The Dhom-hain are the Deep Questers, the enclave that dove further from the light than any other Idoneth and remains fiercely, coldly proud of the plunge. In the crushing benthic dark where their cities cling to trenches no sunlight has ever touched, they became peerless hunters of the abyss, riding fangmora eels against leviathans that could swallow a surface fleet whole. To the Dhom-hain the great beasts of the deep are neither monsters nor mere mounts but worthy quarry, and the hunt is the truest expression of who they are.
They broke early and sharply from the oversight of the Ionrach, wanting no part of any high king's dream of unity, and they want nothing from the surface world at all. Nothing, that is, but its souls. The aelves of Dhom-hain regard diplomacy as a kind of sickness peculiar to those who dwell in the light, a softness the deep does not permit. Their raiders surface, harvest the souls their people must have to live, and sink back into the black without a word of parley.
Within the Idoneth Deepkin, the Dhom-hain are the unrepentant predators: the enclave that looked into the deepest dark, named it home, and came back caring for nothing above the tideline but the taking.
Order of battle
The Dhom-hain field the units of the Idoneth Deepkin, a detachment from the roster:
Other Idoneth Deepkin formations
FuethanThe fiercest of the enclaves, dwelling in hot, restless seas where everything bites. Fuethan beast-handlers prize the most vicious eels and sharks of any Idoneth nation, red-finned and half-feral, and the enclave's raiders are cut from the same hide: quick to strike, slow to forgive, and openly scornful of Ionrach dreams of unity.
IonrachThe eldest and greatest of the enclaves, seat of High King Volturnos and the closest thing the scattered Idoneth possess to a capital people. The Ionrach alone argue that the enclaves are one nation, and that the Deepkin might yet take an honest place among the peoples of Order, though the allies they fight beside rarely remember the alliance afterward.
Mor'phannA somber enclave of cold, lightless waters, where the ethersea lies thick as grave-mist and the Namarti outnumber the whole-souled many times over. The Mor'phann speak little, mourn much, and work soul-magic beyond any rival: when their slow tide finally comes in, it takes everything and gives nothing back.
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