Ashenborn
Culture
Culture and cultural heritage
The Living and the Dead in Daily Life
Ashenborn culture is deeply rooted in the premise that death is less a final divider and more a passageway to another form of service. This outlook saturates their communal relationships, artistic expressions, and even their day-to-day tasks. From an early age, children learn that their ancestors lie beneath the surface—sometimes literally, in the labyrinthine Deeproot Necropoleis—ready to be called upon for counsel or battlefield reinforcement. This connection instills a unique sense of continuity: living parents raise their children with the expectation that they, too, will one day join the eternal ranks, sustaining the Dominion’s wards in a gentle cycle that unites the living and dead. In practice, this leads to frequent family pilgrimages to subterranean catacombs, not in mourning, but in quiet conversation, forging a culture where “visiting relatives” may well mean conversing with grandfather’s spirit. Architecture and daily life reflect this acceptance of necromantic synergy. Buildings often sport carved bone motifs and arches that mimic the smooth lines of crypt entrances. Large gatherings, such as city markets or festival squares, are always built near shrines or above necromantic conduits. By layering the living spaces atop the realm of the dead, the Ashenborn create a tangible demonstration of their bond with the afterlife. Markets frequently sell wares tailored to underworld upkeep—like meticulously crafted ward-lanterns, coffin-linens, or bone-chiseled jewelry—reminding everyone that aesthetic beauty can coexist with necromantic practicality. Despite the grim overtones, visitors are often surprised to find vibrant colors and quiet laughter among the populace, reflecting an innate acceptance that life can be full while acknowledging the omnipresent hush of death.Legacy-Bound Lineages and Artistic Expression
Because an individual’s spirit remains accessible long after physical death, lineage holds immense significance in Ashenborn culture. Families preserve elaborate genealogical records, carved onto tall stone obelisks that stand in communal squares. These markers detail heroic deeds, mystical achievements, or even the arcane experiments that shaped a particular bloodline’s identity. Such genealogies aren’t merely for pride; they guide younger generations seeking to align with certain ancestral talents—be it necromantic artistry, forging, or martial prowess. Every household also maintains a small “ancestral nook,” where symbolic artifacts and the occasional bone fragment act as focal points for daily blessings or brief spirit communion. In essence, each clan’s identity weaves seamlessly into the Dominion’s patchwork tapestry, forging a culture in which each new birth is heralded as the next chapter in an unbroken saga. Creative outlets flourish alongside these solemn traditions. Ashenborn sculpture, for instance, intertwines living flora with carved bone, creating surreal, half-living monuments that bloom in the day and glow under soul-lights at night. Poetry and music frequently incorporate references to haunting wind chimes, spectral echoes, and the hush of crypt-hall acoustics. Plays and story-dramas often re-enact pivotal battles or reawaken historical figures on stage, presenting the drama of their un-life and eventual resting. Rather than seeing these forms of expression as macabre, Ashenborn deem them necessary reflections of the swirling forces of life and death in daily experience. In short, their cultural heritage is one of reconstitution—endlessly piecing together a mosaic of old and new spirits, old and new art forms, never discarding what came before but embracing it as the foundation for something more vital.Shared customary codes and values
The Ashenborn uphold loyalty above all else, insisting that every pledge aligns with the Entombed King/Hallow King’s silent authority and the necromantic framework sustaining their realm. This unwavering devotion shapes how they interact with one another, requiring each person to maintain integrity in daily tasks, from forging arms to reinforcing tomb wards. They also observe a principle of unity that ties them deeply to their extended families and local crypt communities. In gatherings, members recite short lines from old texts praising the pact between living flesh and ancestral remains, hinting that without harmony, the Dominion’s wards would fail. Conversely, anyone who undermines group security—be it through treachery or by withholding aid when needed—risks censure as a threat to the communal bond cherished in Ashenborn society.
Within these unwritten codes, a secondary value of measured humility tempers the more militant side of their culture. Knights, necromancers, and common folk alike know that pride or arrogance invites a spectral fall, often interpreted as a sign of spiritual impurity. Thus, aspirants learn to speak with calm poise, even when brandishing well-earned honors on their shields or cloaks. Public recognition is handled carefully, such as awarding a new rank in a hushed ceremony rather than a raucous feast. Across families, this balanced mindset reaffirms that each champion of the Dominion stands on the shoulders of many who came before, both living kin and the ever-watchful dead.
Average technological level
The Ashenborn’s technological sphere revolves around an unusual fusion of medieval industry and necromantic innovation. On the surface, they appear firmly in a late-medieval age, wielding swords and riding horses through soot-stained cities. However, beneath this outward simplicity lies an entire infrastructure powered by unliving labor. Vast labyrinths of bone-driven mills and arcane workshops harness tireless undead to handle repetitive or backbreaking tasks, freeing living artisans to refine their crafts. Blacksmiths and armorers still forge conventional steel plate and weaponry, but they enhance these creations with engraved glyphs, forging steel that resonates with necromantic energy. Over generations, the Ashenborn have learned to channel low-level undead magics into daily conveniences—such as auto-grinding flour or energizing faint ghostlights to illuminate their streets at dusk.
Where many societies might pursue conventional science or chemical engineering, the Ashenborn push further into “deathcraft.” Some of their greatest inventors are necrotechnicians—skilled artisans who design everything from reanimated siege engines to self-repairing city walls anchored by bound spirits. They do not rely on sophisticated gunpowder technology or mechanical steam; instead, they animate large constructs or weaponize phantasmal energies gleaned from crypt repositories. At times, the living must still oversee or recalibrate these constructs, leading to entire guilds that specialize in ensuring necromantic mechanisms don’t run amok. Although their magic-fueled progress raises ethical debates among outside cultures, the Ashenborn view it as a necessary route to maintain a realm built on unity with death—technology shaped by their silent, unending pact with the afterlife.
Common Etiquette rules
Ashenborn greetings begin with a subdued acknowledgment rather than loud fanfare. Most commonly, individuals bow their heads slightly, pressing a hand over the chest where a small emblem of the Entombed King/Hallow King or a skull motif might rest. In more formal circles, they extend the bow longer, holding eye contact only briefly before lowering their gaze, symbolizing deference to the other’s lineage and undead guardians. Speech tends to be measured and softly pitched, with minimal small talk at the outset of any encounter. When meeting someone of higher station or a knight from a renowned order, it is polite to murmur a brief phrase of necromantic blessing, evoking the unity of living and dead. Friends and relatives, on the other hand, may greet with a gentle clasp of forearms, often including a whispered question about ancestors to show warm familiarity.
Conversations avoid brash interruptions or prolonged laughter. The Ashenborn value reflection, so they wait patiently for a speaker to finish, especially during heated debates or solemn discussions about crypt expansions and necromantic rites. When disagreeing, they phrase their objections with calm language, sometimes evoking the spirits of elders to substantiate their view. Pauses in speech occur frequently, and participants accept these silences as moments for ancestral spirits to guide their thoughts. Only in the presence of the Cloak of Spiders or key Eldritch Council members do people adopt a more guarded tone, wary that any slip could be seen as disloyalty. Polite discourse also requires one never to diminish another’s lineage or tomb heritage; belittling an opponent’s family crypt or relic is a serious breach of etiquette.
While they maintain courtesy, the Ashenborn do not shy away from referencing death in routine conversation. Guests at a dinner table may ask each other how recently their family’s catacombs were expanded or whether a relative’s spirit has been active in the wards. Rather than seen as morbid, these topics affirm the close bond the living share with the dead. Should a host mention a newly interred ancestor, visitors respond with a subdued phrase of sympathy, often including an offer to attend any upcoming rites. Public expressions of grief remain dignified, yet it is never considered rude to show sorrow on hearing that a neighbor has lost a family member; grief in moderation is seen as a shared communal weight.
Personal space is treated with respect, but a faint aura of necromancy pervades most gatherings, and it is crucial to accept such a presence without flinching or grimacing. When crossing a threshold into someone’s home, it is customary to utter a slight benediction toward the local wards, a hushed token acknowledging the spirits who watch over the dwelling. If the household keeps bone effigies or shrines, guests must nod respectfully at each effigy they pass. Even children learn these gestures early, ensuring that every guest remains mindful of the dormant watchers in the walls. Through all these small customs, the Ashenborn nurture a culture where courtesy and necromantic tradition remain intrinsically linked, reinforcing ties between living neighbors and the silent guardians beneath their feet.
Common Dress code
The Ashenborn favor a severe, layered style of dress that merges ceremonial grandeur with a grim aesthetic. Robed silhouettes dominate their daily wear, typically in a palette of black, deep crimson, or stained bone-white. Hems, collars, and cuffs often feature embroidered skull motifs or stylized halos that loop around the shoulders. Metallic accents, like ridged pauldrons or riveted clasps, lend a martial feel reminiscent of a solemn order on permanent vigil. Some more devout citizens attach small bone talismans or finger-length crowns to belts and sashes, showing open reverence for the Entombed King/Hallow King. Almost everyone sports some variation of the King’s skull icon, whether pinned on a cloak or etched into the side of a gauntlet.
Knights among the Ashenborn present a particularly imposing figure. Their plate armor is thick and angular, with flared edges that evoke echoes of old cathedrals or crypt arches. Each knight’s breastplate or pauldron is etched with swirling lines that converge on a stylized bone crown—an unmistakable homage to the Entombed King/Hallow King. Over this armor, they typically wear tattered capes or surcoats bearing a single colossal skull motif, fused with scythe-like halos in tarnished metal thread. For added intimidation, they don full-face bone masks carved to mimic the King’s hollow visage, sometimes accentuated with pitch-black tears or gilded horns. Heavy chain belts holding reliquaries or small ossuary-boxes finalize their presence as living embodiments of the Dominion’s necromantic might.
Within the Cloak of Spiders faction, attire skews toward slender silhouettes and swift mobility. Many forgo heavy plate in favor of layered leather harnesses, brushed with deep violet or midnight blue dyes. Spider-web filigree weaves across their chest pieces, culminating in a skull-like mask with etched patterns reminiscent of a spider’s mandibles. Subtle crown emblems, shaped like webs, pin cloaks around the shoulders, reminding everyone of their fealty to the Entombed King/Hallow King’s domain. Their boots rise high, fitted with hidden compartments for small blades or talismans. Despite this lighter appearance, each garment retains an austere precision that underscores the faction’s clandestine role.
Members of the Crimson Cloak order adhere to a more militant, knightly style but with an added emphasis on religious iconography. Tall, spired helmets surmounted by spiked halos create a dramatic silhouette that sets them apart from rank-and-file knights. Their red cloaks are painstakingly embroidered with dripping-blood sigils, often culminating in a grim skull encircled by a sunburst crown on the back. Layered pauldrons carry etched inscriptions praising the Entombed King/Hallow King’s eternal watch, while gauntlets bear miniature bone shrines that carry relic fragments. Brass rivets line their armor edges, reflecting faint candlelight as they patrol. Beneath these imposing layers, soft surcoats in muted hues insulate them from the chill of crypt-laden night.
Scaled Cloaks, in contrast, adopt a stealthy aesthetic that blends into the Dominion’s harsh environment. They favor scaled leather or hardened chitin plating, dyed with mottled greens and browns to mimic the crypt forests. Over this armor, they wear hooded cloaks bearing smaller, discreet skull motifs near the collar, ensuring they remain inconspicuous yet loyal to the Entombed King/Hallow King. Masks of polished bone typically only cover the lower half of the face, allowing for better peripheral vision and silent communication. Most carry multiple belts fastened with crown-shaped buckles, good for holding vials of venom or bone dust. Their gear suits their focus on reconnaissance, letting them vanish into the gloom at a moment’s notice.
Knights of the Jade Cloak incorporate a striking blend of nature motifs with the necromantic symbols. Their cloaks shimmer in deep forest greens, embroidered with creeping vines that coil into skull shapes at the corners. Plate armor is tinted with hints of jade, forming graceful arcs of metal shaped like curling leaves. A large halo of stylized vines or ivy frames their skull mask, casting an eerie shape against torchlight. Shields bear the Entombed King/Hallow King’s face wreathed by entwined brambles, signifying that nature itself aligns with the Dominion’s deathly order. Armguards and gauntlets often feature etchings that merge leaf veins with skeletal patterns, underscoring the interplay of life and undeath.
Everyday civilians craft simpler garments with muted practicality, yet they remain tethered to the grim iconography. Those working the fields might wear canvas tunics branded with a small bone crown near the heart. Merchants wrap themselves in layered cloaks and scarves, each containing at least one embroidered skull or half-halo. Many wear jewelry—rings, amulets, or circlets—that proclaim the Entombed King/Hallow King’s watchful presence, no matter their station. Embroidered patches of grey and black thread frequently outline stylized crypt arches or miniature tomb effigies on children’s clothing. Even priests performing routine blessings ensure that the King’s likeness appears, be it in a woven collar or a bone-carved pendant around the neck.
Above all, it’s seen as nearly sacrilegious to appear without any emblem of the Entombed King/Hallow King or a skull of some form. Such a choice raises immediate suspicion, marking the individual as potentially disloyal—or an outsider with ill intent. Those who dare neglect these symbols face subtle ostracism or more severe reprimands if found lacking during formal gatherings. Hence, from apprentice necromancers to high courtiers, everyone in the Dominion incorporates some depiction of the King’s skull, hammered crown, or an ethereal halo. This custom unites them in shared belief: the Entombed King/Hallow King’s guiding visage must always be worn, whispering that in death lies eternal vigilance. And thus, Ashenborn dress remains a constant homage to the unbreaking cycle of life, death, and the silent monarchy binding them all.
Foods & Cuisine
The Ashenborn raise plots of black soil where they grow a hardy plant called Ty. This grows in dense clusters of long stalks with grey husks. Harvesters strip away the husks to expose pale seeds that provide a neutral base for many meals. Ty seeds are crushed into a coarse mash, then boiled until the texture becomes thick enough to form cakes. Families serve these cakes with minimal spice, allowing each diner to add salt or herbs as desired.
In the wetter lowlands, there is a red vine named Niv. It bears a sweet pulp that can be scooped and pressed into a rich paste. Some households ferment the pulp into a sour spread, while others drizzle it over hot Ty cakes for a sharp-sweet kick. The vine also yields fibrous stems that can be dried into thin strips, often chewed by soldiers for a small energy boost on patrol.
Along the rocky slopes, herders tend a stout beast called Bril. Bril has tough hide, curved tusks, and yields dense meat when prepared properly. Most Ashenborn families braise Bril cuts with bits of marrow bone, letting the broth absorb a faint mineral tang. This dish appears often at feasts honoring a successful hunt or the return of a favored knight.
Beneath the crypt floors, gatherers seek a white fungus called Sef. It sprouts in tiny clusters where residual necromantic aura lingers. Cooks prize Sef for its sponge-like texture, which readily absorbs savory drippings. Slices of Sef are grilled or simmered alongside Bril, introducing a rich undertone that pairs well with the rest of the meal. Ashenborn lore suggests that eating Sef fortifies the spirit against night terrors.
A pale herb named Kull appears every spring near shrines. It has delicate leaves and a slight floral scent, believed by many to enhance warding rites. In cuisine, cooks shred Kull into stews or sprinkle it over roasted Ty cakes for a bright finish. Traveling merchants sometimes bring dried Kull to trade for gold or charms, as its flavor remains unique to Ashenborn terrain.
For sweet fare, some families keep a small patch of a fruit called Aru. These round, dark orbs burst with tart juice and dark flesh. Most Ashenborn boil Aru into a sticky sauce to drizzle over roasted Sef, creating a bold contrast of textures. On festive nights, local bakers incorporate the sauce into pastries, capturing a rare moment of sweetness in a land so focused on somber duty.
Communal gatherings often present a wide platter of Ty, Bril, Sef, and a swirl of Aru sauce, with shredded Kull on top. Guests sit around long tables beneath soul-lanterns, savoring the hearty mix of flavors as a reminder that both life and death shape their shared culture. There is no lavish bounty, but each dish reflects an acceptance of nature and the realm beyond, tying every feast to the Ashenborn bond with the quiet hush of the crypts.
Common Customs, traditions and rituals
Communal Midnight Vigils
One of the most frequently observed traditions among the Ashenborn is the communal Midnight Vigil, held on every new moon. As midnight approaches, entire neighborhoods dim their lanterns and gather at local crypt entrances or shrine alcoves. Families bring small offerings—hand-carved bone tokens, dried flowers, or incense—while a group of acolytes softly chant harmonizing necromantic phrases. The goal is to honor the uneasy boundary between life and death, inviting the spirits of ancestors to wander freely among the living for a short time. In these gatherings, members of the community often share cautionary tales or blessings for prosperity, reminding one another that every living day is intertwined with the realm of the departed. Children in particular come to see these Vigils as a comforting experience, learning early that ancestors remain close at hand whenever guidance is needed.Bone Lantern Festivals
Twice a year, the Ashenborn hold Bone Lantern Festivals—colorful, if macabre, celebrations where streets are strung with white or pale-blue paper lanterns affixed to polished fragments of bone. Each lantern serves as a personal tribute to a loved one or hero interred in the Deeproot Necropoleis. Alongside haunting music and hushed laughter, the festival encourages friendly competitions in lantern-making, with families vying to craft the most elaborate designs. In many towns, processions snake through winding alleys, culminating in the release of floating lanterns onto local ponds or small canals. Elders say that if the lantern’s flame continues burning until it drifts out of sight, it’s a sign the departed spirit remains attentive to the well-being of its living kin. For many, this spectacle reaffirms the Ashenborn’s comforting view that the division between life and death can be bridged through remembrance and creative acts of devotion.Quietus Gathering Ceremonies
Born from longstanding alliances with other undead societies, Quietus Gathering Ceremonies mark key moments in Ashenborn life—particularly the transition of adolescents into full-fledged roles within the Dominion. During these occasions, representatives from necromantic guilds or neighboring undead enclaves (like the Quietus) arrive to bear witness. The ceremony involves the young person stepping into a ring of softly glowing runes, reciting vows that blend personal ambition with loyalty to the Dominion and its eternal wards. Upon concluding, a senior necromancer or council elder offers a single drop of specially prepared “soul-ink” onto the initiate’s forehead. This act is believed to anchor their spirit more firmly within the Dominion’s protective network. Family and friends celebrate with toasts of spiced bone tea or rare sweet breads, reinforcing a sense that each new generation strengthens the Ashenborn heritage.Soul-Binding Lantern Rites
In addition to the widely practiced Midnight Vigils, there is a smaller-scale, more private custom known as the Soul-Binding Lantern Rite. Whenever a family member falls gravely ill or returns from a harrowing campaign on the borderlands, loved ones gather around them with small lanterns carved from semi-precious stone or bone. These lanterns illuminate the patient’s bed, letting necromantic energies flow gently from the wards and keep the spirit tethered to the body in times of crisis. Observers perform subtle chanting to calm the restless soul, encouraging its healing or stable transition should death be inevitable. If the afflicted individual recovers, they keep the lantern as a cherished family heirloom, symbolizing unity of body and spirit.Obsidian Sunset Rites
Held near the twilight of the year, the Obsidian Sunset Rites are dedicated to the heroic dead who shaped the Dominion’s path. Families and nobles congregate at major necropoleis entrances as robed officiants recite the names of famed knights, necromancers, or statesmen who have passed on in the preceding months. While torches and braziers flicker, the officiants stir enchanted urns containing the ashen remnants of bone to create wisps of swirling smoke. The hush that follows this spectacle is considered a sacred moment, inviting spirits to cross into the living world for final words or blessings. Participants leave behind personalized tokens—a worn gauntlet, a piece of cherished armor, or even whispered confessions—believing that these items can carry unspoken messages to the beyond. This tradition ties together all strata of Ashenborn society, reminding them that legacy is ever present, etched into every crypt and war-scarred battlement throughout the Dominion.Birth & Baptismal Rites
The Midnight Welcoming
When a child is born among the Ashenborn, the first night of life is marked by a ritual called the Midnight Welcoming. Under soft torchlight, the parents or guardians carry the newborn to a small courtyard shrine—typically decorated with carved bone motifs and flickering lanterns. There, a robed officiant lightly dabs a bit of consecrated ash onto the child’s forehead, symbolizing unity with the Dominion’s necromantic heritage. This moment happens exactly at the stroke of midnight, reinforcing the notion that the boundary between life and death is simply another transition. Family members watch silently, allowing the newborn’s first cries under the moon to echo through the courtyard. Some believe these cries resonate with ancestral spirits, forging an early bond with the realm’s protective wards. Following this brief ceremony, participants gather around a circular brazier where each relative drops in a token—a snippet of cloth, a small carving, or a pressed leaf—offering personal blessings for the child’s health and loyalty to the Dominion. The entire gathering then moves indoors for a quieter exchange of well-wishes. Many add their name to a communal ledger, pledging mentorship or future guidance. This midnight observance formally welcomes the infant into the community, blending extended family support with the Ashenborn’s reverence for necromantic magic.The Bone-Toll Vow
A few weeks after the Midnight Welcoming, the family conducts a secondary ritual known as the Bone-Toll Vow, often officiated by a local necromancer or an elder from the extended lineage. Parents place a small, polished bone fragment—a symbolic “first bone gift”—beneath the child’s sleeping mat or cradle. It could be sourced from a revered ancestor or from a leftover crypt offering, representing continuity between generations. By placing this piece near the child, the family symbolically pledges that the newborn’s spirit will one day add to the Dominion’s collective guardianship. During the vow itself, the parents recite a short incantation, reaffirming that should the child perish prematurely, their remains shall be honorably interred in the Deeproot Necropoleis, ensuring the soul’s readiness to serve or counsel the living. Relatives then ring a hollowed-out bone chime—the eponymous “bone-toll”—to mark the child’s formal inclusion in the Dominion’s spiritual tapestry. Although solemn, this ceremony holds an undercurrent of hope: by publicly declaring the child’s connection to the realm’s undead guardians, the Ashenborn reinforce their belief that no life is wasted, even in death. They assert that every newborn stands on the threshold of eternity, watched over by centuries of vigilant ancestors.Coming of Age Rites
The Vigil of Flickering Wards
As Ashenborn youths approach the threshold of adulthood, they partake in a formative ceremony known as the Vigil of Flickering Wards. Held beneath the looming shadows of the Deeproot Necropoleis, this overnight ritual focuses on testing each initiate’s resolve in the presence of restless spirits. A cadre of young aspirants is led into a dimly lit chamber, where only the faint glow of soul-lanterns illuminates the ancient walls. Each lantern bears the etched crest of their family lineage, and as the night progresses, the wards that keep the spirits at bay begin to wane intentionally, allowing the echoes of the dead to draw nearer. Over the course of these eerie hours, each youth must remain calm and collected, recalling the incantations passed down by their elders. Priestly necromancers stand by, ready to intervene if the situation grows too perilous, but generally allow the aspirants to handle transient hauntings on their own. This trial isn’t purely about magical competence; it’s equally a test of moral fortitude and personal mettle. If an initiate succumbs to fear, raising a ward prematurely, they learn humility. If they maintain composure, they show the Dominion that they can stare into the eyes of death without flinching.The Binding of Shadow and Bone
At dawn, those who pass the Vigil of Flickering Wards undergo a more formal culmination rite called the Binding of Shadow and Bone. Surrounded by family and mentors in an open courtyard, they recite a solemn pledge that weaves together their personal aspirations with unwavering loyalty to the Dominion. A ceremonial weapon or totem (often a small bone fetish or dagger) is presented to each youth, symbolizing their readiness to serve as a willing protector of the necromantic legacy. Elders and necromancers then bless the item with a faint necromantic aura, forging a tangible link between the initiate’s life force and the realm’s spiritual wards. In some families, a tradition persists where the newly recognized adult kneels before the entombed bones of a revered ancestor, offering thanks for ancestral guidance thus far. With that final gesture, the youth stands and, amid quiet applause, is greeted as a full-fledged member of Ashenborn society. This rite instills confidence and fosters communal pride, showing all that the Dominion thrives not just on undead might, but on living individuals who willingly tread the thin line between mortality and eternal duty.Funerary and Memorial customs
The Deeproot Necropoleis
The Ashenborn call these colossal, self-burrowing shafts their Deeproot Necropoleis, likening their branching, subterranean galleries to an inverted world tree of bone and stone. At the surface, a single dark maw opens in the center of a solemn courtyard or crypt plaza, ringed by black obelisks etched with necromantic glyphs. Down below, the shaft spirals into the depths, continuously carving new tunnels as if under some ancient, unseen command. Along these corridors stretch endless alcoves, each containing carefully interred remains of countless Ashenborn lineages. A tangle of catwalks, rope-bridges, and stone ramps connects these alcoves, forming a vast, labyrinthine kingdom of the dead. Skilled necromancers regularly patrol the deeper levels, attuning wards to ensure that souls remain close at hand and do not slip away into the Void.Rites of Interment and Communion
Upon an Ashenborn’s death, their body is brought to a designated entrance of the Deeproot Necropoleis within twenty-four hours—before the soul would naturally depart for the Mounds of Mourn. Ceremonial robed guardians lower the coffin or bier down an elaborate pulley system, chanting incantations that anchor the spirit to the body. This process allows the departed to remain “present” until such time as the family or the Dominion might call upon them for guidance or martial aid. Families often descend into the necropoleis with a specialized “soul-binding lantern” to speak with ancestors in hushed stone hallways. An incantation similar to Speak with Spirits can coax the otherwise dormant souls to briefly manifest, whether to offer advice, say farewells, or stand vigil in times of crisis. Generations of entire lineages, thousands strong, occupy these sprawling depths, their bones stacked in neat compartments like the living archives of Ashenborn history. In their cosmology, so long as the corpse remains in these hallowed tunnels, the spirit can be beckoned back to duty, reflecting the Ashenborn’s belief that death is merely another phase of service to the Dominion.Common Taboos
Oathbreaking and Heretical Disrespect
Foremost among the Ashenborn taboos is the violation of sworn promises, particularly to the Entombed King/Hallow King or the Dominion’s necromantic wards. Oaths, whether spoken before the throne or pledged on an ancestral blade, are seen as living cords that bind the speaker’s essence to the kingdom’s undead power. Breaking such an oath—by deserting a post or betraying necromantic secrets—invites severe repercussions. The community treats oathbreakers as outright pariahs, refusing them entry to communal catacombs or even denying them the final rite that would bind their soul into the Dominion’s protective network. Closely tied to this is the taboo of disrespecting the Entombed King/Hallow King's image, particularly by mocking his eternal silence or defacing the throne’s imagery. Any act that undermines the King’s sanctity risks unraveling the delicate balance the Dominion fosters between living and dead.Desecration of Ancestral Remains
A second major taboo revolves around tampering with graves or interfering with a body’s preparation for undeath. For the Ashenborn, every cadaver represents a potential guardian of the Dominion. Cremating the dead without royal sanction or plundering tombs for personal gain disrupts the necromantic web holding society together. Some families have storied mausoleums where each crypt is carefully sealed with wards. Stealing bones, relics, or even smaller items from these sites is a direct affront, believed to weaken not just the individual’s spirit but the entire community’s spiritual perimeter. Punishments range from forced exile to ritual marking, ensuring no Ashenborn knight or necromancer will come to the offender’s aid in the future.Sharing Arcane Secrets with Outsiders
Because the Ashenborn rely on specialized necromantic practices, it is strictly forbidden to teach these arts to foreigners without approval from the Eldritch Council. This taboo stems from the fear that outside powers might misuse necromancy to assault the Dominion, turning the undead wards against their creators. Curiosity-driven travelers or ambitious allies sometimes request lessons in bonecraft or soul-binding, but the Ashenborn consider such requests borderline sacrilege. Even novices who innocently swap notes with a wandering magician risk censure. To maintain the Dominion’s security, the Council enforces near-absolute secrecy, threatening violators with public condemnation and forced purification rites—grim ceremonies that can purge or suppress necromantic aptitude.Spurning Ancestral Rites
Refusing to attend or mocking the elaborate funerary customs of one’s own kin is viewed as a deep insult to the Dominion’s spiritual fabric. While younger Ashenborn sometimes question the pomp of prolonged ceremonies, outright neglect—such as failing to light memorial lanterns or speak the departed’s name at the Obsidian Sunset rites—casts suspicion on the individual’s loyalty. Ancestral rites not only honor loved ones but also strengthen the collective necromantic field binding the Dominion. Those who persist in casual dismissal of these observances risk being shunned, as neighbors suspect that such irreverence can cause unrest in local crypts, leading to hauntings or misaligned wards.Mixing Opposing Divine Magic
Finally, the Ashenborn approach to magic is pragmatic, but one field of knowledge stands unambiguously proscribed: channeling celestial or “holy” energies that could purify or break undead bonds. Practice of these arts is deemed a direct threat to everything the Dominion stands for. Even learning a basic healing prayer from Seraphim traditions is cause for alarm, raising fears that the Dominion’s wards might unravel in its presence. While those with partial talents in benign magic may keep them hidden, actively mastering “holy” arts will guarantee immediate suspicion and, in many cases, interrogation by the Cloak of Spiders or the Eldritch Council. For the Ashenborn, mingling such energies with necromancy is a taboo that invites spiritual catastrophe, hinting at a future where the Dominion’s entire foundation might crumble under incompatible powers.Common Myths and Legends
The Harrowing of Bonefire Pass
Many an Ashenborn child grows up hearing the tale of the Bonefire Pass, a treacherous gorge enveloped in perpetual mist where, long ago, a curse allegedly tore open the boundary between the living and the dead. As legend has it, a roving warband of newly enthroned knights, ignorant of necromantic wards, ventured into the Pass to prove their courage. Midway through, the ground split and vomited forth a legion of skeletal warriors, their eyes glowing green with leftover soul embers. Outnumbered and trapped, the knights braced for death—but in the final moment, a phantom-like figure believed to be the Entombed King/Hallow King’s own spirit descended upon the battlefield. With a silent gesture, the spirit subdued the skeletal legion, herding them like docile cattle back into the netherworld. Those knights returned forever changed, insisting that the King’s vigilance extends beyond the palace walls. Whether the spirit was truly their undying monarch or a wandering protective wraith remains debated, but the story endures as a warning never to disrespect the thin line between life and death.The Ashen Piper
Among the rural enclaves of the Dominion, rumors persist of a somber-faced musician known only as the Ashen Piper. Said to appear on moonless nights, the Piper lures restless spirits from forgotten graves with a haunting melody. Villagers whisper that if you catch sight of the Piper, you should never make eye contact—lest you be entranced and compelled to wander off into the grave-moors, dancing in the night’s chill until your heart gives out. Some claim the Piper works for the Eldritch Council, collecting wandering souls for the Dominion’s wards. Others believe the Piper is an ancient ghost forced into eternal servitude, her playing filled with longing for the afterlife she can never enter. Whatever the truth, sightings of a pale figure standing at crossroads, flute in hand, have become a local omen, signaling sudden funerals to come or the stirring of long-dormant phantoms.The Knight Who Denied Death
One of the Dominion’s most tragic legends is that of Sir Dameryk the Defiant, a celebrated hero who, according to local lore, refused to “lay down his sword” even after the moment of death. Dameryk had sworn a blood oath to guard a border fortress from an invading force of living raiders, vowing he would not fall until the threat was ended. When mortally wounded in combat, he simply rose again, fueled by his unbroken resolve. Battle after battle, Dameryk’s body withered, yet he kept swinging his blade, eventually scaring off the invaders. The townsfolk, upon discovering his husk still pacing the ramparts, tried to bury him, but his restless shell continued its patrol—unable to abandon his vow. Centuries have passed, and old watchmen claim that on stormy nights, they see a ragged silhouette in battered armor stalking the fortress walls. His unwavering spirit, so the story goes, became a focal point for Dominion necromancy: a testament to the grim power of devotion even in un-death.The Requiem of Blood Leaves
Each autumn, the grand necropolis of Greylit Spires witnesses a curious spectacle called the Requiem of Blood Leaves. Folklore insists that when the leaves turn crimson and begin to drop, it’s because they absorb the regrets of the dead, turning brilliant shades of red in sorrow. According to this legend, if you wander the necropolis at dusk during the season’s apex, you’ll see drifting leaves swirl around the statues of fallen heroes and gather in swirling eddies near unmarked gravestones. These leaves, reddened by spiritual anguish, are said to be harbingers of either redemption or vengeance. Some believe if you place a single Blood Leaf in the hands of a restless soul, you can soothe its torment. Others warn that should the leaves gather in abundance around a crypt, it portends a dark resurgence of vengeful undead. The Ashenborn typically hold candlelit vigils during this phenomenon, honoring ancestors and symbolically releasing unresolved grief into the wind.The Phantom’s Crown
A lesser-known legend speaks of a spectral circlet rumored to float through hidden crypts under the dominion’s sprawling capital. Called the Phantom’s Crown, it appears as a faintly glowing ring of pallid flame. Tradition says that if you are chosen by the Phantom’s Crown—meaning it suddenly hovers just above your brow—you are destined to become a “Bonekeeper,” an immortal steward of the kingdom’s spiritual wards. Alas, very few can bear the crown’s weight. Those who prove unworthy witness it fade in a swirl of ghostly ashes, leaving them disoriented and forever haunted by the memory of near-transcendence. Meanwhile, the handful of times in recorded history that someone accepted the crown, they vanished shortly thereafter—rushing off to unimaginable tasks in the Dominion’s darkest catacombs. Whether the Phantom’s Crown is an actual artifact of the Entombed King/Hallow King or a myth told to inspire devoted service, the story remains an eerie pillar of Ashenborn superstition, championing the notion that sometimes fate selects its heroes from beyond the grave.The Crimson Rider
Among the most commonly retold legends in the Dominion is that of the Crimson Rider, a mysterious knight cloaked in blood-red armor who appears during the darkest nights to challenge warriors who stray from their sworn oaths. Some accounts describe him riding a tall undead stallion whose fiery eyes match the rider’s crimson visor. When he confronts a knight believed to have faltered in duty, he issues a silent challenge—no words are exchanged, only the cold ring of steel. If the challenged knight overcomes fear and stands firm, the Crimson Rider lowers his blade, nods in silent approval, and disappears into swirling fog. Failure, however, results in a single blow that leaves the knight weakened for weeks. Rumors say the Rider acts under the will of the Entombed King/Hallow King herself, testing the courage and purity of those who would call themselves champions of the Dominion. Whether spectral guardian or vengeful spirit, the legend of the Crimson Rider stands as a chilling reminder to uphold vows unto death.The Bonewood Blade
A second fable reminiscent of long-lost chivalric epics is that of the Bonewood Blade—a greatsword rumored to be forged from both living tree roots and the bones of an ancient, honorable knight. According to tradition, the blade lies hidden in an unmarked shrine deep in the Dominion’s largest forest. The shrine’s entrance is guarded by centuries-old wards that only open to one “pure in death,” meaning someone who views necromancy as both sacred and life-giving. Should such a person find the hilt protruding from a twisted root-entombed skull, they must place both hands on the sword and recite the vow: “Life yields to Death, Death yields to Life, and together they are ours to keep.” If deemed worthy, the blade slides free in a cascade of dust and vine. Bearers of the Bonewood Blade have historically become warrior-druids, bridging the gap between the Dominion’s living forests and its bone-littered crypts—an unusual role that unites nature and undeath under a single, sharpened purpose.The Bleeding Basin
Another Arthurian-like motif echoes in the story of the Bleeding Basin, said to be a font in the heart of a ruined cathedral where the water perpetually runs crimson. Legends claim the water is tainted with the collective sorrow of the Dominion’s fallen knights—literal tears from the entombed souls. Myth states that only those ravaged by guilt or regret can see the basin’s true location. Drinking from it is said to grant a form of absolution, cleansing nightmares and binding the drinker more deeply to the Dominion’s wards. A competing tale claims the basin is actually a trap: if the unworthy sip its water, they become thralls to a vengeful entity rumored to dwell beneath the cathedral’s floors. Whichever version is true, Ashenborn knights sometimes journey in secret to find the Bleeding Basin, eager for redemption or clarity. Some return whole and reinvigorated—while others vanish without a trace, leaving behind only whispered speculation of their doomed final pilgrimage.The Veiled Herald
Analogous to stories of wise hermits or shape-shifting wizards, the Veiled Herald is said to be an ageless mentor who appears to chosen youths on the brink of greatness or tragedy. Cloaked entirely in black gauze that drapes over gaunt features, the Herald rarely speaks in direct statements. Instead, they pose riddles that prophesy future glories or failures. One example recounts a young apprentice necromancer who found the Herald wandering the palace corridors at midnight. The Herald delivered a cryptic puzzle referencing blood-bonds and shattered crowns. The apprentice, confused, ignored the clue—only to later face betrayal by a trusted friend seeking power. In Dominion folklore, ignoring the Veiled Herald’s riddles seals one’s downfall, but those who unravel the cryptic words can avert disaster or even alter the fate of an entire legion. Whether an actual immortal sage or a collective hallucination stirred by dark magic, the Veiled Herald remains an emblem of wisdom cloaked in mystery.The Barrow-Stone Steed
Finally, there’s the tale of the Barrow-Stone Steed, an undead horse said to roam the fields of ancient battle sites, searching for a rider brave enough to face an unending war. The legend claims that if you stand at dawn amid a mass grave and blow a horn carved from a beast’s femur, the Steed will gallop out of the fog. Its body is ashen and chipped like worn tombstones, and from its mouth seeps a ghostly vapor. Climbing onto its back binds you to a path of perpetual vigilance against wandering spirits. Though the Steed confers uncanny speed and stamina, it curses its rider never to rest—forever patrolling the Dominion’s bleak frontiers. Some knights do so proudly, carving out reputations as tireless protectors, but just as many vanish into the horizon under the Steed’s relentless pace, never returning. In the Ashenborn’s mythos, the Barrow-Stone Steed stands as both a blessing of duty and an eternal burden, a reflection of the Dominion’s grim creed: one does not simply choose to serve death; one is chosen by it.Historical figures
The Entombed King/Hallow King
From the moment she defied death at the hands of the Beastkin slavers, Catithryn Starborn became more than a mere leader—she became the foundation of an entire people’s survival. Born into chains, she suffered countless deaths in captivity, only to rise each time, her spirit unbroken, her fury undimmed. As her legend spread among the enslaved Thanorim, she became the rallying force behind their rebellion, leading them to carve out their own dominion where no Thanorim would kneel again. Even after securing freedom, she refused to fade into history. Instead, she offered herself in an unbreakable pact to bind the land’s necromantic energy to the people’s will, ensuring that both the living and the dead would forever guard the Dominion. Though her body has long since ceased to be mortal, she has never truly passed beyond the veil. Seated upon her ebon throne in the grand mausoleum-palace, Catithryn Starborn reigns as the eternal Hallow King, the Entombed King, both a guardian and a silent reminder of their defiance. Though she never speaks, her presence alone shapes the Dominion’s fate. The Ebony Round, a council of knights, necromancers, and scholars, acts in her name, interpreting the subtle fluctuations in her aura to guide law and war alike. Some claim that in moments of dire peril, she stirs, her hollow eyes glowing faintly as unseen forces rally to the Dominion’s defense. Every shrine, every ward-lantern, every midnight vigil pays homage to her undying watch. No succession is prepared, no heir stands in waiting, for there will never be another to take her place. The Thanorim do not believe she will rise to walk the land again—she does not need to. Her rule is eternal, woven into the necromantic energies that flow through the Dominion’s black soil, echoing through the crypts, and resting within the hearts of every Thanorim who whispers her name. To the outside world, she is a myth, a legend, a haunting specter of a kingdom ruled by the dead. To her people, she is the unbroken vow that they will never be slaves again.Regent Asdiva Weavergrey
Famed (or infamous) as the architect behind the Marotte subjugation, Regent Asdiva Weavergrey rose to power during a chaotic period marked by roving undead hordes and collapsing trade lines. She consolidated control by unearthing an enclave of Marottes—sentient constructs—whose relic granted them free will. Weavergrey orchestrated a swift military campaign, seizing the relic and binding the Marottes into forced service to the throne. Many Ashenborn hailed her as a hero who tamed a powerful resource, while critics whispered of her cruelty, citing the silent suffering in the Marottes’ hollow stares. Although her leadership ended when she abdicated in favor of a new steward, Weavergrey’s legacy echoes in every corner of the Dominion. She bolstered the infrastructure with undead labor, reanimated guardians, and enforced strict necromantic regulations. After stepping down, she retreated to an isolated tower to devote herself to “higher necromantic theory,” rarely appearing in public. Some say her experiments grew ever darker—attempting to fuse living souls with unliving steel. Even so, in official histories, Asdiva Weavergrey endures as the iron-fisted regent whose relentless ambition reshaped the Ashenborn’s entire approach to controlling lesser beings.Commander Menara Everhilt Grandveil
Hailing from a family long devoted to the Jade Cloak knights, Menara Everhilt Grandveil became a household name after leading a legendary charge against a massive “ghost-purifier” uprising. While still a young knight, she rallied a beleaguered garrison holding Necropolis’s outer tombs. Her uncanny knack for integrating necromancy with disciplined tactics allowed her small force to rout an otherwise unstoppable foe. This triumph transformed her into a symbol of Ashenborn unity, proving that conventional chivalry and death-magic could be wielded hand-in-hand. As she climbed the ranks, Menara championed a “protective approach” to necromantic arts. Where others sought personal power, she urged that undead wards be strictly regulated to shield the Ashenborn from internal corruption. Her promotion to Commander of the Jade Cloak codified an entire doctrine around safeguarding tombs and crypt-cities, ensuring that every fallen knight’s spirit remained sheltered within the Dominion’s wards. When she eventually retired, Menara personally oversaw the creation of an elite training program, forging countless knights into living testaments of her balanced, honorable ideology—a legacy that still shapes the Jade Cloak ethos.Arch-Vizer Rhevalis Mavicr
Renowned for his silver-tongued diplomacy and deep necromantic scholarship, Rhevalis Mavicr presides over the Dominion’s Eldritch Council. He first achieved fame by deciphering a sealed grimoire said to date back to the earliest covenant between the Entombed King and the spirit realm. This feat gained him a seat on the council while still in his twenties—an astonishing feat in a hierarchy that typically favors the long-lived or undead. Over time, Mavicr championed alliances with those outside the Dominion who could be “kindred of the dead,” forging brief but productive relationships with the likes of Quietus emissaries. Yet, Mavicr’s pacifying manner belies a formidable mastery of necromancy. He’s rumored to have singlehandedly suppressed a budding lich rebellion in the Dominion’s hinterlands, doing so without shedding a single droplet of mortal blood. Instead, he bound the lich’s phylactery within a reliquary, forcing its submission. In the council chambers, his voice carries significant weight, often shaping new regulations around how undead labor is allocated or how newly discovered crypts are integrated into the wards. Though some colleagues distrust his willingness to “share knowledge” with outsiders, Mavicr’s undeniable intellect ensures he remains among the Dominion’s most influential figures.Sister Ariana Thrael Wildermist
While not born Ashenborn, Sister Ariana’s story entwines so deeply with their destiny that she holds an honorary place among their legendary figures. Originally a Quietus envoy, Ariana arrived at the Dominion’s court bearing advanced necromantic scripts and a startlingly peaceful intent. Her negotiations with Arch-Vizer Rhevalis Mavicr led to the historic treaty that united Quietus and the Dominion against mutual foes—zealots bent on eradicating undead. Ariana later took it upon herself to found an inter-cultural study circle, the “Grey Candle Conclave,” teaching Dominion necromancers about the Quietus approach to “lulling restless spirits.” In subsequent decades, Ariana led diplomatic missions to quash tensions that periodically flared between her people and the Ashenborn. Over time, her calm, steady presence in both realms demonstrated that not all alliances hinge on fear or conquest. When she passed away (or perhaps transcended into a ghostly form, as some suspect), she was entombed in a Dominion mausoleum—one of the few non-Ashenborn granted that honor. Today, pilgrims of both Quietus and Ashenborn faiths occasionally gather at her crypt, leaving offerings of silent gratitude for her role in proving that undeath could also foster lasting peace.Ideals
Beauty Ideals
Physical appearance in Ashenborn society revolves around austere elegance mixed with solemn undertones. Men and women alike favor angular features that seem to echo the Dominion’s stark architecture—sharp jawlines, high cheekbones, and narrow gazes. Many find subtle signs of necromantic affinity particularly alluring, like faint patterns on skin that echo bone motifs, or a perpetually cool pallor indicative of close ties to ward energies. Adornments of polished bone—be it in rings, earrings, or delicate circlets—add a respected aura to anyone’s visage, and wearing them well can earn appreciative glances. Even the presence of small scars, especially if openly connected to a knight’s or gatherer’s storied history, can spark admiration; it shows that a person has faced danger in service to the Dominion.
Beneath the surface, shared devotion to the Entombed King/Hallow King is a key factor in attraction. Grim determination in everyday tasks, coupled with unwavering respect for ancestral shrines, resonates strongly with those looking for deeper bonds. A quick fling might ignite from witnessing someone’s stoic resolve in the face of a crypt disturbance—sparks fly when two Ashenborn realize they approach undeath with a common mixture of reverence and pragmatic acceptance. Displays of gallantry, such as saving a lost artifact in the Deeproot Necropoleis or assisting a necromancer with delicate ward repairs, often serve as powerful courting gestures. Even outside the rigid soldier-domestic roles, individuals appreciate a partner who can balance daily tasks with spiritual mindfulness.
For those seeking more profound connections, a calm confidence and unspoken empathy for restless spirits often outrank mere good looks. Candidates who exhibit a blend of quiet humility—respecting tradition, yet unafraid to question it—and measured bravery in the face of doom are seen as prime partners. An Ashenborn who can walk into a swirling cloud of undead and emerge steady, all while maintaining courtesy toward family and crypt neighbors, is typically the most sought after. Ultimately, the Ashenborn define beauty not as flamboyant flair but as a fusion of graceful composure, mindful devotion to the Dominion’s demands, and a willingness to endure the hush of death with composure, all captured in the subtle tilt of a bone-charmed mask or the steady gaze beneath a hooded cloak.
Gender Ideals
Women in Ashenborn society are trained from a young age to embody the assault warrior’s path. They are expected to engage with the most brutal facets of warfare, storming battle lines and commanding strike forces that patrol crypt borders. Family elders single out promising young girls early on, molding their habits and dress to fit the martial mold. Armor fittings and sword drills become near-daily routines in such households, while necromantic literacy—at least in battle contexts—is also required. The inherent assumption is that female Ashenborn, by channeling the unwavering grit of their bloodlines, are best suited to hold leadership over raids, cavalry charges, or the dominion’s relentless expansions. Deviating from these warrior duties triggers suspicion: a woman uninterested in joining an elite knightly order might invite rumors of cowardice or heresy.
Conversely, men face the equally rigid expectation of becoming steadfast guards or domestic overseers. From the moment they can walk, boys observe their fathers maintaining tomb wards at home, caring for children, and quietly upholding necromantic shrines. While the job can be physically demanding—hauling supplies, reinforcing crypt fences, and ensuring wards remain stable—it lacks the glory that arises from front-line combat. Social customs hold that a man’s strength must be channeled inward, defending kin while never straying beyond the household’s protective aura. This dynamic fosters a measured tone at social gatherings: men serve as gracious hosts, presenting necromantic offerings for fallen relatives, but never overshadow the battlefield valiance typically claimed by women. Trying to take on a more aggressive role courts harsh scorn.
For those who cannot or will not conform, the Ashenborn tradition relegates them to an onerous yet oddly revered position: Gathers. Gathers are forced into service as light-armored retrieval specialists on the battlefield, tasked with carrying bodies—both friend and foe—back to necromancers or medics. They run through arrow-strewn fields, weaving between dueling knights, guided by minimal protective spells. Survival rates are low, and the job’s peril marks the Gathers as unlucky outcasts. Yet those who endure develop uncanny swiftness, reflexes, and resilience, earning a grim admiration from onlookers. Even so, the stigma sticks: Gathers bear the label of not fulfilling the pure roles assigned to them at birth.
Rumors of children faking an inability to adapt—just to become Gathers—have surfaced in recent years. The legends surrounding long-lived Gathers tempt youths hungry for fame. They see the possibility of carving out a unique niche rather than fading into conventional ranks. The elders, meanwhile, watch carefully for what they call “the feigned misfit,” reluctant to waste resources training a child who might undermine the realm’s painstakingly maintained gender hierarchies. Punishments can be as severe as banishment or even execution if someone’s deceit is found to be disrespectful to the throne or necromantic orders.
Serious deviations spark dire consequences. In more fanatical enclaves, a woman shunning martial obligations is branded a traitor, and a man insisting on full battlefield command risks condemnation by local knighthoods. Gathers, at least, find acceptance in their niche—provided they muster unwavering loyalty. Everyone else must remain in step with these sharply divided lines. The oppressive structure rarely bends: it stands as a monolith from archaic times, upheld by those who fear that altering fundamental roles might tear down the delicate balance between the living and the domain of the Entombed King/Hallow King.
Courtship Ideals
Courtship in Ashenborn society begins in a formal, almost businesslike manner. Families on both sides weigh whether each partner’s respective duties—one serving as an assault warrior, the other as a steadfast guardian—mesh well enough to sustain the household’s necromantic obligations. If elders approve, the two individuals meet under watchful eyes, often in the presence of small bone shrines or modest crypt alcoves. This setting symbolizes that their bond will be forever woven into the Dominion’s broader network of living and dead. Instead of idle flirtation, early exchanges might involve verifying the other’s lineage credentials or discussing recent tasks performed for the local necromancer. A suitor demonstrating unwavering loyalty to the Entombed King/Hallow King’s ethos, or recounting heroic or pious deeds, makes an especially strong impression. Both families look for signs that these aspirants would reinforce each other’s roles, ensuring robust protection for any shared crypt or family line.
As the relationship deepens, the couple performs a sequence of carefully orchestrated gestures to show mutual respect. One such rite involves a prospective bride (usually training for front-line service) gifting a battered gauntlet or sword hilt to her suitor, symbolizing her readiness to defend the Dominion. In return, the male suitor offers a small relic from his household’s shrine—perhaps a ring or pendant etched with his family’s bone crest—acknowledging his guardianship and willingness to uphold domestic and ward-related tasks. Observers expect them to attend a handful of necromantic ceremonies side by side, each time reciting quiet devotions that mark their growing partnership. At any sign of wavering commitment, the families may halt the courtship, believing it better to end things swiftly than bind a mismatched pair. But for those who persist, culminating in a union recognized by both lineage shrines, the final step is a single vow at the Deeproot Necropoleis, sealing their fates together in the entangled hush of undeath.
Relationship Ideals
Ashenborn relationships begin with a sense of preordained roles, made even more rigid by the realm’s binding social codes. In many communities, a formal arrangement is negotiated between two families while the individuals are still quite young, ensuring both bloodlines stay aligned with their prescribed duties. Women destined for front-line warfare pair with men dedicated to domestic guardianship, weaving a partnership that echoes the broader balance between expansion and defense. This arrangement doesn’t always revolve around passion or romance. Rather, it focuses on sustaining the necromantic wards that protect their homesteads, blending the bride’s potential for militaristic might with the groom’s capacity for watchful vigilance. Still, some couples forge a genuine closeness over time, finding comfort in the shared understanding that both realms—martial and household—depend on each other for the Dominion’s overall survival.
Despite these structured norms, the Ashenborn consider loyalty paramount in any union, extending well beyond mere convention. Both spouses vow not only to serve each other but also to uphold ancestral obligations, including the possibility that one or both might be called into necromantic rites or battlefield duty. If a wife must march off to repel threats in distant crypt-lands, the husband dedicates himself to fortifying the household wards and caring for kin. Conversely, if a husband’s domestic haven falls under siege by raiders, the wife may race back from active lines to reinforce him. These interwoven responsibilities can foster profound dedication, as families witness how each spouse’s role complements the other—mirroring the synergy between the living and the Dominion’s vast legion of deceased protectors.
Marriages typically include a quiet ceremony in front of a family’s crypt, where the couple kneels at the entrance to the Deeproot Necropoleis. A necromancer of local repute blesses them, invoking ancestral spirits to watch over the partnership. Rather than exchanging rings in a typical sense, they often trade bone-carved tokens carrying each spouse’s family sigil. Such tokens stand as an unspoken reminder that, although life is fleeting, the Dominion’s wards tie them together long after death. The vow is also chanted into a black, flame-lit brazier that resonates with the faint aura of the Entombed King/Hallow King, sealing their union as part of the realm’s extended network of loyalty and purpose.
Straying from these ideals—be it through desertion or a refusal to fulfill expected duties—invites harsh judgment. Neighbors may shun those who abandon a union in times of crisis, and more devout enclaves might even recommend formal punishment. Yet, there are whispered tales of couples defying these confines, forging relationships based on affection rather than martial or domestic tradition. Some hide their bond for fear of censure, hoping one day the realm will ease its rigid structure. Still, for the majority of Ashenborn, a strong marriage remains the union of two distinct halves—one sworn to advance the Dominion’s power on battlefields, the other to preserve its necromantic heart at home—locked in a constant dance that underpins the entire society’s survival.
Major organizations
The Throne of the Entombed King
The Throne of the Entombed King functions as the overarching royal authority within the Dominion, representing the Ashenborn’s most revered and feared lineage. Centered on the silent and decaying monarch seated upon an ebon throne, this institution is bound together by centuries-old necromantic pacts. Despite the king’s perpetual stillness, royal decrees are delivered through high-ranking courtiers known as Crypt-Voices—individuals sworn to interpret the unspoken will of their ruler. These courtiers maintain rigid control over the Dominion’s daily governance, from levying tributes on newly raised knights to authorizing expansions of necromantic wards. No one wields greater influence within the Ashenborn ethnicity than the Throne of the Entombed King. While rumors persist that the decaying monarch’s spirit stirs only in times of crisis, the people treat the throne’s authority as absolute. Local lords and knights must pledge fidelity in grand ceremonies, reinforcing their devotion to the undying seat of power. Through this silent figurehead, the Dominion projects unity, ensuring that all factions—whether knights, necromancers, or spy networks—stand under one imposing shadow.The Eldritch Council
Second only to the royal seat, the Eldritch Council is a conclave of necromancers, bone-scholars, and arcane advisers. Often robed in ceremonial onyx vestments, these magisters serve as the kingdom’s strategic mind, shaping everything from warfare tactics to the subtle calibrations of the nation’s undead wards. They also interpret cryptic omens—like sudden upswings in restless spirits or strange phenomena at haunted borders—that could foreshadow internal threats or foreign incursions. Each counselor’s seat represents a distinct area of expertise: bonecraft, soul-binding, necro-engineering, and so forth. On the practical side, the Eldritch Council oversees training academies for necromancers and instructs new officers on controlling lesser undead. Their internal hierarchy can be fiercely competitive, with each council member vying for resources to advance personal studies. Yet, once they agree on policy, their pronouncements shape broad changes throughout the Dominion. Scholars from beyond the realm whisper of the Council’s brilliance in melding magic with government, though Ashenborn citizens simply see them as indispensable keepers of necromantic tradition.The Cloak of Spiders
The Cloak of Spiders is the Dominion’s covert intelligence arm, famous for its unorthodox infiltration methods and skill at extracting secrets. Membership is deliberately small, emphasizing precision and guile. Agents receive specialized training in spider-silk stealth, illusions, and hidden necromantic charms, letting them slip past both mortal and undead guardians without raising alarm. Each operative carries a symbolic cloak embroidered with fine, webbed patterns—visible proof of the sinister tasks they undertake. Beyond mere espionage, the Cloak of Spiders polices internal threats that could sabotage the Dominion from within. If Ashenborn nobles plan treason or foreign agents lurk among the grave-cities, these stealth masters move quietly to investigate. Their presence is never announced publicly, and few know their true leadership structure. Nonetheless, among the Ashenborn, rumors abound of spectral watchers perched on city rooftops, webs glistening in moonlight, ready to ensnare any who dare betray the Entombed King.The Order of the Crimson Cloak
Widely regarded as guardians of the Dominion’s sacred borderlands, the Order of the Crimson Cloak exemplifies chivalric zeal wedded to necromantic pragmatism. Clad in deep-red mantles and partially gleaming armor, these knights keep vigil at remote watchtowers and shadowy passes, ensuring no unauthorized soul—living or undead—breaches Dominion territory. Their rites emphasize a spiritual devotion to ancestral spirits, believing it is their divine duty to protect the dominion’s tombs and unholy sanctuaries. On campaign, they are fanatically loyal shock troops. Legendary for their swift, coordinated strikes, they repel invasions with terrifying ferocity, chanting litanies to rally corpses that fight under their banner. Off the battlefield, the Crimson Cloak fosters hope among common Ashenborn by upholding virtues of sacrifice and vigilance. Although devout, they remain bound by oath to the Entombed King’s authority. This balance of religious fervor and necromantic discipline makes their order both the Dominion’s first line of defense and a moral cornerstone for its people.The Scaled Cloaks
The Scaled Cloaks are a specialized ranger corps and reconnaissance group. Rather than plate armor and heavy warhorses, these Ashenborn favor leather cloaks inscribed with scaled motifs, blending naturally with the brambled forests and craggy outlands of the Dominion. Masters of silent movement, they excel at scouting treacherous moorlands and detecting hidden catacombs that might harbor rogue undead. Their trademark camouflage allows them to remain nearly invisible in the gloom, giving rise to stories of watchers who see all, yet remain unseen. Field reports from the Scaled Cloaks shape the Dominion’s tactical decisions. If a new crypt stirs with malevolent spirits or foreign cultists set up camp in an abandoned mausoleum, these rangers are among the first to investigate. Commanders rely on their uncanny skill to gauge terrain, map uncharted tunnels, and, when necessary, perform swift assassinations to quash problems before they become crises. Many in the Dominion admire the Scaled Cloaks’ silent dedication, viewing them as protectors who walk in the shadowed fringes so that the major cities remain safe.Knights of the Jade Cloak
No organization is more synonymous with ancestral devotion than the Knights of the Jade Cloak. Recognized by their green-tinted armor and elaborate vine engravings, these solemn warriors patrol tombs, mausoleums, and grand necropolises. They believe that every knight’s spirit—once laid to rest—becomes part of the Dominion’s protective wards, so any disturbance of those graves is a grave offense indeed. Their rituals to honor the dead involve chanting under rainfall, symbolizing nature’s tears over the fallen. In times of strife, the Jade Cloak mobilizes to preserve legacy above all else—escorting precious relics to hidden vaults or defending entire grave-cities from desecration. Legend holds that should a revered ancestor’s remains be defiled, Jade Cloak knights can sense the sacrilege from leagues away, spurring them to righteous fury. Among the Ashenborn, they’re revered for humility and steadfastness. They see themselves as shepherds guarding the ultimate treasure: the Dominion’s lineage, forever enshrined in crypt and memory.
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