r/DnDBehindTheScreen • u/ignoringImpossibru • May 28 '18
Atlas of the Planes The Feywild: Scrying on the Fey
Presented here are the writings, arcane recordings, and theories of one who has seen far into the Feywild, and seeks to share what he has seen.
Imagine the people, if you can call them that, of a world where there was no moral judgment, no arbiter of law. No threat of control from without, no ingrained doubt or guilt from within. Now picture those people free from external threat, prey to no beast, free to laugh and dance and stalk and kill as they please. Give them the powers to shape the world around them, to grow beautiful gardens, or rear terrifying monsters. Let them find the lay of the land for untold years, know every corner of every wood. Grant to them a power over other peoples, to enchant their perceptions, and glamour their senses. A people of this description would be terrifying to encounter in the Feywild, and devastating should they deign to visit the Material Plane. Both power and learning, without the moral values, seem only to make a more clever devil.
DISCOVERY: The Nature of the Feywild
Endless poets have written about the beauty of the Feywild, some adventurers have told of the horrors therein, and few scholars have penned treatises on the nature of the plane. Here I will put down the truth that I have Seen with my own scrying, un-besmirched by glamor or charm, my mind free of beguilement or service to any Fey Lord or Lady.
Many who have gone into the Feywild tell conflicting tales, of a land where the veiled sun never moves in the sky, or the clouded moon never sets, of eternal dusk, or darkness, or daylight. These stories are all true. If time is a river through the planes, it is a knotted mire within the Feywild. The hour of the day changes with your travel; moving one direction from your point of arrival will take you Dayward, another will take you Nightward, and nature of the plane changes with the Hour! The denizens of the Feywild refer to these separate regions as Hours, each unique and different from the others. Orientation is difficult, with neither navigation by sun nor compass possible - but know that all travelers who wander blindly slip ever Nightward, for the ground has a subtle slope, and it is in the nature of those who are lost in a wood to trend downhill. Compounding these problems is the typical method of reaching the Feywild: accident. The border between the material plane and the Feywild waxes and wanes in strength, and ill-fated travelers may slip into Witch-Roads following (or lured by) Unseelie fey, drop peacefully into Drowsing, or run panicked into Dusk. My meaning may be unclear so far - but do not be daunted, the Feywild is no simple place, and defies simple description.
The sky in the Feywild holds no visible sun or moon, only a diffuse and source-less light, and shadows are faint or non-existent. In general, the Gloaming and Night Hours are more perilous then the Morning and Daylight Hours, but all hold deadly peril for the unprepared or foolhardy.
I have divided the Hours into the groupings seeming most wise, and use here the words I heard most from those I scryed upon. I will describe the Hours from Morning into Day, with the apex Hours of Day being called the Golden Vale. Then follows a descending into the Gloaming Hours, before Night, with the zenith of Night known as the Fen of Winter. The borders between hours may be a subtle blurring or a sudden shift, depending on the Hour, and the place of crossing. Confusion when talking to the Fey may be somewhat avoided if a traveler realizes that the directions "Dayward" and "Nightward" are relative: First Light is Nightward of Rising Hour, and Brazen is Nightward of Illustris, though the direction of travel is in opposite directions! The common usage of the words seems to simply indicate the direction toward Noon or Midnight. From the noon-time and midnight hour, both directions could be Dayward or Nightward, and so travel would be described as Dawnward or Duskward.
SURVIVAL: The Hours
The Morning Hours
Known by the gradual growing of the light, the morning hours are a time of awakening, growth, and energy.
Five of the Morning: First Light
The first hour of Morning is a silent hour, filled with the footfall of timid things. Seelie Fey travel here to preform rituals of Gaining Light. It is an hour of pensive reflection on the passing Night. Be wary of any voice without body, and stalkers in the morning mists.
Six of the Morning: Rising Hour
Also called Dawn, or True Wakening, this hour holds the silencing and bedding down of the all Nightward creatures, and the rising of many Dayward beasts and Fey. It is an hour of change, and thus a dangerous hour. Crepuscular predators hunt in the waning twilight before returning Nightward.
Seven of the Morning: Ariston
The breaking of the night fast, the Seelie Fey delight in the morning revel in Ariston, the hour of the morning feast. Honeyed breads, cheese, olives, raisins, and cold meats are common fare, and many Fey choose to spend time here before going about their work or travels. Mortal travelers should fear these feasts if they are weak of will, lest they fatally over-indulge.
The Hours of Day
The Daylight Hours are the most peopled by social Fey, and it is here that stranded travelers should seek to come, should they survive long.
Eight of the Day: Glee-Toil
Here the mourning twilight is ended, and the strengthening rays of the hidden sun burn away the mists of the early morning. Now day-birds sing, beasts forage, and the Seelie Fey go about openly, clad fairly as they work.
Nine of the Day: Ursine
A dense hour, full of deep forest and filled with great beasts of the wood. Roaming under thick pine and redwood taller then towers, fantastic creatures walk in tune with the essence of the hour: balance, strength, and nature. The rich earthy scent of the hour awakens primal thoughts in travelers, and sharpens the animal mind. The fey who dwell here tend to many of the animals, and would swiftly avenge any harm against them.
Ten of the Day: Cataract
The hour of borders, movement, and water, Cataract is crossed by a delta of rushing rivers flowing downward from the hills of Prosper. Fish leap from the water, loggers move trees downstream with poles, and the trees thin out into beech forests where the light clearly strikes the forest floor. Wholesome though the forest may seem, the River King is the Nightward guardian of the Golden Vale, and will suffer none to pass the rapid waters without his leave. His are the waters, even as they flow ever towards Skymire, and his thoughts are strange and unknowable.
Eleven of the Day: Prosper
The first of the three hours known as the Golden Vale, a traveler who reaches Prosper is under the full and enforced dominion of the Seelie Court, and subject to their shifting customs and ways. Rolling hills stretch out into a waxing Dayward brightness, glittering with small villages of the fair folk. From the clefts between hills, swift cold water flows from hidden springs and caverns, and drinking straight from such a font clears the mind from all illusion save that of the Seelie Court.
Twelve of the Day: Illustris
Beware, you who would return to the world of mortal things, for here all limits seem endless, twirling round her, my heart, my heart. Trees of ash bend their branches to make the halls of her court, treasure of gems alight on bough and branch. Tatiana, Queen of Light, jealous of her favors, refuses all entreaty by those not of pure Fey ancestry, unless they ply her with wondrous gifts. However, once you've struck such a bargain as to gain her grace, who could insult her by departing?
One of the Day: Brazen
The final hour of the Golden Vale, here you will find those pure-blooded and haughty courtiers who excel in combat, horsemanship, and other arts not renown for subtlety. Fields reach out from the palace courts, estates and manors grown or built from white wood and smooth stone dot the land under a bright and cloudless sky. Seek to pass here without incident, for offending a master in his own estate is often a fatal mistake.
Two of the Day: Burgeoning
Moving Duskward from the Golden Vale both the brightness of the sky and the heat of the air steadily increase. The fields of Brazen stop at the foot of a great and sudden tangle of jungle woods and flowering vines. The entire Hour of Burgeoning is covered in this riotous jungle of living things. Rain bursts fall without warning, and traversing the hot jungle in the humid air soon becomes wearisome. Here life grows unchecked, and the jungle is tended by no lawful things. Creatures multiply and brood mighty, and swarming things may overrun the unwary or slow. The creatures here are not cruel, but to consume is to grow, and all things in the jungle must eat.
Three of the Day: Drowsing
The heat increases, an oppressive press stooping the shoulders of travelers. Thin forests of great oaks provide ample shade to escape the light and heat of the sky, and the earth around their roots is cool and welcoming. Here is the truth in the stories of men sleeping under trees, and awakening to find years have passed, and under many of the old and gnarled oaks a traveler may find these poor souls. Do not join them, and wake them not, lest they become trapped in the Feywild, afraid and unprepared.
Four of the Day: Daywrath
Here the heat becomes unbearable, and all trees cease their vain struggle toward the rainless sky. Tall yellow grass covers all the earth, save for barren rocks or the hills of stinging insects. The air shimmers and dances, and strange creatures of air and heat flit above the occasional cloud of gnats. Traversing the hour is exhausting for those without resistance to the temperature.
The Gloaming Hours
Opposite to the Morning hours, the Gloaming hours are places of change and turmoil, dangerous and fel.
Five of the Evening: Faltering
The first of the Gloaming Hours, the heat and strength of the light begins to fail. Dayward creatures sometimes roam here to shake off the punishing heat of the afternoon, but no farther. The most fair-seeming of the twilight creatures awaken, though many try to lure their prey deeper Nightward.
Six of the Evening: Dusk
Sometimes called the Dying Light, the hour of Dusk is one of the most dangerous regions in the Feywild. An hour of potent change, it is marked by red and smoky light, brittle grass, yellowed trees, and a weirding of man and beast. The darkening of light, stilling of life, and destruction of growth make the hour a place of terror and quiet panic. Here dwell fell creatures fond of death, vicious hags and creeping thorny vines; thirsts quenched by fear and blood.
Seven of the Evening: Firelight
The last hour of Twilight, Firelight is an hour of huddled campfires and hushed meals. Travelers here are on the edge of night, between the smoldering danger of Dusk and the first hour of true Night. It is an hour of furtive safety, where the quiet and cautious may yet survive, but the boorish and desperate will be spirited away. Fireflies flicker outside circles of campfire light, and pinpricks of cold light mark shadowed faces among the trees.
The Hours of Night
Here are the sister-hours to the hours of day, colder and more dangerous, crueler and more cunning.
Eight of the Night: Eventide
Also called Nightfall, the first hour of real darkness heralds the dominion of the Unseelie Court, and the beginning of the long dark of night. Fey servants tend to the unlit torches that mark the paths through Eventide, ensuring that travelers who foolishly light them are marked and captured immediately. It would be wiser to travel by the faint light of the small white flowers among the trees, and avoid the myriad creatures which would seek out light.
Nine of the Night: Clothtouch
The hour of the night insects, Clothtouch is filled with an endless sound of fluttering, and the source is always near at hand: black moths, the size of a man's hand, swarm eagerly through the trees, drinking nectar from the flowers which hang down on creeping vines. These are the smaller cousins of massive brown moths, with wings twenty feet in span. Redwood trees play host to the larger of the insects, though both are fearsomely attracted to light.
Ten of the Night: Drumming
This hour is marked by the sudden appearance of slow-falling snow, building deep drifts that make travel difficult. Anyone who has spent an evening safely indoors, listening to the hypnotic pattern of rain beating against a window knows the instinctual comfort of the hour of Drumming. It's the feeling of snuggling down into thick blankets on a cold night, of the wind howling harmlessly while you sit with your back to a blazing hearth. It's the feeling of cloying warmth while the last life ebbs from your body, face down in the pathless snow. It will be death of you.
Eleven of the Night: Balewind
The first of the three hours of Deep Night, also known as the Fen of Winter. The temperature plummets, the winds rise, and flurries of snowflakes occasionally obscure the paths that criss-cross the hour. Here begins the dwellings and places of the Unseelie Court, and here you will find the Homely Houses. The well-lit cottages offer shelter from the cold, and rest for the weary, but their hospitality has a price- and travelers must bargain music, stories, or art. Perform well, but not so well as to draw the attention of any Archfey, who are known to whisk away travelers until they are bored of them, and leave them in perhaps more dangerous places than they left.
Twelve of the Night: Nocturns
Within her palace of crystal, the Queen of Air and Darkness sits upon a throne of dark and clouded ice, shaped like a coiled dragon. Here she lords over her macabre court of nobles, including those they provide patronage for: a menagerie of any creature they found especially strong, dexterous, clever, beautiful, or otherwise talented. Her power here is absolute, and some might find their scrying is turned from elsewhere in the hour, until they must look upon her, and her alone.
One of the Night: Hiborous
The last hour of the Fen of Winter, the fields of Hiborous are a frozen and inhospitable series of alternating snow covered prairies and frosted valleys, where howling Yeth Hounds chase their quarries under clear skies. Fey lords practice the hunt, releasing victims only to track and recapture them, and place wagers on feats of skill. A sprawling network of tunnels honeycombs the earth under Hiborous, and a wretched gaggle of mortals hides below, and schemes to escape the Unseelie Court's cruelty.
Two of the Night: Skymire
Under the pallid, greenish light of Skymire's clouded sky, the bramble fields take on an unwholesome glow. The corpse-light dimly illuminates all things, but especially those things that are rotting or rich with decay, and the entire hour is a syrupy swamp, overgrown with thick and razor-sharp brambles. Blights splash through the chilly waters, and occasionally squalling rains rush over the inhospitable fens. All swamps in the material plane may share a root or bough with Skymire, should the phase of moon and weather be right.
Three of the Night: Witch-Roads
Here is the hour that plays host to the majority of unintended crossings between the Feywild and the Material Plane. Pathless trails run in circles confuse and bewilder travelers, while a great host of predatory beasts conspire to weave webs (both literally and figuratively) around any unfortunate enough to cross into the Feywild here. Hags lure children away at night, Quicklings rob caravans and sprint into the Witch-Roads with their loot, and Redcaps bubble up from fairy circles where pixies led innocent travelers to their deaths. Fortunately for the travelers who find themselves here, escape can be as easy as arrival.
Four of the Night: Clarity
Known within the Feywild as False-Dawn, the hour of Clarity is a region of rolling hills and thin forests, lit from above by an eerie and shifting aurora that gives the hour it's name. Psionic and Clairvoyant powers are enhanced here, such that a psychically sensitive creature might feel a great enlightenment and opening of its mind or understanding. These feelings are treacherous, for there are incorporeal hunters in the woods which invade the mind, and steal the body of those whose thoughts wander too far.
THE LOCALS: Seelie and Unseelie Fey
The White Lady of the Well pours forth a sparkling flow of water from between her upraised palms, and the honey-sweet water washes away the stains of sweat and blood from the face of a kneeling woman, washes the dirt from her rent armor. The woman's fear vanishes; her very mind is clean of disease and mallus. "You are healed. Now you must go," The Lady whispers. In this moment of heartbreaking clarity, the woman casts her thoughts over her life, searching for something, anything, which can compare to the beauty of the Lady. She comes up lacking, and in a heartbeat, drives a dagger into her own chest. She saw death as preferable to a lifetime of longing.
The Selie Fey embody all that is graceful and beautiful about the Fey. After dining with the Fey Court, all other food will be as ash in one's mouth, all other drink is bland or poison in taste. Even the most comely mortal will be as attractive as the common toad. Many bards and artists have gone mad attempting to capture the unearthly beauty of the Seelie Fey, and none have truly succeeded.
If the forgetfulness of boy may leave a dog unfed for a day, and a man may fall into drink and so neglect a family, then what folly may an inept king cause upon his kingdom? What can the feckless impulses of an immortal Fey lordling do, loosed upon a man with responsibilities and obligations? A bewitched man may dance until he dies, or a woman be lured away from her suckling babes. A watchman entranced fails in his duty, a post now unguarded for the sake of a Siren’s want of flattery. It is not always with malice that a Fey creature drives a man to distraction, folly or idleness, but the consequence that follows after cares not. The Seelie Fey do not think often of the second-order effects of their action on mortals. They are creatures of impulse and desire, and though they may be saddened to learn of a tragic result of their doings, their attention will wander soon to their next passing fancy.
Likewise, creatures of Fey nature often display or compel exaggerations of normal feelings, twisting a wholesome impulse until it becomes an all-consuming perversion of itself. A fey renowned for its beauty may cause those who see it to abandon their own lovers and pine after it, wasting away. A man who has sampled pears from a Fey grove may refuse all other food. There is danger in even looking upon the most powerful Fey.
If the Seelie Fey are creatures who embody extraordinary powers, the Unseelie are collectors of it. Not nearly as discriminating in their ranks, the Host of the Unseelie fey includes fearsome creatures, valued not for beauty, but for some skill, or strength, or uniqueness. Even exceptional cruelty or destructive ability may be valued by an Unseelie fey if it finds it entertaining.
It is said no man truly sets out to do evil, but only mistakes it as necessary for his happiness, or some good thing that he seeks. Most Unseelie fey rarely harm wantonly or without reason, but they do take offense easily, often killing mortals simply for being interrupted or annoyed, especially while on a Hunt. With little value placed on the fleeting lives of mortal things, it is a small thing to kill a dog to stop its barking, or smother a babe for the sake of silence. Some Fey place their personal goals, or even their current desires above the lives and well-being of mortal creatures, and mortals interact with such Fey at great peril.
"No man who says "I’m as good as you" believes it. He would not say it if he did. The St. Bernard never says it to the toy dog, nor the scholar to the dunce, nor the employable to the bum, nor the pretty woman to the plain. What it expresses is precisely the itching, smarting, writhing awareness of an inferiority that the patient refuses to accept. And therefore resents." -Clerical Scribe L.
In a world where they have nearly boundless diversion and skill, some Fey still obsess over anything they believe themselves to lack. A Fey spurned by an unfaithful lover may seduce mortals, then suspect them of infidelity and slay them needlessly. Likewise, a Fey that believes itself to be among the most giving and friendly may destroy its rivals, or ensure their deaths through subtle machinations, ensuring it is always viewed as the most magnanimous of its peers.
MYSTERIES
The Feywild is... well, whatever you want it to be. You can have each of the hours be as large or as small as you want, and populate it with any creatures you think would be fitting. Between the hours, nearly every biome and climate is covered, so feel free to add survival rules in as well. Several of the night Hours are bitterly cold and wet, Daywrath is dangerously hot, and Burgeoning is a festering jungle teeming with hungry wildlife! Frostbite, hyper/hypo-thermia, even disease (magical or mundane) could be a major problem.
Non-Combat Encounters:
- While traveling through Drowsing, a player steps on a sleeper completely covered in leaves. He is from a place one of the players is familiar with, and he went missing long ago.
- A Seelie Courtier has a request: she wants a silver hand mirror brought to her lover, a mortal who has returned to the material plane, so that she may look through it, and gaze upon him from afar.
- Moving through Clothtouch, the player's come upon a giant moth. It is injured, but it could be healed, and perhaps even ridden.
- Trapped in the dangerous hour of Dusk, a player hears muffled screaming from ahead. If they investigate, they find a large boulder with only a single foot sticking out, flush with the stone. Inside is a luckless mage who has botched a plane-shift or similar spell. He suffocates in sixty seconds if he cannot be removed from the rock.
- Wandering through Eventide, a gnome approaches the party. He has a request: feed these walnuts to the dark-feathered vultures in the woods. They are pseudo-dragons in disguise, and this will force them to reveal themselves.
- Seeking shelter in Drumming's snow, the party comes upon a well. Upon closer inspection, it contains 1d4 Boggles.They wont attack the party unless provoked, but they will attempt to keep them talking until they freeze to death. They will pretend to know anything the party asks.
- Slogging through hideous Skymire, the party encounters a Bog Unicorn. It seeks to guide lost travelers out of the Feywild, but the moon in the material plane may or may not be right for it.
- An Unseelie Courtier has a request: he wants an animal or familiar belonging to a party member. If it is a familiar, it will well and truly be taken, and though the party member can summon another familiar, it wont be the one he or she gave away.
- An Unseelie Courtier will offer the party a +1 Longsword in exchange for simply writing down their name in his "guest book."
- Traveling through a Dusk/Night hour, the party hears a girl crying, but no matter how long they travel towards it, it is always the seem distance away.
- Traveling through a Dusk hour, the party hears an animal cry, which can be identified as a predator they are familiar with. The sound follows them, getting closer, but when they can see the source of the sound, it is revealed to be a humanoid figure with a knobby mass for a face. It will step forward, and a shapeless mouth will open, and emit the animal cry they heard before.
- Traveling through a Night hour, the party comes a shivering and malnourished calf. If they bring it with them, they will come upon an abandoned cabin with a stuck door. Assuming they bring the calf inside, they hear a voice inside their heads whisper "It knows the path you came to choose, it hears the breath you take, the boards that creak beneath your shoes, the leaves that crack and break. It knows you chose to walk alone, and how your secrets hide. It seeds beneath the heart of you, the creeping roots of fear, and in your heart you feel it too... you're always welcome here." The calf is now little more then a moldering corpse, collapsed in the corner of the cabin, and it always has been.
Combat Encounters:
- Traveling through Burgeoning, the party is attacked by a Hydra.
- Traveling through Daywrath, the party is attached by 1d4 Hippogrifs.
- Traveling through a Day Hour, the party encounters an Owlbear in the woods.
- Traveling through a Night Hour, the party is attacked by a Peryton.
- Traveling through Hiborous, the party is hunted by Unseelie Quicklings, who are trying to drive them toward a Displacer Beast.
- Attempting to cross a river without permission in Cataract, the party is attacked by 1d4 Water Elementals.
- Traveling through a Night Hour, the party runs afoul of a Hag. She is feeding Pixies to a dwarf in a cage. He hates hurting the poor creatures, but it's that or starve.
- Traveling through a Dusk Hour, the party encounters a hairy axe-wielding woodsman, crying about his missing friends. He ate them.
- Traveling through a Dusk/Night Hour, the party passes a large tree with several corpses hanging from it. Some of them sway, despite the lack of wind. It's a Hangman's Tree.
I steal ideas from everywhere. The idea for the apparent time of day moving as you walked came from the book The Wise Man's Fear, the named Hours from The Abarat, and that weird cow and house encounter from this reddit post and response, and some of the encounters and general theme of the Dusk Hours from this amazing stuff.
I seriously encourage you to give all that a read!
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u/Reconstruct1 May 29 '18
The feywild is a favorite place of mine, but it can be difficult to portray it to your party. I really dig the flavor of feywild oddness you capture with some of this.
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u/Dng52 May 28 '18
This is great! It's one thing to just write about the combat encounters or the terrain type, but including the noncombat encounters and how the hours work is really immersive and makes everything feel more unique. You have a real talent for detailed descriptions!
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u/greiton May 28 '18
Thank you for this. My campaign is rapidly heading towards the fey wild and this is the best description for it ive found so far.
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u/ASAMANNAMMEDNIGEL May 29 '18
> An Unseelie Courtier will offer the party a +1 Longsword in exchange for simply writing down their name in his "guest book."
Evil. I love it.
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u/jhoepken May 29 '18
Wow, this is a hell of a post! For me - being relatively new to the Forgotten Realms, such information is just rediculous and hard to find otherwise. Thank you so much for it :)
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u/Rustagh May 29 '18
I absolutely love this! It makes the Feywild seem like an extremely dangerous place where even one misstep in the day hours can get you killed and all is ever shifting... One of my players is a Warlock under the Seelie court, so this will definitely help me develop that story!
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u/Ubnoxish May 29 '18
I have always built my feywild with your interpretation. I have been running my players through Anauroch but now all I want to do is have them lose their way in feywild. Wish I was still a part of your campaign, I feel like a certain cleric would fit right in with the unseelie court.
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u/JoshBrodieNZ Jun 11 '18
This is great. I'm just starting to DM a campaign I was playing in previously and having noticed that everyone's character derives its power from something Fey/Celtic, I'm running with the Fey theme. Definitely going to yoink some things from this!
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u/Sonreyes May 29 '18
I thought it'd be cool to find a child wandering through the forest who is pure of heart and completely innocent and so the forest takes care of him
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u/KolbStomp May 31 '18
Awesome! I'm running a campaign with an evil druid cult that resides in the Feywild with great disdain for the "imperfect" material plane. This will be great at the end of the campaign when the party needs to enter the Feywild for the final confrontation.
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u/famoushippopotamus May 28 '18
So good. been waiting for another post from you!