The Court of Scales

The Court of Scales

Type	Fey Court
Government	Dictatorship
Location	The Feywild
Inhabiting Race	Dragons, Corrupted Fey

The Court of Scales is a fey court located in the Feywild that was founded and ruled by evil dragons in service of the dragon goddess Tiamat. Their ultimate goal was to spread her evil and conquest throughout the Feywild and beyond. The court is ruled by High Regent Veylthar the Verdant Fang, an ancient green dragon and risen archfey.

NOTE: This page is still under development

History

Queen Thalyra the Rooted One (Deceased)

In the earliest days of the Feywild, when the realms were still shaping themselves, the trees that would become the Wildwood rose first. Their roots dug deep into untouched soil, their canopies stretched high into endless skies, and from them was born a queen: Queen Thalyra the Rooted One. She was the spirit of the Wildwood given form, her skin bark and moss, her hair a cascade of leaves and flowers that changed with the seasons. Queen Thalyra gathered to her side the dryads, satyrs, and woodland spirits of the Wildwood. Together they formed the Court of Branches, a circle of guardians sworn to protect the Wildwood. Under her dominion, the Wildwood was a vast paradise of towering silverwoods, flowering glades, and crystal-clear rivers. The air sang with the voices of songbirds and sprites, and there was peace.

But when the War of Many Names bled into the Feywild, the Court of Branches drew the attention of a far greater predator. Tiamat, forever hungry for power beyond her grasp, sought to establish a foothold in the Feywild as she had across the mortal realms. In 834 PR the dragon goddess sent a shard of her will to manifest an avatar within the Feywild, and a terrifying multi-headed shadow that fell upon Thalyra’s forest like a great stormcloud. The queen and her court rallied their dryads, treants, and fey knights in resistance, but against the chromatic terror, they stood little chance.

The killing blow was not struck by Tiamat herself, but by her chosen instrument: Veylthar the Verdant Fang, an ancient green dragon and one of Tiamat's most cunning generals. With guile as much as might, Veylthar lured Thalyra into false parley, feigning willingness to negotiate terms of surrender. When the dryad queen arrived, the dragon unleashed his venomous breath, stripping the life from Thalyra’s body and twisting her sacred heart tree into a blackened husk. Before the horrified eyes of the fey, Veylthar devoured their queen, consuming not only her body but also the magic that bound her to the land.

With her death, the Wildwood collapsed. The trees wailed, their roots bleeding sap. Once-clear rivers stagnated into dark, sluggish streams. The fertile forests twisted into a choking swamp of thorns, fungal blooms, and venomous growths. Fey creatures that had danced in sunlight found their forms warped: pixies grew dragonlike wings with venomous fangs, satyrs turned wild and mad, and dryads fused with brambles or rotted trees. The Wildwood was no more. Now there was only the Mirewood, a fetid swamp, crawling with warped beasts and the servants of dragons. And upon this ruin the dragon Veylthar declared itself High Regent, and that henceforth, the Court of Branches would forever be known as the Court of Scales.

Court Members

High Regent Veylthar the Verdant Fang

High Regent Veylthar the Verdant Fang

Velthar the Verdant Fang is an ancient green dragon bestowed with the powers of an archfey. He has been alive since the days of The Holy War and was one of Tiamat’s most loyal followers since the beginning. Even before becoming an archfey, Velthar had become a master of enchantment magic and possessed the unique ability to charm creatures with his glowing green eyes. This made him a useful servant of Tiamat as one of her premiere spies and disruptors, and made him her first choice for who should spearhead her incursion into the Fey realms.

But just as practiced was Veylthar’s magic was his ability to lie. As Tiamat’s avatar devastated the Wildwood, Veylthar presented himself to Queen Thalyra the Rooted One as a kind yet pitiful dragon who only wanted peace. Given the tense situation, the usually perceptive Queen was unable to see through the dragon’s lies, right up until Veylthar devoured her and sundered the heart tree she was bound to with his poisonous breath.

The Mirewood and the Court of Scales is a reflection of Veylthar’s truest self, dark, twisted, and rotting. A schemer at heart, Veylthar delights in pulling the strings of the fey and watching their forms twist and break. With the devouring of Queen Thalyra, Veylthar turned his magic against the fey of the Wildwood, bending them completely to his will. Ironically, Veylthar keeps closer council with the corrupted fey of the Mirewood rather then with his fellow dragonkin who joined the court from the Material Realm, since as any good schemer knows, once you are on top, everyone is out to get you.

Veylthar spends most of his time consorting with the members of his court and planning their next move. Rather than engage in outright warfare, Veylthar prefers to instead use corruption and subterfuge to dethrone his adversaries. Then when the ruling archfey of a rival court is at their weakest, he and his forces will descend upon them and then devour them, subsuming their court into his own.

But Veylthar has not been immune to the magic of the Feywild. His time in the Mirewood and his practices of eating archfey have begun to catch up to him. His actions have become stranger and more esoteric, far cries from the draconic natures of his kin. In addition Veylthar has been haunted by the ghostly voices of Queen Thalyra the Rooted One and all the other archfey he has devoured. Is it karma, is it a curse, is it all in his head? No one knows.

Veylthar appears as a massive green dragon whose once glistening scales have been tarnished by black corrupting vines, swamp muck, and dark vines. His eyes glow a brilliant emerald green, emitting a light that hypnotizes anyone who looks too deep into them, and brings them under Veylthar’s control. His breath is so poisonous that it immediately rots all plant life that comes into contact with it and corrupts good-aligned fey. Ever since entering the Feywild, Veylthar’s desire for gold has diminished. Instead he has come to hoard the bones of powerful fey and artifacts of fallen courts. His hoard is enchanted so that if anyone attempts to steal from it, the bones come alive and attack the would-be thief.

The Five Talons

A council directly beneath Veylthar, the council is composed of the five former advisors of Queen Thalyra the Rooted One, now each corrupted beyond measure and bound to represent one of the aspects of Tiamat. Each of the talons hold command over separate regions of the Mirewood and have been given rank by Veylthar above other dragons in the Mirewood.

The Talon of White - Elyndris the Loveless Hollow

Elyndris the Loveless Hollow

Elyndris, the Loveless Hollow, was once a beautiful eladrin and cherished consort of Queen Thalyra. But when the queen fell, Elyndris’ grief curdled into a sorrowful despair so deep it tore her soul apart. Now she lingers as a Banshee, her beauty, once celebrated, now twisted into a visage of spectral horror with pale, hollowed eyes that burn with sorrow, hair like withered vines, and skin as translucent as the marsh fog.Even when deep into the swamps of the Mirewood, you can hear her far away mournful wails echoing through the trees. Those who stray too near to her feel their own hope wither, their bodies withering away until nothing remains but a pale specter bound to her for eternity. Even Veylthar keeps his distance, for her cries gnaw at flesh and spirit alike.

Elyndris serves as the Keeper of Secrets within Castle Wyrmblight, drifting through the labyrinthine archives and forbidden libraries of the court. She remembers the true history of the Wildwood and its fall, and the darkest secrets of the Mirewood are known to her alone. Her counsel is sought, rarely, cautiously, by the Five Talons, for she knows everything, yet shares nothing willingly. Beyond the castle walls, she rules the Moaning Marshes, an accursed lake where fog hangs heavy and the dead outnumber the living. Corpses and spirits rise to her call, wading from the mire with eyes full of grief, dragging the living into the depths to join their mistress in her endless mourning.

Gnarvok, Warden of the Weeping Grove

The Talon of Black - Gnarvok, Warden of the Weeping Grove

Gnarvok was once a towering Treant of pale silver bark and radiant golden leaves, beloved by Queen Thalyra and honored with the title of "Guardian of the Wildwood." In those days his grove a sanctuary where dryads, sprites, and mortals alike found shelter. But when Tiamat’s aspect descended upon the Court of Branches, Gnarvok’s grove was annihilated, and the Treant himself was sundered in the assault.

When the Court of Scales arose, Veylthar resurrected both the grove and its guardian, though what returned bore little resemblance to the noble Treant of old. Gnarvok rose again as a hollow and corrupted husk, his golden canopy now a tangle of dead, weeping branches, his bark cracked and bleeding with black ichor. Every trace of his old warmth and wisdom has been stripped away, replaced by blind obedience to the High Regent. Today, Gnarvok commands the Weeping Grove, a forest of monstrous, twisted Treants who share his cursed fate. Their branches drip with pitch like tears, their roots snake across the Mirewood’s borders, and their howls echo like the groaning of a thousand dying trees. To trespass into their domain is to be torn apart and left hanging in the branches, your bones a warning to all future trespassers.

The Talons of Green - The Hag Sisters Grivnash, Thraxxa, and Olymra

The Hag Sisters Grivnash, Thraxxa, and Olymra

Once, Grivnash, Thraxxa, and Olymra were three gentle crones and the treasured advisors to Queen Thalyra. They tended to her court with wisdom, kindness, and foresight, and their warnings saved the queen from danger more than once. When Veylthar arrived at their court, however, the sisters urged Thalyra to mistrust his intentions. For that defiance, Veylthar turned his magical corruption on them and merged their three bodies into a single grotesque form, each face and voice vying for dominance, their sweetness warped into venom and their wisdom turned to madness

The transformation shattered their minds. Their voices no longer offered counsel but shrieked and whispered over one another in endless discord. Their kindly hands became talons that delight in warping beauty into horror. The sight of the sisters’ shared body is enough to unnerve even seasoned adventurers: three faces jutting from a single head, their expressions shifting between pleading, giggling, and snarling in rapid succession. In their madness, they found a perverse joy in cruelty, twisting mortal spirits until they broke, and from that brokenness fashioning new toys for their amusement. Veylthar, ever pragmatic, twisted their affliction into utility, turning them into ardent followers of Tiamat.

Now the Hag Sisters, a coven of one body, rule over the Venomwell, the most corrupted heart of the Mirewood, a festering bog of green mists and poisonous waters. The land itself seems to weep bile, its air choked with fumes that kill blossoms and rot flesh. From here, the sisters conduct their wicked experiments. They keep a host of trolls, whom they call their “little boys and girls,” doting on them with a mockery of maternal affection. Through cruel experiments, they managed to isolate a troll's regenerative abilities to give to both themselves and their horrifying creations. They have applied these properties to rotting draconic flesh to make horrific golems with regenerative abilities that have been shaped in Tiamat’s image.

Sir Lornthar Vale the Thorned Blade

The Talon of Blue - Sir Lornthar Vale the Thorned Blade

Once the golden knight of the Court of Branches, Sir Lornthar Vale was known not for his ferocity but for his warmth. A dryad born of sunlit groves, he carried laughter wherever he went whether sparring in the glades, leading hunts through the wood, or entertaining courtiers with his boundless good cheer. His devotion to Queen Thalyra bordered on worship, and he swore his bark and blade to her protection until the end of his days. That oath was tested when Veylthar descended upon the Court, and in the moment he failed. Forced to watch his queen devoured before his eyes, his spirit cracked, leaving only hollow grief where once joy had flourished.

When Veylthar’s emerald gaze fell upon him, Lornthar did not resist. The dragon’s corruption seeped into his very roots: his supple vines hardened into strangling brambles, his tears oozed into black sludge, and his once bright laughter was forever silenced. Reborn as the Thorned Blade, Lornthar became Veylthar’s mightiest champion, clad in twisted plate of living thorns and wielding a cruel blade of bark fused with dragonbone. He is commander of the dragon’s armies, and his presence on the field is heralded by the rattle of dead leaves and the choking stench of rot. Yet even in this form, his sorrow remains as each night he kneels in silence, weeping bitter sap for the queen he failed, his cries echoing through the Mirewood like the groans of a dying forest. His weeping earned him the cruel nickname of “The Mourning Wood.”

As penance for his betrayal, Lornthar bound himself to Blisterbark Mound, a cursed hill where the remains of Queen Thalyra’s heart tree stand. He cut away his own heart-tree and grafted his essence into hers, rooting himself in the scarred trunk of his beloved queen. The act chained him eternally to the site of her ruin, both a shrine and a prison of his own making. The Mirewood’s denizens whisper that when he cries, sap oozes from the tree’s blackened bark like blood, and that to touch it is to feel his grief pierce your heart like thorns. The plants of the Mirewood head his call, and his retinue is made of twisted blights that mock his failures.

The Talon of Red - Sylia Blackleaf the Lightless Ember

Sylia Blackleaf the Lightless Ember

Sylia Blackleaf was always out for herself and always will be. With flowing crimson hair, faultless skin, and great curling horns studded with jewels, her beauty has been untouched by the rot of the Mirewood. While most of the Court of Scales bears scars of corruption with twisted limbs, scaled flesh, or hollowed eyes, Sylia walks among them radiant as ever. Yet her corruption lies not in body, but in her heart. Once she served as Queen Thalyra’s court wizard and seer, a trusted confidante whose visions guided the court through storms and wars alike. But when she glimpsed the shadow of Veylthar’s coming, Sylia faltered. She saw the death of the queen, the corruption of the Wildwood, and her own ruin if she stood in the path of the dragon. And so, she chose silence.

When Tiamat’s avatar descended, Sylia made her choice final. She sought the dragon in secret, offering loyalty in exchange for survival and a place by Veylthar’s side. It was Sylia who whispered the lies that lured Thalyra into her fatal parley, and Sylia who sealed her queen’s doom. Veylthar calls her his Lightless Ember, for she burns hot yet offers no light or comfort.

Now, Sylia serves as the High Regent’s most trusted hand, standing at his side in Castle Wyrmblight. Her prophecies shape the movements of armies, the breaking of rivals, and the slow, inevitable spread of corruption through the Feywild. She burns her enemies with gouts of black fire that sear not flesh but spirit, leaving behind husks of ash and bone. Her eyes glow faintly when her visions seize her, and her laughter, bright as a songbird’s, chills all who hear it.

Next to Veylthar, Sylia is the political heart of the Court of Scales. Even though she claims no single domain of her own, her command over the Mirewood is second only to the High Regent himself. Even the four other talons must heed her orders. Both Sir Lornthar Vale and Elyndris opening despise Sylia, for they know she was responsible for their Queen’s death, yet their corruption has run so deep and their devotion to Veylthar is so great that they will never act on their rage.

The High Barons

When Veylthar created the Court of Scales, Tiamat sent over a number of powerful dragonkin to help fill out the ranks of the new court of dragons as well as to keep an eye on the Verdant Fang. The greatest of these dragonkin became known as the High Barons, enjoying wealth and prestige under the rule of Veylthar. All of the dragons and dragonkin of the court report to them and the High barons manage most of the travel and communication between the Court of Scales and the draconic continent of Kiston back in the Material Plane. But as the years passed, the High Barons became more wary of the High Regent, worried that they Fey realms were beginning to turn him away from his true devotion to Tiamat.

Grand Chaplain Lorastrus

Grand Chaplain Lorastrus

Once a proud gold dragon of Kiston, Lorastrus was known in the draconic courts of the Material Plane as a sage and peacemaker, a wyrm who sought balance among wyrmkinds’ endless squabbles. But the lure of power and whispers from the Cult of the Dragon corrupted him. In secret, Lorastrus made an infernal pact with a devil of the Ten Hells, offering up his radiant body and golden fire in exchange for incredible magical abilities, becoming a golden Abishai.

Now the Court of Scales’ chief priest, Lorastrus is the architect of its rituals, sacrifices, and blasphemies. His sermons echo across the Mirewood in voices carried by unseen wings, calling mortals and fey alike to abandon their fleeting courts and kneel before the Scaled Queen. To the dragon cultists, he is not merely a leader but a living saint, the embodiment of devotion rewarded through sacrifice. His staff is said to channel not only his own warped magic but also fragments of Tiamat’s will. He despises cowardice, and he values order within the otherwise chaotic mire of the Court. Many of the dragonkin serve him directly, for Lorastrus organizes the cults, catalogs the rituals, and ensures offerings are delivered to shrines of Tiamat across the Feywild.

Lorastrus carries himself with fanatical dignity, always cloaked in resplendent vestments stitched from scales of those who dared defy him. His sermons are terrifying has he preaches with passion and rage, calling all who listen to bask in the light of the Chromatic Queen. Even among the High Barons, Lorastrus stands apart as the most loyal to Tiamat, and he views Veylthar with both respect and suspicion. While he acknowledges the Verdant Fang’s might, he fears the influence of Fey magic has tainted his devotion. Some whisper Lorastrus keeps secret records of Veylthar’s deeds, ready to accuse him of heresy before Tiamat should the High Regent stray too far.

The Great Cleaver and Court Executioner

The Great Cleaver and Court Executioner

The half-dragon offspring of an ancient black dragon, long ago the Great Cleaver forsook his mortal name to fully become a weapon of Tiamat. In exchange for this renunciation, the Dragon Queen blessed him with a war axe forged from her own chromatic scales and made him her grand executioner. With it, he carries out her sentences and those of the Court of Scales, his strikes leaving wounds that no magic can heal.

Silent, imposing, and ever-watchful, the Great Cleaver serves as both the hand of Veylthar and the leash of Tiamat. The Cleaver’s role is brutally simple, he is the end of all things. Every public execution, every quiet disappearance, and every “final warning” within the Mirewood eventually finds its conclusion beneath his blade. He keeps a meticulous ledger of names, traitors, spies, oathbreakers, and sometimes even disfavored nobles, all marked for his axe.

The Great Cleaver is a man of few words. Many within the Court believe he sees more than he lets on, that his black-dragon eyes pierce through deception and glamour, making him an invaluable confidant to Veylthar. Indeed, Veylthar values the Cleaver’s honesty above all, knowing that while others in the court may flatter, deceive, or conspire, the Cleaver’s axe never lies. But Veylthar also knows that if he strays too far from the mission set forth by Tiamat, the Great Cleaver will come for his neck.

Chancellor Rancliir

Chancellor Rancliir

Chancellor Rancliir is a proud and sinister ancient white dragon, hailing from the icy peaks of Kiston, known for his cunning and relentless ambition. He was one of the many dragons that Tiamat called upon to travel into the Feywild, and in return for this mission Rancliir was given extraordinary warlock magic. In the Feywild, he presents himself as a sinister white dragonborn, his pale scales slick as frost, his eyes gleaming with cold intellect. His voice is precise, sharp, and measured, and his every word in council is weighted with menace.

As Chancellor of the Court, Rancliir governs bureaucracy, court politics, and ritual observances, ensuring that the court’s operations run with precise efficiency. While Veylthar wields raw power and the Five Talons execute his will, Rancliir controls the mechanisms that make the court function. He is meticulous, exacting, and unforgiving, and any dragonkin, cultist, or fey who fails in their duties quickly learns the icy sting of his wrath.

The chancellor is also deeply entwined with the Hag Sisters. He provides them with subjects, magical reagents, and the arcane knowledge necessary for their experiments. Together, they twist victims into new forms: half-fey, half-monster, infused with dragon essence and bound by corrupt magic. Though he appears calm and calculating, Rancliir genius is always teetering on the brink of insanity. Within the Court of Scales, he is both feared and respected. The High Barons defer to his judgment on legal and arcane matters, while even Veylthar regards his counsel with cautious attention.

Baroness Asternendrarlon, the Keeper of the Hoard

Baroness Asternendrarlon, the Keeper of the Hoard

Baroness Asternendrarlon, known as Asterne, was once a ancient silver dragon devoted to Bahamut. She served faithfully in the wars that raged across the Material Plane, rallying dragonkin and mortal allies alike to defend the realms of honor. But the tides of conflict turned, and one by one, Asterne witnessed the fall of her comrades, the shattering of her ideals, and the futility of even the noblest cause. Eventually, Asterne made a cold and pragmatic choice: she abandoned her oaths to Bahamut and pledged herself to Tiamat. Unlike many who were corrupted by fear or temptation, Asterne rationalized her service as a form of order amid chaos. If the dragons were to dominate the world, she would ensure that their rise was efficient, organized, and sustainable. After some years, Tiamat sent her to join the Court of Scales in the Feywild and Veylthar appointed her as the Keeper of the Hoard, managing the Court of Scales’ wealth, acquisitions, and treasures.

Asterne oversees the monthly tithes of gold, precious gems, and magical artifacts sent back to Tiamat, ensuring that nothing is lost or squandered. She is also responsible for evaluating new acquisitions: fallen fey, dragon cultist offerings, or plundered treasures from the Mirewood and neighboring realms. To fail in her audits or mismanage resources is considered a grievous offense, sometimes punished by exile into the Mirewood’s deadliest regions. Asterne is not cruel for cruelty’s sake; she executes her duties with calm precision, believing that the Court functions best when every piece, from High Regent to dragon cultist, performs its role without fail. Her scales shimmer like polished platinum, her eyes keen and calculating, and she moves through the Court with serene authority.

Asterne’s influence extends beyond wealth management. She subtly guides the High Barons’ decisions, the tithe collections, and even Veylthar’s campaigns when resources and logistics are concerned. In the Mirewood, she maintains treasuries in secure enclaves, guarded by corrupted monstrous dragonkin, wyverns, and fey constructs. Whispers among the Court say that Asterne has her own contingency plans, a carefully cataloged network of influence and assets should Veylthar ever falter.

The Low Court

Urid Tazzire, the Keeper of the Forge

The Keeper of the Forge, Urid Tazzire

Urid Tazzire is a red dragonborn whose scales shimmer like molten metal, a reflection of both their draconic heritage and the fires of his forge. Raised in the bowels of the Crystal City in Kiston, Urid apprenticed under the red dragon Kaapaar the Forge Flame. From a young age, Urid displayed an uncanny talent for working metal and fire, crafting weapons and armor that served Tiamat’s war effort well. When Tiamat sought skilled artisans to serve in the Court of Scales, Kaapaar personally recommended Urid, declaring that no apprentice had ever rivaled their own skill, though Kaapaar also wanted to send away Urid before others began to question if Urid’s abilities as a smith were even greater then Kaapaar’s.

Upon arriving at the Court of Scales, Urid was made the Keeper of the Forge and the Court Smith. In his new forge in Castle Wyrmblight, Urid transformed the strange flora, minerals, and dragon-tainted materials of the Mirewood into unmatched weapons and constructs. Here, Urid produces blades that carry the essence of corruption and armor that carries with it the might of dragons. Beyond mere craftsmanship, Urid also oversees the training of lesser dragonkin smiths and makes sure that all weapons and armor his forge produces are up to his standard. But in his heart, Urid does not crave battle or conquest like his other draconic kin. He only desires the simple things, food, freedom, and a forge where he can craft to his heart's content.

Seeth, the Keeper of the Grounds

The Keeper of the Grounds, Seeth

Seeth, an albino lizardfolk with pale, almost translucent scales, was born under the dense canopies of Dolina’s humid swamps, never able to tolerate the sun’s harsh glare. From a young age Seeth became enamored with stories of a swamp ruled by dragonkin where the sky was blotted out by dark clouds. Using the druidic magic passed down from his ancestors, Seeth transported himself to the Mirewood, arriving amidst the corruption and decay, yet seeing in it a strange, untamed beauty that spoke to him. Without prompting, he began tending to the Mirewood’s plants and waterways, shaping twisted growths, controlling the creeping blights, and guiding the swamp’s creatures to maintain what he saw as a natural beauty.

Veylthar soon took notice of Seeth’s care and willingness, recognizing that the swamp required a careful hand to maintain its deadly splendor. Invited to serve as the Keeper of the Grounds for Castle Wyrmblight, Seeth now tends to the entire expanse of the Mirewood inside and outside the court’s strongholds. He ensures that traps, hidden marsh paths, and natural habitats are maintained and given the proper love and care. While the inhabitants of the Mirewood are vicious and monstrous, none would dare attack Seeth, for he always brought the best snacks for them. While loyal to Veylthar, Seeth’s true devotion lies with the Mirewood itself, and court or no court, he is happy where he is.

Sergeant Mak Glistener

Sergeant Mak Glistener

Sergeant Mak Glistener is a gold-scaled kobold whose pride in his role as a general in Veylthar’s armies is matched only by his meticulous appearance. Always adorned in the finest military regalia the Court of Scales can provide, he parades through the halls and battlefields with a self-assured air, believing himself a paragon of draconic martial honor. His demeanor is confident, his voice carrying orders with zeal, and he takes great satisfaction in training the lesser dragonkin and kobold soldiers of the Court of Scales.

Yet, despite his outward pride, the court’s members view Mak as a source of amusement, secretly dubbing him the “Jester General.” His pompous airs and theatrical displays paired with his small size often makes him the entertainment for the Five Talons, High Barons, and even Veylthar himself, who allow Mak to bask in his own importance while subtly mocking him behind closed doors. But the sergeant is not to be underestimated by all, for his bite is as great as his bark. Mak is a formidable duelist with lightning-quick and cunning reflexes and the ability to parry multiple foes at once. While he may be unaware of the court’s true opinions on him, Mak’s loyalty, courage, and undeniable skill make him an valuable, if occasionally comical, instrument of Veylthar’s court.

Drog, the Keeper of Beasts

The Keeper of Beasts, Drog

Drog was one of Tiamat’s early experiments to create a worldbreaker. Standing nearly twelve feet tall, his scales shimmer in a patchwork of deep blue and black, and his eyes gleam with feral intelligence. Drog’s mind is as bestial as his body. Though monstrous in appearance and temperament, Drog is fiercely loyal to Veylthar, and his cunning and strength make him invaluable as the court’s Keeper of Beasts. Few in the entity of the Mirewood can match his strength, even the dragons of the court.

Drog’s dominion lies in the Mudpits, a vast ravine outside Castle Wyrmblight where the Mirewood’s most dangerous creatures are held and trained. Here, he breaks the will of swamp monsters, great beasts, and even lesser dragonkin like drakes and Wyverns, bending them into obedient instruments of the court. Drog delights in testing his charges, pushing them to extremes in combat and endurance, and he takes particular pride in his pets getting to serve in Tiamat’s name. Though few dare venture near him, few can ignore the cries from the Mudpits, or Drog’s own violent roars.

Lord Corvid Murdershire

Lord Corvid Murdershire

Lord Corvid Murdershire was once a minor noble in the Court of Feathers, a vibrant and elegant court of avian fey celebrated for their beauty, artistry, and freedom. Ambitious and cunning, Corvid saw the rise of Veylthar as an opportunity rather than a threat. When the High Regent Velythar came to take the court, Corvid betrayed his own kin, turning his personal guard against the court and delivering the queen to Veylthar with cold efficiency. For this act, he was rewarded with a seat in the Court of Scales and stewardship over his family’s ancestral domain, the Aery, a sprawling, cliff palace.

Corvid is a consummate opportunist, always watching, listening, and calculating his next move. His cunning and ambition occasionally bring him into conflict with Sylia Blackleaf, whose own ambition matched his own. Yet, like all in Veylthar’s court, Corvid tempers ambition with obedience; he knows the High Regent tolerates his plotting only so long as it serves the court’s interests. In the Aery, he maintains order among the remaining avian fey and corrupted servants, ensuring the once-extravagant halls are kept up so he can hold lavish balls and galas. Corvid’s feathered minions, spies, and winged soldiers keep constant watch over the skies of the Mirewood, and he delights in using them to entrap rivals, gather secrets, or manipulate the court’s politics to his advantage.

Lady Zalrina Marrow

Lady Zalrina Marrow

Once a elven noblewoman of the Court of Branches, Lady Zalrina Marrow has retained her position in the Low Court. Her fall into corruption was not sudden but gradual, a slow surrender to the intoxicating allure of Veylthar’s corruption. She is clad in dark, opulent gowns of velvet and silk, with jewelry wrought from bone and tarnished silver. Zalrina retains the refined manners and eloquent charm that made her a fixture of the fey nobility, yet beneath the surface lies a hunger that can be seen in her sunken black eyes and razor sharp teeth. Few can match her network of connections within the Mirewood, for she maintains ties to fallen fey nobles, dragonkin officers, and even shadowy covens deep within the swamps.

Lady Zalrina is infamous for her banquets, which she hosts in her private halls within her courtly estate. Cloaked in the trappings of high fey nobility, these gatherings are feasts of horror where guests dine upon mortal flesh, often captured wanderers or lost adventurers unlucky enough to stray into the Mirewood. Despite her reputation, many court members eagerly attend her feasts, for refusing an invitation from Lady Marrow is as dangerous as accepting one.

The Lord of Masks

The Lord of Masks

Once, the being now called the Lord of Masks was a proud noble of the Feywild, but whether they hailed from the Court of Branches or beyond has long since been forgotten. When Veylthar conquered their home, the unfortunate fey was captured and delivered to the Hag Sisters Grivnash, Thraxxa, and Olymra. The noble was broken piece by piece: their name stripped, their flesh reshaped, their spirit fragmented until nothing remained of the fey they once were. When they were finally stitched back together, they were little more than a puppet of flesh and will, clad in tarnished robes, their body moving with unsettling stiffness. They had no face of their own anymore, and so they began to wear masks, dozens of them, each hand-carved or stolen, each carrying a different persona.

Now known only as the Lord of Masks, they serve the Court of Scales as its entertainer, though their performances are rarely joyous. With a voice that shifts depending on which mask they wear, they recite plays of tragedy, pain, and horror, often mocking the fall of the fey courts or enacting twisted parodies of ancient tales. To some, they are amusing; to others, profoundly disturbing. The Lord of Masks keeps their collection close: porcelain visages, wooden faces, gilded visors, even masks of bone. Each is said to hold a fragment of the soul they once possessed, though none can be certain if this is actually true.

The Mangled

The Mangled

When Veylthar claimed the Court of Branches, his corruption spread far and wide, affecting all the inhabitants of the Mirewood in terrifying an unique ways. One poor next of fairies were not able to escape the worst of the corruption as their bodies fused together until they became one writhing abomination. Flesh melted into flesh, wings snapped and tangled, bones snapped to accommodate alien shapes. The result was neither many nor one, but a horrid chorus of voices, a thing that should not exist: The Mangled.

They shamble through Castle Wyrmblight in the vague mockery of a humanoid form, wrapped in a blood-stained white cloak and wearing a golden mask to hide the horror beneath. When they speak, it is in a chorus of many voices, overlapping and broken, some sobbing, some laughing, others screaming incoherently. Within the court, they serve as Veylthar’s loyal attendent and in some cases even, bodyguard. In battle, they lash out with elongated limbs, claws, and wings sharpened into blades.

The Mirewood

The Mirewood is a vast and choking swamp, a place where the beauty of the Feywild has been drowned in rot and evil. Towering trees once radiant with silver bark now stand as blackened husks, their branches warped into claw-like shapes that drip with moss and acidic sap. The air is thick with a perpetual green mist that clings to the skin and fills the lungs with a bitter tang, carrying the hum of insects and the far away cries of doomed fey. Every now and again the Mirewood is buffeted by the wings of a dragon and filled with the sound of its roars. Once-clear rivers have slowed into brackish channels of slime-choked water, their banks overrun with thorned vines and fungal blooms and their depths inhabited by dark scaled beasts that devour whoever comes to close. Croaking frogs with too many eyes, dragonfly swarms with fanged maws, and lurching half-draconic beasts stalk the bog. The sky is ever choked with sickly green clouds, with not even a ray of sunlight passing through them. On most days these clouds let loose a deluge of acidic rain that plunges the swamp into further rot.