Aboreans

Origins and Creation

The Aboreans are sentient plant-like and fungal beings born from the chaotic merging of two Eldritch Gods’ influences: Gulyathnera, the God of Thought, and Slorb, the God of Corruption and Disease.

Physiology: Unity in Diversity

Aboreans are as varied as the environments they inhabit, their forms mirroring the flora of their homelands. Those dwelling in deserts resemble cacti, bristling with thorns and storing water deep within. Jungle Aboreans manifest as towering, vine-laden entities, while their tundral kin appear as hardy, frost-coated beings with glowing fungal blooms. This adaptability ensures their survival across the multiverse’s myriad landscapes.

Plant-Like Aboreans: These photosynthetic beings rely on sunlight for sustenance, their forms often adorned with vibrant leaves, flowers, or bark-like skin.
Fungal Aboreans: Thriving on decomposition, they feed on organic matter, their bodies often unsettling in appearance, covered in spores, mushrooms, and strange growths.

Interooting

When many Aboreans work closely together, they can enter a trance-like state where their individual consciousnesses blur into a collective mind. In this state, they act with perfect synchronicity, achieving tasks that would be impossible alone. This phenomenon is both awe-inspiring and unsettling, as the individuality of each Aborean momentarily dissolves.

Beings of Root and Mind

The first time I experienced Interooting, I was afraid. The elders told me it would be like a dream, but dreams end, don’t they? What if I couldn’t find my way back? What if I became lost in the tangle of thoughts and roots, just another strand in the endless web?

We sat in a circle beneath the Mother-Birch, its canopy stretching high into the golden light. The air was thick with the hum of sap and the rustle of ancient leaves. I felt their presence even before we began—their thoughts brushing against mine like leaves carried on a gentle breeze. Familiar, yet alien. Comforting, yet vast.

When it began, it was slow. My thoughts rippled outward, and theirs flowed in to meet them. It was like roots digging deep into the same soil, entwining and exchanging life. At first, I held on to myself, gripping tightly to the idea of I. I am Solen. I am the Gardener of the Eastern Grove. These are my hands. This is my bark. This is my mind.

But then, the tide came. It wasn’t something I could resist, nor did I want to. My thoughts weren’t stolen; they were shared. My fears were answered by memories of others: the soft glow of moonlight on a meadow, the taste of rainfall on a parched forest, the ache of roots stretching too far for water. These weren’t mine, but they were me.

As the bond deepened, time lost meaning. Minutes, hours, days—these were human constructs, not ours. We moved together, planned together, worked together. A grove was planted, a river redirected, a predator driven away. Every action felt guided by a singular purpose, yet the hands and minds completing it were many.

I spoke, but my voice was their voice, and their voice was mine. "We see," we said. "We grow. We endure."

When the task was done and the Interooting ended, I came back to myself. Slowly, the threads unraveled, and I was Solen again. The grove was quiet, the Mother-Birch’s branches still. But something lingered—a trace of the unity, the shared purpose, the boundless kinship.

I wonder, sometimes, if I left a part of myself behind. Or maybe I’ve carried them with me. When I close my eyes, I still feel the echo of their thoughts, faint and distant, like the rustle of leaves on a faraway wind. It doesn’t frighten me anymore.

Because I know that when the time comes, I will return to the circle. And we will be one again.

Aborean Statistics

D&D 5th Edition

Creature Type: Plant

Size: Small or Medium

Height: Ranges from 4 to 8 feet, depending on the species of flora they emulate.

Weight :Varies based on type; small Aboreans (like fungi) may weigh as little as 40 pounds, while larger ones (tree-like) can exceed 300 pounds.

Speed: 30 Feet

Abilities

Divine Flora: Choose one of the following benefits provided from the type of flora your Aborean resembles.

Verdant Flora: You can recover from wounds by bathing in sunlight. If you spend at least 1 hour in natural sunlight during a short or long rest, you can regain hit points equal to twice your proficiency bonus and restore any lost limbs. If you spend at least 4 hours in natural sunlight you do not need to eat.

Fungal Flora: You gain resistance to poison damage. You do not need to eat or drink, as you sustain yourself by absorbing organic matter in your environment.

Budding: You can cast Find Familiar once per long rest. The familiar takes on a Plant form, with features reflecting your own Aborean traits (e.g., a tiny sapling, a glowing mushroom, or a miniature version of your own floral features).

The familiar gains the following unique traits:
- Its type is Plant.
- It has an aura of empathy; creatures within 10 feet of it have advantage on Insight checks to detect emotions.
- It shares the physical appearance of your Aborean flora type (Verdant or Fungal).

Perspectives

The Child of Evolution

In the damp, twisting underworld of New Oasis, Sporemother Thyllia conducted her experiments with a fervor that bordered on worship. Her latest project lay on a damp slab of stone, illuminated by the ghostly blue bioluminescence radiating from her mushroom-like form. The subject—a frail mutant with sunken eyes and pallid, sickly skin—had stumbled into her realm weeks ago, a lamb lost in the mire. To Thyllia, it was no accident; it was perfection. A blank canvas.

“Slorb watches,” she whispered, her voice a wet, sloshing croak as she ran a spindly, fungal tendril along the humanoids arm. “Through rot, we create.”

From a pulsating sac on her torso, she extracted a viscous, brownish-green fluid that shimmered with faint, rainbow hues. It reeked of damp earth and decay, a stench so potent it could curdle the air. The "Rotfather’s Elixir," as she called it, contained spores cultivated from her own essence, infused with the viral potency of a dozen failed experiments.

With reverence, she pressed the needle-sharp tip of a hollow fungal stalk into the mutant’s jugular. The once-man whimpered weakly, its body too far gone to resist. A wet squelch sounded as the fluid entered its veins. The reaction was immediate.

The mutants body convulsed violently, its thin limbs thrashing against the restraints. Flesh blistered and split, releasing sprays of yellowish ichor that hissed as it hit the cold stone floor. Pustules erupted across its skin, bubbling grotesquely before bursting open to reveal tiny, pulsating mushrooms with fleshy caps. They grew at an unnatural pace, creeping like vines to consume their limbs. The creature’s face twisted in agony as its jaw unhinged with a sickening pop, a tendril of spore-laden mycelium forcing its way out like a grotesque second tongue.

Thyllia watched in rapturous silence, her bulbous, glowing eyes unblinking. This mutants screams turned to guttural, gurgling moans as the fungal growths spread further, their roots burrowing into muscle and bone. The air grew thick with spores, swirling in faint, shimmering patterns. The man—no, the vessel—was transforming, its flesh dissolving into a hybrid mass of writhing fungus and trembling sinew.

When the convulsions ceased, the creature lay still, its chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. Mushrooms of varying shapes and colors adorned its form, their caps opening and closing like mouths gasping for air. A soft, phosphorescent glow radiated from its wounds, illuminating the sewer walls with a sickly green hue.

Thyllia leaned closer, her tendrils quivering with excitement. “Beautiful,” she rasped, her voice dripping with reverence. “A herald of Slorb’s infinite wisdom. Soon, the surface will know what we are capable of.”

She reached out, her spongy, mushroomed hand brushing against the creature’s pulsating fungal crown. It twitched at her touch, releasing a puff of spores that danced around her like a toxic halo. Thyllia inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of rot and rebirth.

Her lips curled into a smile that stretched too far, her jagged teeth glistening with moisture. The experiment was far from over.

Selflessness over Shadow

The air in the clinic was thick with the scent of antiseptic and damp earth. Sunbeams filtered through the cracked ceiling, catching motes of pollen that danced lazily around the towering figure of Ala'thoris, the Aborean healer. A patient—a Chimeran with patchwork skin and eyes that blinked independently—groaned as Ala'thoris' gnarled hands hovered above their chest.

From their fingertips, a warm golden light spilled forth, flowing into the Chimeran’s ragged wounds. Fractured bones knitted together, and weeping sores sealed over with fresh, healthy skin. The Chimeran’s breathing steadied, and their mismatched eyes fluttered closed in relief.

“It’s done,” Ala'thoris murmured, their voice a deep rustle like leaves stirred by the wind. “Rest now.”

The patient mumbled a hoarse thank you before shuffling out into the noise of New Oasis, leaving the Aborean alone in the dim light of their clinic.

A soft rustling sound drew Ala'thoris' gaze downward. At their roots lay a fresh pile of fallen leaves—crimson and gold, their edges curled with decay. A sigh escaped their lips as they touched the bare branches of their arm, once lush with moss and foliage but now thinning to brittle twigs.

“I give and give,” they mused aloud, their words soft and weary. “Yet there is always more need. How many more will come tomorrow? Will I have enough left to give?”

Their moss-covered shoulders slumped as they turned to the window, gazing out at the smog-choked horizon of New Oasis. The city groaned under the weight of sickness and decay, its people scattered like leaves in a storm. Ala'thoris had never doubted their purpose, but today, they felt the faintest tremor of uncertainty.

Still, they reached out, plucking a fallen leaf from the ground and holding it close to their chest. “For now, I will give what I can,” they whispered.

Tomorrow, the branches could break. But today, the roots held firm.

Aborean Names

Ala'thoris

Mycaelith

Branthyll

Sylvaron

Thallidra

Lunthera

Morathyl

Phorvess

Thyllora

Mossiven

Keltharan

Virelosh

Zyphyrris

Orrivena

Sporethil

Tendrivane

Xylophane

Farnallis

Gloathil

Eryndril

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