Veilwraiths

Overview

Veilwraiths are ethereal predators, existing partially between the material realm and a spectral plane of shadow. Born from the souls of unfortunate mortals who became lost and succumbed to despair within the depths of the Gloomwood, their anguish and fear anchored their spirits, reshaping them into insatiable, shadowy beings forever trapped between life and death. Driven by ceaseless hunger and envy of the living, they haunt the borderlands of mist and shadow, endlessly stalking mortal prey.

Physical Description

Veilwraiths appear as humanoid silhouettes composed entirely of swirling, ghostly mist and shadow, perpetually obscured behind ragged cloaks and hooded veils of ephemeral darkness. Their limbs are unnaturally elongated, trailing and drifting like tattered fabric, and their faces are featureless voids—except for two burning, ghostly points of light that serve as eyes, flickering with hateful hunger.

They glide silently and fluidly, flowing through mist and darkness as effortlessly as water through stone.

Behavior & Ecology

Veilwraiths hunt alone or in small groups, drawn irresistibly toward mortal life and warmth. They feed on emotions, primarily fear and despair, tormenting prey for as long as possible before finally draining the life force completely. A creature consumed by a Veilwraith risks becoming another of its kind, forever bound to the shadows, perpetuating the cycle.

Though insatiably driven, Veilwraiths retain fragments of cunning intellect from their mortal lives, capable of patience, planning, and even cruelty.

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example statblock

Medium Undead, Neutral Evil

Armor Class: 15

Hit Points: 68 (8d10 + 24)

Speed: 0 ft., fly 40 ft. (hover)

STR 6 (-2) | DEX 18 (+4) | CON 16 (+3) | INT 12 (+1) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 18 (+4)

Damage Resistances: Acid, Cold, Fire, Lightning, Thunder; Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing from Nonmagical Attacks

Damage Immunities: Necrotic, Poison

Condition Immunities: Charmed, Exhaustion, Frightened, Grappled, Paralyzed, Poisoned, Prone, Restrained

Senses: Darkvision 60 ft., Passive Perception 12

Languages: Common, Elvish, Sylvan

Challenge: 5 (1,800 XP)

Incorporeal Movement. The Veilwraith can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain. It takes 5 (1d10) force damage if it ends its turn inside an object.

Aura of Despair. Any creature that starts its turn within 10 feet of the Veilwraith must make a DC 15 Charisma saving throw or be overwhelmed by despair. The creature has disadvantage on all attack rolls, saving throws, and ability checks until the start of its next turn.

Actions

Life Drain. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 16 (3d8 + 3) necrotic damage, and the target must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or have its hit point maximum reduced by an amount equal to the necrotic damage taken. The reduction lasts until the target finishes a long rest.

Whisper of Doom (Recharge 6). The Veilwraith whispers dark thoughts into the mind of a creature within 30 feet. The target must succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be Stunned for 1 minute. The target can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success.

The mortal moved slowly through the shifting mists, each step uncertain, breaths rapid, shallow. Deliciously afraid.

I followed silently, effortlessly, my form drifting between shadows like smoke through trembling fingers. He could not see me clearly—I made certain of that—but he sensed me. Felt my chill presence like a whisper of cold against the back of his neck, tasted my essence in the fearful dryness of his mouth.

Closer now.

I drew near enough to hear the frantic rhythm of his heart, hammering beneath fragile ribs. My ghostly hands reached out slowly, achingly close, yet holding back, prolonging my own torment to heighten his. So easy to snuff out the flame, to smother the light within him, but the sweetness lay in his dread, his panic.

He stumbled forward, breathing raggedly, eyes wild, searching for escape. Around him, shadows danced at my whim, confusing, beckoning. He turned once, eyes wide, scanning the mist, weapon trembling in his grasp. Did he glimpse my shape, drifting quietly just beyond the reach of his sight? Did he sense my hunger?

He ran then, driven by sheer animal terror, branches tearing at his flesh, roots clawing his ankles. And I followed, savoring every pulse of fear, every cry, every desperate glance over his shoulder.

Almost mine.

But suddenly he broke free—through mist and shadow into a small clearing, moonlight strong enough to shield him momentarily. I halted, shadows coiling around me, frustrated hunger burning in my hollow core. The mortal dropped to his knees, gasping, sobbing breathlessly.

I watched from darkness, enraged yet patient, knowing his fear would linger. He would remember me; dream of me, perhaps even return.

Yes. I could wait.

After all, time held no meaning to shadows like me.