatures and extraordinary magical plants are found across the forest peninsula locals call the Harvest Peninsula. At the height of its prosperity, Kalakeri was a robust center of art, commerce, and religion, with foreign merchants spreading wild tales of Sri Raji, the Steaming Lands, the Land at the Heart of the World, and other fanciful names for Kalakeri. Now Kalakeri is a shadow of its past glory, a quagmire of intrigue and despair where fortunes change on a whim.[\/in][in]The people of Kalakeri live in dread, as a single misstep means doom. Schemers and hapless citizens alike are tossed by the tidal forces of the royal family. Following her betrayal and assassination, Maharani Ramya was restored to the world to avenge herself against her treacherous siblings, Arijani and Reeva. Ramya\u2019s curse manifests in both her deathless rage and in the monstrous forms afflicting her siblings. Both sides continue to escalate their atrocities against one another, drawing the powerful and the innocent alike into their squabbles. As Arijani and Reeva host murderous galas to entice fiendish allies, the forces of the Darklord search out and execute anyone they consider treasonous, adding their skulls to Ramya\u2019s ever-growing Tower of Traitors.[\/in]\r\n| Kalakeri[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Harkon Lukas[\/b] - Hallmarks: Hidden identities, dangerous performances, exploitative ambitions, werewolves[br]Kartakass is a vast stage that serenades the ambitious with promises of fame. Performance is a way of life in this forested domain, with everyone from the bards of Skald to the actors of Emherst pursuing dazzling dreams. Here, the people live by a simple rule: never let an audience grow bored.[in]To outsiders, life feels staged and surreal in Kartakass, as every plant and beast, every peasant and performer strives to prove their greatness. Trees and flowers burst into bloom and then wither after their extended spring, while songbirds sing themselves hoarse. And every local, from the youngest child to the most venerable elder, knows that dreams, fame, and immortal adulation are theirs for the taking\u2014if they prove worthy.[\/in][in]In Kartakass, individuals strive for glory. Where talent and expertise fail, obsession and duplicity reign, leading to repeating cycles of triumph, betrayal, and despair. Predators of all sorts flourish in this land of consuming passions and vicious secrets. With each full moon, the truth of Kartakass is exposed, and lycanthropes reveal their hunger for dominance and for blood.[\/in]\r\n| Kartakass[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Viktra Mordenheim[\/b] - Hallmarks: Amoral science, bizarre constructs, frigid wilderness, mutagenic radiation - Life is cheap in Lamordia. As far as the land\u2019s esteemed scholars are concerned, the spark that animates flesh is merely the result of chemical accidents and the proper formulas. Golems, homunculi, and other constructed beings groan to life to support a populace desperate to survive in this frigid realm.[in]Frozen bogs and glacial expanses surround Lamordia\u2019s smog- and machinery-filled cities. Unpredictable blizzards plague the long winters, and the chill summers last only a few weeks. Those who brave the wilds must contend with starving predators, from wolf packs and giant owls to isolated Humanoid clans struggling to subsist outside the domain\u2019s iron-walled cities. The cruel environment and populace threatened by starvation make Lamordia a crucible of desperate innovations. Claiming to work for the greater good, innovators and scholars push beyond the limits of morality. Their scalpels turn scientific pursuits into butchery, as their experiments reach beyond what is necessary for health to grasp after the secrets of existence. Flesh is Lamordia\u2019s most abundant natural resource, exploited for both desperate purposes and vain ambitions. And no ambitions have led to greater evils than the work of the domain\u2019s Darklord, Dr. Viktra Mordenheim.[\/in]\r\n| Lamordia[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Wilfred Godefroy[\/b] - Hallmarks: Ancestral curses, haunted mansions, mist-shrouded moors, vengeful spirits - When death occurs in Mordent, it doesn\u2019t signal a passage to a state of rest, or an end to the struggle of mortal existence. Death here heralds the beginning of a haunted afterlife as a restless spirit. The dead earn no rest, no finality, no peace\u2014just a passage into a shadow world of wispy phantoms, mournful groaning, and clanking chains.[in]At first glance, Mordent is a quiet domain of peaceful country estates that sprawl across rolling moors. Landowners of the aristocratic class maintain a pretense of being the benevolent custodians of the land and its hard-working farmers, fishers, and laborers. From the loftiest families to the lowliest workers, Mordent\u2019s people cling to traditions that define the order of society and each person\u2019s place in it. They do things \u201cthe way they have always been done,\u201d because the old ways offer stability and security in an uncertain world.[\/in][in]Beneath that peaceful veneer lies a troubled society trapped in the ghostly grasp of its ancestors. The past can\u2019t be forgotten or left behind, because the spirits haunting the land embody that past. The social order can\u2019t change, because the restless dead enforce the old ways to maintain that order.[\/in][in]In Mordent, the dead who have unfinished business or a strong tie to a place or a family line manifest as all manner of spectral terrors. But not every unquiet spirit haunts the living. Isolated spirits wander the moors and ignore the living, or melt slowly into the Mists until at last they forget their identities. An unlucky few become trapped in the magical experiments of twisted scholars or bound to the service of the Darklord of the domain, Lord Wilfred Godefroy. And those with a personal connection to the Darklord are inevitably drawn to his manor on Gryphon Hill to become part of his endless torment.[\/in]\r\n| Mordent[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Jacqueline Renier[\/b] - Hallmarks: Contagion, crumbling infrastructure, martial law, rats and vermine, wererats[br]Like a pendulum, Richemulot swings perpetually between hope and despair. Some days, the sun rises over Pont-a-Museau as if it were an ordinary city, and not one in which many of the buildings stand empty and abandoned. On those days, people move freely through the open gates, and the silent, heavily armored guards of the Casques Silencieux watch over calm promenades and markets. But a day or a week or a month later, the first telltale cough cracks amid the crowd. As people evacuate the streets and lock their doors, rats crawl from the sewers in tremendous numbers. Shortly thereafter, the gates slam shut. No doctors come, and no information arrives; the populace is left to die.[in]The Gnawing Plague stalks Richemulot, arriving without warning. It comes with the rats, but it doesn\u2019t leave with them. For weeks or months at a time, life becomes an interminable wait as people peer out from between slatted windows and wonder how long the plague will last this time. Inevitably, frustration and fear beget superstition and violence.[\/in][in]Eventually the gates open, signaling that the city is safe again. How the Casques Silencieux know is a mystery, but their judgment always proves correct. And so the cycle goes, from ruin to relief and back again, with de facto ruler Mademoiselle Jacqueline Renier ever above it all, tirelessly working to pull her realm back from the brink of total collapse.[\/in]\r\n| Richemulot[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Mother Lorinda[\/b] - Hallmarks: Fey bargains, nature worship, rural festivals, secret sacrifices[br]All is well in Tepest. Fields shine with the golden hues of a bountiful harvest, and horned village children happily recite sing-song rhymes. But those who linger among this land\u2019s pastures and colorful cottages can\u2019t escape the feeling of being watched, or the impression that the idyllic fields have a distinctly somber cast. The locals dismiss such worries as the tricks of scheming fey, but their smiles fail to mask the desperation in their eyes.[in]Brutality wears a welcoming face in Tepest\u2014a truth embodied by the ancient hag Lorinda, who betrayed her coven in pursuit of a daughter to love. Taking the guise of a deity called Mother, Lorinda has adopted the entire village of Viktal, protecting its people from nature\u2019s whims so they can feed her accursed offspring. Meanwhile, lingering in forests and hiding beneath the earth, resentful fey watch and plot, offering cruel bargains to those who wander beyond Mother\u2019s sight.[\/in][in]The people of Viktal, Tepest\u2019s only remaining community, do what they must to survive, using tradition and faith to cloak their fear of the wilds and their complicity in a cycle of murder. Strangers are symbols of hope to them\u2014either as a promise of a life free from terror, or as potential sacrifices for the next necessary slaughter.[\/in]\r\n| Tepest[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Chakuna[\/b] - Hallmarks: Diabolical traps, hostile wilderness, survival games[br]In the jungles of Valachan, survivors must guard their hearts lest something monstrous eat them. For some, that risk is worth the reward of the unusual plants and magical creatures this land is home to. But Valachan is fiercely protected by its Darklord, the devious and immortal hunter Chakuna. She roams the jungles hunting dangerous beasts\u2014and when she grows dissatisfied with simpler prey, she draws sapient quarry into a fatal contest.[in]Pitted against other conscripted players in a game of cat and mouse, Chakuna\u2019s prey struggle to survive the deadly Valachan rain forest and one another, all while being pursued by the Darklord. Treacherous quicksand and other deadly hazards cover the terrain, and populations of stealthy werepanthers support the Darklord. But desperate contenders might also find unlikely allies who oppose Chakuna and her horrific hunts.[\/in][in]Valachan has villages but contains no cities or towns, since the forest doesn\u2019t allow them to be built. Every shivering leaf and every creature\u2019s eyes hold an eerie awareness. The forests watch, and they whisper what they see to Chakuna.[\/in][in]A mystery that ties the Darklord to her domain could shatter her power or plunge the land into utter catastrophe. The secret pulses in the breath of the forest, timed to the heartbeat of its master. Those who survive long enough in Valachan to discover its secrets might end up twisted into the predator they oppose.[\/in]\r\n| Valachan[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]The Last Passenger[\/b] - Hallmarks: Escape from disaster, lightning rail[br]The disaster known as the Mourning numbers among the greatest tragedies to befall the world of Eberron\u2014a mysterious calamity that killed nearly everyone in the land of Cyre. In the nation\u2019s capital of Metrol, some citizens foresaw the coming devastation and sought to escape upon lightning rails, elemental-powered engines capable of pulling trains of passenger carriages. As scared innocents packed Metrol\u2019s last lightning rail, known as Cyre 1313, the evacuation was delayed at the demand of a late-arriving VIP. Hundreds were forced from passenger carriages to admit and maintain the secrecy of this last passenger and their retinue. When the lightning rail did finally depart, it was too late. The disaster of the Mourning overtook the train and its hundreds of escapees. But even as it did, the Mists claimed Cyre 1313 and all aboard it. Now, the last lightning rail from Metrol hurtles through the Mists as a traveling domain. Those on board fear the disaster pursuing them, the mysterious passenger seated in the train\u2019s foremost carriage, and the necrotic energy now infusing the engine\u2019s elemental spirit. Yet none of the passengers realize their endless escape is pointless, as Cyre 1313 carries only the dead.\r\n| Cyre 1313, The Mourning Rail[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b] Tristen ApBlanc[\/b] - Hallmarks: Life and death, strange invention[br]Tristen ApBlanc was born amid tragedy, the son of a vampire father and a human noble. His parents were murdered by fearful villagers, leaving Tristen to be adopted by local druids. But during his teenage years, Tristen\u2019s dhampir nature revealed itself. When the druids discovered the youth\u2019s hunger for blood, they cast him out, but Tristen grew enraged and slaughtered the druids, draining them all. The sacred waters of the druids\u2019 rituals had infused their blood, though, making it poison to the half-vampire. Tristen died with his adopted family, but as the Mists closed in around their sacred stone circle, he rose a ghost. Unexpectedly, with the dawn, Tristen\u2019s dhampir body was restored. Now, Tristen lives by day, a perpetually young, charming, invention-obsessed dhampir dwelling in Castle Tristenoira, the smoking fortress his goblin servants built over the druid circle of his one-time family. At night, though, the young dhampir dies a painful death, in his spectral form, and seeks to scour all that is green and vibrant from his land.\r\n| Forlorn[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Marquis Stezen D'Polarno[\/b] - Hallmarks: Cursed art, dour population[br]A notorious hedonist, Marquis Stezen D\u2019Polarno was popular among his noble peers but craved immortality. A mysterious artist offered him eternity by painting D\u2019Polarno\u2019s portrait upon a magical canvas. But the artist didn\u2019t mention that the painting would strip D\u2019Polarno of his love of life and natural charm. The marquis has discovered a reprieve from his now-dulled existence, however\u2014once every season, when he shows the painting to an audience, it consumes their souls and refreshes his thrill for life. D\u2019Polarno\u2019s artistic predations captured the attention of the Dark Powers, which drew his lands into the Mists. Now, Ghastria is a fertile island that, like its lord, lacks an essential vim except for once a season when vigor fleetingly returns.\r\n| Ghastria[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Yagno Petrovna[\/b] - Hallmarks: Corrupt theocracy, false deity[br]Born of a Barovian family, Yagno Petrovna went missing upon the slopes of Mount Ghakis as a youth. As a violent storm rose, he took shelter in a mysterious ruin and was found wandering the hills weeks later, babbling about an amber idol and the god he\u2019d discovered, Zhakata the Provider and the Devourer. His family sought to help him, but when they discovered Yagno secretly sacrificing people to his fictitious god, they chased him into the Mists. When Yagno emerged, the domain of G\u2019henna sprawled before him.[in]Life is hard in G\u2019henna, a rocky land home to fierce, starving animals. The domain\u2019s people worship the bestial god Zhakata and regularly travel to the cathedral-city of Zhukar. There, they offer their crops in sacrifice and hear Zhakata\u2019s will through the words of revered prophet Yagno Petrovna.[\/in]\r\n| G'henna[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Gabrielle Aderre[\/b] - Hallmarks: Bad parents, possessed children[br]Gabrielle Aderre is convinced that her son, Malocchio, is destined for greatness. From her estate outside the village of Karina, she employs an endless string of servants to provide Malocchio the best possible upbringing. Inevitably, though, every servant flees or vanishes, either as a result of Gabrielle\u2019s unreasonable expectations or the deadly tricks and accidents that frequently occur around the child. Gabrielle isn\u2019t content to leave her son\u2019s grand destiny to chance, though. Using her precious bone spirit board, she calls upon supernatural forces to guide and protect her son. Spirits, angels, fiends, and worse answer her summons, but as long as they chart Malocchio\u2019s path to glory, Gabrielle eagerly accepts their gifts.\r\n| Invidia[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Tristessa[\/b] - Hallmarks: Banshee, silent village[br]The forbidding land of Keening is dominated by Mount Lament, at whose base lies the village of Anwrtyn, where all the residents are deaf. This is no accident, for the locals purposefully deafen themselves so they won\u2019t hear the shrieking of the banshee Tristessa, a mournful spirit who roams Mount Lament and whose wail carries through the night. In life, Tristessa dwelled under Mount Arak in Tepest (detailed earlier in this chapter), but she was exiled for crimes against her people. In death, she endlessly seeks to be reunited with the family slain by her misdeeds.\r\n| Keening[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Klorr[\/b] - Hallmarks: Impending doom, surreal environment[br]Klorr is the end of worlds. Here, shattered islands drift through a misty netherworld, caught in a swirling spiral that ends at the unignorable, burning eye called Klorr. Thirteen stars orbit this sun-like sphere, one winking out every hour. Each time one of the stars dies, one of the domain\u2019s ruined islands is drawn into Klorr and consumed by flames. With it, each other island wrenches ahead, then halts, one hour closer to the same doom.[in]Those who dwell upon the crumbling land masses trapped in the domain constantly count the hours until their end. Few know how they came to Klorr or when new islands are added to the cycle, only that the Mists closed in and doomed them. Amid the realm\u2019s surreal skies float the ruins of lost and failed domains\u2014among them, a tower like a blackened rose and a city of skulls\u2014as well as timeless echoes of domains that yet exist. Those cast away amid this orderly apocalypse grow ever more desperate to defy the doomsday clock and the will of a hidden Darklord, the obsessed clockmaker named Klorr.[\/in]\r\n| Klorr[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Dr. Frantisek Markov[\/b] - Hallmarks: Depraved science, sapient animals[br]Dr. Frantisek Markov is a genius\u2014but less so than yesterday. His Markov Formula grants him unparalleled intellect, but it insidiously steals more than it gives, making him increasingly dull-witted and bestial in form. Despairing, the doctor fled to a tropical island he dubbed Markovia, where he tests new versions of his formula on the local fauna in hopes of recovering his waning genius. As a result of these tests, animals across Markovia now possess sapience and have been deluded into believing Markov is their god.\r\n| Markovia[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]The Nightmare Court[\/b] - Hallmarks: Nightmares, reoccuring dreams[br]Any who sleep might close their eyes and become forever trapped in the Nightmare Lands, a phantasmagoric realm whose features shift endlessly. Those who visit and escape speak of malicious wildernesses; the empty city called Nod; and uncountable drifting spheres, each containing a stranger\u2019s unending nightmare. Insidious entities called the Nightmare Court rule the domain. None know how many members compose the court, but they include the tragically graceful Ghost Dancer, the tomb-bound Hypnos, the witch Mullonga, the trickster Morpheus, and the embodiment of terror known as the Nightmare Man. These beings are artisans of nightmares, visiting terrors upon any whose sleeping minds brush against the domain.[in]The Nightmare Court\u2019s members share one commonality: all are the living nightmares of Caroline Dinwiddy, a potent psychic who repressed memories of her own heartless deeds. These memories torment her sleeping mind, creating the Nightmare Court. Deep within the City of Nod, inside a warped reimagining of the clinic where she once worked, Dinwiddy sleeps without waking, refusing to face the terrors her dreams unleash upon innocents across the multiverse.[\/in]\r\n| The Nightmare Lands[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Sarthak[\/b] - Hallmarks: Asceticism, brainwashing, shadows[br]An island chain that once belonged to the domain of Kalakeri, the Ashram of Niranjan was a vibrant vihara, or monastery, for ascetic scholars who practiced Ramsana, a way of life whose central tenet advises nonattachment to the material world. Now only a small, reclusive group of these scholars remains, led by the elderly sadhu (holy figure) Niranjan. In truth, Niranjan is Sarthak, a wicked bronze dragon who send agents into the Mists bearing his philosophical writings. These works promise escape and peace to any who adopt their teachings and search the Mists for their source. Anyone who comes to the ashram must divest themselves of worldly goods, which are added to Sarthak\u2019s hidden hoard. The false sadhu then helps his victim enter a blissful trance that causes their soul to slip away from their body over the course of days. Sarthak consumes this soul and replaces it with a [blocklink:1536263], leaving the victim\u2019s body under his control.\r\n| Niranjan[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Myar Hiregaard[\/b] - Hallmarks: Nomadic riders, transformation[br]An unparalleled warrior, Myar Hiregaard united the nomadic tribes of the vast plains of Nova Vaasa. But, while respected as a soldier, Myar made a poor peacetime leader. When brutal games could no longer keep her interest, she incited hostilities between two of her vassal tribes, then led her own forces to crush them. Subtly, she did this again and again. After Myar\u2019s greatest massacre, the Mists enfolded all of Nova Vaasa, splitting Myar\u2019s personality in two when they did. Now she rules her people with strict fairness, but when her bloodlust is piqued, she transforms into the raging knight called Malkan and sows discord across the plains.\r\n| Nova Vaasa[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Maligno[\/b] - Hallmarks: Evil toys, village of children[br]The toymaker Guiseppe had his wish for a family granted when his creation, the marionette Figlio, came to life. A proud father, the toymaker presented his son to all the other people of his village, Odaire. The local children loved Figlio, but their parents were skeptical, saying the marionette was nothing but a toy. Over time, this doubt enraged Figlio, and the marionette convinced Guiseppe to craft siblings for him. Then, when the time was right, Guiseppe\u2019s creations did away with all the adults in Odaire. Claimed by the Mists, Odaire is a village populated only by children and ruled by the carrionette Figlio, who now calls himself Maligno.\r\n| Odaire[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]The Headless Rider[\/b] - Hallmarks: Haunted bridge, murderous legend[br]Nearly every domain knows some version of the apparition called the Headless Rider. It appears as a mercenary in dark armor in Mordent, a ghostly cataphract in Har\u2019Akir, and a mutated centaur in Lamordia, but in each incarnation certain details remain true: the rider is missing its head, it appears upon a prominent bridge, and it decapitates victims as it endlessly searches for its own head. Should someone escape an encounter with the Headless Rider, they might find a different domain on the opposite side of the spirit\u2019s bridge.\r\n| The Rider's Ridge[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Doerdon[\/b] - Hallmarks: Misdirection, ventriloquism[br]The Risibilos is a small music hall, similar to those found in any decent-sized city. Its lord, Doerdon, was once a king\u2014one so thoroughly humorless that he forbade his subjects the privilege of laughter, upon pain of death. He is now cursed to entertain others, a task he is utterly unqualified for.[in]Fortunately, the Mists delivered him a partner, a ventriloquist\u2019s dummy carved in the likeness of Strahd von Zarovich. The eerie dummy has a mind of its own, insisting that it is the real Strahd and that the creature currently sitting upon the throne of Castle Ravenloft is a mere impostor. It rages at the audience and makes audacious promises to any who will help it regain its station. This is hilarious to anyone with the slightest inkling of who Strahd is, and their peals of laughter are agony to Doerdon\u2019s ears.[\/in]\r\n| Risibilos[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Lemont Sediam Juste[\/b] - Hallmarks: Reality-manipulating theater[br]Lemont Sediam Juste fancied himself a serious playwright, and he achieved popular, if not critical, acclaim throughout Dementlieu for his works of grisly horror. But he craved respectability, and with his new play Apparitions, Lemont believed he would find it. The night of the premiere, when the audience signaled their boredom, the playwright was crestfallen. His supporters wanted blood, so he gave them what they craved. By the play\u2019s end, Lemont had joined the play and viscerally murdered every member of the cast while the crowd roared their approval. As the show ended, the playhouse broke from Dementlieu, and Scaena was formed. Comprising a single playhouse, the domain can create any reality Lemont desires upon its stage. The Darklord\u2019s immersive performances are somewhat predictable, though, as they always end in slaughter.\r\n| Scaena[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Pietra van Riese[\/b] - Hallmarks: Island domains, nautical horror[br]The murderous pirate Pietra van Riese, captain of the Relentless, had an unsavory reputation for attaching her captives to ropes and dragging them through the water until they drowned. She never removed the detritus of her victims, even though some returned to life as zombies. The Relentless was ultimately sunk by rival captains, but death couldn\u2019t keep Pietra. She awoke in the Sea of Sorrows, water in her lungs and sea creatures making their homes in her flesh. Her crew stirred with her, now fish-eaten corpses. When Pietra sought to speak with them, her voice emerged from their mouths.[in]The Relentless sails a domain that can overlap any body of water in any other domain. Some domains border the Sea of Sorrows, while others have their own names for these mysterious waters. Those who venture into the Mists by boat might find themselves amid an endless, debris- and sargassum-choked expanse of eerie beasts and shifting islands.[\/in]\r\n| Sea of Sorrows[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Ebonbane[\/b] - Hallmarks: Falls from grace, heroic sacrifice[br]Within this forested land of peasants and heroes dwells an order of questing knights known as the Circle. These knights seek to vanquish evil, following the example of their founder, the paladin Kateri Shadowborn. Even long generations after Kateri\u2019s death, members of the Shadowborn family still number among the Circle, their heroics known across the Shadowlands and in other domains. Yet despite their victories, the foes and failures of these knights are ever drawn back to the Shadowlands, filling it with vengeful souls and monsters. These include villains such as the necromancer Morgoroth; the fallen paladin Elena Faith-hold; and Ebonbane, Kateri Shadowborn\u2019s accursed sword.\r\n| The Shadowlands[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Anton Misroi[\/b] - Hallmarks: Imprisonment, swamp magic[br]In society, Anton Misroi presented himself as an upstanding gentleman. But within the walls of the prison over which he was warden, he was a sadist who believed righteousness was on his side. When his torturous punishments finally drove the prison\u2019s inmates to rise up, the bloody riot that ensued drew the attentions of the Dark Powers. During the uprising, Misroi was drowned in the swamps surrounding the prison. But he rose again soon after, an undead warden in search of inmates.[in]Beyond Misroi\u2019s prison, alligator-filled swamps cover the domain of Souragne right up to the sinking settlement of Port d\u2019Elhour and Marais d\u2019Tarascon, a village where above-ground crypts outnumber the residences of the living.[\/in]\r\n| Souragne[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Teresa Bleysmith[\/b] - Hallmarks: Endless warfare, repeating history[br]Eerily faceless mercenary regiments sweep the countryside of Staunton Bluffs. Burning villages and killing helpless residents, they push ever eastward toward Castle Stonecrest, hereditary home of the Bleysmith family. Teresa Bleysmith, spurred by jealousy of her brother, Torrence, gave her family\u2019s foes the intelligence they needed to raid Staunton Bluffs. The attack was never supposed to go so far, but the duplicitous mercenaries stormed through the countryside to take Castle Stonecrest within a day. Teresa survived the attack, but when she surveyed the damage done and found her family dead by her own designs, she threw herself from the bluffs. Now she haunts her own domain, where she repeatedly relives the day of her betrayal.\r\n| Staunton Bluffs[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Kas the Bloody Handed[\/b] - Hallmarks: Undead military dictatorship[br]Notorious across the planes, the vampire Kas was once the champion of the lich Vecna. Wielding the artifact that bears his name, he betrayed his master, and the resulting battle supposedly destroyed them both. In truth, Vecna escaped and grew in power over ages and across worlds. Kas, though, was claimed by the Mists, and in his wasteland domain of Tovag, he believes his war with Vecna rages on. Patrols of prisoner-soldiers under undead commanders scour the land, dragooning strangers to serve in Kas\u2019s armies and to manufacture bizarre war machines. When Kas deems the time right, he sends his forces into the Mists, believing that Vecna\u2019s realm lies just beyond. Invariably, those troops never return, leaving the vampire to rage, rebuild his forces, and continue his search for the [blocklink:1554900], which he considers his key to victory.\r\n| Tovag[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Filmira Vhage[\/b] - Hallmarks: Detective work, memory loss[br]Everything inside the office of the Vhage Agency appears as a monotone gray. Anyone who passes the frosted glass door that leads into this single-room domain is expected by Flimira \u201cFlintlock\u201d Vhage, the detective agency\u2019s owner. From this hub for occult detective adventures, Vhage collects mysterious correspondence relating to mysteries all across the Domains of Dread. She enlists agents to investigate these cases, and then report back to her. However, she never reveals her own past as a detective turned criminal, her involvement in every case her agency investigates, or that the Vhage Agency exists entirely within her mind.\r\n| Vhage Agency[\/spoiler]\r\n[spoiler]Darklord: [b]Sodo[\/b] - Hallmarks: Serial murderers, urban decay[br]Each day, the city of Paridon in Zherisia erupts in riots over food scarcity, taxation, and citizens who go missing by the dozens every night. At least one murderer stalks Paridon: the ancient doppelganger Sodo, who has impersonated so many people that it now finds it impossible to hold a form for more than a few days at a time. As Sodo\u2019s flesh runs like hot wax, it staves off dissolution by consuming the organs of humanoids. Paridon\u2019s streets serve as the doppelganger\u2019s hunting ground, and those who enter the sewers risk attracting the notice of countless [blocklink:1554898] and their monstrous Hive Queen.\r\n| Zherisia[\/spoiler]","armor_class":"","strength_requirement":"","weapon_subtype":"None","weapon_damage":"","weapon_secondary_damage":"","weapon_damage_type":"None","weapon_range":"","attunement":"","source":"Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft","image_gallery_id":"","tags":"","isShared":"on","templateId":"2999","blockId":"1554893","world":"f23bfee1-fef1-458a-9e5d-7b8dc747c3db","folder":"37182"}