Eternity TTRPG

Transcribed content from our recent YouTube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgWieYGo8k8 Transcription In Druskenvald, the fields whisper. When the harvest is ready, something else rises too — figures of burlap and bone, lit from within by ancient green magic. Welcome to Druskenvald, under the eerie light of the Crooked Moon, where the Harvestborn stand as living scarecrows bound to the land, the harvest … life and death. Crooked Moon has become one of my favorite adventure supplements of all time, and you can get a copy from D&D Beyond. Today on Eternity TTRPG , we’re diving deep into one of the most unique ancestries in the Crooked Moon setting: the Harvestborn . Whether you’re a player looking to build an unforgettable character, you’re a DM planning your next atmospheric campaign, or just someone who loves rich D&D lore, this video is for you. We’re breaking down who the Harvestborn are, where they come from, what makes them so magically eerie, and how their mechanics and lore work together to create incredible storytelling opportunities. Think of this as your complete guide to understanding — and playing — these scarecrow-souled guardians of Enoch.” The Harvestborn are somewhat like other mechanical races in D&D — but their spooky scarecrow model just makes for great stories, worth telling. In The Crooked Moon / Druskenvald setting, each ancestry (or “species”) does have a sort of “home province,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean they only exist there. Harvestborn are a constructed species native to the province of Enoch in Druskenvald. According to lore, they are crafted with great care by the lord of Enoch, Methuselah. These constructs are infused with a vibrant, green magic — the same life-essence that flows through the fertile fields of their homeland. Methuselah is the patient, almost paternal figure who oversees the province of Enoch . He is deeply attuned to the green magic of his land — not merely as a ruler, but as a guardian of the cycle of life, death, and rebirth: under his watch, Harvestborn are created, nurtured, and eventually laid to rest so they may be reborn. Though he is a lord, Methuselah is less interested in dominion through fear, and more through stewardship: his role is tied to growth and harvest, not conquest. This makes him a figure of both authority and nurture — one who shapes his people not just from straw and wood, but with intention and magic. In a province-overview document for Enoch, Methuselah is described as: “a black-furred cat-man with eyes as gold as the province’s grain fields …” For role-playing, you could lean into the mystery of who this creator of Harvestborn is, and how his Character affects the Harvestborn: Where did this mysterious, and obviously powerful figure come from? What is his magical or ancestral origin? Does he share any soul-link with his Harvestborn creations? Back to the Harvestborn, they resemble scarecrows — bodies of wood, straw, metal, and other implements. Their heads glow, sometimes made from pumpkins, turnips, or even burlap sacks. But though they look like eerie husks, they are deeply tied to life … and to death. In their society, they live in harmony, focusing on community, fellowship, and the cycles of growth. Food is their harvest; death is their rebirth. Mechanically, Harvestborn are constructs — not quite living, but driven by magic. They are Medium size, approximately 4 to 7 feet tall, and in-game move at 30 feet per round. One of their defining traits is called Culling : when a Harvestborn damages a creature that is already wounded, they can deal an extra 1d12 necrotic damage . That’s powerful — especially when you’re finishing off a foe.” But like their creator, they’re not just about dealing death. Harvestborn also have Gift of the Green . As a bonus action, you can touch the ground and grant healing: a friendly creature within 30 feet can roll a Hit Die, and they heal the amount rolled plus your proficiency bonus. Then there’s Jack-O-Lantern : you know the Dancing Lights cantrip, and you choose whether your spellcasting ability is Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma. Being constructs, you don’t need to breathe, eat, or drink. That’s the Scarecrow Nature trait. And for rest, you can actually skip sleep entirely: instead, you can take a Watchful Rest — staying motionless and conscious for 4 hours, but still count it as a long rest. The Harvestborn are deeply thematic. Their existence is a living tension between life and death — they harvest crops, but they also harvest life’s vital essence. Their cycle of rebirth is intrinsic: they often live around 100 years , and then ‘accept death’ … only to be reborn again. As a player, this opens up incredible role-playing opportunities. Do Harvestborn remember their past incarnations? Do they cherish each lifetime, or dread what comes next? Are they fully aware of their created nature … or do they feel things in a way similar to how a living soul does? From a thematic standpoint, Harvestborn embody folk horror beautifully: agricultural rituals, seasonal death and rebirth, quiet sacrifices in the fields. Their identity is bound to community — they grow and heal their people, they protect the land … but they are also constructs, perhaps seen as eerie or uncanny by outsiders. On a personal level: what memories do Harvestborn carry between lifetimes? Do they still form strong bonds with people of other ancestries, knowing they might reincarnate only to find their friend permanently dead? And then, perhaps, do they fear what it means to be reborn? “So — why pick a Harvestborn for your Crooked Moon game? First, for the unique flavor: you’re not a typical D&D race. You’re a magical construct with deep roots in folk horror. Your mechanics reflect a duality: offensive power (Culling) and support (Gift of the Green), with cycles of death and rebirth.” “Second, the role-playing potential is huge. Harvestborn come built in with internal conflict, an apparently never-ending cycle of life and death, the mystery of reincarnation — that’s rich ground for character development. And third, they fit the Fall/ Harvest time aesthetic: moody fields, harvest rituals, green magic shimmering in twilight — Harvestborn are made for a Harvest/ Halloween setting.” At the end of the day, Harvestborn are more than just scarecrows — they are echoes of the land itself, vessels of green magic, and agents of an eternal cycle. In the folk-horror world of The Crooked Moon, they also bring a unique combination of power, mystery, and heart.” But now, it’s your turn. If you were to play a Harvestborn in your next game, how do you think you’d face your life, knowing that even after death – you’d simply be reborn? Would you welcome rebirth — or resist it, knowing that you’d never be able to outrun yourself, even at the end of your life? And if you could carry something forward into your next life – experiences you’ve had, love you’ve shared, desires you’ve felt, what would that be?” “Drop your thoughts in the comments — I’d love to hear your cool Harvestborn roleplay ideas. And if you enjoyed this deep dive into one of Crooked Moon’s coolest ancestries, don’t forget to like, subscribe, and hit the bell. Next time, we’ll explore another one of Crooked Moon’s lineages. Until then, may your roots stay deep, your light burn bright, and may every ending lead you toward your next beginning.

Transcribed content from our recent YouTube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRQRNqRGVMs Transcription Hey everyone, welcome back to Eternity TTRPG.  With the last recap of Critical Role’s fourth campaign, in episode 2, the Falconer’s Rebellion echoed through Dol-Makjar, and an angel’s bloodline rewrote what faith looks like in the series. This third episode — The Snipping of Shears — pulls those threads tight: divine secrets, infernal bargains, and a murder that changes everything. As a quick note before jumping in, if you haven’t seen my prior recaps of this Critical Role campaign, you should know that A LOT happens in these 4.5hr-ish episodes. Cutting all of that down to about 10minutes means that there will be a lot of summarization. If there’s anything you don’t quite follow, check out my previous recaps for more context. This episode opens with Teor Pridesire, the soldier trying to live quietly under the banner of the Candescent Creed. Sir Filoneus Halovar hires him as Wick Halovar’s new bodyguard and sends him to the Mercanaud Couturier — a tailor’s shop with more whispers than fabric. In the bustling Ogrimok Market, where magic is forbidden, Teor runs into Sir Julien Davinos, who’s searching for Occtis Tachonis. Julien recognizes the Couturier’s name — they make problems disappear for the Halovars. Teor, unaware, walks straight toward them. Back in Villa Aurora, Wick faces a truth that upends everything he believes. Photarch Yanessa Halovar reveals that the chained celestial beneath their temple — Aetheon — is his grandfather. After the gods fell, she took Aetheon’s blood and wished for a child touched by the sun. That child became Godard, Wick’s father — and the foundation of the Candescent Creed. The Halovars turned divine theft into religion. Yanessa built her empire of light to survive a world without gods — and tells Wick the rules of faith are for others. His duty is legacy: marry well, expand Filament, and remember that true power runs in the family’s blood. For Wick, his prior belief has just curdled into this sickening feeling of betrayal. Reeling from the truth, Wick turns to the only person who’s ever been somewhat(?) fully honest with him — his demon companion, Tyranny. She was crafted by the Prince of Demonkind, to serve the Creed’s image, and bargain for souls. But Tyranny hates her purpose. She’s bound to Wick alone, and begs him not to send her back to the Pit. They realize they’re both trapped by family expectations — a believer and a demon chained by faith and fear. Wick promises she’ll stay free, and together they plan to rescue Teor before the Halovars decide that he’s expendable. In another corner of Dol-Makjar, the hunt for Occtis grows dangerous. At the Penteveral, Murray Mag’nesson stands up to Primus Tachonis himself — and is promptly cursed for it. Meanwhile, Occtis, Thimble, and Kattigan are ambushed by the Crow Keepers in the Guard Tower. Vaelus bursts in mid-fight, saving Thimble from a grisly end. The gang learns that Casimir — Thimble’s former ally — had been stealing from the Crow Keepers, paid his debt in blood, and left behind a deed to a fortress, now stolen by Cyd. It’s one more piece in a spreading puzzle of betrayal. While others fight and scheme, Thaisha and Hal Fang build something new — the Hallowed Round, a theatre rising from Dol-Makjar’s old scars. Once a temple of oppression, it’s now reclaimed for art and community. An orc musician reminds Thaisha that rebellion isn’t just war — it’s creation. At the Couturier, Teor meets the Mercanaud brothers — charming, unsettling, and reeking of infernal power. Before he can act, he’s trapped in a circle carved into the floor — a nine-pointed star that reeks of sulfur. Calastro Mercanaud begins cutting Teor’s shadow apart, piece by piece, with silver shears. Then, salvation: Wick and Tyranny arrive under false orders, bluff their way in, and free Teor. The three escape, but Tyranny’s terror says everything — they’ve just angered something far darker than House Halovar. At Hal’s home, the pieces finally align. Hal attunes to Thjazi’s sword — the Liar’s Blade — and sends Thimble north to avenge their brother. Wick, Tyranny, Teor, Thimble, and Kattigan form a small band: the Soldier’s Table. Azune watches them ride out, whispering the names of the fallen. It feels like history beginning again. At the Palazzo Davinos, the story turns from politics to nightmare. Julien watches in frozen horror as an invisible assassin reaches into his father’s skull and pulls it free. Upstairs, Occtis and Aranessa are trapped by silence as his brother Ethrand arrives — holding the Stone of Nightsong. He orders the ghouls to open Occtis’s chest and put the stone ‘where it belongs.’ And then? Fade to black. Alright — here’s why The Snipping of Shears hits so hard, and what you can learn from it for your own table.” 1. Secrets mean more when they’re personal. When Wick learns that his faith is built on a lie — that his family’s light was stolen from a fallen celestial — it’s devastating not just because it’s awesome lore, but because it’s his grandmother telling him the truth. That’s the lesson: don’t dump exposition from an old scroll. Deliver it through someone the character trusts. When revelations come from family, mentors, or companions, the heartbreak feels real, and the fallout drives roleplay for sessions to come. 2. Make corruption generational. The Halovars inherited sin. Yanessa’s wish twisted faith into an empire, Godard’s blood carries celestial power as a burden, and Wick now bears that legacy whether he wants it – or in this case, definitely not. And that’s the power of it. Tyranny’s existence also mirrors that cycle — a demon born into a contract she never chose. If you want emotional weight, make power in your world come with ancestry, or family, attached. Maybe a magic sword remembers every life it’s taken, or a player’s bloodline is blessed by something they don’t believe in. Legacy as corruption creates tension between destiny and free will — one of the best engines for storytelling in D&D. 3. Mix horror with heart. The Couturier scene in this episode works because of what’s being taken. Teor’s shadow — his literal sense of self — is being cut apart. It’s a nightmare. And it is the kind of horror that lingers. When using horror at your table, think beyond monsters. Ask, ‘What does this threaten about who the character is, at their core?’ A curse that erases memories, a haunting that whispers a player’s thoughts back to them — those are the scares that deepen character growth. And that’s it for Episode 3. Celestial secrets, infernal contracts, and one unforgettable assassination. What do you think — is Wick destined for redemption or ruin? Drop your theories below, and join me next time as we follow the Soldier’s Table north. Until then — let your dice fly, and may your stories be legendary.