Scavenger bands brave the Mournland, looking for art objects and artifacts to sell. Though Thrane and Breland attempt to keep such outlaws from operating out of their environs, Karrnath encourages this kind of activity and offers tempting bounties to those who recover items of worth or power. In this regard, Karrnath and New Cyre (in Breland) are in competition, for both groups want to discover what happened on the Day of Mourning and recover whatever can be saved from the wreckage. Independent scavenger bands also approach the Mournland from the Talenta Plains, Darguun, and Kraken Bay, while raiding parties of Valenar elves venture into the region in
search of worthy challenges.
If the rumors are true, a society of sorts has claimed the Mournland as its own. This society of warforged has grown up around a charismatic and powerful warforged leader—the Lord of Blades. Somewhere within the border of dead-gray mist, the enclave of the Lord of Blades rises above the broken land as a beacon that gathers warforged who have dedicated themselves more to their construct heritage than to their living heritage. Every month or so, another warforged enters the Mournland in search of this supposed haven for living constructs. Some tales speak of the Lord of Blades as a great philosopher and teacher. Others paint him as a warlord and power-mad prophet seeking to establish a warforged nation from which to challenge the weaker, fleshbound races for supremacy of Khorvaire.
The gods have deserted the Mournland. However, the followers of the Lord of Blades see their leader as a prophet of sorts. His message is only to the warforged, since his scripture deals with building a nation of living constructs out of the Mournland and then carving an empire from the flesh and blood of the common races. His followers look forward to the Promised Time, when those created as slaves will rule over their former masters.
Once upon a time, Cyre was known for its fine manufactured goods and its remarkable arts and crafts. The wealthy throughout the Five Nations took pride in having one or more pieces from the master artists of Cyre in their collections. House Phiarlan made its headquarters in Cyre, where its Entertainers and Artisans Guild was a driving force in the creative spirit of the nation. (Rumors abound that House
Phiarlan somehow knew that disaster was imminent, since all its leading family members were off on business when the Day of Mourning occurred.) Today, nothing comes out of the Mournland except for grief, terror, and the occasional scavenged artifact left over from better days.
The laws of the Mournland are deceptively harsh and relatively simple: Those who enter the Mournland probably won’t survive. Those who do survive will be changed—physically, spiritually, and mentally. Nature doesn’t work here the way it does outside the dead-gray mists. In the Mournland the dead don’t decompose, or necessarily even stop moving. Some force or forces unleashed on the Day of Mourning
continue to mutate the land and the things that live (and die) there, creating monstrosities the likes of which have never before been seen on the continent of Khorvaire. (Natural healing does not occur in the Mournland, and spells and spell-like effects of the healing subschool do not work.)
The wretched creatures of the Mournland live by being smarter, stronger, luckier, or more cunning than those around them. Some laws of nature have been bent or broken here, but the ultimate law remains in effect—the fit and strong survive while the weak, slow, stupid, and unlucky die. Of course, even death might not be the end in this place.
The Lord of Blades maintains a lean government that resembles a cross between a theocracy and a military dictatorship. This warforged visionary sees himself as both a religious and military leader. In his camp, the word of the Lord of Blades is law and canon. The warforged that fl ock to his side accept his rule, or they are destroyed— the Lord of Blades allows no one to leave his movement.
The largest band of scavengers operating in the Mournland, Ikar’s Salvage has a mobile base of operations that wanders the western edge of the Cyre River, using barges to cross the river and elemental-powered land carts to cross the Mournland wastes. Despite their capable and professional appearance, Ikar’s team is ruthless and deadly, without regard for life—human or otherwise.
Ikar the Black leads a team of rough-and-tumble outlaws who have abandoned the trade roads to rob and rape the remnants of the Mournland. Ikar has open-ended contracts with the Karrnathi government,
Prince Oargev of New Cyre, and the Order of the Emerald Claw. Although he always remembers to sell something of interest to Karrnath and New Cyre, he saves the best of his loot for his masters in the Emerald Claw. Ikar and his band, which numbers about a dozen, make frequent runs into the Mournland, concentrating on the ruins of the capital city and the blasted land around it. Currently recovering from
an encounter with a living fi reball, the half-orc needs to audition applicants to replace the four men he lost.
A vicious band of pirates and marauders hides within the jungle of Khraal in southeastern Darguun. Led by the cruel Baalo One-Eye, the Khraal Lords terrorize the scattered goblinoid communities of southern Darguun. The band also possesses two small warships it recovered from a Cyran base on the Ghaal River. Now Baalo and his followers use the ships to raid vessels crossing Kraken Bay, though they avoid prey that is better armed or more sea-savvy than themselves (which includes most ships they come across). For this reason, the Khraal Lords have begun sending scavenging forays into the Mournland from the southern sea. With few connections outside Darguun, Baalo has been selling whatever relics he acquires to a House Deneith clerk who tends an outpost in Wyvernskull. The clerk, a hireling without blood ties to the house, pays a third of what the relics are worth and has been selling them, in turn, to Prince Oargev of New Cyre for a handsome profi t.
The warforged visionary known as the Lord of Blades has established the foundation for a warforged nation in the barren reaches of the Mournland. No one is quite sure where the Lord of Blades came from,
and no outsider knows exactly where his mythical city of living constructs might be located. Some tales claim that the Lord of Blades led the warforged armies of Cyre in the Last War. Others cast him as a newer warforged, perhaps the last to come out of the Cannith creation forges before the Thronehold Accords led to their dismantling. One black tale paints a story of how the Lord of Blades caused the
destruction of Cyre, warning that he plans to repeat the Day of Mourning in each of the remaining Five Nations. Whatever the truth, the warforged messiah has become a beacon for a segment of the warforged population—and is considered an abomination by the rest.
The Lord of Blades has a fanatical band of warforged followers at his side, devotees who memorize his sermons advocating supremacy for constructs. He preaches an apocalyptic vision of a future where the warforged will destroy or enslave the weaker nations of fl esh and blood. “We were made to rule Eberron,” the Lord of Blades has declared over and over again, “and the day will come when the warforged will inherit the world by blade and blood!”
No one knows how many warforged have joined forces with the Lord of Blades. While most authorities throughout the surrounding regions believe that this dangerous prophet exists, no one has been able to gather much intelligence concerning his activities. Even the elves of House Phiarlan are in the dark about the Lord of Blades—and that’s not a place the House of Shadow likes to be.
Cyre was the jewel of Galifar's crown in the heyday of the Kingdom. Renowned for its fine arts and crafts and production goods nobles across the kingdom sought pieces of Cyran manufacture. The Entertainers Guild and Artisans Guild of House Phiarlan was headquartered in Cyre and spurred the creative forces of the nation. It was Mishann then scion of Cyre who was to be appointed ruler of Galifar after King Jarot's death.
The Last War devastated Cyre, even before the Day of Mourning. Having a central location to all of the Five Nations the landscape was soon scarred by the constant warfare that waged within its borders. Great cities came crumbling to their foundations and public works bore the scars of battle all around. The most devastating of course, was the Day of Mourning which instantaneously eliminated all forms of life within the borders of Cyre. The cause of the Day of Mourning is still unknown and the dead landscape of the Mournland is a testament to the cruelty of the Last War.
Before the Mourning, a spring in the eastern part of Cyre fed the Rushing River as it traced a short but fertile path south to Kraken Bay. The Rushing River is now as dry and barren as the rest of the Mournland,
and the location of the spring is marked by the Crimson Water, a stagnant lake of blood-red water.
The shores of the Crimson Water are littered with the bones and corpses of animals and foolish travelers that have strayed into the Mournland and sought to slake their thirst with a drink from the lake. Its
depths hold the ruined Cyran town of Eastwood Springs, which once served as a resort town for the leisured classes of Cyre. Even Ikar’s Salvage has not dared mount an expedition into the toxic waters to recover any treasures that may lie within the ruins, however.
Despite its toxic waters, however, the lake does support life—of a sort. Water archons, their elemental forms the same deep red as the Crimson Water, have been seen around the lake, particularly on the southern shore. Their purpose and origin are unknown, but their presence would seem to suggest a link to the Elemental Chaos somewhere in or beneath the Crimson Water.
Eston, a successful mining settlement, once held the heart of House Cannith. Nearby hills fell into the city’s mines and numerous underground passages on the Day of Mourning, and the wracked earth shook Eston to the core. The ground swallowed whole areas of the city, leaving collapsed and ruined buildings all about.
Lost treasures of the Cannith holds still await the bold within Eston. House warehouses hold precious metals, including adamantine, from its mines. These stores make the city a prime site for looters, as well
as for warforged serving the Lord of Blades. The warforged are even said to have reopened some of the mines. They and the monsters of the Mournland make sure few treasure hunters return from Eston.
Allied armies from Breland and Thrane—supported by mercenaries from Zilargo, Valenar, and Darguun— converged in this broad area to do battle with the Cyran army. Along the Saerun Road, they clashed in
what might have been a decisive battle. As it turned out, this was the final major military event in the Last War. Soldiers on all sides—tens of thousands of them— died here in the Mourning. This haunted place is now the largest open grave in Eberron.
Not one item or corpse here shows any sign of decay or predation. The unwounded look as if they are sleeping, and weapons unmarred by time and weather shine in the Mournland’s eerie half-light. War
machines and military encampments stand idle, silent except when the wind moans and the wood creaks.
A large cliff now divides what was once rolling plains. It breaks the Saerun Road, which continues east toward Making before disappearing on the Glass Plateau. Since the fighting was fiercest between units
vying for control of the road, the bodies and hazards are also thickest along it.
Making is surrounded by a nightmare tableland of flat, pale glass. Jagged formations like blown glass, sometimes enormous in size, jut up from the ground here and there. Obsidian makes up the central plateau, forming bladelike protrusions. Liquid glass and magma ooze around the edges of the highland, and fire flashes deep under the glass. Living spells seem drawn to or are birthed in this desolate wasteland.
Making: The ruins of Making still peek above the obsidian flats of the Glass Plateau. Those who suspect that the Mourning started here also believe that Making is where the mystery will be unraveled. Living
spells and strange creatures gather in and around the city. Wild speculation asserts that a secret Cannith facility existed in the city’s subterranean depths.
Cold violet light illuminates the air and sky for miles around this gash in northern Cyre. The glow emanates from deep within the chasm, its source indiscernible from the canyon’s rim. Horrid monsters,
some mutated beyond recognition, congregate about the chasm. The bruised luminescence continues to warp them if they stay for long.
The capital of Cyre, Metrol sprawls along the banks of the Cyre River. Parts of the city remain untouched while others are scrambled, buildings rearranged and whole city sections askew from their prewar locations. The royal palaces of Vermishard, as well as the lightning rail station and the city arena, are intact within Metrol. The Cathedral on the Hill, dedicated to the Sovereign Host, also still stands.
Gray mist hangs in Metrol—a mist that survivors from the city say first appeared within the royal palaces. The city is silent by day. Explorers who return from the place tell tales of unquiet spirits and worse
emerging onto the streets at night, slaying any they find. Despite Metrol’s proximity to the border of the Mournland, only members of Ikar’s Salvage have had any luck looting the place. They aren’t talking about the hows and whys. The truth is that a secret order of magebred humanoids controls Metrol.
The greatest of the seven feyspires, Shaelas Tiraleth stood in splendor in southeastern Cyre in the years when Thelanis drew near to Eberron and the curtain between worlds was parted. It shone above the lush green hills and the shining waters of Kraken Bay on the Day of Mourning, and its utter annihilation rocked the foundations of the other six eladrin cities and seems to have lodged them firmly in the world.
Many would love to explore the remains of the Court of the Silver Tree, as it was known, either to pillage its treasures or to explore its planar ties to the Feywild of Thelanis. However, no explorers have yet
found their way to the spires and returned to boast of their triumph. Either the gleaming city was lost to the devastation of the Mourning, or it is haunted by perils so deadly that any who find it are slain.
Foulspawn, kuo-toas, and other aberrant creatures occupy this abandoned city, which was once a major stop on the lightning rail. The cityscape has been warped beyond recognition. Its inhabitants raid the
Talenta Plains from their twisted homes in Tronish, or from holds near Lake Cyre or the Crimson Water.
The halflings of Gatherhold whisper that some nameless horror directs the activity in Tronish from the depths of one of those bodies of water. They note the weird lights that flash and glow in western Lake Cyre. Some say the presence of aberrant creatures proves that the destruction of Cyre came from Khyber and perhaps an imprisoned daelkyr, but the evidence is circumstantial at best.
The Cyrans who weren’t killed in the disaster that mutated the region fl ed to safer locales and now live as exiles in other lands. Few sentient beings live within the borders of the dead-gray mists, and no survivors of the old order can be found in this shattered realm. The arcane force that destroyed the nation killed most living things, so survival itself is a near-impossible struggle. Now mutated monsters roam the land, preying on each other and grazing on the stubborn thornweeds that alone seem to thrive in the blasted land.
The borders of the Mournland are easily distinguished by the dead gray mist that lingers across what were once the political borders of the nation. Why the mists hold in such a defined area is unknown. To the north the Mournland touches against the Cyre River coming off of Scions Sound and emptying into Lake Cyre on the Mournland's eastern border. The Brey River marks part of it's northwest boundary while its border with Breland is only marked by the hanging mist. Similarly in the goblin nation of Darguun the dead gray mist is a constant reminder of the border of the Mournland. To the south lies Kraken Bay and to the east the Blade Desert of Valenar.
In the Mournland, the wounds of war never heal, vile magical effects linger, and monsters mutate into even more foul and horrible creatures. Arcane effects continue to rain upon the land like magical storms that never dissipate. Misshapened by the unnatural forces resent across the region, monsters rage and hunt as they struggle to survive. Sometimes even some of the dead, animated by strange
powers radiating from the blasted ground, rise up to continue fighting the war that has long since ended for the living. In this land of disaster and mutation, a charismatic warforged gathers followers to his side and seeks to build an empire of his own.
A dead-gray mist hugs the borders of the Mournland, creating a barrier that only occasionally offers a glimpse of the desolation and devastation inside. Beyond the mist, this battle-scarred region remains a grim memory of the Last War, cloaked in perpetual twilight. Like a wound that will not heal, the land is broken and blasted. In some places the ground has fused into jagged glass. In others, it is cracked
and burned and gouged. Broken bodies of soldiers from various sides litter the landscape—soldiers whose dead bodies refuse to decompose. The Mournland is, quite literally, a vast open grave.
Once, Cyre shone more brightly than any of its sibling nations in the kingdom of Galifar. The Last War took a toll on the nation and its citizens, slowly toppling its many achievements as it became the battleground on which the armies of Karrnath and Thrane and Breland clashed. Finally, disaster struck. No one knows if the catastrophe was caused by a weapon from an enemy nation or a doomsday device of Cyre’s own design. The cataclysm may have been deliberate; it may have been an accident. In the end, the result was the same.
Beautiful Cyre, jewel of Galifar’s vast holdings, exploded in a blast of arcane power the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the ruin of Xen’drik forty thousand years before. On the Day of Mourning in 994 YK, Cyre disappeared. Now the region that was once Cyre goes by a different, darker name. Now it is simply the Mournland.