The Liminal Tutelari exist on a perilous threshold: neither fully alive nor truly dead. Created by the residue of old necromancy, or through painstaking rituals by skilled necromancers, they appear as eerie echoes of their previous mortal selves. Yet they carry a mandate that few can comprehend: to protect the living and safeguard the dead.
In the eyes of ordinary folk, a Tutelar might pass as a gaunt human or half-elf—until one sees their cold skin and distant eyes. Undead, by contrast, sometimes fail to notice a Tutelar’s half-living aura, making them ideal mediators when tensions flare between worlds. Their own creators, however, might twist them into servitude. A Liminal Tutelari’s existence is a dance between duty, memory, and the silent pull of oblivion.
Your Constitution score increases by 2, and one other ability score of your choice (usually Strength or Dexterity) increases by 1.
Alternatively: To represent their unliving resilience, you might allow +2 Constitution and +1 Strength or +2 Constitution and +1 Wisdom, if you want an introspective guardian archetype. Discuss with your GM which option suits your campaign.
Liminal Tutelari do not age in the traditional sense and can persist for centuries if left undisturbed. However, prolonged existence can fray their psyche, leading some to “fade” mentally long before their bodies cease functioning.
Tutelari inherit no innate moral code from their creation, yet many feel a compulsion to uphold balance between the realms. They lean toward neutral alignments or find themselves torn between dutiful protection and the cold apathy of undeath.
Tutelari retain the size they had in life, typically Medium or Small (choose upon character creation). Their frames may appear slightly gaunt or rigid, but otherwise they can pass as their former mortal race at a glance.
Your base walking speed is 30 feet.
You are both a Humanoid and Undead. If an effect works on at least one of a creature’s types, it can affect you. For example, cure wounds still works on you because it affects Humanoids, though you may be subjected to certain undead-turning effects as well.
Accustomed to seeing beyond mortal ken, you can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light (shades of gray only).
Liminal Tutelari occupy a strange boundary between life and death. You gain the following benefits and drawbacks:
Once per long rest, you can mark a creature within 30 feet (living or undead) as a bonus action. Until the start of your next turn:
This power reflects your uncanny role as a sentinel between two worlds, drawing threats away from allies—be they mortal or spirit.
As an action, you can focus your senses to perceive the life force or deathly energy of a single creature you can see within 30 feet. You learn whether it is living, undead, or neither, and if it’s below half its maximum hit points or stable/unconscious. You can use this action a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all uses after a long rest.
(If you don’t want extra complexity, feel free to omit this feature.)
While you retain echoes of the skills and languages you once knew, your identity is fragmented. You may choose one skill you had in life, gaining proficiency in it. Alternatively, you can roll once on the “Glimpses of a Past Life” table at character creation, weaving that memory into your background. Periodically, your GM may prompt you to roll again as you rediscover who you were.
You can speak, read, and write Common. You also know one exotic or secretive language that you cannot fully explain, presumably a holdover from your necromantic origin (such as Abyssal, Undercommon, or another cryptic tongue).
Outwardly, a Liminal Tutelar resembles the mortal species they once were—elf, human, or otherwise. On closer inspection, their complexion appears unnaturally pallid or gray, often feeling cool or clammy to the touch. Where a heartbeat once throbbed, now there’s a muffled pulse or none at all. Some conceal their condition beneath layers of clothing, gloves, or makeup. Others embrace a solemn aesthetic, adorning themselves with tokens from both funerary rites and their old culture.
Socially, Liminal Tutelari are met with suspicion by the living, who see only an undead husk, and by the undead, who sense a living spark. Temples dedicated to death gods may grudgingly accept Tutelari, especially those who serve as psychopomps or protectors of graveyards. Necromancers sometimes seek them out, either to bind them or study their unique dual nature. Few find warm welcomes or permanent homes, forging solitary paths or joining small enclaves of similarly outcast souls.
Because each Tutelar retains vestiges of their original racial appearance, sizes can range from halfling-like small forms to the towering frames of orcish or Goliath ancestry. Some Tutelari display elaborate death marks: cracked lines of necrotic energy or faintly glowing runic scars from the magic that raised them. A rare few show a gentle flush of color in their cheeks, passing nearly undetected among mortals.
Mental capacity and personalities can vary dramatically. Some remain near-catatonic or speak in a quiet monotone, overwhelmed by partial amnesia. Others reclaim swathes of memory, regaining passions or grudges from their past life. Though widely feared or pitied, the Liminal Tutelari’s role as watchers and guardians offers them moments of belonging—standing vigil in crypts, averting necromantic crises, and guiding lost spirits toward final rest.