Homebrew Drakefiend Species Details

 I’ve seen many things in my years of planetary and planar exploration, but nothing like this.

 

These refineries aren’t built—they’re grown. The iron here is bone-deep, fused with sinew and molten circuitry. Pipes pulse like arteries. Smoke doesn’t rise; it writhes, as if the very air is choking on its own guilt. I followed a scream through the smog, thinking it might be another lost soul. It wasn’t. It was one of them—Drakefiends. Metallic claws. Charred scale. Sparks bleeding from their backs like fireflies caught in a furnace.

 

These weren’t dragonborn. They were once, perhaps. Now? They’ve been remade. Forged into something worse.

 

I found a control pillar—half altar, half console—laced with infernal script and stamped with the mark of the Vile. They’re not supposed to operate this deep. And yet… here it is. Proof. Collaboration. Blasphemy.

 

I don’t know if this is a war machine or a birthing chamber, but it breathes.

 

If I make it back, I’ll submit this to the Corps. If I don’t—tell Miriam not to open my pack. The sketches alone could drive her mad.

 

Hell isn’t fire and brimstone.

 

It’s precision. It’s purpose.

 

And it’s evolving.

 

— Jedediah Clay, Foundry Researcher

 

Born of dragons, reforged in Hellfire. The Drakefiends bear the scorched legacy of what the dragonborn once were—and what they have become in the depths of the Infernal Refineries. Once proud heirs of draconic might, these beings have been torn from their natural path and violently reshaped by infernal machinery and unholy purpose. Their flesh is fused with smoldering metal; their bones groan beneath the weight of implanted armor and steaming hydraulics.

 

Some say they were once soldiers, chosen for their strength and loyalty. Others whisper that they were volunteers, seeking power beyond mortal comprehension. But most are silent—either because they do not remember, or because they dare not speak of what was done to them.

 

They are no longer children of the dragons. They are weapons. Engines of rage. Servants of the Furnace Lords who dwell where flame bleeds oil and gears grind bone. And yet, somewhere beneath the plating and fire… echoes of their former selves remain, flickering like embers in the ash.

Twisted Kin of Flame and Steel

Drakefiends resemble dragonborn only in silhouette—tall, broad, and clawed—but up close, the resemblance ends. Their scales have been seared and fused with blackened iron plating, glowing with infernal heat where flesh meets metal. Gears churn beneath their chests, and tubes filled with burning ichor run along their limbs like exposed veins. Wings, once mythic symbols of freedom, have been replaced with exhaust vents or jagged blade frames. Most have no tails, though some models retain a segmented metallic spine that twitches like a severed nerve.

 

In life, they bore the hues of their draconic ancestors—red, gold, bronze, obsidian black—but those colors have long since been charred away, leaving only slag-gray, rusted crimson, or ash-white plates. Whatever unique beauty they once possessed has been replaced by uniform dread: symmetry forged in furnaces, not wombs. Each stands over 6 feet tall, weighing more than 350 pounds, their bodies reinforced by hellforged implants and internal support structures.

 

The Broken Code

Drakefiends know nothing of clan loyalty, only programming. Whatever honor once flowed through their veins has been drained and replaced by orders. They do not honor gods, nor kin—only directives. Some still echo their former lives in strange habits: polishing old clan symbols etched into their armor, repeating ancient mantras like corrupted code loops, or standing vigil over battlefields long after the fighting ends.

 

Self-improvement has been replaced with enforced adaptation. They are constantly upgraded, repurposed, or broken down for parts. Failure does not bring shame—it brings disassembly. Drakefiends do not strive for excellence; they are refined toward it by those who command the refinery. Even so, rare units—“wild Drakefiends,” as some call them—break free of their control and seek something greater. These aberrations are feared even by their own kind.

 

They do not ask for help. They do not offer it. They are not a people. They are a process.

 

Designation, Not Name

Drakefiends have no true names. They are given designations—serial strings etched into their cores, code-names tied to their function, or cruel nicknames granted by their handlers. Some may carry fragments of old names, burned half-away in their memories, repeating them like static in their speech.

 

Common Designations: Unit V-RX1, Embersteel, Hellcoil, Fracture-9, Pyrelock, Redline, Craterborn, Furnace-Thorn

Forgotten Names: Kriv, Mehen, Sora, Nadarr, Thava—spoken like myths, or dreams remembered only in pain.

Refinery Clusters: Cael’Baraz Line, Ironscourge Batch, Turnuroth Obsidian Tier, Wyrmlock Nest, Painforge Sector IX 

The Vile

They call themselves architects of evolution, though the planes know them by a simpler name: The Vile. A hellbound cult of fleshwrights, warlocks, and rogue artificers, The Vile see the blood of dragons not as sacred—but as raw material. To them, the dragonborn were a blueprint, not a people. In secret forges beneath the Nine Hells, they tore these beings apart and rebuilt them—melding scale with steel, soul with circuitry, fire with function. 

The Vile worship no gods. They revere progress without restraint. Each Drakefiend is a sacrament in their eyes—a holy fusion of infernal science and biological perfection. They don’t see abominations. They see prototypes.

 

And they are never finished.

 

Drakefiend Traits

Your draconic origin remains visible beneath the plating and scorchmarks, manifesting in corrupted traits that echo what once belonged to the dragonborn.

Ability Score Increase

Your Strength score increases by 2, and your Charisma score increases by 1.

Age

Drakefiends are made at adulthood, but don’t age like a normal, biological being. They slowly deteriorate over the course of millennium. They live to be around 400, but usually don’t last any longer than 200 due to dying in fights.

Perpetual Inferno

During the procedures that forged you from the living beast you were before, your heart was replaced by an Infernal Engine. This keeps you in a constant state of pain. However, there are benefits to the Hell-fueled heart.

You are unable to sleep. However, you do have to be in an inactive state to regain Hit Points.

Twice per Long Rest, you can cast Regenerate at 7th level once you reach level 13.

And, if you’re dropped to 0 HP, you can forgo your death rolls and instead expend one of your Regenerate uses to get yourself back up.

Size

Drakefiends are taller and heavier than humans, standing well over 6 feet tall and averaging almost 350 pounds. Your size is Medium.

Speed

Your base walking speed is 40 feet.

Draconic Ancestry

You have draconic ancestry. Choose one type of dragon from the Draconic Ancestry table. Your breath weapon and damage resistance are determined by the dragon type, as shown in the table.

Draconic Ancestry

Dragon	Damage Type	Breath Weapon
Black	Tar	5 by 30 ft. line (Dex. save)
Blue	Lightning	5 by 30 ft. line (Dex. save)
Brass	Fire	5 by 30 ft. line (Dex. save)
Bronze	Lightning	5 by 30 ft. line (Dex. save)
Copper	Magma	5 by 30 ft. line (Dex. save)
Gold	Fire	15 ft. cone (Dex. save)
Green	Poison	15 ft. cone (Con. save)
Red	Fire	15 ft. cone (Dex. save)
Silver	Plasma	15 ft. cone (Con. save)
White	Plasma	15 ft. cone (Con. save)

Breath Weapon

You can use your action to exhale destructive energy. Your draconic ancestry determines the size, shape, and damage type of the exhalation. When you use your breath weapon, each creature in the area of the exhalation must make a saving throw, the type of which is determined by your draconic ancestry. The DC for this saving throw equals 8 + your Constitution modifier + your proficiency bonus. A creature takes 3d6 damage on a failed save, and half as much damage on a successful one. The damage increases to 4d6 at 6th level, 5d6 at 11th level, and 6d6 at 16th level.

Damage Immunity

You have immunity to the damage type associated with your draconic ancestry.

Fueled by Suffering

As a creature forged in Hell, you’re required to sustain yourself off of the blood and pain of others. You’re required to kill at least one creature per day, or suffer the ill effects.

Day 1: Normal. Maybe a little hungry, but otherwise fine.

Day 2: Can no longer gain Hit Points from Short Rests.

Day 3: Can no longer gain Hit Points from any rest.

Day 4: One level of permanent exhaustion until requirements are met.

Day 5: Can no longer gain any benefits to resting. All rolls are at a disadvantage, and you’re constantly angry.

Day 6: Full body lethargy.

Day 7: Full loss of motor function, aka Death.

 

At any point before Day 7, you can kill an animal, beast, or monstrosity to revert to the prior day’s effects. Or, fully reset the cycle by killing a humanoid. Each humanoid killed will postpone the effects by an additional day.

Languages

You can speak, read, and write Common, Infernal and Draconic. Draconic is thought to be one of the oldest languages and is often used in the study of magic. The language sounds harsh to most other creatures and includes numerous hard consonants and sibilants.

Winged Beast

You were built with metallic wings, allowing you to fly. Your flight speed is 40.

Hydraulic Skeleton

Your skeleton has been reinforced by the multitude of procedures you went through.

Sinnerman

Your closeness with the fiery pits of Hell itself allow you to sense the alignment of a creature within 120ft. of you.

If a target is Blue: Damage type changes to Necrotic, ignoring resistance.

If a target is Grey: Damage remains the same.

If a target is Red: Damage type changes to Radiant, ignoring resistance.